turn it into

There was this thing somewhere - "Don't dwell on the past, but turn it into art."

I have been creating somewhat lately, or at least I don't feel uninspired.

But still, I feel, there's so so much room, for more.
So many things I want to do and so so many things I want to accomplish.

So many ideas that are kind of there, but kind of not.
Seedlings.

But hey, can't rush stuff.
It gets there, when it gets there.
And I'm not brave enough to talk loudly of not-even-new-born ideas.
But soon.
I'd love to talk about these things, out loud, soon.

For now, keep creating.
And I'll do the same.

Yours truly.
M.

NYE

= New years eve.

oh my

Stupid excess is stupid.
Stupid excess is so fun, sometimes! Like the daughters of the oligarchs roaming about, with fur coats and sparklers, in heels that are too high for the icy pedestrian paths and shouting WOOO! at every firework.
Stupid is good.
Stupid is free.

I have realised that I could have a quiet Christmas (obviously), a quiet birthday (2 years ago I nearly forgot it was coming), a quiet everything - but not New Years.
I'm not superstitious, and to be honest it is not a superstition, more of a personal premonition - I feel quite passionately about having a shiny, shimmery, sparkly, loud, silly-silly New Years Eve, with people around me and a buzz and glitter and, you know, the works.
I have sort of started telling myself that it almost preempts the kind of a year I will have.
And I like it.
I like having, if you would imagine, a person behind me on the hilltop, giving me a gentle push as I sledge down the hill, for more speed. That's what New Years feel like, that person.

So therefore.
Stupid is stupid.
And by stupid I mean SILLY.

Stupid is great.
M.