Looking out around me at people, I start to wonder: why is everyone so infantile? Even the older ones and those had a lot of serious grown-up stuff going on. People get upset like kids, they take offenses and become defensive, and it all reminds me of how children are at the playground. It's like life is just one big playground, where most of the habitants are kids, and only occasionally a concerned adult will step in for a moment, to see what's going on, just to fade into background again. So, is there such a thing as emotional maturity, or are we just overgrown kids?
...of fun little time used to have. The title of this entry literally didn't fit into the box.
I'm not trying to be melodramatic, though, there is no way I'm not an overreacting drama queen of a person, but lately I've been admitting my problems, and seeking out help, and, without any real intention, a lot of things just came to mind at the same time. I suppose, I never thought of myself as a kind of happy person, but looking back at how things were in my life mere three years ago, I reckon, there actually was some happiness, more importantly, there was fun. A lot of fun. There was fun of dressing up to next season's fashion, having ridiculous make up, even more outstanding manicure, and darling-ing everyone, and being fabulous, and feeling the same way. There was a ton of creativity in life, and real passion towards things, even small ones that just opened up something inside. I feel very reminiscing of that time. Even though I felt like shit most days, I had friends, and I had time, and I wrote everything that I wanted, however much I wanted. I wore Kenzo dresses for Saturday morning coffee fixes, and it wasn't any particular problem to get up at 7 a.m. to go to the earliest movie in the local cinema on Tuesday - just because I had the time, and, well, who wouldn't like to spend some time alone with himself, and there was so much of this alone time, feels like it had some magical treatment effect on me. The placebo, if you like. Everything was so stupid - pretending to be the person I am not, at the same time, it was so much fun. Looking back, I do remember only the good stuff. I remember how light-weight I felt when I saw some Etro jacket I couldn't afford, but still tried it on, and how great it felt to put on some absurd lipstick, and how excited I got about things, and it was all... a very slo-mo firework of life, even the surrealistic walks under the same umbrella, and even more surrealistic trips under the moonlight.
And at the time, it never felt like anything significant. But now I remember this things like that one summer morning when I was 11, and I first felt the urge to write, like an itch under the skin. I can recreate that morning up until the smell, and the sounds, and the colour - but that is one of those moments that can never happen again. That was the summer of dragons, and elves, and red hair, and awful book choices. Nothing can compare to the feeling, though. It's the same with those lost times of some years ago - you can genuinely reconstruct the picture up to the very last detail, but it can never ever happen to you again; and here is when you loose it completely.
Right now I've lost the ability to be excited about anything, really. And, maybe, this is exactly why I try to get everything back, get myself back - listening to the same music as then, and being sad about those times. Knowing, however, there is nothing that can bring it back. Nothing can bring that me back. The person who was happy to try on expensive jackets and putting up with ridiculous lipsticks and darling-ing everyone. There is no more creativity, no more excitement. And, this isn't even adult life. I mean, not really. This is not some sort of stepping into the salaryman shoes and suddenly loosing personality - excuse you, not while my black suit of choice is Versace one, - it's like all the coloured lenses suddenly broke. Completely plastered.
I am a self-pitying bastard, and I hate it when others try to pity me as well, but there is no way anyone else can understand how hard it is for one to put up (and be better) then others while having a huge setback that no one knows about. And this, is my life. I am better, I am being better then others with my chronic pains, and the panic disorder I have, and oxygen not getting to my brain most of the times at it is supposed to, and being too tired of all the bullshit I have to put up with - really, what's new in this? - but there is no more fabulous self image that hugely helped to cope. It is very true what they say, about wearing a mask. But they never tell you what to do once it no longer fits, once it no longer there for you to hold on to, do they?
So, this is me trying to say all the things I shouldn't be saying in one week time at my appointment with the best damn neurologist this city has seen. This is me trying to say I miss my old self. This is me being better at saying things out loud, and believing them to some point. This is me.
Have no idea what has happened in the past 48 hours. But something important, I reckon.
Anyways, why do great shoes always make you feel empowered? Not like, burdened with glorious purpose, no, that's Tom Hiddlestone's privilege, but literally make you feel better about yourself? Go figure.
Can't get past the 3400 words mark in my fancy, but desperate NY project. Shit.
I tried not to think of things, instead, I decided to make a list of my favourite albums from 2013, released in 2013. I came up with an odd number of records + a couple of runner-ups.
So, here is my list in no particular order: 1. The Art of Doing Nothing by Mark Owen The long-awaited, highly anticipated album that turned out even better than expected. I had high hopes for this one, and in 2,5 years I've waited for it ('cause I only got into Mark's music at that time), there came days when I thought it be absolute poop, but it turned out ah-ma-zing. The songs are out together with impeccable taste, and even though there is a very certain idea that comes through the album, each song tells it's own story and has different mood. There is everything from happy lazy Sunday afternoons to heartbreak and affirmative knowledge that Everything Will Be Fine in it. It is, without any doubts, The Album of the Year for me.
