I want to wish you a happy new year. I have just over four hours left of the old year and expecting my mom any minute now!
Tomorrow is a new beginning!!
Hope this year will bring answers and developments and clarification to us both! With lots of creative solution-making:)
Talk to you next year;)
Monday, December 31, 2007
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
There are many things that can be talked to death. Dreams can wither and die if they are pondered upon for too long at a time. When we sleep we dream, and those dreams are never still. There is always an action going on. We do something in them. That is what dreams are for. Dreams give us something to reach for, an idea about a change we want to make, something special we want to do.
When dreams die, we die. Not a physical death, though that is of course the most severe consequence of losing our dreams. We lose our way in life, and it becomes dark and unfriendly, and some of us cannot bear it and decide to end everything.
That is not how life is supposed to be. There are not enough talk about those things only a dreamer would allow themselves to think about. The bohemians talk about love. They dare to dream of the things that can rock our very core. Artists dare to dream the unthinkable. The creatives live to see the worlds that exists beyond this world. Life should be poetry in motion.
This is how a novel should start. With love. The clearest dream of them all is about love. The love for life and what it represents. We are so surrounded by death that most of us find it normal to watch lives being utterly spent without consideration for what that means. In the news we hear about 10 people dying in a bombing. We shrug our shoulders and the number ten just fades into the background. But all of those people had dreams. Dreams about a better life for themselves and their loved once, a life away from poverty or war. And yet it seems we all engage in wars at every level of the word. War is somehow become a way of life, and stories about a peaceful community like Atlantis or Avalon is just legends, myths, something of the imagination. But if we can imagine should stories, they must be true. When the first human being was killed by another, it must have started somewhere?
Now we live in a society that glorify violence and killing, only they are rebuked in order to protect our society, but not until it is too late. And if the murder is horrible enough, or if you are born of the wrong race and family, we can sentence death upon that person. But isn’t it already too late? The life has already been taken? Where is the talk about dreams before violence and desperation takes over? Because the reality is that most murders isn’t by cruel and evil human beings, but by people who have been torn away from their selves and tossed into a despair that turns love into numbness.
When dreams die, we die. Not a physical death, though that is of course the most severe consequence of losing our dreams. We lose our way in life, and it becomes dark and unfriendly, and some of us cannot bear it and decide to end everything.
That is not how life is supposed to be. There are not enough talk about those things only a dreamer would allow themselves to think about. The bohemians talk about love. They dare to dream of the things that can rock our very core. Artists dare to dream the unthinkable. The creatives live to see the worlds that exists beyond this world. Life should be poetry in motion.
This is how a novel should start. With love. The clearest dream of them all is about love. The love for life and what it represents. We are so surrounded by death that most of us find it normal to watch lives being utterly spent without consideration for what that means. In the news we hear about 10 people dying in a bombing. We shrug our shoulders and the number ten just fades into the background. But all of those people had dreams. Dreams about a better life for themselves and their loved once, a life away from poverty or war. And yet it seems we all engage in wars at every level of the word. War is somehow become a way of life, and stories about a peaceful community like Atlantis or Avalon is just legends, myths, something of the imagination. But if we can imagine should stories, they must be true. When the first human being was killed by another, it must have started somewhere?
Now we live in a society that glorify violence and killing, only they are rebuked in order to protect our society, but not until it is too late. And if the murder is horrible enough, or if you are born of the wrong race and family, we can sentence death upon that person. But isn’t it already too late? The life has already been taken? Where is the talk about dreams before violence and desperation takes over? Because the reality is that most murders isn’t by cruel and evil human beings, but by people who have been torn away from their selves and tossed into a despair that turns love into numbness.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Friday, December 21, 2007
Kurt - Middle-earth Idol
I want to listen to Dance with me again and again;)
And I had to put Geir sing Elvis by memory;)
Thursday, December 20, 2007
The walk
I put on a lot of clothes, two think sweaters, because it is minues 9 degrees outside. All that I can to protect me from the cold, and still be able to walk. I decided very quickly that this was not good for me, so I decided to do two things at once. Go to the store and walk:) I chose a store a little further away from me, so that I did have ten minutes walking one way and ten minutes the other way.
What did I think about? It is funny how when you start you think about the task, but it only take a minute or so before you forget and you mind wanders. I thought about how I am today. That I am feeling okay and not okay at the same time. That I almost feel the anticipation of what is going on inside physically in my body. It almost feels like a dark cloud is about to lift off of me. I walked past Kampen church and notice for the first time that the church has stain colour glass. And I thought it was a shame that the church wasn't always lit inside. I have probably seen it before, but not when it comes to its rightful place with the light inside of the church. I thought it was a shame that the churches in Norway these days have opening hours...
Kampen is a really nice place, old houses and buildings. Very cosy as most of my neighbourhood is. I reached the store without much other reaching my memory. On my way back I saw the moon, my precious guiding light. And I saw a woman standing naked just where I was only it was way back when there was no buildings there, and hills around the sea was covered with woods. She was standing with her arms to the sky, palms up to greet the moon, that will be full in a couple of days. And I thought how it isn't hard to understand that the moon holds such a sway over humans heart. I don't think it is a person alive that hasn't gazed at the moon and felt strangely moved by the sight.
That was about it. My cheeks are still cold, maybe also because they were frozen with tears. My eyes always water when it is cold. And that makes the cold even worse. I am not complaining. I feel good after the walk. Just stating the fact)))
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Attention
She sits down at the computer. The screen with an empty page in front of her. She decides that this is it. Yes, it is late. She should be in bed now, but she decides to make an effort all the same, almost like it is now or never. All the excuses she could tell herself, that she needs to sleep, that she can do it tomorrow, that it doesn’t matter. They all disappear behind the thought that if she does it tomorrow it will be completely different than if she writes now. So she sits down in front of an empty page, determined not to let her doubts and excuses get in the way.
She is determined to not let fear get the best of her. If she had decided to go to a café the next day, it might never happen. So she trusts a try. She lets herself go just a little bit, because that is what she knows she has to do deep down inside, take the chance of writing horribly. Her head hurts for the self-inflicted insomnia. The night is to inviting to sleep away, she tells herself, but still all that she does it throw every chance of getting down to the real deal and she goes to bed tired and without being filled by the words that hide behind her eyes, that hide themselves in her mind and in her heart.
