balance

Anger fascinates me.
It just. I don't really know where it comes from or where it wants to go, or what's the purpose or how to get rid of it.
It's tiring, and I'd like to be without.

Dear Anger,
Go away. For good.

Thanks.
With love.
Maria.

anger management

So, let's say you find yourself in a situation, where you have 2 simple options.
A) you break a lot of things that you would not like to get rid of
or B) find a way to NOT do this.

I would personally recommend B.
I mean, yes, it can feel superb, but trust me, the annoyance at having broken your own belongings that arrives after is dull as dishwater. So, stick with B.

My form of anger management.

Obviously followed by the 2nd movement (which is enough to literally tear your heart out with the bittersweet sounds, turn it into and pie and eat it with some vanilla whipped cream), and then the 3rd.

And/or cut your hair.

Nothing that Shostakovich can't fix.
M.

post-singing idyll

Children will be children.
Concrete grey.


My writings back in the day, before The Big Move, were so angry. Quick-tempered. Maybe I've lost my balls of writing.
Or maybe I've just calmed down. Or maybe I've just learnt how to calm down.

I did something good today. Something good for myself, and something I should be proud of.
So this is my moment of Congratulations-Maria-well-done.

"USALDA END JUHUSELE JA VAATA, MIS SAAB"
Trust youself to chance, and see what happens.

In retrospective it is kind of funny how scared I was of going away. I read it on paper, but I can't remember the feeling. I remember the night 23 days and 6 years ago when for the first time I packed my big red suitcase that has now become one of the 5 constants in my life. I remember the night, I remember my cat, my dad with some Coronas and lime (well done, Father) and I remember some numb panic. But the run-up - it's just gone.
Trust yourself to chance.

I'm kind of sorry I deleted my really melancholic blog, pre-dating the 2005 one.
I'd like to read it like now. A diary of sorts of how it has all been, and how it has gone.

Drum and bass gave it clarity. A very singular meaning and a razorsharp focus. Which was really lacking. Just non-existent.
M. is for Mayhem.