soft

Hello, my darlings.

This is a post about "soft".


Right.
I don't know about you but I grew up thinking "soft" will never ever get you anywhere at allll in this life.
And then I grew.
Just became more and more, cold and rigid, and tank-like.
And I used to love this.
The worse it got, the "better" I thought it all was.
Ooooooooohh, look at meee, I'm like a tank.

Lo-and-behold, I turned 23 or something and realised none of this - and I mean, NONE of this - works.
Nor does it have any logic.

Tank.
Seriously.
What.
Why would that be a good thing.
How can anyone make music like that?
How can anyone love or make love like that?
How can anyone make art, or something new?
How could anyone create like that?

One word: ice-queen.



And yes, la-la-la, "invincible and Strong" and whatever.
Point is.

It's actually a living breathing walking suicide. 

And it's so addictive, as is everything, let's be honest here.
You do something enough times and it becomes second nature.
Pretty simple.
Repetition is the root-mother of every thing.
SIMPLE AS.
You do something enough, and BAM! you think it's "my character".
I've done it enough times.

It's the rule that makes nature wonderful and terrifying.

So repeat the RIGHT things.
RIGHT FOR YOU.
F*CK someone else's "rights" and "wrongs".
Pick and choose what you want to be, pick and choose what you want to be seen as.
Make your life.
Make YOURSELF.

God.
This is super to myself.
Screw them all.
This is what I think.
All of them.
And just make YourSelf.
Pick the people, embrace and love and keep the people who let you be You, and just don't expect anything more or anything less.
Just You, the You-est you and the You of YOUR own choosing.
Not someone's cat or Jesus Christ's grandma.
Just YOU.

Enough with the ice queen tendencies now.
I don't like people like that, why should I ever try to BE it myself.

I am the dreamer, the soft ripe giving thing, like spring and wet soil, y'know?
Muddy, dirty, bloody, like gawddamn Mother Earth.
So why, again, my favourite question of all existence, why would I then turn into ice, which is by its very definition the opposite of wet, warm and fertile?

And if we want to talk about strength, then what is actually stronger than the earth, the basis on which all of this motherfrikkin circus is standing on anyway.

So seriously.
I need to stop this infantile ridiculousness.
And just become the person I want to be.
And kick ass like that.
I don't know why this is taking so long....but hey. Patience after-all.

Patience.
Keep muddy, keep warm and keep wet.
Peace out, darlings.

Yours truly.M.

Everests

So, A. and I spoke about this thing, a long long time ago.
The idea of Everests.

Personal Everests.
And the fear of them.
And then I felt this question - when was the last time I climbed an Everest?

So, therefore.

It's time to climb the Everests.
All of them.
One at a time.
But it's time for the Everests.
And climb them we shall.

End of 2013.
There's still some time to go.
Time to do things.
Not loads, but there's time.
Time to be productive, time for things, and Everests.

Time to focus on what's important.
Ourselves.
Our family.
Our friends.
The people we want to communicate with.

He is able, who THINKS he is able.
And she who thinks she will climb her Everests, shall climb her Everests.


Today was a great day.
Listened to a great lesson, with a teacher I really really like.
So this is SUPER exciting.
Then went to the cinema with the Spaniard to watch a MUSE CONCERT.
Which was INCREDIBLE.
So intense days.
Crazy good, but intense days.

So now I'm going to try and get to sleep.
A rehearsal tomorrow.
And some lovely meetings.

Everests.
This is what I'm leaving you with.
E
VE
RESTS

Think about them.
And be brave enough to go for the climb.

With love and light.
M.


PS.

!!!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-hJq1GSV8Q
Please listen to this.



---

An Invitation.

Come, winter - rip us all bare.
Past the hot veins, and tear the cosy flesh.
Freeze us, entirely, claw down to the bone.
Remove the impatient muscle.
Watch the name
the title
the numbers
and the figures
tumble away,
fly off
(like they never were)
become one with the white.

Just leave the core.
So we can mingle, touch each other past the pretense. 
Press curious tongues against the icy void,
The heart of the bone.

Let the wind rage through - cold and impersonal -
As we stand, (un)moved, ready to confess.
Let it coil its way around my ever-fragile skeleton,
And caress my truth as I uncover yours.
No warmth, no heat.
No lies.
All unravelling, together, in near-perfect sync,
Faced with what we are.

The storms will start fuelling a different kind of fire.
Barren, bare, raw.
But true.

Come, winter.
Please.
Rip us all
bare.

autumn

I thought of something today.

Autumn.
And why autumn suits this kind of thing.

Because everything is getting bare and cold, and sparse.

So it's easy to discuss, and think, and feel yourself at the core, find the core.
All the falling leaves, everything is skeleton.

Space.

And the skeleton provides a great base for this sort of thinking.

And so for the first time, I don't have a problem with autumn.
I'm rather enjoying it.
And I feel it helps the processes of psychological deduction.

So, autumn.
Here's to you.

Yours truly.
M.

grace and choice

This lyric from this song absolutely kills me.
I love it, beyond beyond.



And usually these lists of nice -insert something- don't work for me, but this is truly wonderful.
And I am inclined to agree with all of it.

visuals, once more

last days of summer

Hello, 4th of September.
The nights have got really cold, but today was super nice.
So we were pretending it's still summer.

Happy pretend-summer.

Yours truly.
M.

spring

And so spring continues, with ever-growing steps.
I don't really understand that June is 2 weeks away.
When
and
how
did
this
happen

It was cold, cold, cold, cold, cold, and now it's two weeks till June.
And I really need to kick this real estate thing into gear.

