Pause and try to keep the timeline real?

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I want to start off this week with a clear-ish idea of what my next moves are going to be and in order to do so, I need to take a few minutes and look back on this past month.

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It’s kind of weird when I think about it, that I need to write down a list of things that I’ve actually experienced in the very close past for it to feel real? I mean, this is beyond the whole “pinch me, I’m dreaming” feeling of being in Ireland and being happy! It’s just the way my memories look inside of my brain, when I write it and talk about it, it actually brings back the feeling of them and it reminds me that they’re real. It makes them more tangible in a way, my mind can better grasp the concept of them being past but being real, and it’s a little less blurry. Just need life to feel a little less abstract?

I’ll just jump right in with a concise bullet point list of the bigger things that popped up in this life of mine. I’ll keep the awakenings and deep thoughts for other posts though, haha.

  • TFB put out a new album and I fell in love with them AGAIN
  • I got a left-handed guitar. (Super big deal, but appreciate how calm I can remain about it as I type this sentence without going all crazy with CAPS EvERywHERE)
  • I met Kim again and also a very good friend of hers!! ❤
  • I finally dived back in my music theory books and am trying to gain back those tiny bits of knowledge I barely had before
  • I got a new phone which is equally confusing me and amazing me. The qualityyyyyy
  • Hotel Books also has a new album out and my ears/heart have been blessed and wrecked by this gift
  • I bought two books
  • I had an anxiety fit (tiny) like I hadn’t in a long while and it ruined me for two days
  • Went to the woods with my family and saw a live DEER!!
  • New doors being open before my wide eyes…

Things have been really calm. And, besides my guitar being a really BIG deal, everything else that happened was just like a smooth and natural addition to the big painting that did not cause so much tumult. Well, the new music did get my emotions to go a little sideways and all but…. Man. Now that I wrote it all down, I realize that there really hasn’t been this much happening at all. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

Slowly, I guess, is a good word to describe it? A slow fast tidy mess. Sounds good to me. But things are happening, or at least, I know that they will. I KNOW. I just can’t mention much yet because I’m scared of getting too excited about it and then having it just snatched from my sweaty hands… Sometimes I pause and I’m like, “Damn, Life has indeed scarred me.”Ha. It’s probably not that bad a thing although it often stops me from showing/experiencing any enthusiasm or happiness which actually sucks big fucking time. I’m not even sure if I’m excited about it anymore. In a way it does keep my feet on the ground I guess. But more often than not, it just ruins the fun of it all.

Anyway. Point is: shit’s about to get real. And I better brace myself cos I’m not fucking ready and it’s gonna be big and only get bigger and OH MY H

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Still trying to keep up!

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Poor time management.

It’s past eleven and I’m sick, so I’m not gonna beat around the bush. The only reason I haven’t had the time to write in what seems like forever is because my free time is like a wet soap in my hands. Every time I think I got a good grip on it, it slips right outta my fingers and onto the sink and then it’s a slippery mess in the sink as I try to grab it back. I have loads of free time, even today as I was on babysitting duty all afternoon and night. LOADS. Yet, somehow, I end up doing so little…

It gets really frustrating sometimes, you know, since I have all these things I want to do, all this hard work I heartily pile up upon my shoulder while I convince myself that any drop of laziness will only result in DEATH. Much needed pressure, honestly. I’ve gotten way more serious about wanting to achieve stuff these past two years. I’m craving full devotion to my passions but my complete lack of organization and adulting skills is making it hard. I’ve tried setting up a schedule for guitar practice/music theory and make sure that I digest these scales quickly and practice everyday. But… The truth is I haven’t even finished getting that schedule down… Which just doesn’t help in any way! x)

Anyways. I’ve put the kids to bed two and a half hours ago already and somehow, I’ve only just now started typing! I’m gonna try and get some posts ready for the upcoming week because I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to write during the week at all… We’ll see how that goes! I really feel like I need to get back to writing more often on this messy blog of mine. I need it to assess my progress in life and process what’s happening to me. I need it for introspection. And, I feel like I’ve lost some of my depth??! I mean, I’ve just done so little thinking and looking in lately that I just feel more stupid than usual; like I’ve lost touch with myself, a little bit…

It’s hard keeping up. I’ve been here for a little over two months now. I’m completely settled in. I know the streets. My family is home. I’m completely fine and comfortable. And, honestly, the only real issue for now is my relation to Time. Hopefully, sooner than later I’ll get on the right track but for the moment, I am an out of step mess.