There is enough to write about, she thinks looking at the clock, seeing that only ten minutes have passed. And her first thought is to go to the sofa to smoke, to run away, thinking that she will not be able to just let the words flow out. The problem about computers, she thinks, is that the words can flow so much faster onto the screen than if she had done it longhand, and that means that it takes a shorter time to write about what she had already thought she could write. The plans she had made before sitting down, how she could write, and what would she do when all that is used up. She has no idea how to let go, to let the words come, because those she has no control over.
She wonders what it is about this control. What is it that she wants to control? She doesn’t even know that. She lets down her blonde hair, to perhaps lessen the pressure she feels in the top of her head. Her period is in the second day and the pain is less apparent, more like an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. She pulls her hair a bit, frustrated about what comes next. She thinks about a comment she got about why she always kept her hair up in a ponytail. She doesn’t know. It is just comfortable to not have her hair in her face. Sometimes though, she has her hair down, but that is often because she wants to hide a bit, and hair flowing around her face does that for her. Hides her… Besides, with her hair down it gets tangled in the back and gets hard to comb through.
The minutes tick by so slowly. She is getting restless now. Completely terrified about running out of things to write. Her crosses her legs, tapping the foot on the floor, not to any beat, only to the restlessness in her. She wants to scream. She wants to have something to write about, and she knows she has sources for books. People around her, parts of their stories would fit nicely into a story, but always the stories slip from her, existing only in her mind where they unfold beautifully. But the moment she tries to catch them with words, they laugh at her and run away, and she doesn’t have the strength to chase after them, wondering if they are worth it. What if she feels forced into a story that doesn’t suit her? She is so scared of losing her dreams. So the safest thing is to watch them run away and turn the other way.
Everything around her is chaos. She is chaos. But from chaos there is always some kind of order in store. Storms are chaotic, but the sea is always calm after a storm. The grey won’t last forever. There will be sunshine again, or moonlight. Outside she knows the moon is growing into a full moon. She loves the moon and always greets it with enormous joy when she ventures out after dark. Today she walked to the store and walked towards it, though she was distracted by it being so cold, and she thought she would have to take on the warm fussy black coat next time she was going out. At least now that it is so cold. She coughs as if to remind herself that the cold can make her sick.
Half an hour has past by and she is sure that she cannot go on writing for another thirty minutes, it will be impossible. But she is determined to stick with the plan. She has to force herself to stay on the page. She sighs. It is hard. And her thoughts run ahead of her. Like they are trying to dictate what she should write, what is appropriate, because she has plans on posting this on a website and she has to be careful what she writes. Everything has to be nicely put together. Nothing too revealing, thank you. But what is the point, she thinks, of resisting the urge to write. She does it now. She wants to write, but doesn’t know how to go past the wall that she has built between herself and her longing and the creative world she feels every single day.
She wants to be confident enough, but she is too scared to even try. She doesn’t even know how. All of her words circle around the same thing over and over again. It isn’t that she lacks the courage to break through the wall. There is nothing she wants more. She thinks her low energy level comes from her not living truthfully. She knows there is a connection between not being happy and her health that she has felt getting worse and worse over the past year. Blaming it on smoking and not exercising would be easy, but she knows that there is a deeper level to it. Her energy would come back again when she felt she had a grasp on what was going to come next. That was not getting a job. That would be the natural step when she had climbed out of this dumb she had gotten stuck in.
It had taken her many years to get to this place. Where she actually managed to sit in front of the computer for one hour straight and just let the words come. Trying not to judge what came out, just letting it be. She still had difficulty in giving details about the physical world. But her inner life was filled with details that she could easily find and describe. She mastered that in a great way, it came natural to her and she wondered if that had something to do with her participation in the world outside her four walls. Not many days ago, she saw a woman walking past outside in the streets. At first she had looked like a child, but when she past she saw that it was a woman about forty if she should guess. She wore a poncho that reached all the way down to the ground, sweeping dramatically around her feet. The woman had no idea that she was watching her. She had no idea why exactly that woman had made her way through the wall and impelled her to remember her, but she thought if she didn’t write about this woman she would be forgotten and she didn’t want that, so she sat down and wrote about her. Not much, just a couple of lines about what she had seen.
Afterwards she thought that it was a new experience that gave her a little ray of hope, that maybe, just maybe, something was changing, that she was slowly opening up to see her own creativity a little different. Not as something she would want to engage herself in, but something that she possessed and had possessed since she was a little child. No she might not have written the stories down on paper, giving clear sign that she was a writer (since writers write down their stories), but the stories she made in her head was always entertaining. She was in her stories, she felt what she thought up. She was in the stories in her head, like she was in a movie. It was like that the past years she had tried to persuade herself from writing, from gaining access to this world that she knew was absolutely wonderful and very much a part of her, like it had been when she was a child.
She thought that it was incredible that could come if you only let go a little. Before this hour she had not believed that she could actually manage to do this, but right now she doesn’t care if it is bad or good writing. She just enjoys listening to music and hearing the tapping on the keys like a far away sound. Even the music comes a little in the background, because the black words flowing onto the page is more important. She tries to concentrate on their appearance than on what comes down, shifting her mind from thinking about what to write next makes the thought of the minutes ticking by slowly go away.
Her black and white cat jumps up on the chair she has besides her computer, for putting books down on, books she takes notes from. Books that she might want to take with her to London or whatever place she wants to stay for a longer time in the future, books that she can then put on a cd to take with her. She starts to think that this is boring. No one would be interested in her telling about taking notes from books. She is patient that way. Doing that would seem like a waste of time for others, but she learns a lot from repeating the words of others. She thinks that there might be an inspiration for an idea in those books, something that triggers her imagination, that triggers an idea or something else. So she keeps busy that way. And she is glad. If she didn’t read a little every day her days would be so much more boring. Her books are her comfort. The stories that can bring her out of her mind for a little while, or teach her something about herself.
Like the book that showed her finally what she had tried to figure out for a long, long time. That she was creatively blocked. That was why she couldn’t sit down and write for more than a minute or so. That was why she threw away everything she ever wrote, because it felt forced, untruthfully, but it still kept her longing for words intact, so she would not forget that this was her dream. She always tried over and over again. Even though it never got her anywhere, it keep her on the path of fulfilling her dreams of being a fulltime creative. She was pleased. She had taken a major step today. She was glad she had listened to that voice inside of her that told her to do it now. To sit down and write. To give details maybe not about the physical world, but at least she had left a rather detailed account about her inner world. That is after all a start, she thinks. And an hour had really past. She had done it. She could now go to bed and sleep in the knowledge that she had accomplished something, good or bad. She didn’t care.
