Noah (one of my favourite self made up characters)
Secrets lay in his eyes. A gentle smile plays around his lips. I know well he knows me well. Softly spoken and yet so audible. He speaks my heart and calms my nerves. Like a rain coat in a storm. I hide around him.
Women Rule the World
Not much has changed; the dandy’s are still circling around a choice kiddie girl trying to get into her pants. Maybe a few things have changed around here; the women no longer wear skirts and suspenders to match and the dandy’s don’t take off their hats anymore. Not much has changed though. People are still fooled to think money and power is all they need. Love is equal to sex and visa versa. And since Robin Hood is no more no-one raises a hand for us poor buggers. The only thing they’d do to help themselves is offer their body up for sale. Education is overrated; love wears blusher, eyeliner and too tight jeans. And somehow we always seem to be out of money.
Between Good and Right Interests flew right over her head. Surely, it couldn’t be so incomprehensible.
Cleo stared out of the window at the dark blue sky. The evening had fallen sooner than she expected or hoped for. She needed the light. In silence she cursed the year for breaking into autumn once again. It was too cold for her mood and with autumn progressing into winter Cleo felt like her own light was fading too. She couldn’t wait for the new year and for spring to come again. That sounded as much a distant future as retiring did.
Her eyes stared dead into the dark void while she mused about what to cook. The only thing she really wanted to do was curl up in a warm bed and watch TV; mindless entertainment to put her thoughts off things.
The sky is grey; it reminds me of the day before running through the pouring rain. Even though it only took 5 minutes to run from the bus stop to the entrance of my building, I was soaking wet and cold to the bone when I opened my front door. The house was dark and empty; a situation that set in about one year prior. The silence inside reminds me of the strange year that lay almost behind me. It reminded me of the year to come. This melancholy feeling follows me around a lot, especially when at work. I try to spread my work and the moments of quiet contemplation over eight hours. The balance between the two has been absent for the last year. There were days we could hardly have a break and take a breath. Though, most of the days I spent leaning with my elbows on the table and googling several subjects from how to sort words in an excel sheet to the going on’s of my favourite artists.
It’s been like this for nearly a year. A strange year, to say the least. A year in which I started to understand how my broken social contacts from the past have their roots in even a further past. A past I hardly know anything about.
In the past I used to be very positive about adoption, to some extent. I do remember saying once I wasn’t sure it really worked out.
When All Falls Through
“I’m not gonna wait with you, my bus is coming,” he says. Hesitantly he looks at the lonely figure hugging herself to stay warm.
She answers: “Yeah,” while an involuntary shiver ragged her body. Her hat scarcely covered the tears. Her shawl hid only just her trembling lips. Why did she have to fall for a married man?
He knows too. He’s still standing there staring at her. There’s no way he was going to take her in his arms. He should walk away, now.
I love him so much it makes me want to punch his face in, but then again…. I hate myself for loving him so much and for thinking about him way too much. I am drowning in my own inability to stop the floods. I should have stepped up years ago, but what did I know?
Auburn August
She had auburn hair and the ability to make you forget. Though I never forgot about those eyes, shaped like she was forever squinting and hazel or something of green. The most I knew about her was her waving hair.
She stood tall and wise; almost unforgivably beautiful.
What a Male (About or inspired by Alan Rickman)
He is one of these people you’re unconsciously staring at in awe. It’s not that he’s that pretty; he’s not ugly, but his face wouldn’t end up in the classic pretty faces book. He has a more secretive beauty about him. His attractiveness comes from something different than his face. Even at age 64, he’s intriguingly attractive.
He usually sits quietly in a corner watching everybody being too loud. You hardly notice him till he makes his sarcastic, funny remark. Everybody laughs, you included. You think you’re the only one who notices him. That’s not true, because the poppy chick is talking to him too. She’s laughing way too loud, because he’s so smart and funny and the boss likes him a lot. You see him squirm a little; he’s trying to get away. He seems genuinely scared of her and you feel for him. In spite of all his awkwardness he’s strangely attractive.