Those two months felt like a dozen but at the same time, flew by faster than a week. And this week, as it was mid-term break and the kids went to Halloween camp, I had more free time during the days but ended up doing less things than on the usual school days.

I’ve never had a good feeling for time if that makes any sense. Even when I was still at school I could never keep up with what day it was or anything. I still knew like, what classes I had and what I had to do, but don’t ask me about the date because I’d have zero clue. I guess I’m good at digesting  routines. I do it so well that it eventually becomes second nature and I don’t even have to wonder about the big lines. Auto-pilot?

What I’m trying to say here simply is that I had all the time on my hands but I dropped it onto the floor and every time I tried to pick it up, I kicked it with my feet. I still did some stepping forward, but penguin style, I barely moved in the end. Ha ha!

I am honestly trying to get on the damn track but I guess that I’m still adjusting. And I don’t realize it because I feel so goddamn comfortable already! When you check the facts, I’ve only been here for a little while and I am indeed probably still adjusting to everything. But with things going on so smoothly and my feeling so settled in my little Irish nest, I just keep forgetting how new it all is and that might be where it blocks. Constant confusion, ha!

I’ll get there! In time. (lolz)

A Storm in a Teacup, a drawing & words 9.19.17

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So, I’m this weird cup. And what you can’t see is all the cracks between the pieces. There’s glue keeping them together but it’s cheap glue, hope/will/faith/strength/light/fuel; cheap glue. It’s always leaking!

It’s holding this black liquid inside, probably not something you’d want to drink. And it’s always leaking through the cracks. I try to hold it in, all the while dreading the big BREAK (and secretly wishing for it).

The Storm gets windy and I spill some. Will I ever run out? Will I break? Will there be glue again then?


Drew it while on the phone with my sister. It is (as weird as it feels for me to say it like that, I’ll admit) a self-portrait.

The name came from that little paragraph I wrote in a notebook back at my mom’s place last month after I learned the idiom “A storm in a teacup”. Basically, it means to make a big deal out of nothing and I thought, “Shit, saaaame.” And well, that’s about it for the story. Ha ha! 😉

I was very amused when I discovered that sentence because, first of all, my over-dramatic self can relate and secondly, THE STORM guys!! And I do love me some tea! It just made so much sense these specific words put together like this.

That morning when I started drawing, I had no idea what I was doing. Just killing time, waiting for the cleaning lady to leave so I could get down to my business and lipsync to some ol’ rock’n’roll. And it wasn’t until I started messing up the top of the skull and ran downstairs to get some duct tape in an attempt to fix it that I saw the opportunity to link this fresh work to this older paragraph.

That’s a thing I love to do! Connections. When I create something new and I find that I can actually make a link between that fresh piece of me and an older one that I either left to macerate in a notebook or just kept somewhere deep in a folder cos it just made no sense at all. It’s a beautiful feeling. I do feel like a genius. Which I certainly am not. But it feels great. I’m like “wow, I did a thing with another thing” and I’m happy. And that’s a feeling I long for.

In other news, I enrolled for an evening art class at the community school which will take place on Tuesdays for ten weeks I think. So that’s something to look forward to! I’m really excited to start!! What I hope it brings me is knowledge and new skills, a little bit more confidence, new friends and the opportunity(and motivation?) to create more often. Can’t wait to begin and blooooooooooooom IT STARTS NEXT WEEK (only three more days to wait)

Until next post, keep doing what you love ❤

Sad thought from a happy day?

