now it's time you and i make a bet

i like you, you like me, that's obvious by now. so how about we spend the next 30 or 40 years together, and in the end, if we liked it, i win. if we didn't, you win.

[original here]

drink it in

how many days are left
? / and what to spend them on? / should i keep working / or sit and marvel at the sky? / 
i think about your skin, your fragile skin / the heaven of life we're living in

 / drink it in, drink it deep / i pray to life your soul to keep / drink it in, drink it in / pink clouds scatter / my heart beats clear / for all the hearts that i hold dear / drink it in, drink it deep / i pray to life your soul to keep / drink it in, drink it in / drink it in, drink it in...

bridge over troubled water

when you're weary / feeling small / when tears are in your eyes / i will dry them all / i'm on your side / when times get rough / and friends just can't be found / like a bridge over troubled water / i will lay me down / when you're down and out / when you're on the street / when evening falls so hard / i will comfort you / i'll take your part / when darkness comes / and pain is all around / like a bridge over troubled water / i will lay me down [...] if you need a friend / i'm sailing right behind / like a bridge over troubled water / i will ease your mind

one and the same

the need for love lies at the very basis of human existence. it results from the profound interdependence we all share with one another.

[hh dalai lama via twitter]

don't you know that when you sleep with someone, your body makes a promise whether you do or not?

[open your eyes]

what do we do...

... when we lose hope?

Look into your own heart, discover what gives you pain, and then refuse, under any circumstance whatsoever, to inflict that pain on anybody else.

[Karen Armstrong]

here? now?

i don't like

the ever-present idea

of being your future past tense

it's at night...

it’s at night, when daylight’s gone, that words are clearer;

it’s at night, the noises lower, that words are louder;

it’s at night, the hurry subsided, that words are slower;

it’s at night, when you lean closer, that words are truer.

and i listen.

whence she came

"When a marriage or an official relationship are over, men and women are desperate, they can allow themselves to be. When something like this is over, their sadness is unrivaled because they have to bottle it up, while they struggle to evoke the comfort of shared survival. It is grief without a funeral, made of tears in a restaurant bathroom, there are no fetishes from a buried past, nobody will bring comfort. She tries to comfort herself, playing with her hair, eating, chatting.

I'm the only one at the table to understand whence she came."

[excerpt; my (rough) translation; original here]

because the heart wants what the heart wants

castle: you ask me, she should have followed her heart; left david and gone with wolf.

beckett: you know, i can see the virtue in staying. i mean, guys like wolf, they come in, they upset the applecart… of course they make you feel alive but eventually you know he’s just going to let you down. so why risk it?

castle: because the heart wants what the heart wants.

[castle 2.22 ~ food to die for]

horse with no name

the ocean is a desert, with its life underground
and a perfect disguise above
under the cities lies, a heart made of ground
but the humans will give no love

you see i've been through the desert on a horse with no name
it felt good to be out of the rain
in the desert you can remember your name
'cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain

and a white tulip to bloom in wintertime

girls who have it all

i want to live in that world

made of yes and sure

without no and maybe

when i say jump

the answer? how high

never why

where i'm the center

not a suburb

where my hand is held

my skin a thousand times kissed

my mouth adored

for adoration's sake

day one

35 to go.

start counting.

projections

the more i read other people's blogs, especially friends', the more i realize that i am fundamentally introverted in my writings, when and if said writings see the light of screen. i am not able to see the big picture those friends see. i am unable to discuss wider topics such as politics, music, literature, philosophy; rather i focus on small topics such as… my thoughts. i limit my inquisitive self to what is going on inside said self. maybe because it seems that there's enough going on in here that i can't possibly begin to examine what is going on out there. i don't watch movies to discuss or analyze them to the smallest detail; i don't read books with the purpose of reviewing every paragraph. my deconstruction works inwards rather than outwards. i am certainly inspired by their style of writing, and read them out of interest - but at the end of the day, i fall back inside the realm of the self - *my* self - and look around to see what i find. and those movies and books are more of a means to be distracted rather than challenged.

[i think all day long, please, for a moment, dear movie/book, entertain me]

am i less of a valuable person if i don't listen to NPR? if i don't post about national health care or fuel-efficient vehicles? if i don't know the capitals of every sub-Saharan nation? will i be labeled as ignorant if i can't recognize different meat cuts? or clothes styles? or make-up shades? am i less interesting if i can't remember movie directors? or can't name more than 5 russian novelists? less of a woman if i don't care about purses and shoes? that does not mean that i float in blissful oblivion. i read. i do my best to keep up with what is going on around me, and on a larger scale, in the world. i keep up with the news, at least until they disgust me and make me feel so small and insignificant, the classic speck of dust on this giant floating rock, that i decide, once again, to retreat to safe shores.