He’s squinting at his screen, it makes you laugh. He chats up all the girls in office and goes around smoothly. He’s cheerful and hopeful and genuinely sweet. He’s the guy you try to get eye contact with, but he’s busy averting his eyes or guiltily smiling at someone else. He’s so easy to have a flirtatious chat with and then walk away. He’s too smug for you and yet so attractive in a geeky way.
Oh, how I can stare in those eyes. How I can watch him dance, move or just walk for that matter. He moves with elegance and a flexibility that far outdoes mine. He’s most definitely one of the most beautiful non-professional or trained dancers I have ever seen.
And then that voice.
He got me silent and in awe. I always kind of knew I liked him, that I was sort of mesmerized with him. I always knew I’d watch anything with him in it and that I would pay attention. I would even make an effort to catch any opportunity to see him work. Why I never made an effort to memorize his name, I honestly don’t know.
The thought of things and him, the things that make butterflies emerge in my stomach, makes me feel weird and awkward and embarrassed. I don’t think I can shed one word about my dreams and my fantasies. If I would try, it would probably eat me and reduce me to hide in a dark corner trying to get those images out of my head. Bad girl. Bad stupid girl for tying that man up in situations you should not be thinking of.
Yesterday I spend a good deal of my time staring at several AR-pictures. From young to older; I really don’t want to call him old, because I don’t think he’s really old yet. In my opinion you’re only old when you’re 90, and he’s not that yet.
Screaming like hell!!! Yes, at my screen. Yes at my screen. Like I laugh out loud at jokes written on a forum. Yes, I did scream silently inside.
It’s funny to see how the communities take over the allergies of their idols. It’s also funny how many communities have pet names for their idols. Makes it hard to take them seriously, but seriously, being a fangirl is hard work.
It only takes a few words, or an acknowledgement, or just only a commitment. You can love a man for only that, even when he’s abusive.
I’m trying to put his definition in words. I still have to learn to leave it. I haven’t found any word fitting him, and I keep failing in constructing the sentence that explains him. He’s so much more than that gentle voice and those sweet words. He’s more than the hand gestures telling you to sit down and calm. His depth is spinning around in contradiction. He’s a paradox there to confuse you, or help you for that matter.
P-IC
That’s my title for my satirical comedy show. It stands for Politically InCorrect. In it I will challenge people to think by taking current problems, like cuts every single country seems to be dealing with, and explaining it in such way it becomes questionable. Most of the explanations will take on an absurd turn. Maybe doesn’t sound too exciting since a lot of the reasoning behind political decisions are questionable and often do lead to absurdity. It’s not even an idea, rather something I want to see. You know, something like an after diner with ‘the Day Today’ and ‘Brass Eye’ as the main course.
What’s smart about the title is that when you pronounce it as an acronym, it will say ‘P, I see’. I don’t know what the ‘P’ would stand for, maybe simply ‘Politics’. So my show would be named ‘Politics, I see’. Sort of a cue for people to run away while they still can.
Politically I
Evolution and politics don’t seem to go together very well.
Revolution seems to mean turning from Mother Nature’s laws to make up our own.
Why are we so hot on being weird, or normal for that matter? Why doesn’t everybody just try to be the best they can, be it being weird or normal?
I don’t agree: http://www.linkedin.com/today/post/article/20130324141810-1714080-why-weirdos-outperform-normals?ref=email
What’s the matter with people in general? Or is it just me?
Here’s a little piece I wrote yesterday in bed:
Life seemed to have really started. My quarter life crisis or my last chance of youth has now really evaporated. We're all slowly coming to terms with life.
In 2000 we started to walk, we tried to run and then fell flat on our face. We are now getting back up, straightening or backs, broken bones and blue spots representing or failures, mistakes, lessons learned and some life experience.
We are ready now, to take over the weight.
Dedicated to my own generation; to my "heroes", or fellow sufferers.
Quite obviously, I’m not spelling- or grammar police. However, writing words double, in the wrong order or not at all can confuse me utterly.
