Tag: song

Posted on

Freak by Surf Curse, give it a listen

I’m listening to Freak by Surf Curse, and maybe because I see myself as a freak, or maybe because I love this 80s guitar beat,  but I’m feeling this moment, and this song, and I want to share it with you.

I’m feeling like drinking coffee, because my mind associates peace and writing with black coffee, but it’s 11:02pm on a Sunday, and I just had shawarma, and I don’t think coffee right now would be the wisest choice.

But then again, when did I ever choose to be wise?

I’m still not making coffee. 

And not because I’m being wise, but because I’m too lazy to get out of bed. See, I would never disappoint you in thinking I am something I’m not. I’ll always be this way, unwise and sweet, obsessive and annoying, uncertain and insecure. Yet, you’re here, reading the insanity of my brain, thinking: “why the hell am I here?” Or maybe just trying to understand me, but you won’t, and not because I’m so mysterious, but because I don’t understand me either, so all the questions in your head, are also in my head, and I don’t really know how to answer them.

Last time I was writing, I logged into my blog to post what I wrote, and I heard my mum gasp loudly to the news of my grandma dying. I haven’t posted what I wrote yet, maybe I will after posting this. And I will eventually write about my grandma, because I need her alive here, at least, because she deserves to stay alive in every memory. But not now. Not tonight.

I wanted to write about something different. I wanted to talk about the serenity I lived today, around 2:54am.

The way my skin felt soft on my bedsheets, the 1913 song I had on repeat for an hour, the ancient sound in the buzz of the moments, the way I felt, like I could die that minute and it would be the most serene death anyone could wish for. I was ready for anything, my mind for once not anxious, my sadness toned down, my heart throbbing in normal paces, my obsessiveness set loose, my eyes open and close weightlessly, my lips smiling on their own, feeling so warm and cold at the same time, appreciating beauty, allure, as it really is. 

I was ready. And this serenity possessed my Sunday. I chose to stay in bed all day; I slept then ate, then slept some more. Then I said hi to a friend for 5 minutes in his car, then went up to my bed again, and slept some more, then woke up and ordered coffee, and sulked in my bed. And throughout, I did not feel any responsibility, nothing of the brunt I carry, I felt weightless. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever felt it? Feeling weightless, like a balloon, like if you close yours eyes for just a few seconds you might as well fly? 

I smiled at myself, for no reason at all, a couple of times. I listened to music and I let it consume me. I did not stress, panic, despair. I was okay. 

I’ll try to sleep now, even though I doubt I will, due to the uncountable naps of today, but I need to sleep so I have a less cranky Monday mornings than usual, and you all know my Mondays. I will continue watching this episode of Brooklyn 99-season 8 is on Netflix now!-and then attempt to sleep. 

Bonne nuit les petits. Talk soon x

Posted on

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.