And these flowers below are amazing.y

Spring, time for doing things.
M.

picnic

On Saturday, we had a picnic outdoors.
Me, dad and the Mrs.
We got some pizza, and a thermos with green tea/Earl Grey infusion.
And it was sunny and over-all a lovely idea.

We had two pizzas: one with added blue cheese and pineapple which is like my childhood favourite. And then one with all the spicy stuff.

Also, I've never really been on a nice sunny skiing holiday and this just felt so so much like a fit time at some after-ski place. So I suddenly found myself battling serious feelings about having a ski trip.

Seriously. Yay, for winter picnics.

Have a winter picnic.
M.

tactile

I like touching.
I think it's a nice idea to trace our lives with our fingertips.
Because truth is, our skin remembers.
And I think our skin has a slightly different memory than the one belonging to our brain. Yes, I know, technically they are all tied to the brain, but you know what I mean.
The skin remembers.
So trace and touch and enjoy the quiet and overwhelming whole-ness of touch.
This doesn't have to be sexual, though of course, that would have its perks.

But no, touching is simple. It's cotton fabrics, or sunny skin, or hot or cold or smooth or whatever, or moss or berries, or water, or sand, or pages of books or holding a pencil, or whatever. I mean, skin gets the point here, but over-all, everything is nice.
Tactile lives are so much richer I think. And sometimes when a whole wintertide has been spent wearing mittens I forget how divine it is to touch.

Tactile.
M.

choose

I think we have a choice.
Or at least I have decided I want to have a choice.

Either to live my life according to the ingrained calling of the Nordic logic, of pre-plan everything or imminent death and starvation through lack of crops and cold will arrive.
Or the way of the warmer, damper parts. You can plan, but you can also wait. Because there's fruit and there's heat. So you won't die.

"Life is a privilege, not a right."
(The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.)

And we are in charge of shaping how we see this privilege, how we shift and form it. Whether we have time or not, to stop and maybe look, and enjoy, and be.
Because if the only thing you're concerned with is the next step and the step after that and the one after that, you'll end up missing the entire journey.

And where is the sense in that.

I choose south.
Take time, my darlings. Because that tricky f*cker can sometimes steal away, and really quietly.

Infinite possibilities. 
M. 

bare

I just don't have the vocabulary to talk about how much I like this image.
I like how dynamic it is, the light and shade and the black-and-white-ness of the image.
It is bare and powerful and naked and cold and explosive in its warmth at the same time.

Great caption, superb shapes.

Bare.
M.

hat and snow day!

So I always find that after I've changed my hair, either cut it or dyed it, I wake up the next day thinking "is this ACTUALLY nice?"
Especially the times when I've done it myself.
Like yesterday.
So this morning was one of those.

But luckily I'm still pleased with having a whole bunch of hair in the bin and not on my head anymore.
Also, can I just say, the joy that I feel for being able to have some of my hair in front of my face is unbelievable.

It's snowing fairly decent amounts today. And because it's -2 the snow is actually staying with us.
And therefore I've declared today a snow-day!
And a hat-day!

Happy Hat and Snow Day.
M.

healing

So I found this photo, from like a few weeks back.
We had had a gig in a really really cold church, again, and I wasn't feeling good at all after it.
So, what helps for everything? A shot of vodka. Seriously. I don't even know why, but honestly it helps, to warm up. Properly warm up. Cause the feeling of damp cold in my bones is one which I don't like, at all. And also one which, the morning after, results in a full-blown cold. No thanks.
And since it was Christmas, which means mum gets some caviar, I decided to heal everything through the medium of vodka and caviar. And I papped it, because it was just so ridiculous. (That and my festively garish nails.)

The second one is my fresh baby-face today. I haven't posted a self-take from my bathroom in a while so I felt it was so fitting.

Hope you're all having a good day.
M.

wintercoat

I find working out in the depths of winter hard.
Not in London cause we have plenty of space in the livingroom, but in Tallinn it's not as convenient to work out at home. And going somewhere, I mean, it's so cold outside, then you have to go somewhere, get naked to get changed, then change back, get home in the cold.
I know these are all just a massive bunch of excuses, I do know this. It's just I genuinely feel like this bunny below, at the thought of working out during the winter-months.
So therefore, the past month has just been a big big hole of nothing.
Oh well, winter will pass.

And o-m-g, imma work on my pushups.
M.

a dying breed

Autumn in Tallinn. I haven't felt it in 6 years. And I have completely forgotten what it is like.
E. said the other day that it has been gradual. I literally woke up one morning and thought I had been smacked in the face with it.
It hits like a ton of bricks. But not solid bricks. But rather a ton of bricks that feel like a ton of clay mass, that you can't get rid of, or wash off, or anything. It's stuck to me, even when I sleep.
I wake up in the middle of the night, and think I'm cold.
And the worst part is, it makes me feel like I'm dying. Okay, not actually dying. Just the buzz or the excitement that I get during the summer, of just being and doing - I feel that dying.
The only, and I mean, THE ONLY thing I think I find appealing about autumn is the fact that Michael Bublé sounds divine. It just fits autumn. So it gets a point for that.

I like watching people. I was on the divine trolley-bus today, coming into town, and just watching people as the bus passed was so good. I was considering going round the town twice, just to see people.

A dying breed.
But maybe it's always been a dying breed.

These are strange times.
But then again, which times aren't?

I would like to love someone in Paris. In Paris, in an attic room, one autumn. Like in the operas, you know. Artists and attic rooms, and autumn, and leaves, and scarves, and markets, and candles.
I would like to love someone in Paris.
Now that would make an autumn.
M.