She is determined to not let fear get the best of her. If she had decided to go to a café the next day, it might never happen. So she trusts a try. She lets herself go just a little bit, because that is what she knows she has to do deep down inside, take the chance of writing horribly. Her head hurts for the self-inflicted insomnia. The night is to inviting to sleep away, she tells herself, but still all that she does it throw every chance of getting down to the real deal and she goes to bed tired and without being filled by the words that hide behind her eyes, that hide themselves in her mind and in her heart.
There is enough to write about, she thinks looking at the clock, seeing that only ten minutes have passed. And her first thought is to go to the sofa to smoke, to run away, thinking that she will not be able to just let the words flow out. The problem about computers, she thinks, is that the words can flow so much faster onto the screen than if she had done it longhand, and that means that it takes a shorter time to write about what she had already thought she could write. The plans she had made before sitting down, how she could write, and what would she do when all that is used up. She has no idea how to let go, to let the words come, because those she has no control over.
She wonders what it is about this control. What is it that she wants to control? She doesn’t even know that. She lets down her blonde hair, to perhaps lessen the pressure she feels in the top of her head. Her period is in the second day and the pain is less apparent, more like an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. She pulls her hair a bit, frustrated about what comes next. She thinks about a comment she got about why she always kept her hair up in a ponytail. She doesn’t know. It is just comfortable to not have her hair in her face. Sometimes though, she has her hair down, but that is often because she wants to hide a bit, and hair flowing around her face does that for her. Hides her… Besides, with her hair down it gets tangled in the back and gets hard to comb through.
The minutes tick by so slowly. She is getting restless now. Completely terrified about running out of things to write. Her crosses her legs, tapping the foot on the floor, not to any beat, only to the restlessness in her. She wants to scream. She wants to have something to write about, and she knows she has sources for books. People around her, parts of their stories would fit nicely into a story, but always the stories slip from her, existing only in her mind where they unfold beautifully. But the moment she tries to catch them with words, they laugh at her and run away, and she doesn’t have the strength to chase after them, wondering if they are worth it. What if she feels forced into a story that doesn’t suit her? She is so scared of losing her dreams. So the safest thing is to watch them run away and turn the other way.
Everything around her is chaos. She is chaos. But from chaos there is always some kind of order in store. Storms are chaotic, but the sea is always calm after a storm. The grey won’t last forever. There will be sunshine again, or moonlight. Outside she knows the moon is growing into a full moon. She loves the moon and always greets it with enormous joy when she ventures out after dark. Today she walked to the store and walked towards it, though she was distracted by it being so cold, and she thought she would have to take on the warm fussy black coat next time she was going out. At least now that it is so cold. She coughs as if to remind herself that the cold can make her sick.
Half an hour has past by and she is sure that she cannot go on writing for another thirty minutes, it will be impossible. But she is determined to stick with the plan. She has to force herself to stay on the page. She sighs. It is hard. And her thoughts run ahead of her. Like they are trying to dictate what she should write, what is appropriate, because she has plans on posting this on a website and she has to be careful what she writes. Everything has to be nicely put together. Nothing too revealing, thank you. But what is the point, she thinks, of resisting the urge to write. She does it now. She wants to write, but doesn’t know how to go past the wall that she has built between herself and her longing and the creative world she feels every single day.
She wants to be confident enough, but she is too scared to even try. She doesn’t even know how. All of her words circle around the same thing over and over again. It isn’t that she lacks the courage to break through the wall. There is nothing she wants more. She thinks her low energy level comes from her not living truthfully. She knows there is a connection between not being happy and her health that she has felt getting worse and worse over the past year. Blaming it on smoking and not exercising would be easy, but she knows that there is a deeper level to it. Her energy would come back again when she felt she had a grasp on what was going to come next. That was not getting a job. That would be the natural step when she had climbed out of this dumb she had gotten stuck in.
It had taken her many years to get to this place. Where she actually managed to sit in front of the computer for one hour straight and just let the words come. Trying not to judge what came out, just letting it be. She still had difficulty in giving details about the physical world. But her inner life was filled with details that she could easily find and describe. She mastered that in a great way, it came natural to her and she wondered if that had something to do with her participation in the world outside her four walls. Not many days ago, she saw a woman walking past outside in the streets. At first she had looked like a child, but when she past she saw that it was a woman about forty if she should guess. She wore a poncho that reached all the way down to the ground, sweeping dramatically around her feet. The woman had no idea that she was watching her. She had no idea why exactly that woman had made her way through the wall and impelled her to remember her, but she thought if she didn’t write about this woman she would be forgotten and she didn’t want that, so she sat down and wrote about her. Not much, just a couple of lines about what she had seen.
Afterwards she thought that it was a new experience that gave her a little ray of hope, that maybe, just maybe, something was changing, that she was slowly opening up to see her own creativity a little different. Not as something she would want to engage herself in, but something that she possessed and had possessed since she was a little child. No she might not have written the stories down on paper, giving clear sign that she was a writer (since writers write down their stories), but the stories she made in her head was always entertaining. She was in her stories, she felt what she thought up. She was in the stories in her head, like she was in a movie. It was like that the past years she had tried to persuade herself from writing, from gaining access to this world that she knew was absolutely wonderful and very much a part of her, like it had been when she was a child.
She thought that it was incredible that could come if you only let go a little. Before this hour she had not believed that she could actually manage to do this, but right now she doesn’t care if it is bad or good writing. She just enjoys listening to music and hearing the tapping on the keys like a far away sound. Even the music comes a little in the background, because the black words flowing onto the page is more important. She tries to concentrate on their appearance than on what comes down, shifting her mind from thinking about what to write next makes the thought of the minutes ticking by slowly go away.
Her black and white cat jumps up on the chair she has besides her computer, for putting books down on, books she takes notes from. Books that she might want to take with her to London or whatever place she wants to stay for a longer time in the future, books that she can then put on a cd to take with her. She starts to think that this is boring. No one would be interested in her telling about taking notes from books. She is patient that way. Doing that would seem like a waste of time for others, but she learns a lot from repeating the words of others. She thinks that there might be an inspiration for an idea in those books, something that triggers her imagination, that triggers an idea or something else. So she keeps busy that way. And she is glad. If she didn’t read a little every day her days would be so much more boring. Her books are her comfort. The stories that can bring her out of her mind for a little while, or teach her something about herself.