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Today I went out with my Lilly, her boyfriend and her nephew(and boy, has he grown!!). We saw the new Spiderman movie. I wish I could’ve heard Michael Keaton’s real voice instead of the French dub, but what d’you want? We’re not in Lille. The €€€ fly but your 20170715_122537-1expectations can DIE. Not really kidding, but you can laugh! I do cos it’s saaaad 😦

Everything was fine until we sat in the cinema and they started chatting together and I was left with my thoughts and the darkness(not really at first but it already felt like it).

[ I will try and be as short as I can because I am tired right now and at home. Honestly, as much as I’d have lots to say and write, I can’t just spend my time on a computer/phone. I take pictures and post them when the internet allows it but even if it means not doing anything or simply staring at my mom all day, I’m spending as little time as needed on the internet. ]

And as I sat there, she started speaking; that voice that just knows not how to lift me up. I tried to fight it and keep busy, devour my popcorn before the screen is even turned on, stare at the ceiling, listen to my friends’ conversations… But nothing worked. She just talked and talked. She put me down. She did not hit where it hurts, on those swollen bits of me I’m used to pressing on whenever the challenges get a bit too heavy and I fall. She hit on one of the biggest insecurities of mine… And that is, the stupid storm.

That voice wasn’t telling me how bad a friend I am, how boring, nor how I’ve been looking fatter lately, how I might not be as strong as I thought. No, she did not mention any of those things, because they weren’t so important at that time. The storm was the real thorn on the sole of my foot which I had to push deeper in, jump on and torture myself with.

She was telling me how weak I was.

Just a moment of slight darkness and I was gone, gone with the winds of despair and self-loathe. All it told me was “Look at you, the movie’s not even started yet and you’ve already let your thoughts flood you and drown you. Just a minute in and you’ve been reduced to a quiet piece of shit, and nobody even notices.”

I wasn’t putting the blame on my friends for not noticing me getting quieter and slowly fading in the background, it was all on me.

And the worst part was that, with all this already heavy enough bullshit in me came a crippling guilt which glued me to my seat. How could I be feeling bad and having all these thoughts run through my head while I was with my best friend and expected to be all about the good time? How could I just start thinking of myself and let sadness fill me while sitting next to my best friend whom I love and whose presence just completes me? I just felt bad for feeling bad, which is a feeling I’m sure a lot of people can relate to. And it sucks.

I had all these racing dark thoughts, sad ones and those mean ones pressing on my other weaknesses. But this voice was the loudest, the narrator of that afternoon. Because that’s what it was doing, narrating with acid words the mayhem in me as I sat near my dear best friend and her close ones.

And maybe the reason why I couldn’t fight it is because I agreed with it. The voice was right. I was being assaulted by those razor-sharp thoughts while there was still light in the room and I wasn’t on my own.

I don’t think that I can enjoy going to the movies anymore.

And that’s how I came to this conclusion.

I used to enjoy this because it was a way to keep me completely distracted from the bullshit inside and outside but just like a lot of things, it seems it’s not enough anymore to anesthetize my restless self. So maybe I should just stop going. I can still watch movies at home and it’ll be just the same but with more food! 😛

But really though, it sucks to pay so much money to sit in a dark room full of strangers enjoying a movie while you’re just melting on your seat and having multiple life crises at once. I can still enjoy it but it leaves me so messed up. And I feel even more alone like this, because I’m trapped in myself and no one can possibly know and it physically hurts.

Is it worth it?

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“help i had a good time”

It took me about thirty to forty-five minutes to get somewhat focused on the movie rather than my thoughts and hands. Just like it did, back when I still went to class, for me to calm down from my anxiety fits. It’s not as much a torture, honeslty. But it’s just not enjoyable, I’m so uncomfortable when this happens and I can’t escape. It’s actually pretty horrible.

