I’m living a long way from home and sometimes my heart is filled with nostalgia. But at the same time it’s scared to go back. What if memories were just made perfect by my mind?
Distorted. But on the way.
There was a Facebook post today, it said: “To move forward you have to leave something behind.”. And your first thought is probably somewhere in the line of well, yes, of course/that’s so obvious/everyone knows that/isn’t that like a physical law or something/etc.
Well, yes, of course. That is obvious and everyone knows that; there’s an internet discuss if it’s connectable to Newton’s second and/or third law.
But human brain doesn’t work according to Newton’s laws, unfortunately. My brain has a lot of components, and all of them are interlaced. Taking one away also takes some of the others with it, and maybe you want others to stay. You can’t make a clean surgical cut of your parts. So when you think about leaving something behind, you are not deciding on one single thing, but rather on a chunk of you that you feel more or less comfortable replacing with something else or, at the moment, more valuable. You can’t run around with a scalpel and slice things down expecting to come to the point zero; as soon as you snip one thing the other takes it’s place.
Sometimes you do feel like you are approaching that mysterious point zero, or You, but if you think about it you realize you are as far from it as you were. You’re carrying the same amount of load as you did before, it just happens that this time you're content with what’s in your basket.
It’s a shame that I have no idea how to capture the sparkle of glitter. Sometimes you know it’s shiny and magical, but somehow you just can’t see it with your eyes.
Look harder?
If you are my type of a person than you as well have your fare share of problems with making choices. I’m talking about choosing a dress, a face cream, a shampoo, a pen, a tea, a meal, a university, a job, a career, a hobby, burial place, a movie,...you get it. Choices.
I worked hard, sorry, wrong tense- I’m working hard on making decisions less painful. Painful, because I would think about every choice that I have. I would rethink every choice that I have.
Is this green pen something that I really need? Do I? I have pens, not green maybe (maybe yes, but not that particular shade of green), but there are pens on my desk. Ok, I need a pen. But do I really want THIS shade of green? What will I draw/write with it (trying to go through all the possible uses for the pen in my head)? There is also this blue pen (shade is out of this world of course); maybe I would use that one more (again, going quickly through all the possible uses for THat pen). But do I REALLY need any kind of a new pen? (Quickly trying to come up with an answer)
After five-ish minutes dwelling over a shelf with the pens, a “break-walk” around the store, another couple of minutes of dwelling over a shelf, I will make a decision. Usually my decision is that I don’t buy anything. If I do buy something I will repeat the process from the store the moment I pay for that pen.
This is a pen process. I don’t even want to start with the “career”, “children”, “place of living”, “marriage” processes.
I find it interesting how sometimes I get stuck in a rut. And even though I know which are the things that make me feel good about myself and make my days worthy of getting up in the morning, I postpone doing them. When I get fed up with my self pity, I start adding my magical sparks one by one, day by day. Not too much to bite, and not too little to chew.
And then little by little, bearably noticeable, I will stop doing one thing, then another, and another, until I realize I’m sitting in the rut again.
How the fuck is that logical?
“Do more of what makes you happy.” Such a quick life fixer. Like instant noodles.
Don’t eat instant food, it’s not good for you.
No quick fixes.
It’s simple until we complicate it. Isn’t it?
Pineapples are not of sweet taste.
It’s not a useful or exceptionally beautiful thing this “chandelier”, it is something that in that given moment wanted to become real and material. The wooden sticks contained an idea of what could become of them. Or at least I thought they contain it.
People like to say that after rains there’s always sun. It makes rainy days bearable, gives hope, and in a way makes you believe in a universe that has order and justice in it. But plants do not believe in anything. They live in deserts and tropical forests, as well as in tundras. Plants just don’t care. They make most of what their surroundings give them. And some can’t wait for the rain to fall.
I needed something to calm me down and give me a feeling of tranquility. It worked.
She liked her sea bottom walks, marvelous coral reefs, watching seaweed elegantly dancing with the current, stingrays peacefully sailing through water molecules; she loved it all. But it all became too familiar, and the wast sea seemed as a stagnant lake water. For quite some time now she has been thinking about sailing the sky. Jumping over the clouds, having long conversations with the stars about Moon’s mood, having small talk with random birds she meets along the way. Her fins were itching and her mind was thirsty.