Like the book that showed her finally what she had tried to figure out for a long, long time. That she was creatively blocked. That was why she couldn’t sit down and write for more than a minute or so. That was why she threw away everything she ever wrote, because it felt forced, untruthfully, but it still kept her longing for words intact, so she would not forget that this was her dream. She always tried over and over again. Even though it never got her anywhere, it keep her on the path of fulfilling her dreams of being a fulltime creative. She was pleased. She had taken a major step today. She was glad she had listened to that voice inside of her that told her to do it now. To sit down and write. To give details maybe not about the physical world, but at least she had left a rather detailed account about her inner world. That is after all a start, she thinks. And an hour had really past. She had done it. She could now go to bed and sleep in the knowledge that she had accomplished something, good or bad. She didn’t care.
Monday, December 17, 2007
It is freezing outside (minus 8 degrees celcius). My feet are cold too. If it would snow now, it would come just in time for Christmas, and it would be just like in the song. Not that I am dreaming of a white Christmas, but it has been a long time since we had it here. You have rain today, don't you? Your favourite weather eh;)
I got my period today! Yeah, now I can go back to being a little more stable. A great relief. Why does PMS have to be so mood-swinging? Funny...
Thinking back on the past three days, I actually can't remember much. It feels like I have been inside a loop that will never really end, like walking in endless fields where nothing ever changes. Just the same high grass that keeps me from seeing any horizon, keeps me from seeing anything period. Anything but the sky, but that is a monotonous grey. It feels a little frustrating and at the same time, it ain't that bad. I have been through worse times. Maybe it is that waiting thing you talked about. It's not bad, but it isn't good either. It just is.
That of course leads me to thinking that if the waiting is self-made. If this monotonous landscape is of the mind, can't I colour it, make it into something else? Couldn't I make flowers grow in the endless fields, big, bright red flowers, like roses, that fills the air with a sweet smell? With one stroke over the sky, I could make the sun appear, white clouds rushing across the deep blue sky. I can make it into whatever I wanted, and yet I seem to be satisfied with grey skies and tall grassy fields that keeps me from seeing anything. Why is that? When I can really make anything happen. Put one word after another until they make sense. I could listen to the wind, instead of complaining about it. I don't have to walk against the wind. I could turn and it will blow me forward.
In my mind, I could travel anywhere I want. I can go anywhere I want, even to distant realms that no one knows about, only me. I could colour the world in the most fabulous colours. I could paint with the colours of the rainbow. And yet, I stay inside the little box of familiarities. I don't challenge myself. Maybe I don't, because I don't know how to do that. I have gotten so used to this life of grey that I don't know how to do it differently. I don't know how to shake things up. I don't know how to unblock me, to get unstuck, to move forward. So I stayed in the same place until I believe that it was all there ever was. That I was outside looking in, dreaming of what I could do if only... If only what? If only I was better, brighter, more beautiful, more clever? If only sneaks into your system like an invisible poison, slowly killing off the spirit, drowning that voice of beauty and colour, making everything into grey encounters that just fades into the background as soon as they have passed. And all you are left with is if only. If only I had this, or a little more of that... The poison is working its way through the whole system until your spirit is numbed into believing that this is all there is.
That sounds really depressing. I am not saying that because it is completely like that. For a while it was, yes. I believe it was, but even though the poison is there in the system, there is always a cure. Not all poisons kills you... Positivity is a cure, but it is a long and painful cure. To believe again is a difficult task. I can believe one moment, and the next I just can't travel to that place where I see myself succeed. It's like hitting an invisible wall. It is flexible and at first I can't see it, but when I do, it shoots me back like a sling shot... See? The wall is still there. But it's not solid anymore, and it is not misty either. It is like its made of jelly, sticky and wobbly...
I know I should go to bed now. It's almost 4:30 am. But I don't want to sleep even though I am tired. That means I am finishing a new day that feels pointless, wasted on nothing. Why is that? Why do I end up without doing anything? I get energy from feeling satisfied, like I am doing something. Why don't I do something? Because I don't know what I want to do? It really is a vicious circle! I feel like the clock is ticking now. For what, I don't know. I feel that is my sentence these days. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. Maybe I will know tomorrow... Ah, it reminds me of this thing in The Artist's Way:
I will try that tonight I think. Get ready for bed, ask a couple of questions and try to get some sleep. Then see what happens. At least I have written something today, in this blog, that is at least something. I don't really think it's that bad, I just wanted to write and see where it led me...
I got my period today! Yeah, now I can go back to being a little more stable. A great relief. Why does PMS have to be so mood-swinging? Funny...
Thinking back on the past three days, I actually can't remember much. It feels like I have been inside a loop that will never really end, like walking in endless fields where nothing ever changes. Just the same high grass that keeps me from seeing any horizon, keeps me from seeing anything period. Anything but the sky, but that is a monotonous grey. It feels a little frustrating and at the same time, it ain't that bad. I have been through worse times. Maybe it is that waiting thing you talked about. It's not bad, but it isn't good either. It just is.
That of course leads me to thinking that if the waiting is self-made. If this monotonous landscape is of the mind, can't I colour it, make it into something else? Couldn't I make flowers grow in the endless fields, big, bright red flowers, like roses, that fills the air with a sweet smell? With one stroke over the sky, I could make the sun appear, white clouds rushing across the deep blue sky. I can make it into whatever I wanted, and yet I seem to be satisfied with grey skies and tall grassy fields that keeps me from seeing anything. Why is that? When I can really make anything happen. Put one word after another until they make sense. I could listen to the wind, instead of complaining about it. I don't have to walk against the wind. I could turn and it will blow me forward.
In my mind, I could travel anywhere I want. I can go anywhere I want, even to distant realms that no one knows about, only me. I could colour the world in the most fabulous colours. I could paint with the colours of the rainbow. And yet, I stay inside the little box of familiarities. I don't challenge myself. Maybe I don't, because I don't know how to do that. I have gotten so used to this life of grey that I don't know how to do it differently. I don't know how to shake things up. I don't know how to unblock me, to get unstuck, to move forward. So I stayed in the same place until I believe that it was all there ever was. That I was outside looking in, dreaming of what I could do if only... If only what? If only I was better, brighter, more beautiful, more clever? If only sneaks into your system like an invisible poison, slowly killing off the spirit, drowning that voice of beauty and colour, making everything into grey encounters that just fades into the background as soon as they have passed. And all you are left with is if only. If only I had this, or a little more of that... The poison is working its way through the whole system until your spirit is numbed into believing that this is all there is.
