Focus can be hard

I literally lost my ability to focus on work. I have hundreds of things to do, including super long and annoying tasks, and I have a headache, my stomach is empty, I am nauseous, and I am waiting for my food. And I cannot focus.

My lemony chicken with mashed potato is on its way, and I am super excited to eat it because I have decided to go healthy, and this is my third day of eating healthy. Also my stomach growling loudly as I sit with four other colleagues in a small office does not help my patience.

I was supposed to go out today, but I am too tired, and I just want to go to the gym and come back home and sleep. I’m sorry dear friend, but not today. Or maybe after I eat my chicken? Then perhaps I can decide if I would like to drive 30mins up the mountains for an hour or two of coffee with a friend.

The only reason I am writing this, other than my failure to get things done (and my general failure in life), is that I am so hooked up on the most peaceful song; it carries me somewhere, far, far away.

As the sad-eyed woman spoke we missed our chance
The final dying joke caught in our hands
And the rugged wheel is turning another round

Dorian – Agnes Obel

Agnes Obel on Dorian: “Dorian is about the inter-relational thing between two people, that you can’t put words on but you know is there. And when you reach the point of no return, and you are sort of swaying, or are suspended, into this weird space of nothingness, and you are still longing for all the good stuff that you had before. ‘Dorian’ is sort of my construction of that state of mind.

Nobody outside this bubble of these two people can see it, so it looks really pretty and great but then if you step into this ring, you see that it’s all sort of falling apart and rotting. I felt like Dorian was such a beautiful name and… for me, I like to make out my own meaning for a word, imply my own stories to words or names, so in the back of my mind, of course, I knew about Dorian Gray but it was not deliberate or about that character. I am sure it coloured it but it wasn’t about it.”

It’s been on repeat for a couple of days. And right now, as Agnes plays her piano and the violinist softly plays her instrument, I see myself somewhere up a hill in Georgia, neon green grass before my eyes and a valley too breathtaking to describe. I see myself, with a cup of tea, wind stroking me playfully and the cold making my eyes water, I see myself happy.

I am hoping to travel to Georgia beginning of January, but I’m still not sure if I would have enough savings to go. I prepared a list of places I want to go to and even an Airbnb list for houses to book. This song kind of gave all my planning a meaning, a feeling.

How can you even begin to understand music that makes you feel places? The tranquility and gullibility, yet the fast pace of the violin and cello, as if running down a mountain with arms stretched open. How awfully pretty.

It’s raining today, and I sped along the highway, and I felt what it’s like to drive into madness (I got yelled at by my driving teacher, obviously). It’s cold, and I am wearing my Sherlock trenchcoat and waiting for my chicken. It’s not so bad over here; it’s not so bad.