So, yeah, this happened; again. I had a good time. I had a good afternoon. I was with my best friend and on the ride back home, even though I wasn’t feeling so well and quiet as fuck, she managed to make me smile and laugh and speak.

It was good but it was also really bad. And as happy a day it was, all it leaves me with, sadly, is this thought: I don’t think I can enjoy simple things anymore because I’m a wreck. I’ll try to hold on to the light of this day and the smiles and the good. But I seem to have discovered that brains tend to focus on the bad memories, or maybe that’s just me.

Everything is exaggerated in this 5″2 factory and well, I’m tired; I don’t want to type anymore.

That’s gonna be it. Longer than I thought it’d be, but I’m a fast-typer! 😛

Until next post, just, breathe. ❤

 

The Joy Graveyard – unfinished and ??? story?

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The Joy Graveyard (?need a better title?)

This is the story of a girl who knew better. For inside her heart, where most would bury their rancor, she kept all that was dear to her. She knew better than to let hate devour the light and the love in her. Most people would bite their tongue and tell not where they hurt; they would swallow the rage and the poisonous fire but never mention how upset an event/a person left them. But not her for she knew better than to let the darkness destroy her like it did her forefathers. No, she wouldn’t trap the hate out of sight and let it consume her insides. When she’d bite her tongue, it’d be for a laugh or a smile.

She had seen, countless times, how slow and painful a death such a life brings. And she had witnessed the terrifying explosion that happens when too much has been shoved down the throat and all the burning poison, like a herd of suns, rushes out of a person’s mouth and attacks anything it lays eyes on. With her wide eyes, she had watched the decay, the destruction, the darkness reign over these people and replace them piece by piece, throwing the human away and leaving only rotten flesh and hollow bones; demons.

She knew better than. Or at least so she thought.

This is the story of a girl who never laughed and barely smiled but lived maybe to be the happiest of them all. She had figured out the key to happiness, or at least, how to shield oneself against the darkness and leave this world as human as we entered it. She took all the sparks, all the light and buried it deep inside her heart. She filled herself with blue skies and bird songs. She swallowed all her smiles before they even reached her lips, she choked on her laughter and packed them tightly in tiny jars and planted them in the soil of her heart, the deepest she could reach.

As years passed by, the joy kept stacking up inside. Her friends and family kept wondering why she was always so sad and not laughing, why did she never seem to be having a good time? And she never said anything to them because they were all fake happy and couldn’t understand. To pretend was their way of life. She was happier than they could ever have wished to be.

With all this happiness inside of her, she was all set for life; she didn’t have to worry about facing tragedies because she could always reach inside to get some light. Would some bad luck strike her, she’d just open one of those jars, dig up a few smiles and she’d make it out alright. And there was always something to smile or laugh about, so she’d keep harvesting and would never run out.

Only once in her whole lifetime had she been so full of happiness that she had a breakdown. And like she predicted it was nothing destructive. It was a moment of pure happiness where she contaminated everyone in the room. It was on her twenty fifth birthday, when her mom had flown all the way from the other side of the earth to surprise her and she stood there in the middle of her tiny apartment with her friends, her boyfriend and a new dog. She was just full to the brim and after a single tear ran down her cheek, she broke the concerned silence with a laughter. Her mother cried when she saw her smile and laugh like that, like she hadn’t in forever. And the whole day was cheerful and everybody was happy and having a good time; not pretending. But that was the only time.

After that, she just kept stacking and stacking. The light was a little harder to find as the tragedies finally found her. She lost her dog. Then her mom. Eventually, her job. And maybe bits of her mind too. But life still went on and she could still reach inside to drink from those tiny jars on those long nights she’d cry herself to sleep. The world grew darker around her as her hair also progressively lost their color, but she still sought the light. She kept looking for it, eventually it got to a point where there were only sparks to be found but she’d manage to catch them and bury them just the same. And on the day she finally went to visit the clouds, she had the biggest smile on her face. 🙂


You can chose a path of self-destruction and allow hate to enter your heart and eat away at your soul or you can chose to let the light, no matter how small a spark, how weak a flame it is be the one riding shotgun. I think that’s mostly the idea I had in mind when I wrote this.