That sounds really depressing. I am not saying that because it is completely like that. For a while it was, yes. I believe it was, but even though the poison is there in the system, there is always a cure. Not all poisons kills you... Positivity is a cure, but it is a long and painful cure. To believe again is a difficult task. I can believe one moment, and the next I just can't travel to that place where I see myself succeed. It's like hitting an invisible wall. It is flexible and at first I can't see it, but when I do, it shoots me back like a sling shot... See? The wall is still there. But it's not solid anymore, and it is not misty either. It is like its made of jelly, sticky and wobbly...
I know I should go to bed now. It's almost 4:30 am. But I don't want to sleep even though I am tired. That means I am finishing a new day that feels pointless, wasted on nothing. Why is that? Why do I end up without doing anything? I get energy from feeling satisfied, like I am doing something. Why don't I do something? Because I don't know what I want to do? It really is a vicious circle! I feel like the clock is ticking now. For what, I don't know. I feel that is my sentence these days. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. Maybe I will know tomorrow... Ah, it reminds me of this thing in The Artist's Way:
One way we listen is by writing our morning pages. At night, before we fall asleep, we can list areas in which we need guidance. In the morning, writing on these same topics, we find ourselves seeing previously unseen avenues of approach. Experiment with this two-step process: ask for answers in the evening; listen for answers in the morning. Be open to all help.
I will try that tonight I think. Get ready for bed, ask a couple of questions and try to get some sleep. Then see what happens. At least I have written something today, in this blog, that is at least something. I don't really think it's that bad, I just wanted to write and see where it led me...
Sunday, December 16, 2007
If the best of all possible worlds were reality...
1. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would live in a great appartment down in the old city, Gamlebyen, with a rosett in the living room ceiling with a great chandeler hanging down from it.
2. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would travel the world, and see and experience new things.
3. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would be healthy and fit, doing exercises and walking every day.
4. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would have lots and lots of energy every single day, with great sleeping patterns and eating habits.
5. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would have writing and painting as my job.
6. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would be successful in everything I put my mind to.
7. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would have the time of my life.
8. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would be happy all the time.
9. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, the world would be a lot different, a place where people saw each other and no one needed to be lonely and suffering.
10. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would paint every day, making images that would empower me and the people who saw them in a gallery I own myself, maybe a couple of galleries:) In London and in Oslo... Art would not be a status symbol, but a way to express ideas and love...
2. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would travel the world, and see and experience new things.
3. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would be healthy and fit, doing exercises and walking every day.
4. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would have lots and lots of energy every single day, with great sleeping patterns and eating habits.
5. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would have writing and painting as my job.
6. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would be successful in everything I put my mind to.
7. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would have the time of my life.
8. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would be happy all the time.
9. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, the world would be a lot different, a place where people saw each other and no one needed to be lonely and suffering.
10. If the best of all possible worlds were reality, I would paint every day, making images that would empower me and the people who saw them in a gallery I own myself, maybe a couple of galleries:) In London and in Oslo... Art would not be a status symbol, but a way to express ideas and love...
Friday, December 14, 2007
I am not alone!!! How wonderful is it to see that someone else had the same thing as I have!!
I was going through some websites on Karen Blixen to find if she has any books set in Africa (Helene, Cath's daughter has as you know been in Africa and is kinda mesmerized by it). Karen Blixen it says wrote her novels in English then translated them into Danish!! How great is that!! Yeah))) I am of course sure you know who Karen Blixen is:) I say three words: Out of Africa;)
But the point is, I am not the only one!! I have thought about the exact same thing. Writing in English then eventually translating it into Norwegian:) Sort of gives me validation for it!! Yeah!! Happy smiles:)
I was going through some websites on Karen Blixen to find if she has any books set in Africa (Helene, Cath's daughter has as you know been in Africa and is kinda mesmerized by it). Karen Blixen it says wrote her novels in English then translated them into Danish!! How great is that!! Yeah))) I am of course sure you know who Karen Blixen is:) I say three words: Out of Africa;)
But the point is, I am not the only one!! I have thought about the exact same thing. Writing in English then eventually translating it into Norwegian:) Sort of gives me validation for it!! Yeah!! Happy smiles:)
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Blah day
Blah!! Hellish day. Haven't done anything at all after doing my morning pages. And I had such great plans... All I've been doing is staring at the canvas I started yesterday. It is really frustrating. Okay, so I had a sneezing day most of the day, that does not help of course. I might have made it an excuse if it had been today, but I've been like this for the better part of the week. I don't know what it is. It's really not like me. A little voice tells me that maybe this is part of my so-called recovery. That I am slowly and painfully gaining something. That's why maybe the way I have spent my days before is changing. A part of me still holds on to what was, and another smaller part is moving in another direction. Maybe I am in the process of changing. But to be honest, I don't know. I don't think it's depression, though I am feeling a little depressed. Maybe I am PMSing:) I have forgotten when I had my period, but it might be why I am feeling bluish.
I really don't know what to do. Everything in me is yearning for something to occupy my mind, but I can't seem to sit down and do anything. So I play games online, smoke a lot and stare at the canvas unable to put more paint on it. And I am not able to sit down and write anything either. Except for my morning pages. Yes, I do those every day. I actually have been doing them for one month today!! That should be celebrated I guess. I am quite proud of that)) And I will be even prouder when I can say I have been doing them for two month:)
I even had to take a grip on myself to sit down and write a blog. But once I started I find that I have a lot to write. Vent some frustration. I should try to get some sleep and think that tomorrow is a new day with new opportunities, and stop being so hard on myself. I am after all in recovery, right))) I hope we get a chance to talk a little more often after your tests have been done. I could need some cheering up.