2. Right Thoughts, Right Words, Right Action by Franz Ferdinand Another long-awaited release, and this one I was looking forward to since 2009, when the Blood album was released. Oh, what a joy is Right Thoughts...! It has everything that I personally love Franz Ferdinand for, along with some new things that I didn't really think would fancy at all. And, the best thing about this album is not the style and how it works together with anything, oh no. It is the closing song, Goodbye Lovers & Friends, that is not only a perfect conclusion to the album and a way to bid farewell for the time being, but it is a fucking perfect song as it is.
3. Didn't It Rain by Hugh Laurie Even though this disc isn't as good as Laurie's first, it is pretty damn good. Besides, I just love blues too much to not include this one in the selection. The album is well-balanced, and it is great to listen to it at any time. Like one of those perfect soundtracks that make you a living.
4. The Next Day by David Bowie This is a winner, no doubt. Personally I was a bit slow on catching up with this album, and I genuinely cannot think of a reason why. Everyone and their mother and their mother's dog have been talking of Bowie's comeback, and you gotta admit, it is fantastic. It was nothing like I've expected from him, but in the good way - it is better. I still listen to this album occasionally, but it is one of those things you have to experience when you got time and nothing is interrupting your intimate experience with Bowie. Possibly, it has always been like this. And, if you don't have the time to listen to the whole album, you can easily pick a song to fit any mood, any day.
5. Ambivalence no Kozai by Nakada Yuji After Tsubakiya Quartet had split, Nakada has released an album every year, approximately at the same time, and I have to admit that I like where he is going with his music. Ambivalence... has a well-placed style, as you could've picked up, this is one of the main criteria that I have in choosing music, but really. He came from rather hardcore indie rock to a lightweight indie something, and I won't even try to place a genre thing on it. Once again, the album is great for background, and very nice on weekends.
6. Trouble Will Find Me by The National I have a complicated relationship with The National, I have to admit before going any further. This time, they've exceeded what I usually want from them, and in a rather good way. As all of their music, this album is gloom but hopeful. Do check it out if you've never heard of The National, they are an amazing band with rather unique sound.
7. Black Box by Brown Eyed Girls Here comes the K-pop. I only got to listen BEG this year, so I'm no expert, but Black Box is a nice entertaining thing, with a killer of a title song, Kill Bill, really good, solid vocals and nice dance bits/beats.
8. Artpop by Lady Gaga I feel like Lady Gaga is on the list only because she's Lady Gaga, and this album was also long-awaited. I do not have an opinion on the album yet, somehow, I don't get half of the songs, but the other half is pretty damn good, and I listen to it almost every day, and sing though most of it, so it's gotta mean something, right? As always, Gaga is the queen of pop and dance music, and generates good mood easily. Last month I've listened to this entire album at work - my boss picked it up along other music for our day.
9. Pacific Rim OST by Ramin Djawadi This is cheating, I know, but I can't help it. This album got me though summer, and it is still the perfect tune to be doing anything epic-ly.
And the runner-up has to be Time by Tohoshinki, but not on the list still. I tried my best to comply this list with my opinions on said discs, but I might get back and write more.
I've turned the last page on the calendar on the wall. It's snowing tranquilently, silently on the other side of the window. There's a David Bowie album playing in the room. The album I only associate with one person.
My little black book is lying on the table; I've decided, I have to write again. I owe it to myself - not to give up on a stupid and childish dream that keeps me going all these years. My time might be lost, all the time in fact, but I would hate myself, if I lost this - words coming together in the sentences, then in paragraphs, then in pages, then in a story. And I have to thank one particular person for it. The one person who inspired me all of a sudden, from the deepest place inside me. The one person, who I will always think of, listening to The Next Day.
For three months I've wondered why do I only remember a year before last, and, curiously, I know the answer is a bit daft. But it's not about the why, is it?
Great values in life of certain person I happen to judge SHITLOAD: - Daughter of _famous person_; - Wife of _more famous person_; - Producer of this 25 minutes. In this fucking order. Am I doing something wrong in my life, I don't know about?
I judge. I judge people a lot. I judge people a lot for their choices. The more I like the person (even if I don't know the person), the more I'll judge him or her for life choices. Sometimes, though, I don't judge, and I am excepting of all the flaws and imperfections.
And right now, I have this nagging urge to judge a person whom I a) will never know in person, b) have no interest in the person's life whatsoever, c) the a and b were more than enough. And I want to judge this person for life choices! No, I am already doing that thing where I have an hour long speech on how the person didn't make a right thing when he supposedly did, how ugly everything looks from outside about him, how despicable is the other choice he had made, how terribly wrong it feels to even think that such an educated and well-placed person could actually... okay.
How can one refrain from prejudice against things? Or, rather, from pre-judging, pre-forming opinions? Like, usually I'd say that most importantly is that the person is happy, right? But we're always the ones Who Know Better.
At the end of the day, I felt nothing. And this feeling of emptiness was so unfamiliar, strange, amusing even. Looking inside oneself and being surrounded by incredible stillness, not the one before the storm, the one after - the drained sea. There was nothing left of emotions: no rage, no anger, no regret, no fear, no hesitation, no aspirations, no afterthoughts, no impulses, no explanations for the above, no desire to explain things. Nothing. It felt wrong. Wrong as in something is terribly wrong with me. But then again, it's only until the dawn.