projects

So.

Time to talk projects soon, darlings.

This autumn season.
The season is coming.
The Season of Work Things And Stuff.

Autumn used to have a very very, very, specific meaning.
Autumn used to mean knowledge, lots of it.
A huge intake of knowledge.
And then people.
And sometimes new people, sometimes old people.
But people.
And structure.
Autumn used to mean structure.
And knuckling down. Real hard.
Like, real real hard.
Like, working-butts-off territory.
Only the past few years this pattern has changed.
I used to look forward to that kind of an autumn.
I remember the feeling.
The "School Feeling".
I used to get excited, about autumn, and the smell, and the new pencil case, and paper blocks, and you know.
Developing, growing.
Getting smart.
The idea of getting smart.
Getting better.
And the idea of getting better.

So yes, this is why I liked autumn.

But now I fear it.
I don't know where this association came from, but somehow over time I developed a fearful view of autumn.
The dying, the decay, the cold, and mist, and fog, and stuff.

I'd really like to script myself an Autumn-Winter '13 season that I'll love.
Using all these ideas, of improvement, of knuckling down and getting smart.
Learning.
I guess I've forgotten how much I love learning.

I mean, I really do.

So.
Gotta work at this.

I might actually find some photos.
Or like, a school time photo.
I seriously liked it.
And I've forgotten.

Yours truly.
M.

need

"What do I need?"

Aaaaannnndddd we're back to that one.

My favourite question of all, the lack of which I realised last year?
That this wasn't in my vocabulary.

What do I want - oh, yes.
What do I crave - absolutely.
Or another favourite, what do other people need from me? Or need me to be?
Great.

But what do I need?
Apparently not.

So the age of What Does Maria Need is about to start.
I mean I swear I'll plaster this on my face or something.

What do you NEED.
M.


This was taken around 6.20AM, last Sunday morning, as I was walking home from this new place in Tallinn called Moment.
That night was circus.
That night was what I needed.

past

The past is crashing in through the door like a fast tank-truck, with a really drunken yet determined driver.

I really hope it's the full-Moon or something.
I honestly, honestly do. Because this is super boring.
I mean, none of this ever emerges without reasons.
So I'm doing my best to understand how and why this needs to be dealt with.

Sitting here, but feeling like 4 years ago is not my idea of fun.

It just feels like there are thousands of untied ends where my ordered thoughts should be.
And all this mess needs is just some work.
I need to tie my ends, if I want to get anywhere.

Happy Friday night, my dears.
M.

Love of Life

Why do I often forget this?

The little things.
Buying yourself flowers.
Cooking something nice.
Seeing something extraordinarily beautiful.
This is the simplest, and the best life-force, when times get a little weird.
And it's also so easy to forget.

So let's not.
The pure love of life.

This blog doesn't have much to do with anything, but it's pretty and the pretty one sent it.
http://thepassionism.tumblr.com/

See the little things.
M.

52

52 days left of 2012.
fifty
two
days
a lot of days that is


These past couple of years and this one included are turning out to be big ones. Not anything particular, just personal developments of all kinds.

I realised I hadn't challenged myself in so long
(so that's why I'm now supplying challenges left, right, and centre.)
(...not really that many. just enough to get some inertia going)


mistakes.
making mistakes
and learning from mistakes
...mistakes are good.


Also. Like, "am I proud of myself", is an interesting question. 
So often the pride-o-meter is applied by us from an outside angle. I used to be terribly concerned with whether person A is proud of me, or person B, and so forth. 
This is fine.
But I mean, what about me? What about you? What about, "are we proud of ourselves"?


Pride. 
Pride is an interesting one.
Taking pride in what you do.
Pride is one of the Seven Deadly Sins. (This is somewhat beside the point, just an interesting digression.)

Measuring myself according to my own scales of pride, not someone else's.



Failing, as well.
What is that about? This fear of failure b*llshit?
It is so common, but also, such a massive load of crap.
Failing at what? And why should anyone be scared?
(Please note that I'm talking here more about myself than anyone else.)
(And I'm also going to come back to this topic, soon.)
There's a thing, a way of working out, apparently, called "Failing".
So the point is, you do something until you physically "fail" - your body gives out.
You don't count.
You don't measure the distance.
You go till you fail.
You go till you go.
I'm not going to go into the physical benefits of this or the lack of, that's for other people to discuss who know much more about this, but.
The reason I find this interesting is that failing itself becomes a thing. A thing that is fine, all the time. Not THE thing you fear most.
You workout, till you fail. Only to workout again, to fail, again.
It sets up quite a healthy relationship with the term.
So, let's fail.
And then fail again.




so Yoga Neil and Mermaid A. will rave through the universe, only drinking shots, with REALLY great abs. 
drunk and fit. rowdy, a little slutty and SO MUCH FUN.

you will eat msg noodles and be great at tap and swimming and riding,

i will eat tubs upon tubs of icecream and i'll be good at yoga and kickboxing.

we will create fear and chaos in the heart of every swede and Adam Levine (RHYME HO) and it will be glorious.

Chaos and Mayhem, + abs.

52 days left.
Make
them
count.

i want sushi.
M.