Wednesday, September 21, 2011

A Determined Soul

Everything considered, a determined soul will always manage.

Albert Camus.

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Stress Stress Stress

Lately I am feeling very deflated. In fact, almost picturesquely so since my posture has also gotten a lot worse.

Most of it has to do with my bad habit of skipping classes and then having to cram right before tests (which I am doing now) - academic pressure I suppose. On the other hand though, it's also small things - stuff like not being able to get the rhythm right on a song I'm trying to play, not eating right, sleeping right or not having saved as much money as I would have hoped by this stage. Also, I got an appalling grade for a recent assignment.

Little unrelated things that all work together to sort of drag you down further and further. Until something comes along and you nearly explode at it.

Like the leather passport wallet I bought for the end of the year, which came in the mail today, and isn't leather at all.

I was really looking forward to it too. : (

So what to do? I called a friend and ranted and raged for a bit. Of course, it solved none of my problems.

But things always work out in the end.
Do all that you can, and accept the things you can't change - I paraphrase the sermon.

Also I am told, that it helps if you imagine yourself five years from now - all your current troubles will fall away.

Tomorrow I will take my assignment to my tutor and do exercises for the tests that I have coming up, hopefully I'll also get a reply from the place I bought the leather wallet from.
As for now, I think I'll read some Kirkegaard.

Photo credit:
Arimura Ryutaro for Gadget Grow

[Because I know the majority of people who stumble across this place only stop by for the pictures ^^]

Monday, September 12, 2011


I grow weary of a certain example of how not to live.

By what sensibility should one call oneself a Christian and go to church to console oneself about lack of control, to learn to live sensibly and to gain entry through heaven's gates? As if church were some pity party where people who are hard on their luck go, as if it were some kind of after-life insurance policy. As if this life were some kind of ticket booth where we get in line to buy tickets for heaven by going to church.

It doesn't make any sense at all.
One should go to church because one is Christian and one believes in God.
It's not supposed to be a social gathering, even if it looks, smells, sounds, feels and tastes like one.

But I am not Christian, so what the hell do I know.

He tells me that people who don't go to church will go to hell.

Well, that may be true, but I think there's a worse hell for people who pretend to go to church in order to buy heaven insurance.

On the other side, I have found a near stranger who's life is a better example.

Who has worked in many countries, and quit his high-paying job on moral grounds. Who has accepted positions in France and Germany on the condition that "my wife gets a job too". Who has played in social soccer clubs, bred dogs, and raised plants, lived on a farm, and now lives in a waterfront apartment. Who has been offered a "boy's vacation" but brings his wife because "it wouldn't be any fun without my best friend". Who has decided to work again because "I thought it was probably about time I left the house". Who looks like he has fun every day.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

A Fake Memory

A fake memory that only you believe in.

A wish that you make come true - even though it's just a little white lie you tell yourself.

That with this, you're a little closer to your dreams (whispers: not really).

A burning live house, throbbing bass.
Waves of energy rolling from the seats.
I gaze at a benign god.
He gazes at me.
We don't need words.
This time, I can breathe.

Saturday, September 10, 2011


Isn't it interesting that men would live and die for an idea?

That every invention is the result of an idea.

That until they are realised, our dreams are just ideas.

That we want to manipulate other's ideas, but can never really control our own.

That we can delude ourselves, free ourselves, enslave ourselves, fix ourselves and break ourselves with just an idea.

You Only Have This One Life To Reach Your Dreams

Sometimes I wonder how true it is that I can never become truly great at something that I'm utterly talentless in.

Don't you sometimes wonder, what would happen if you really did sing non-stop for years and years? Surely with so much practise, you'd be at least better than where you are now? Maybe not world-class, maybe not famous, maybe not enough to win a reality show, but what if? Maybe if you worked hard enough, for long enough, really want it enough - maybe natural talent isn't as important as you think.

Ah, but then you also sometimes get those people that say "even if you believe it, it's not possible".

I don't know. Maybe because I was born with an inborn hatred of advice and should do this, should do that, don't do this, can't do that. But it really irks me to hear that.

Yes, so maybe belief isn't what makes it work. But hours and hours of work and sweat and effort and heart have got to mean something. Don't you think it would be impossible to practice for hours without getting slightly better? How about years? Have you ever heard of someone who sings with all their heart for years and is still no good??

Just refuse it. Your life is down to you anyway. If you want to believe in something, damn well do it and forget whether you should or not, or whether it will yield results. After all, if you believe it hard enough, work hard enough, I think you'll hear a difference in how you sound - even if no one else does. And while that might not be enough to win a show, isn't that enough to secure a little happiness for yourself?

If you think about it, I think the believing that it's possible is also a form of believing in yourself.
A unbridled sense of the world is mine and I can be me.

So yes, I'll probably keep ruining the neighbours lives with my late-afternoon impromptu piano recitals. Probably keep strumming on my guitar and singing in my room even though I know I have the rhythm of a half-tranqed deer.

I don't really want to be a musician.
But sometimes it's nice to just believe that I can.

I like to think that thus far, I've been able to hold on to the wide open expanses of "I can be whatever I want when I'm old" that belongs almost exclusively to children.
So many people grow up and realise that their dreams have fences and insurmountable walls.

But you don't.
Even if its a wild idea with nothing tangible to back it up, just try. Dream a little bit.
Don't worry anymore about it being pointless or impossible.

For all you know, you only have this one life to reach your dreams.