Today I first of all went and got my hair dyed. This girl who was in my year at school in Tallinn, is training to be a hairdresser and she needed someone for a dying guinea pig. And I just had started feeling bored with my colour and she posted on FB asking for a volunteer for Monday. And so we did it! I wanted to feel like a cartoon Flame girl.
Pictures below.
And then I had a meeting at the National Opera about this gala we're doing at the summer festival. It was so nice and inspiring and gave me so much forward driving positive energy. So thanks, life, for this day!
Today was a Tuesday. And the weather was nice. I saw an old friend (although she's like a forever friend to be honest), talked some art with interesting people and then ended the day on this terrace, which is awesome. So now I'm home. Chilling and being horizontal, with Biggest Loser.
I'm quite chilled out. This feels nice.
I've got plenty of work to do, but I will wake up tomorrow morning and do that, and for now these thoughts are allowed to vacate my mind.
And leave behind, peace. Tranquil peace, which is of course emptiness in itself. But not the kind of emptiness that should ever be feared. The good kind.
Oh, and, what I wanted was interesting people. And this is what I got. Tonight, I'm allowing myself to feel good about stuff, regardless of all the things I still need to do. I will always have things to do. But tonight, I'm allowing myself to feel good.
"This is just, something." (As described by A. But I really really agree.)
Jenna Marbles is known for her pretty brilliant Youtube channel, where she posts a video every Wednesday, about anything really, anything that she fancies. She's always absolutely hilarious, and looks so positively full of life. And this week her video was something very different.
Even if you don't follow her channel on Youtube, and you have 8 minutes, watch this. I think it's worth a watch. And a nice idea in itself.
It's so important. There's something so simple and so powerful at the same time about telling stories. About deciding to share that little part of you or share that little bit of imagination, or fact, or whatever with someone else. Deciding they are worth your special story, or deciding you like them enough to really tell them a story. Or finding someone who respects you enough to really listen to your story. So simple it's just crazy, so basic. But in this basic-ness there's just something absolutely magical.
I don't trust people who underestimate telling stories, or listening to stories. And I don't only mean fairytales. I mean, what happened to you yesterday, or something your little brother once did, or something your grandfather told you, or something you read, or some lyrics to your favourite song. This sort of sharing, all of this, is storytelling.
And it is important. I think that's why I like blogging. It doesn't have a word-limit, and I can just tell my stories. And sometimes the stories are so good I have to re-tell them to my friends in person, message them, or anything. It's the easiest way of sharing and the easiest way to really get under someone's skin. Sharing your stories. Your adventures Your likes, and dislikes Your favourite animals and colours Your patterns and structures Your dreams and schemes
Share. It is scary but it makes life so much more fun. So much more excitement to find someone who is into the exact same dried autumnal leaf shape. Or like, someone who pairs their socks the same way. Or changes octaves when singing along to a song exactly when you do. Or someone who has the same favourite Monet. Or someone who folds their linen the same. Or someone who holds their fork the same way. Or someone who has the same dreams. Or laughs the same way.
Tell stories, because we base ourselves in this context. The giving storytellers give a little bit of themselves to each story and really root and ground themselves. It's nice to belong to stories because they can't shift and change. If you tell them, they are the way they are. The next one will be different.
So.
Nordic music is shifting the plains of my heart and soul right now.
Björk's "Bachelorette" is actually the first music video I remember seeing. Then I forgot about it for at least a decade, and then it made a comeback. I still can't put my finger on what was it about this video that literally burnt into my brain like acid. The colours and the cinematography, but something else. Maybe one day I'll figure it out. And Björk as a symbol, and Björk as a creative force. Or just a force of nature.
Sigur Ros just makes me really happy, and really sad (or maybe it's nostalgia?). And it makes me feel like snow. One of my friends once wrote somewhere that their favourite thing, or favourite music (can't remember) was listening to Sigur Ros on untouched snow. Actually it might have been some other band entirely. But that's beside the point. It makes me miss winter. Which is fairly rare, for the simple fact that if there's something I like less than autumn then it's a long, dreary winter. But Sigur Ros for some reason makes me miss all thing wintery.
Their music reminds me of a night when I was 15, going on 16 and it was I think the 20th of January, if I'm not mistaken, or something along those lines. That night I had attended my first rave ever, it was in a big warehouse and the blinded-by-the-first-love-of-my-lifetime-first-boyfriend was organising it with his friends. I was dropped home around 6am. And I walked home, with my mahoosive black winter coat that I still have and it makes me look like a bear-hunter. I was wearing some flamed DCs (?) and neon yellow gloves. And I had crimped hair. And so I walked home, across freshly-fallen icy, shiny snow. It was the clearest night I can remember in my life. The sky was so dark blue, like I was under a huge duvet. And the stars were all there. And my street looked like a Hollywood-set on a Sunday, so desolate, and peaceful. Like it was catching its breath. I used to live on the most beautiful street on earth. It was the smallest little street, so tiny that even taxi-drivers found it hard to locate. No one ever noticed it. A pedestrian and a car didn't fit at the same time. And that street looked good all through the year. I could probably cry human tears thinking of walking home from the bus stop, spring, summer, autumn or winter. It was just so sheltered and so beautiful in its small-small scale. And so I walked home that night, almost 8 years ago. It must have been around -25C, but I took my sweet time, because it was the most perfect walk home. And I was so - happy. There is no other word more fit to explain what I was feeling. Just steady peace and quiet happiness, at the fact that I was warm, I was calm, and I knew I was loved. And the snow. The streetlights were still working. And the air was just frozen in this serenity that only winter holds.
Sigur Ros remind me of this night. God knows why.
Sigur Ros remind me of home, and snow, and lots of space, and plains, just wide wide wide.
The sound of Lykke Li's voice does something very dramatic to my insides. It's hard to put a finger on or explain it, so I won't attempt either. But it does something. Literally shifts something. It moves me. Some things that do not usually move are moved, physically. Wounded Rhymes album is just another thing. That's all.
Homeboys. EWERT AND THE TWO DRAGONS. If you're not familiar with them (of course with the chance that you don't like this sort of music at all, but maybe you do), I really do recommend. The levels of musicianship are just crazy. CRAY-Z. I like EVERYTHING about this song. And I mean, EVERYTHING. Even the fact that the lead singer looks so much like one of my friends, which just makes the whole experience so much better.