I believe it was the day right after the a7x show when I was on my way back “home” after a sleepless night at the hotel. I was in the metro and I just had a lighting hit my head and try to write the idea as quick as I could with my eyes half open.

As per usual, my writing this idea into a story is taking it to an extreme. And I don’t think that this girl truly knew better nor had the key to happiness. But I think she was onto something! 😉

You really do have power over your life and how the story unrolls and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can make the choice to actually take charge! It’s easy to let the darkness consume you, it’s really easy. And I know that it always seems like a good idea to just bury what’s bad inside and never mention it, never think about it, just look away. It feels safer and for a while you feel like you’re actually okay and you can lead a normal life. But it kills you slowly and silently, like a gas leak in your house while you’re asleep. It is not the solution.

I believe you have to face the darkness inside and outside and seek the light. Easier said than done, I know! But evil ways always seem so much more painless and easier at first sight, it’s on the long run that you truly see how destructive they are. You can run, but you’ll never escape because it’s all inside of you and all around you anyway, so looking away is actually a pretty silly thing to do. Build up walls and paint them the color of the rainbow but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s dark outside and it’s raining inside of you.

It can be hard and painful sometimes to face the darkness. And some things you really can’t deal with and have to bury as deep as you can because they are just too much. I know. I just think that you need to try your hardest to keep the dark out of you, and especially those silly things that can turn into bitter acid in the back of your throat after you’ve let them sit in here for too long. Hate is a big no-no to me.

My point is, you have the choice and the power and it’s you who decide what eats you and what you eat. So think twice or thrice before holding grudges over those people who didn’t take out the trash once when it was their turn to, those who never gave you back those twenty bucks they borrowed, those who broke you and those who taught you life a little too hard. Don’t let hate and darkness be the master of your life; you are not a puppet so stand up to yourself and keep your soul as safe as you can.

I’m done! Thanks for reading! I’ll leave you with a very fitting quote of Hayley (MY QUEEN) Williams. Until next post, don’t forget to sit down, breathe and think before choosing to go left or right. ❤

“I have the ability to build myself up or break myself down. Strength comes from within. […] “B.O.Y.” means “Beware Of You”. Be aware of your power. We have the choice to live positively or in our own destruction.”

Pain is a color and I’m a rainbow.

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Darkness isn’t necessarily black. It is not colors that I lack but a darker shade of black; or maybe a bottle of Jack; or stronger bones in my back…

I wanted to make this a poem but it seems the shaking in my mind cannot handle structured writing, so I will have to let it be whatever it decides to be. I will let my fingers type these confused thoughts of mine and stain my white keyboard with the poisonned ink that leaks through my broken nails. Ain’t that just the way it always goes anyways? I am nothing more than the puppet of my own thoughts.

I’ve been thinking about darkness, as in the spots that cover my heart and soul; the pain, the silent wounds, the invisible scars, the bright crevasses. And again, my brain has sewed another fancy disguise for my bleeding soul from the tasteless word-stew that simmers forever in the back of my mouth. Because this blood never lingers on my flesh and shimmers better than when I hum these word-stuffed melodies. I can watch it dance and rejoice as I praise it with my dark poetry, the only music I can create.

Darkness isn’t necessarily black. I can tell because when I look inside, I can see the colorful polka dots adorning my soul.

My best friend used to call me her rainbow, I have lost track of her reason why, but today I have found my own. If I’m a rainbow, pain is a color and my thoughts are artists. And, of course, I’m holding the bigger brush and when I’m not poking my eyes with it, I paint the biggest patches of colors and take care of any needed touch-ups.

My heart is the color of the sky, a blue that gets deeper at night when my soul is an ocean where demons can’t drown.

