(The one between me and my teddy ice bear is just perfect with me as the boss.)
“I am jealous. I am also chased by the thought of breaking out right now. But whereto?”
“Yes, I am unbelievably happy here. Within three days I found everything I was looking for. But I’m also struggeling with turnoffs. Exactly because it’s too good.
Breaking out, right. My yearning for freedom is so strong, it hurts. I can tell you so much what I have found out about this romantic idea: The dilemma is, it will make you addicted. It doesn’t last forever as every break out will become normality one day. How can one stand this?
The clue seems to be – to avoid the addiction – to learn how to find luck in the everyday life. Most important for that are you, my dear friends, who give me the best moments in life. This huge present is what I always remind myself of.
I can provide the everyday with tiny little break-outs to feel not too locked up. Dance, do sports, chat to unknown people, visit a concert on my own, arts in any way. And life, life, life.
And I have to take my visions back home and keep fighting every day for what I believe in. Sounds cheesy, but it’s the only safe way to freedom we can go, as you can’t do anything wrong about it. This doesn’t have to be a revolutionary thing, to some it’s the family, to others the career, the next one just wants money. To me it’s art for example. (Plus the rescue of mankind and of the tiniest mouse on earth, but that’s another story).
Hang in there,
(An e-Mail-conversation with friends I had yesterday.)
Normally I don’t like to repost pictures with written wisdoms cos they’re mainly cheesy. But these are exceptionally wonderful: I have stumbled over them on Gorgeous Patricia’s Blog – a new blogging friend from Portugal. And I love them because they suit so well. Especially the last last one is so true, I almost cried.
Oh, and if you don’t have enough time, turn off the TV. And the internet!
I’m off to the beach, have a nice weekend!
I´m feeling weird today. With every trip, my return to home becomes harder. I´d rather vanish into the air. Life is so light and carefree in the distance. Plus I am inspired by my very own surf instructor who doesn´t need anything else but the sea and his dogs. Jesus, that´s overkill. So I have to ask myself: Am I running away? Or is a “normal” life just not the right solution for me? Perhaps I have to become a hippie or a circus pony. And there we are again at the split of mind and heart´s decisions.
Actually this is rubbish, my life´s perfect. I had a blast and drinks from backstage at Mystery Jets´ concerts, I performed a side kick against a wave (and lost) and I made friends with cool people (and a bunch of mosquitos). I am thankful for that (unless the mosquitos)! All my doubts are just a quick flashlight of confusion.
PS: I can´t take any pictures cos both cameras don´t work. 😦
… is one damn cool trip. In 20 years I will remember today and tell myself that this was paradise.
… ist ein einziger saucooler Film. In 20 Jahren werde ich an Heute zurückdenken und mir sagen, dass das das Paradies war.
Right now I am having quite a hectic discussion about dancers and their being as “sex-decoration”. That´s how the “other person” calls them disrespectfully. And lumps them together with people who sell their bodies for money and uses words like “cheap” and “tasteless”, “bad example” for the next generation. OF COURSE I had to face this witch-hunt a thousand times at universe, from audience, even friends. May they think what they want, but I´d never expected this from an artist. A young promising person who comes from the literature scene with a feeling for a fascinating performance. And who should know that first comes research, then opinion. I am so dissapointed, they are actually insulting the women´s body and it´s way of expression.
The problem is not the girls. The “bad expample” is a matter of projection. Some consider the dancers as heros, others as whores. But do they honestly think, this is reality? No way, the reason for this “horrible image of a woman” lies in it´s viewer. In people like them!
I consider the dancers as what they are: As (in this case) self conscious people who are proud of their body and who don´t want to hide it. Who stand for their sexuality and are not ashamed to play with it. If you ask me, this is the only good example for women/men no matter what generation. Anything else is repression and discrimination. I will never let myself repress either. And just for the note: One of the dancers is a doctor, another one a teacher, a third one is an artist at Städelschule. But how do the others know, when they refuse researching and listening?
This judgemental thinking is so not consequent, because all young artists need freedom and respect for their work, if they have the balls to be edgy. But only literature deserves respect, or what? God, this makes me … disillusioned. I never felt free but I believed in young art/literature made by intellectual open minded people to help me fight for freedom for body and mind. Well … that was that.
I´m gonna have to write about this, when I geht back from Portugal. Because this is where I am right now: Lisboa! Damn, I couldn´t be any happier.
We love love love the other half of the 24 hrs.
When sun goes down it withtakes the outerworld.
The worldly templates
crawl under the blankets with the people´s voices.
Now that reality is sleeping,
what´s it all about?
We can´t see the street signs anyway.
We don´t want to go straight anymore.
We can go left, no right. No left AND right,
draw curvy lines and stirring loops.
until we reach the woods.
Here in the blurry black
we discard our coats and slip in our current bodies.
the pixie, the bear, the lion, the circus pony.
to dance and fly and whirl with the wind,
And we loose
the past, the future and our – so called – selves
to flow just with what happens next.
We are the purest we
that could ever be.
Sometime the sun peeps over the horizone,
and the first voice resounds
like a wake-up-call for ordinariness.
As soon as the next 24 hrs begin
it´s all gone.
Wiped away by the everyday eraser.
And we forget about our – so felt – selves again.
The only thing that makes us wonder
is a leaf that sticks to the sole of our shoe.
So which two halves of the 24 hrs is reality?