Irrelevance.

Sunday morning and my throat already feels like it's on flames. My inner Praying Mantis is having a field day. I've been yelling my head off at whoever crossed my way this morning. This is going to be one of my new year's resolutions, for sure. Anger management. Of course I don't get angry for no reason. But I digress.
Oh well. Looking forward to my belated birthday present to myself and having my new tattoo done. Finally. I tried to have it done while in Paris but they asked for 150 Euros, jeez. I'm having 'Alis Volat Propriis' in script on the inside of my right wrist. Something similar to this. But lower. And upside down.



And no, this is not because I'm so proud of the masterpiece that is my blog . I like the idea of being independent and living life by your own rules. As much as possible, anyways.
Also, I want to get a pet rabbit. Not one of those mean dwarf things. I want to buy one that you're supposed to eat, that grow really big.




I used to have them as pets when I was a tiny angry midget of ten and they're so tame and nice. This was brought on by me having a dream, a couple of nights ago, about a white rabbit that really loved me. I woke up feeling really happy until I remembered my dream and then I started worrying about there being something wrong with me. Which there undoubtedly is. My point is, I want a pet rabbit and I want it to love me.
I'm supposed to be doing an essay right now, called 'Solitude'. I wasn't the one to name it, of course.
How funny would it be if I could manage to put a waist coat on my rabbit, huh? I should have a couple of pictures taken and post them on here. Appropriate really, as I feel like I'm perpetually falling through a rabbit hole with no sign of landing. God, I'm such a drama queen, I bore myself sometimes.
I'm also on my third coffee. I'm not kidding. I'm not a morning person and having to do my work while half asleep would suck even worse than doing it fully awake. Would you look at my grammar this morning, huh?!! The next Nobel Price in Literature is mine, I can feel it.
And I keep thinking about how much I want this friggin' rabbit.
There is basically no relevant point in my writing all this.
Then again, when you look closely at things, there's never really a relevant point to anything.
And I'm feeling surprisingly much better.
And now I'm ranting.
Off I go.

Melancholy

A piece of blue following me everywhere

In Silenzio.

I sometimes dream of being able to shut everyone up. For real.

Shut my eyes close and sing me to silence.

Another day. Another evening where not even tiptoeing to my piano is safe. There are people in the living room, they keep throwing words at me, demanding some sort of response and no matter how hard I hit the keys to make the music louder, I still can't drown the fucking voices. I've been playing for, what, twelve years now? I would have taken this to be common knowledge to anyone who's known me for more than a day that I don't play and talk at the same time. This is what I go to to shut everyone out and it's not working anymore.
My beloved is falling apart from old age, the notes high strung and weak.
I'm at a loss. I'm not in a financial position to go anywhere to be on my own right now. But I crave empty space so much. I need a new space in a new place with new music, somewhere else.

Anima Mundi.

If I could sigh right now, I would. But I don't even bother doing that. I feel so unbelievably flat. There's a lot going on in my head that's saddening me. I feel upset at a bunch of stuff and I don't know what upsets me the worst. Sometimes I feel things I can't name. My feet drag me wherever and whenever I try to analyze myself, my mind goes blank. Worst of all, I feel uninspired.
I can't write well, I don't want to play music, I don't want to paint or whatever it is that I do usually. I just read. My days are a succession of waking up in the morning and waiting to go to sleep at night. And I've no idea what happens to the time in between.
This feels a little bit like hibernating.
And I know, this is probably one of my mood swings. I go through periods where I let the sadness take over. And the worst thing is, I know what's gnawing at me and I can't doing anything about it.
How I feel like is something like this: " Speed has never killed anyone. It's suddenly becoming stationary that's the problem. "
And I don't expect anyone else to understand me because I don't even understand myself. But I need reasons and inspiration.
Routine is not comfort. It's murder.

Enough said.

"To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting." ~e.e. Cummings.

Untitled.

“Our Generation has had no Great war, no Great Depression. Our war is spiritual. Our depression is our lives.”

Seeing as how things are going, how we've skimmed through physical political 'disagreement' and are currently struggling as a planet to get out of a recession, would this 'statement' still count? Does this for granted-ly mean that after our collective struggling, things can only get better? Or do things have to go catastrophically bad for us to have an equally opposite reaction?
I find myself wondering how it would have been to live through the Great Depression or a War. Would we have been aware that we were living future history?
Have you ever asked yourselves how it feels to see the light at the end of the tunnel, when it comes to something so much bigger than yourself?
And I feel like we're not doing so good, but we're not doing too bad either. Maybe our real depression is being stuck in the middle. OK is not good enough. It's like being indifferent.
Then again, so many 'big' things happened. The first black president was elected, and that was a step forward. Movie and music legends died and we're going through a pandemic. I don't know what to think.
Maybe we are living future history. Maybe we're living through something significant and we don't even know it.
Do you not find this entirely frustrating, trying to find your place and never getting answers? How you always end up with more questions? I just don't like the idea of living through a grey shaded patch in time, through something oblivious and unimportant.
Is it still possible to know your identity amidst people who don't know where they stand?
Does it matter anymore?