You know, it just hit me, that it almost feels like standing on the edge, one part of me want to jump and take a leap of faith, the other is scared shitless. And that makes me feel rather numb, and without any initiative whatsoever. I just curl up at the edge and hope it all will go away. I don't know what it is that I am waiting for. It took me forever to do those 25 things. It seems like there are parts of me that I have buried so deep inside that it is so difficult for me to find them. I guess I should look at this as an adventure as well, the hard parts of the journey, they are worth while too. The process demands small steps and sometimes you stand completely still. Like you're trapped in a small room that barely lets you move. The air gets so thin that it becomes difficult to breath.
Oh well, I guess I just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings really. If it is the same, I will survive that day too. I will just have to try my best to get through it. You'll see, it is probably PMS:) Me completely forgetting my own cycle again... I mean that it makes it seem more depressing than it really is. Sooner or later (sooner I hope) I will find out what is bugging me. It certainly helps to just let it out:) Hope your exam went well!! Take care and hope your essay got finished)))
I really don't know what to do. Everything in me is yearning for something to occupy my mind, but I can't seem to sit down and do anything. So I play games online, smoke a lot and stare at the canvas unable to put more paint on it. And I am not able to sit down and write anything either. Except for my morning pages. Yes, I do those every day. I actually have been doing them for one month today!! That should be celebrated I guess. I am quite proud of that)) And I will be even prouder when I can say I have been doing them for two month:)
I even had to take a grip on myself to sit down and write a blog. But once I started I find that I have a lot to write. Vent some frustration. I should try to get some sleep and think that tomorrow is a new day with new opportunities, and stop being so hard on myself. I am after all in recovery, right))) I hope we get a chance to talk a little more often after your tests have been done. I could need some cheering up.
You know, it just hit me, that it almost feels like standing on the edge, one part of me want to jump and take a leap of faith, the other is scared shitless. And that makes me feel rather numb, and without any initiative whatsoever. I just curl up at the edge and hope it all will go away. I don't know what it is that I am waiting for. It took me forever to do those 25 things. It seems like there are parts of me that I have buried so deep inside that it is so difficult for me to find them. I guess I should look at this as an adventure as well, the hard parts of the journey, they are worth while too. The process demands small steps and sometimes you stand completely still. Like you're trapped in a small room that barely lets you move. The air gets so thin that it becomes difficult to breath.
Oh well, I guess I just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings really. If it is the same, I will survive that day too. I will just have to try my best to get through it. You'll see, it is probably PMS:) Me completely forgetting my own cycle again... I mean that it makes it seem more depressing than it really is. Sooner or later (sooner I hope) I will find out what is bugging me. It certainly helps to just let it out:) Hope your exam went well!! Take care and hope your essay got finished)))
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
The Nobel Peace Prize
I think today's blog will be very much influenced on what is going on in Norway today and the past days. The Nobel Peace Prize that this year was awarded to IPCC (Rajendra Pachauri) and Al Gore. Or to the fight against manmade climate change. I know there has been a lot of discussion about this year's winners, if the climate has anything to do with the concept of peace. I say shame on them!
What could be more important to peace than this earth? What would happen if we destroyed it bit by bit? Would that create peace? The fact is that the natural resources has much to do with many of the conflicts we see around the world. I am so thankful to the nobel committee for this bold move. It is so important to acknowledge the work that both IPCC and Al Gore is doing. Their voices has become much stronger.
I love the notion that this is something the whole world must solve together. That no one will not be touched by. It doesn't matter what colour your skin has, what you believe in, or who you are. It will effect us all if we do not come together and solve this. This is the time to save our future. I have thought about how much our belief in one life is doing to how we live our lives. Think about it, if we knew with certainty that we would be born into this world again after we die, would we think different? We talk about saving the earth for our children and our grandchildren, but we might as well be ourselves... I find it an interesting thought. Because I think we need a spiritual change. Without a closer relationship to nature and the soul, we will never make it. Our politicans are nothing but human beings. They think the way many of us do. We have to work for our countries and our countries rights to have good lives... What is the good life?
Oh I love this one. "Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam" is the philosophy that the universe and its family is one. That's exactly it. We are all one. That is what we do not understand with war, because often it is somewhere else than outside our doorsteps. With the environment being destroyed, the story will be something completely different. Ask the people of New Orleans, and they will tell us a horror story... Mother Earth will beat us to our knees.
Rajendra Pachauri just said these words: "The world has enough for everybody's need, not everybody's greed." Love that sentence!
Al Gore talked about how we should look at these times as joyful, because we have a chance to work together, to solve the problems of this world. Our souls doesn't need war, our greed does. It is really nice to be inspired. The work is not to forget when this night is over, but to find small steps to actually work towards the goal of uniting the world. We can make peace happen. We can bring the world together.
There should be more inspirational stories out there! Not just the shocking and despair news of hunger, sickness, war and death. We should celebrate our differences. And I personally think art of all kinds are a builder of bridges. Music, words and images. Maybe that is one of the reasons I love my creativity so much, because through it I can explore a world that is so rich and so alive with opportunity for peace and a deeper understanding. There is no time to lose really. I want to shame those people who tries to destroy our world and their "enemies"!! I want to shame them with love!!
Go to this address: http://nobelprize.virtual.museum/award_ceremonies/ceremony_oslo/video/2007/index.html to read the lectures by Al Gore and Rajendra Pachauri from the IPCC. Very good
What could be more important to peace than this earth? What would happen if we destroyed it bit by bit? Would that create peace? The fact is that the natural resources has much to do with many of the conflicts we see around the world. I am so thankful to the nobel committee for this bold move. It is so important to acknowledge the work that both IPCC and Al Gore is doing. Their voices has become much stronger.
I love the notion that this is something the whole world must solve together. That no one will not be touched by. It doesn't matter what colour your skin has, what you believe in, or who you are. It will effect us all if we do not come together and solve this. This is the time to save our future. I have thought about how much our belief in one life is doing to how we live our lives. Think about it, if we knew with certainty that we would be born into this world again after we die, would we think different? We talk about saving the earth for our children and our grandchildren, but we might as well be ourselves... I find it an interesting thought. Because I think we need a spiritual change. Without a closer relationship to nature and the soul, we will never make it. Our politicans are nothing but human beings. They think the way many of us do. We have to work for our countries and our countries rights to have good lives... What is the good life?
Oh I love this one. "Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam" is the philosophy that the universe and its family is one. That's exactly it. We are all one. That is what we do not understand with war, because often it is somewhere else than outside our doorsteps. With the environment being destroyed, the story will be something completely different. Ask the people of New Orleans, and they will tell us a horror story... Mother Earth will beat us to our knees.