My hands are the color of fire, a red that gets deeper when I wrap them around my neck tight enough to shut me up.

And my green-tinted smiles they’re here to hide my rotten faith and hopes.

My head is a mess right now. I was already dealing with the storm’s unexpected come-back and now I have all these doubts and whatnots coming uninvited to the party. The place is too crowded, it’s hard to breathe and I’m losing sleep again, and weight, and strength, and hope, and faith. But, believe it or not, I somehow am in better shape than usual. I mean, I’m a mess and this is very heavy to carry around. But I still feel like I’m handling it better than ever before. But maybe that’s just another illusion.

I’m glad I got that out. I had these few lines lying around for a while now and I just had to get them out. They’ll remain here for now. Maybe they will later find home in a poem or a song, if I ever birth one of these again.

And let me just add that, as much as this sounds dramatic, too dark or whatever you wanna call it, I’m a very positive person. Don’t get me wrong, I ooze darkness and cold coffee; but I still shine, even when I shine dark. I might even be the most optimistic person I’ve met so far. I mean, if you trim all the excessive use of words, the dark tone and all the dramatic poetry, there’s light here! Not because I admit and often emphasize the ugly and darkness of certain things (mostly me) doesn’t mean I don’t see the beautiful. I actually, sadly(there it is again!…), see it everywhere.

I don’t like being called a pessimistic or a fatalist or whatever things you people can come up with, because I’m not. I see the light and the beauty in places you would never even think of looking, and I don’t give up even when I do; so shut up with your labels that don’t even fit. And to quote that Paramore song, “For a Pessimistic, I’m Pretty Optimistic“.

Cherish your pets while you have them and water your plants. ❤

What am I to others?

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Does my existence affect others’ life as much as theirs can affect mine? I  hold on a lot to people, whether it be strangers, half-strangers or people somewhat close to me. Like that one guy I used to see every time I ate at my university’s cafeteria last year or just a few people I go to class with.

But they aren’t aware of that, they don’t know that by simply existing they help me fight on, breathe a little longer. When I’m feeling “down” (to put things in simple terms), when going through another day sounds very near impossible, these people actually lift me up without doing nothing but being alive. I can get out of bed and think “oh, it’s okay, I’ll be sick at school but at least I will see duck/I will be with duck“(not real ducks, just cooler than “xxx”) or “I don’t really feel like going out but if I walk I’ll see ducks when I’ll cross the park and that’s awesome”(real ducks, real fucking ducks everywhere).

Familiar faces and familiar voices. I suppose that this is why it helps, because it’s the same, always, it’s something that seem to stay constant and it feels good. It feels good to know that I will see the same face even in a Monday’s hell; it feels like I’m not alone even though that person probably doesn’t see me at all. It can sound silly or maybe even sad but as long as it keeps me fighting it shouldn’t matter, I guess. I hold on to the fact that I can see the same face in a same place and even if it’s not enough to stop me from shaking, it still helps me be there no matter how much I dread the moment my mind will start freaking out.

And, lately I’ve been wondering, am I like that for anyone? Do I matter this much to anyone? Am I the reason someone gathers strength to get out of bed every morning to go somewhere where they hope they’ll see me? Could I be someone’s motivation? Could my existence be the thin thread someone out there holds on to in some way or another? Am I someone’s reason to smile? Do I bring some kind of light into anyone else’s life and how bright is it? I can hardly conceive such an idea, but hey, it’s not impossible.

I can’t help but wonder if it’s the same for other people. I wonder if I’m the reason someone goes to school everyday, if I’m the reason someone keeps fighting. It sure feels nice to think that you could be someone’s (far away) light in the dark, makes you feel worth something. But it surely feels unreal above all.

And then, if I do matter in this kind of way to anyone, I hardly believe that they would say it to me. I know I wouldn’t, because I don’t think it would make a difference to them to know it AND I’m scared they would stop being helpful if they become aware. So I’ll just keep wondering… What am I to them? What am I to you?
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