On dreams

The best part of a dream is to dream it - making it real is another thing, a different thing. It might not be possible, it's true, and when it isn't, disappointment, and (at least) a little bitterness always follow. But to have a dream, and to dream it - that's priceless. We might end up somewhere else, in some other place completely different that the place we dreamed about, leading an entirely different life, finding goals that we never thought about - but it all started with that dream we once dared to dream. I should remember this more often.

Not to talk

Can't remember where have I read this, or when. But it was right. It went something like this: we know we've become adults when talking about our problems doesn't make us feel any better. Sadly, it is true. It just doesn't work that way anymore. One can talk - I can talk - but in the end it will be useless. That old feeling of lightness (lacking the appropriate word here) is no more. Now I talk, but the more I talk, the more I realize the size of the hole I'm sinking into. It doesn't help anymore (it never did; but now it doesn't even have a face value anymore). Silence seems more honest, truth be told. That's why I prefer not to talk anymore.

The Great Beautician in the Sky*...

...as caught by the infra-red hawk-eye of NASA's WIDE (Wide-field Infrared Survey Exporer) mission. Andromeda, our neighbouring gallaxy, as the following picture shows:

Go and see the rest of the deep-space beauty here. You won't regret it.

*The Great Beautician in the Sky is the title of a song by Magazine, by the way

Q&A

The new trend for this year is formspring, it seems. The only reason why I don't make one is because I know no one would ask me there a damn thing, and it would be sad - sometimes I'm a little attention whore, I know. Still I like the idea, and I've had a funny - and enlightening - time reading some Q&A there.

Still, my valentine's day song:

Radiohead, How to Disappear Completely [Kid A, 2000]

Role playing. Almost

Some of my friends find my despise towards valentine's day funny. Others find it weird. At least one ex-girlfriend says that I despise the valentine's day because, deep down, I'm a rude cold hearted bastard with no sense of what being "romantic" is all about. Not saying that she's wrong - she got me right years ago -, I don't think there is anything "romantic", even "remotely romantic", on having a valentine's day, i.e., a day when we are supposed to be "romantic" and caring towards the person we love.

A day when we are supposed to be romantic and caring about the person we love.

What what the fuck are we supposed to do in the other three hundred and sixty four days of the year? Beat the shit out of each other?

What I don't like in valentine's day is pretty much the same that makes me dislike other so-called special days - namely birthdays, christmas. I don't like the pressure of being romantic because it's that day, or to buy her a gift because it's that day, For fuck's sake, spare me. Valentine's day, as my good friend C. said the other day, is a day when we are supposed to act, to perform a role. I'm a terrible actor. Worse than Keanu Reaves and Ben Affleck packed together, really. I have little patience of occasions such as "valentine's day". One can never be true in such a day.

And these were my two minutes of hatred. Have a nice sunday.

The most recurring myth about myself is that I am a very intelligent person. As if academic grades were supposed to mean a damned thing. There are so many things that I lack to be an "intelligent person" that I can't even start counting them. The truth is, there are situations that I simply cannot handle. There is no rational or emotional way for me to do it - I simply cannot deal with them. When facing them, the only thing I can think about is "why the fuck haven't I left earlier today?", and the only thing I can wish is for a 9.0 intensity earthquake to swallow everything around me, with me included of course.

The fact is, this kind of shit tends to wear me out, to the point where the smallest thing makes me burst out in a rather violent fashion. It's been a while since that happened. Quite a while, actually. And I know now that I'm rather filled up, so the burst will be coming soon. I'm completely worn out, as if there was nothing left for me to do. As if I needed to reboot my whole life, and change the hard drive and the random access memory while I'm at it - if I do have a random access memory, that is. Sometimes I feel like leaving here. For quite a long time I felt that my place wasn't here, that I should leave the country and make a living somewhere else. Back then I had dreams, but dreams are so easlily shattered. I don't think about it anymore. Sometimes it comes to me that I should, but then I think again and find it pointless. Failure for failure, I might as well fail here, within my own culture, even if the whole country has become an unbearable shithole. Sometimes I feel I should leave the city and find a place somewhere in a countryside town, a small one where life could be a little easier and where I would know no one. A fresh start, taking no one with me. Start doing some mindless job to keep me busy and with bread on the table. Start sleeping in time, eight hours per day. Learning to enjoy loneliness, the only absolutely reliable thing in the world. Tired of this, really.

Questions and monsters

There are questions that are not meant to be asked - and if, by chance, they are, they will remain unanswered, or they will be answered with a smiling and ready to be believed lie. Sometimes others find the answer, but unlikely as it is, they can never imagine that they actually hit the mark. Such is the human nature. We never know how deep it goes, and even if we have an idea about it, we never dare casting light upon them. Facing someone else's monsters often has the uncanny effect of waking up our own.

Intermission

No Cars Go

Definitely one of the songs of the decade. No Cars Go, by Arcade Fire.

I know a place where no ships go
I know a place where no planes go
No cars go
No cars go
Where we know

I know a place no space ships go
I know a place where no subs go
No cars go
No cars go
Where we know

Us kids know
No cars go
Where we know

Between the click of the light and the start of the dream

Dodgeball

We know where is the end line, the point of no return. We dare not crossing it ourselves; we instead keep throwing the ball at one another, trying to make the other cross the line. I remember seeing such a game once. The end will be bloody. It cannot be any other way.

Clouds

Sometimes I do now know if you are just messing around, or if you're serious about what you say. I sense that something has changed. Maybe in you, maybe between us. I know what changed in me, or at least I think I know, and I don't think it can explain anything. But I can definitely see the clouds, and I have no clue where they came from.

Quoth the raven (XLIX):

(...)
Urza smiled. "I must go away," he repeated.
Tawnos nodded slowly, and the man with human/crystalline eyes stood. "You have long been a student," said Urza. "Now go be a teacher." As he spoke, Urza began to fade from view. Slowly the color drained from him, leaving only outlines; then they too faded. "Teach them of our triumphs and our mistakes,"said a distant voice. "And tell Kayla to remember me not…"
"... As you were, but as you tried to be," finished Tawnos, but he was speaking to empty space. Urza had passed from the world into greater worlds that only his crystalline eyes could see. (...)

Jeff Grubb, The Brothers War (Artifacts Cycle, book I)

Now I finally see what this truly means.

Morning Glory

The local radio is broadcasting an Arcade Fire gig. And suddenly the morning is saved.