Rajendra Pachauri just said these words: "The world has enough for everybody's need, not everybody's greed." Love that sentence!
Al Gore talked about how we should look at these times as joyful, because we have a chance to work together, to solve the problems of this world. Our souls doesn't need war, our greed does. It is really nice to be inspired. The work is not to forget when this night is over, but to find small steps to actually work towards the goal of uniting the world. We can make peace happen. We can bring the world together.
There should be more inspirational stories out there! Not just the shocking and despair news of hunger, sickness, war and death. We should celebrate our differences. And I personally think art of all kinds are a builder of bridges. Music, words and images. Maybe that is one of the reasons I love my creativity so much, because through it I can explore a world that is so rich and so alive with opportunity for peace and a deeper understanding. There is no time to lose really. I want to shame those people who tries to destroy our world and their "enemies"!! I want to shame them with love!!
Go to this address: http://nobelprize.virtual.museum/award_ceremonies/ceremony_oslo/video/2007/index.html to read the lectures by Al Gore and Rajendra Pachauri from the IPCC. Very good
Monday, December 10, 2007
I am so sorry, but I am really not feeling like writing tonight. I guess it is a good sign that I am actually tired now at 2:00 am:) I am going to bed! I don't know what is happening. Had a couple of really "bad" days in the way that I don't seem to do anything at all...
I hope for a better day tomorrow. Hopefully with a blog entry:) I still owe you an account from my trip)))
I hope for a better day tomorrow. Hopefully with a blog entry:) I still owe you an account from my trip)))
This was really difficult. I don't know if it is about sophistication, but at least it is 25 things:)
1. That I can buy all the books I want
2. A studio
3. Breakfast every day
4. Longer nails, manicured
5. Champagne
6. Trips around the world
7. A small summer cottage in Åsgardstrand
8. A greater sense of what I am here for
9. An appartment with a lot of history and soul
10. A creative life
11. Enough money to go around
12. A circle of spiritual conscious people
13. Laughter
14. Living in London
15. Making the priorities for a better tomorrow
16. A canopy bed
17. Antiquities
18. Lots of notebooks to fill
19. Inner peace
20. Good health and a healthy lifestyle
21. Lots of flowers and plants around me everywhere
22. A hybrid car (or electrical)
23. Wine cellar
24. Lots of animal
25. A little cabin in the mountain which is driven by solar energy
1. That I can buy all the books I want
2. A studio
3. Breakfast every day
4. Longer nails, manicured
5. Champagne
6. Trips around the world
7. A small summer cottage in Åsgardstrand
8. A greater sense of what I am here for
9. An appartment with a lot of history and soul
10. A creative life
11. Enough money to go around
12. A circle of spiritual conscious people
13. Laughter
14. Living in London
15. Making the priorities for a better tomorrow
16. A canopy bed
17. Antiquities
18. Lots of notebooks to fill
19. Inner peace
20. Good health and a healthy lifestyle
21. Lots of flowers and plants around me everywhere
22. A hybrid car (or electrical)
23. Wine cellar
24. Lots of animal
25. A little cabin in the mountain which is driven by solar energy
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Thought I'd at least say hi before I go)) The last entry until friday, if I not by some chance should be in front of the computer:)
Did my morning pages, before 3pm!! Which is an accomplishment in itself. I am almost ready to go now. Packing is a little of a hellish thing to do. You never feel you have taken with you everything you are suppose to take. Like I was out shopping yesterday, I had bought so little, and I was sure the girl behind the counter said to me, "Have you forgotten something?" "I don't know," I said before I realized she had asked if I wanted a plastic bag... The ever present me ah:)
Anyways. I am off to the great wide sea... Not the most impressive sea, but still out on "bølgande blå" as we might say:) Take care)))
Did my morning pages, before 3pm!! Which is an accomplishment in itself. I am almost ready to go now. Packing is a little of a hellish thing to do. You never feel you have taken with you everything you are suppose to take. Like I was out shopping yesterday, I had bought so little, and I was sure the girl behind the counter said to me, "Have you forgotten something?" "I don't know," I said before I realized she had asked if I wanted a plastic bag... The ever present me ah:)
Anyways. I am off to the great wide sea... Not the most impressive sea, but still out on "bølgande blå" as we might say:) Take care)))
Monday, December 03, 2007
I took the twenty minutes walk today. There are not any natural spots to walk in around where I live, but it is so lovely in my neighbourhood. Old small houses that has been here for many years. I think some of them are from around late 19th century, early 20th. Wooden houses, some of them bearing signs of the holiday coming. Then Christmas seems different, when you seem the signs in the windows of others, lights hung up on trees in their small gardens, or a star in a window. I walked past the church that lies nearby. It is on a hill and is not lighted by any spot lights. The church spire is almost invisible against the dark sky, and seems almost like a threatening shadow, like a giant. Along side the path that goes past the church there are old trees, their trunk moist from the rain we've been having. I almost didn't think I would say this, but I wish it would snow a little now. It would create such a magical feeling to the scenery.
Right now as I am writing this, Nicky is sitting on the chair I have beside my computer (for books and such), looking at me. Well, staring actually. Now he is looking somewhere else, probably philosophing about something that cats think about. I wonder what he is thinking when he stares at me the way he does sometimes))) Right now I think he's asking me for food:) His bowl is empty)))
And now for the synchronicity of week... I was delivering some books back to the library friday and I was handed a flyer by a woman with free meditation. Raja Yoga Meditation it's called. It's based on the principle that something that is useful for everyone should be free. It's a world wide organization (read about it at www.bkwsu.org). It's kind of what I have said all along, I want to learn how to meditate but that I am not capable of doing it alone... And I just know that it is not by accident that I found it now. But the problem is that it is today, and it has already had one class last monday. And since today would be a problem, I called and the same woman offered to give me the intro on sunday so I could begin next monday! I cannot say no to this at all. It is lovely really, and if it is a gift from the universe then I have nothing to lose in trying. I think it is another step in actually getting better and in my recovery. To learn to gather my thoughts and get past this problem I have of not being able to bring my thoughts into the world, into reality in a way. Manifesting my dreams, so to speak. I feel so scared of it though, which is another reason for doing it.
