exquisite

So the thing, mainly, is - I want my life to be exquisite.

And what I mean by this is that I want flowers, to sometimes see the sea and enjoy the little things.
Enjoy being, have good hair, eat good food.
Sometimes wear a big sunhat and maybe have a glass of wine.
Have a meaningful conversation with a stranger.
And sometimes not-so-meaningful ones with my friends.
I want music and birdsong and Nature.
Tastes and sounds and textures.
An exquisite life has people in it.
And joy in everything.


That's what I want and that's what I mean about an exquisite life.

Poetry, and sunlight, and freedom.

Freedom.
Above all, freedom.
Always.



Also, I have a problem.
I am fully aware that this makes me one of THE most ungrateful assholes ever to have walked the face of the Earth (..too dramatic maybe) but here goes - I hate my voice.
Not the sound of it, having it.
Especially lately.
It feels like, I'm blaming my voice for some things that have happened recently.
I know rationally this is ridiculous, but this keeps swimming to the surface.
This feeling of hatered towards my gift.
I'm too scared to say this out loud so therefore I'll write about this.


This is what is holding me back, this is the feeling that means that I'm holding on tight to my own tail and then wondering why I can't run forward.
This is the thing I keep coming back to.
All my restrain and life-boundary seems to be wrapped up in my voice.
All my freedom lies in it too.

It's so hard to muffle the voices saying it's not enough.
I guess by that way of thinking it will never be enough.

But I don't know how to shut it off.

But I can tell you here and now my friends that this needs to be solved, because if every time I sing it's going to feel like going through a meat grinder I will need to change profession.
And I don't want to do that.

So therefore.
A solution.
Turn off the voices, silence the chorus of disapproval.
I'm too good and too young for this.


My life was different when it was a theatre life.
It was very different.
So this really is all tied to the voice.
But it would be extremely stupid to run from this.

And one thing I have to stay away from is people who fuel any destructive fires.
I've got enough petrol as it is, thank you very much.
I rather need people who are gonna help me get rid of anything and everything flammable.


It's busy, in my head.


I wanna get free.
So I can use what I have been given.






And live my life, the exquisite way I want to.




With love.
Yours truly.
M.

first snow

And so, it falls.

This is my post at first snow.

First snow.
Something purely virginal about this.
The covering up of the sacred heart.
Or hiding some magnificent truth.

First snow.

It is a thing, completely in its own right.

This weekend has been a long weekend.
A rehearsal, concert and rehearsal on Friday, followed by a supreme evening with the girls, then dad's birthday and a party Saturday night, and today had a superrrrrrr meeting and then saw my cousin's girls, for cake.
This is all fine, however, sleep has been a rare visitor.
Friday night woke up around 5am and couldn't get back to sleep, work thoughts.
Last night listened to Phantom with mum till half 6, after the party.

And so, tonight I will sleep.
I need to sleep.
Snow makes me sleepy.

Some strange serenity.
A pause of a kind.

I have an interview tomorrow at 11 and then some library time, getting music. 

I feel love and I feel light and kindness.

And I would like to share it with all of you.

Somehow.

Yours truly.

M.

external

So.

Don't pay attention to the external b*llshit someone might come out with.
About you, or your life, or your choices, or morals, or appearance, or anything at all.

I read some comments on this article about me that was in the papers over Christmas. A tiny little story, basically, talking about my typical day.
(Also, there were like 70% positive, 30% negative comments.)

So.
Two questions.
One. Why did I read them? Reading those comments only ever knocks my otherwise decent self-belief and confidence. Makes me doubtful. Makes me question my value and the value in my choices. Ugh.
Okay, I know this sounds dramatic but seriously! The comments are just so like, personal. And just nasty. So why read them? No one knows.
Two. Why care? This is the big one. Why care? Why care about what these people have to say? This is based on nothing. Nothing at all. They don't know me, know anything about anything to do with me. So why care?
And this goes for other situations are well. So often we just get hung up on what "he said, she said". Which just doesn't matter. I mean, seriously? We have like what, under 10 people in our lives that we actually trust and respect and listen to and turn to for advice? So why are we affected by the rest of the external voices?
If someone has time to criticise someone else, and base their chat on nothing, then I mean, come one, they honestly need to re-address their lives.

So, no thanks.
This is about me.
This is about you.
Silence.
Shush.
This is not their life.
These are not their decisions.
So take some time to listen to you. If in doubt, ask the people you truly trust and respect for help, or guidance, or a hug, you know.

Apart from that, listen to you.
Listen to your gut.

Do yoga and kick the bad thoughts out, just out the window, see you later.

Be honest, be kind and be brave.
And take good care of yourself.

With love.
M.

Eesti

The person currently playing tunes on Classic FM doesn't understand the point of the 2-6AM slot. I mean, seriously.

Here's a little something about my deep-rooted relationship with the 2-6AM Classic FM slot.
99% of the essays I wrote during my uni-career were written with the constant soundtrack of Classic FM, especially the 2-6AM slot.
It's awesome classical tunes, the ones that make you feel great about being awake late at night, on your own,  in the stillness and (almost) silence.
The guy currently behind the disk jockey equipment in the Classic FM studio, however, seems to think that this slot is for the darkest and the deepest Elgar cello concertos (not the fun kind, the darkkk kind), requiems, soundtracks of sad, sad movies, et cetera.
I mean. Why.
Why.

So therefore I'm back to Kardashians.

Also, earlier, I was scrolling through tumblr and this photo (below) just popped up.
And realising that the one and only flag on the map was the one of Estonia, was just too great for words.

Eesti.
M.