It turns out, I’m not as strong as I always thought I was. I suppose what I could do was being flexible with situations. What did I know? I was brought into the situation and then grew into it. It wasn’t a big deal, not for me. Probably also because it wasn’t me who carried the load on my shoulders, my mom was. I never had financial problems, my mom did and we knew better than expecting the most expensive stuff.
Now I have to do it all on my own and I turn out to be weaker than I thought. I’m not doing bad, but I’m not doing as well as I thought it would do, or actually, I had no clue about how heavy it would weigh on me. I never thought of how I would deal with it, I would see whenever the situation was there. Now the situation is there and I need to do certain things. Some of them I don’t, because I’m an idiot, and others I did do or do, because it’s really necessary to survive or because it’s simple and I know how to deal with it.
The house still stands. It’s even fairly clean. The cats are still alive and fairly happy and healthy. I’m still alive and not stumbling too badly. Still, I know I can do better. You may ask, why not start already? Well, 1) because I’m lazy, 2) because I’m too shy and scared of people to ask for help. That’s pretty much it.
This is not a complaint, not really. It’s just something that I found out and bugs me a little.
This morning in a paper I saw a young lady saying she wasn’t alive to be a wall flower. She’s a tv-presenter who’s battling a chronic illness.
They’re both doing things to fullfill a certain purpose, or so they say.
It’s a form of running away. Or it’s a form of denial. I’m denying real life, with real responsibilities, with real people and with real decisions to be taken. I’m running away from the daily humdrum, frantically, or should that be fanatically?
That is what fandom is to me; a safe haven. I know fandom like the inside of my pockets (some route descriptions to restaurants and business centres and 5 strepsils and a lighter). It doesn’t even matter on what or who fandom focuses, I have hung my hat there.
For some reason I’m more often than not, utterly confused why a certain person fascinates me? It started with Jake; attractive, not the smartest person, not the most talented person either and not my type. What the hell!? Feel a bit the same about Brent Spiner, though I never thought he was attractive, except for the easter egg that now has been removed from Youtube, in which he performs Shakespeare dressed as Data. I was disarmed by his boyish charm and shameless flirting. However, when I hear him talk, nnnot so much, except when he’s playing Data. What happens when he plays Lore? I love Data and I know why. When he’s playing Lore, Data’s older evil android brother, the fascination returns. It’s something about him that keeps me captivated and I hate it.
Fandom Should be a Wild Goose Chase
The spice of Fandom lies in what you can get, in who you can annoy and in how many times you can get arrested for stalking. The excitement lies in the chase, a wild goose chase, if you like.
I think I can call myself an expert in this particular subject. I have quite a bit of experience in different fields. I’ve done the chase for autographs, rare items and rare signed items. I’ve done annoying people with my extensive knowledge of my victims. I’ve been fighting for my right to stalk and pulled many a newb down with me. I’ve been kicking against shins and trodding on toes challenging the fan establishment for a place on the ranks among the best of fan mongers. I am proud of what I achieved.
Therefore, I suggest you listen to what I have to say about fandom.
Of course I could keep yapping on about Brent Spiner, as I will, like I’ve done with Jake, Alexander and Jason. I did say that I wanted to bring more variety to my blog, and if I keep yapping on about Spiner, the variety soon disappears. There’s a lot to say about Spiner, but in the end only so much.
I already pointed you towards his website and his album. There is one more album and a collection of Star Trek clips in which he sings. Go google or youtube yourself.
If only he was not that and could not that, I could move on.
The sky is a dark blue with black marks. I can see it through my barred window. Or it is the ceiling or floor, I’m not sure.
Would it finally happen, my interest in politics?
I’ve never been very interested in politics. I always found it exhausting and disappointing, let alone boring. Especially the last couple of years. I do recognize how politics and society go together, influence each other. I understand how both are the writers of history.
I’m starting to understand more and more how traits of one person can have such a great influence on history, or how the lack of power can also break one person down.
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