semmi.

egy ilyen világban soha nem lehet belőled senki. mert ki kell robotolnod a lelkedet is, h ne kerülj az utcára. és kirobotolt lélekkel nem viszed semmire.

Song of the Stars

Pure mystery, the music created by Dead Can Dance, is. Throbs through one's veins. Opens doors and unveils secrets.

"This evening, just when I was in the middle of a story Aunt Elizabeth said she wanted me to weed the onion-bed. So I had to lay down my pen and go out to the kitchen garden. But one can weed onions and think wonderful things at the same time, glory be. It is one of the blessings that we don't always have to put our souls into what our hands may be doing, praise the gods--for otherwise who would have any soul left? So I weeded the onion-bed and roamed the Milky Way in imagination."

~ L. M. Montgomery – Emily’s Quest.

Oh, the wisdom of Emily.

I don’t plan to become a quotation blog – though it might happen –, but this must have been submitted since I can relate to it so hard. Sitting in an office is pretty much like onion weeding, most of the time, I reckon.

God, Emily, how lucky you were, not to be born into a world of multis and skyscrapers…! I envy you big time, gurl.

"This clarity made me able to behave normally, which posed some interesting questions. Was everybody seeing this stuff and acting as though they weren't? Was insanity just a matter of dropping the act?"

Susanna Kaysen - Girl, Interrupted

"I want you to notice especially that little gate over yonder. It isn't really needed. It opens only into that froggy marsh beyond the wood. But isn't it a gate? I love a gate like that--a reasonless gate. It's full of promise. There may be something wonderful beyond. A gate is always a mystery, anyhow--it lures--it is a symbol. And listen to that bell ringing somewhere in the twilight across the harbour. A bell in twilight always has a magic sound--as if it came from somewhere 'far far in fairyland.' There are roses in that far corner--old-fashioned roses like sweet old songs set to flowering. Roses white enough to lie in your white bosom, my sweet, roses red enough to star that soft dark cloud of your hair. Emily, do you know I'm a little drunk to-night--on the wine of life. Don't wonder if I say crazy things."

~ Dean Priest from L. M. Montgomery's "Emily's Quest"

It must feel awful nice to have things like that said to you... I have always had a thing for D. P. Can't get over the fact how sad his story ended. It must have been horrible for him, to get so close to happiness and then lose it completely. Even thinking of it breaks my heart. Life ain't fair, not even in novels.

Deal.

So here's my new plan for survival.

If you think it inspire's you, then do it. If you want to try, if it could help you cope, than DO IT.

All my life I've been holding back and now, when I think of opening my eyes, people are starting to tell me it's too late, I shouldn't think of these things anymore, I'm too old. But the fact is I've seen adults crack up and ruin their entire lives because they never tried when they should have.

I've nothing to lose, at least not yet. If I want to try I will try. If I want to smoke weed, I will. If I want to by a vibrator, I will. If I want to cut myself, I will. If this is necessary for continuing with life, for getting free from this trap where I am now - where I have been for YEARS now - I fucking will. I don't want to be supporting cast anymore. I want the main role. It is about time. If I won't start with it, nothing will ever change. I don't want to pretend anymore and I don't want to care about what others say or think. Not anymore.

please help me find my way back to all i hold precious!

Anxiety is my middle name.

my days are running down the plughole....................

it's fucking Saturday morning an i'm at the office.
bloody hell.

I have seen Emilie Autumn this weekend. Her show - or rather her personage - reminded me so much of who i wanted to become when i was but a few years younger, studying and dreaming about a creative future centered around arts and literature.

How does one become like her? I want to live for my artistic self as well.

geez. my life sucks.

i'm so stressed i'm afraid i will puke. please could my life turn a bit more bearable?.... pleeeease?

daily quote

The written word is all that stands between memory and oblivion. Without books as our anchors, we are cast adrift, neither teaching nor learning. They are windows on the past, mirrors on the present, and prisms reflecting all possible futures. Books are lighthouses erected.

~ Jeffrey Robins from Gargoyles

(I have never seen a single episode of this show but now that I ran into these lines, I might consider it.)

People who do nothing for pleasure only by reason, freak me out.

upon sudden impression

In an unexpected moment light steals in through the huge grey windows of the office, and paints the lifeless ceiling with golden shades.

Beauty lies around, you must only look.

about certain remains of the day

For five years I lived in a little town, as a university student, majoring of literature.

I loved the seasons there. I loved the snow. I loved everything , as a matter of fact. The whole place was such an intense part of my life, and my whole life was like this never ending, overwhelming intellectual adventure. The new informations just never stopped coming at me, and I learned so much about the world and the people in it. It changed me inside-out.

Now that I returned to the big city and I have to face other complications in life than the matter of how strong are Descartes's attempts to prove God's existance, I became madly nostalgyc after those six years. Who would have thought that it can be so hard, not to wonder about my past, when I stand just at the edge of my future? My life opens up more and more every day, and still I struggle with the fact that the dreams I set for my coming days were never so close to me as they were in my past. You cannot fulfil your life by looking backwards, now, can you? I must try hard and bury the past so that I won't lose myself completely in the present, and die for the future.

Geez. Some depressive shit keeps coming from my mouth... I mean fingers. Well. Head.

Thank God it's Friday.

Aaaaw, the sweet silence of lunchtime at work. Everybody's out of the office, eating, and I can even hear my - wait for iiiit - THOUGHTS. :)

I might be writing more often from now on, I guess. Little escape.

I miss my city, I dreamt I was there tonight... Edinburgh, God bless thy beauty. One day I'll return to you.