This is what it says about what it is on the website: "Raja Yoga Meditation is a method of relaxing, refreshing and clearing the mind and heart. It helps you look inside to rediscover and reconnect with your original, spiritual essence. Meditation enables an integration of your spiritual identity with the social and physical realities around you, restoring a functional and healthy balance between your inner and outer worlds." Sounds useful:)
I am thinking about what Julia Cameron said about being ready for these synchronicities. If I say no to this I will lose something that might be very important to me. What it is I don't know. It might be meeting someone who can help me take a new step towards becoming an artist. It might be just on a personal level of getting more calm or getting more concentrated (Nicky staring again..:))...
I am going to try to be more observant while in Copenhagen this time. So I can write more than, it was fine:) The problem is of course that I am not traveling alone. And that I have to be more attentive to my mom than to my wish to write. I am rather excited to see if I manage to do the morning pages, and how she will react to me doing them. Will I be able to get up and write two pages or not? Will it make any difference? It is something I am looking forward to finding out. I think I will have to do them and explain to her that I will put all the shit I feel behind in those two pages. I think it does make me more in harmony with myself...
Oh, I have taken out the biggest canvas I have ever attempted. I have had it around for years actually!! Just been waiting and yesterday I took it out of the plastic and I have been looking at it all day, wondering what the heck I will paint... I have no idea, but I am starting with ultra marine... It will be revealed in time I think... Or hope right now:) And I am getting more canvases in a day or two))) No small canvases this time, only larger ones))) So looking forward to it. Starting new paintings. And finishing some old ones. Just having fun with colours and shapes, and mixing them together. I think I have a little Michelangelo-ic way of approaching a canvas. The motif is already on the canvas and I just have to find it:) I don't like to plan ahead, do sketches and things like that. If I need to do it, of course, then I do it, but I find that when I let it find me, I enjoy it more. And now I am doing the biggest canvas ever!! Scary, but a good sign too:) I am recovery aren't I, slowly but steadily...
It is done!! The first stroke has been put on the white empty canvas. I am going to make the whole white space, blue, using a lot of therpentine first. It can dry when I am away and then I will see what needs to be done next:)
I hope I made up a little for yesterday:) And still the day is young. At least for me:) Ah my sleeping patterns)) If I have more to say I will post it:) Take care
Right now as I am writing this, Nicky is sitting on the chair I have beside my computer (for books and such), looking at me. Well, staring actually. Now he is looking somewhere else, probably philosophing about something that cats think about. I wonder what he is thinking when he stares at me the way he does sometimes))) Right now I think he's asking me for food:) His bowl is empty)))
And now for the synchronicity of week... I was delivering some books back to the library friday and I was handed a flyer by a woman with free meditation. Raja Yoga Meditation it's called. It's based on the principle that something that is useful for everyone should be free. It's a world wide organization (read about it at www.bkwsu.org). It's kind of what I have said all along, I want to learn how to meditate but that I am not capable of doing it alone... And I just know that it is not by accident that I found it now. But the problem is that it is today, and it has already had one class last monday. And since today would be a problem, I called and the same woman offered to give me the intro on sunday so I could begin next monday! I cannot say no to this at all. It is lovely really, and if it is a gift from the universe then I have nothing to lose in trying. I think it is another step in actually getting better and in my recovery. To learn to gather my thoughts and get past this problem I have of not being able to bring my thoughts into the world, into reality in a way. Manifesting my dreams, so to speak. I feel so scared of it though, which is another reason for doing it.
This is what it says about what it is on the website: "Raja Yoga Meditation is a method of relaxing, refreshing and clearing the mind and heart. It helps you look inside to rediscover and reconnect with your original, spiritual essence. Meditation enables an integration of your spiritual identity with the social and physical realities around you, restoring a functional and healthy balance between your inner and outer worlds." Sounds useful:)
I am thinking about what Julia Cameron said about being ready for these synchronicities. If I say no to this I will lose something that might be very important to me. What it is I don't know. It might be meeting someone who can help me take a new step towards becoming an artist. It might be just on a personal level of getting more calm or getting more concentrated (Nicky staring again..:))...
I am going to try to be more observant while in Copenhagen this time. So I can write more than, it was fine:) The problem is of course that I am not traveling alone. And that I have to be more attentive to my mom than to my wish to write. I am rather excited to see if I manage to do the morning pages, and how she will react to me doing them. Will I be able to get up and write two pages or not? Will it make any difference? It is something I am looking forward to finding out. I think I will have to do them and explain to her that I will put all the shit I feel behind in those two pages. I think it does make me more in harmony with myself...
Oh, I have taken out the biggest canvas I have ever attempted. I have had it around for years actually!! Just been waiting and yesterday I took it out of the plastic and I have been looking at it all day, wondering what the heck I will paint... I have no idea, but I am starting with ultra marine... It will be revealed in time I think... Or hope right now:) And I am getting more canvases in a day or two))) No small canvases this time, only larger ones))) So looking forward to it. Starting new paintings. And finishing some old ones. Just having fun with colours and shapes, and mixing them together. I think I have a little Michelangelo-ic way of approaching a canvas. The motif is already on the canvas and I just have to find it:) I don't like to plan ahead, do sketches and things like that. If I need to do it, of course, then I do it, but I find that when I let it find me, I enjoy it more. And now I am doing the biggest canvas ever!! Scary, but a good sign too:) I am recovery aren't I, slowly but steadily...
It is done!! The first stroke has been put on the white empty canvas. I am going to make the whole white space, blue, using a lot of therpentine first. It can dry when I am away and then I will see what needs to be done next:)
I hope I made up a little for yesterday:) And still the day is young. At least for me:) Ah my sleeping patterns)) If I have more to say I will post it:) Take care
Sunday, December 02, 2007
The check-in yeah. Today is not a very good day. I actually manage to sleep until almost 5 pm!! Now that means I haven't seen the light of day since yesterday which is not good. I don't know how I managed it, but it has made this day a little crazy. And now I am going crazy as well:) I try to tell myself that tomorrow is a new day, and it sure is. I bet I will fell much better tomorrow. The best thing I can do today is to go to bed... Sounds crazy since I haven't been awake for more than 10, but I don't think staying up is the best solution now. I need to sleep some more and maybe wake up at 10am tomorrow instead... I guess I will be in a better mood then. I managed to do my morning pages though... Or "morning" pages today...lol. But nothing else came of this day... The biggest accomplishment today was making dinner... No long entry tonight in other words.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)