[yes, i can fix my own computer; yes, i know how to change a tire; yes, i know how to shoot a firearm; yes, i played sports; yes, i mount my own furniture; yes, i play musical instruments. so what. i do things i like, just like you]

maybe it's because i believe that, before trying to make sense of how other people behave (or how they direct movies, or write books, or rule countries) and think, i at least have to try and make some sense of how *i* behave and think. if i am unable to make sense of *my* self, which lies here, close by, a thin layer of skin away, how would i ever be able to make sense of selves so far removed from me? selves i can't even being to comprehend, not just as bodies, but as embodiments of human beings each with their story, their background, their traditions, their upbringing, their quirks, their beliefs, their own personal disasters they deal with.

[someone once told me, be nice when you deal with people, you have your issues and problems, but they have their own too, so be respectful]

and it's hard enough to make sense of this self as it is. the ups and downs, the joys and sorrows, stairways to heaven and descents into hell, all in one day, on repeat, like an old dysfunctional juke box. it's hard enough to come up with sentences that make sense in a language in which i dream but in which i do not *feel*, to use the right words at the right time while my brain is running away to the next thought, leaving the fingers behind.

[i need lotion on these aging hands; the rough skin is starting to show signs of time. so do my eyes. so does my soul. is there lotion for the soul?]

the insightful thought of the day is that i project me/myself on people. not in terms of expectations - i hate that word - but in some kind of behavioral pattern. i dislike being by myself, so i make sure my closest friends know they are never alone. i dislike being invisible, so i make sure my closest friends know their absence is noticed. i dislike feeling like nobody cares, so i make sure my closest friends know i think about them, just a text or a call can suffice at times, no need for huge displays - as the saying goes, it's the thought that counts. i dislike not having anybody to talk to when i need it, so i make sure my closest friends know they can count on me to listen, no matter what/when/where we are. it's a total devotion they get, a "no strings attached", "you owe me nothing in return" unconditional friendly love. sadly but not unexpectedly, this dog-like (not my description) devotion has earned me quite the number of "use then toss" tickets. i call them my battle scars. i refuse to give less than this, to a very select few. do i expect them to behave the same with me? no. would i like to be treated the same way? yes. for once, for a splendidly precious once, yes. i dream of being somebody's best friend, and to be told so, as childish, sappy, weak as it may sound.

[30 years and counting, i wait, maybe someday, one day, it will happen]

in the meantime, i end up watching a funny romantic comedy.

at 4 am.

alone.

in my room.

in the dark.

[cue gut-wrenching dreams]

no

love this song, been playing it a lot lately...

fail

i fail as a teacher - for not being the one who makes them learn

i fail as a friend - for not being the one they want to talk to, or spend time with, or confide in, for always coming second (or third, or fourth, if any)

i fail as a student - for not completing my requirements, for not wanting to finish my program

i fail as a mentor - for not being able to teach what i have learnt

i fail as a lover - for not being memorable

i fail as a significant other - for not being pretty enough, or important enough, or loving enough, or lovable enough

i fail as a person - for not being good enough to get a job

i fail as an acquaintance - for not being likable enough to become a friend

i fail at so many things, it's not even funny anymore

i feel like such a waste of oxygen

double standards

money, value, availability, worth, age, happiness, love, maturity, distance, importance, time, ability, devotion, tiredness, interest, anger, truth, friendship.

i guess it's all relative.

i guess i ruined it. it was going so well.

me and my stupid mouth.

the joy of driving at night

That idea, then, is night in a nutshell: It's a universal experience that thrives on its abstract essence. Like the automobile, night is a gloriously subjective thing; because it lacks definition and clarity, it's free to be all things to all people. And there's no better way to see it than from a car.

What does it mean to us? Simple: To drive is to remind ourselves that we are alive, and to drive at night is to remind ourselves, in every sense of the phrase, that we are not asleep. So go. Roll the windows down, throw the sunglasses into the glovebox, and venture forth into blackness. It may be dark, but if you can't see the world around you, you're not looking hard enough.

[sam smith - original here]