Nostalgia is a feeling. It is an emotion we get when we are trying to comfort our present minds with what was. We feel nostalgia when we are happy, but more when we are sad. We will occassionally feel nostalgia when we are happy and become sad. But more often than not, we will recall nostalgia when sad to try and be happy. But nostalgia is not a happy feeling. It’s an ache. It is the ache we feel at the base of our chest and the back of our throats. It makes us sigh and blink slowly. It makes us happily sad, or sadly happy. But any happiness tainted with some sort of sadness is not true happiness. But because we know that we cannot repeat the past, we cling to whatever we can get. Sad happiness.

I hate nostalgia. I really do. I hate the ache. I hate the pining. I hate the sighs. I hate wishing I had dragged out the moments when I could. I hate the irreversibility of the whole situation. I like situations that I can control. That if something goes wrong, there’s some sort of solution somewhere. You don’t get that when you’re thinking about things that can’t return. Nostalgia is a useless, wasted emotion. Because we pine over things that are gone, and can’t come back. No matter how much we wish they could.

“All the bright, precious things fade so fast. And they don’t come back.” -Daisy Buchanan, Great Gatsby.

It’s like when you’re having a really wonderful dream. The kind of dream that outweighs your real life easily. And you know that you’re getting to the climax of the dream, the absolute best part. You’re almost there, you know what’s about to happen and it’ll be so great. But then something stupid wakes you up. Something connecting with the real life that isn’t as great as your dream. Like your alarm clock, or the kids yelling, or your mum calling. And it’s too heart-breaking to stand so do you know what you do? You try to fall asleep and get the dream back. You try and try to picture the scene where you left off, like pausing then playing a film. But you just can’t get it back. No matter how hard you try.

It’s like hoping that you won’t die one day, like somehow, somehow, you can skip that. But it’s like, duh, you must.

There’s never any point in it. Because since, despite all the movies, noone has made a time machine, we can never go back to the past. I can’t tell you how many times I have wished and prayed and plead with all my might for just a single taste of yesterday. But I still find myself sitting in my room, very much in the present. Nostalgia can make one feel like their life isn’t getting any better, like it’s steadily going downwards. Because when we try to comfort ourselves with the past, we zoom in and magnify the good times and blot out the bad. We look at our present day with a sort of dissatisfaction. And it just seems like life was  a lot better then than it is now. Maybe it really was. But that won’t bring it back. The irreversibility of life. It’s frustrating. But that doesn’t change it.

“It does not do to dwell on the past and forget to live.” -Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter.

If Dumbledore said it then it’s got to be true.
I guess I just hate wishing for the sort of things that won’t happen again. 

Much love.

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Spirited. Beauty. Dept

Yes! That’s it!

MinDless AspiRations

I was reading an essay about Hermann Hesse’s: Journey to the east. The essay was written by Robert k. Greenleaf. I was captivated. He described Leo as a person of extraordinary presence. Isn’t that just stunning? When last did we actually see a truly beautiful person. Not the outward. I mean beauty that beams so much from the inward. Someone so beautiful that they affect you just with their smile. Or maybe someone just so deep.
I hate my writing skills, I mean look Back at the Victorian and Shakespearean time. Look at their dept, their ability to capture and express so much with so little words. I wish I could be so good. Touch so many people with so little words. Be remembered in my generation as some great blogger or writer. Deep down I know I can never truly accomplish so much. They were legends. We seem…

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Solitary Confinement

Excuse me while I rant.
I am going insane.
I have been living in this house, and will continue to do so, COMPLETELY ALONE, for 2-3 weeks.
It is just a short amount of time before I start to have hallucinations.
I’ve also started to sing a lot just to give my mouth exercise. Honestly, I give props to whoever thought of solitary confinement as an punishment. I wouldn’t be able to handle it. I need human interaction!
And I’m not even allowed to leave. Frankly I don’t want to leave because there’s hardly anywhere to go. Because everyone else is on school. I should be in school, but due to some ‘technical issues’, everything was delayed. So not only do I have an unwanted extension to this seemingly endless summer vacation, I also have to bear these 17-ish days alone AND I will have a shitload of work to catch up to when I do eventually get to school. What a way to start a semester. Funny thing is that when my siblings where here, I’d wish so much that they’d just get outta my way. And when I was in high school, I used to wish I’d have an extension to the summer, no matter how short. Not anymore man. Not anymore. This is Uni, a whole different ball-game.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive this place. Les parents go to work and travel all the time, so I can’t even try to follow them around and pretend I’m interested in what they’re are doing just to pass away the time.. And TV has reached a new level of TERRIBLE here. I always lose interest in things I do repeatedly so as at now, I can’t even stand music and I can only read novels or textbooks for short amounts of time.
And I have also discovered that you don’t know  how creepy your house is till it’s just you in it, late at night. Heck, I’m creeped out in the afternoon! I mean, yes, in Uni I will be living on my own but the rooms there are not at all as big as a house and there are few places serial killers can hide. In a big house the possibilities are endless. Every little sound makes me feel like the Texas chainsaw guy is behind me and I already start saying my last prayers. And do you know what else happened last night?
A shooting! A fucking shooting!
Like ten minutes away from my house on foot. What are the odds? I just thank God I didn’t wake up at the shots because my brain would have gone into overdrive. When I heard the news this morning I couldn’t even believe it. What if they’d tried to break into houses?! I’m a teenage girl, I can’t fight gunmen!

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To Be Deep

I have been thinking again.
I wonder about those people. The stars. Those ones who are genetically gifted and popular with everyone and are the leaders of the pack and the envy of their friends and enemies and full of bright and beautiful and great and wonderful all at the same time.The ‘it’ people. The perfect people. Everyone likes them and they’re so confident and secure in themselves that they don’t need to like everyone back. Georgeous and talented and full of family and friends and who haven’t ever been depressed or suicidal. Never felt alone in a crowded room. Or cried themselves to sleep over some boy or some comment or their parents fighting or their loved ones dying. The ones that are too high on life to have ever sat down to analyse themselves. Or life. The ones that ‘life’ hasn’t happened to yet.
Because when you have everything there’s hardly room for worry. You know, there’s this film I saw where this character admitted she’d run away from home when she was a teenager. Not because she had any problems with school or friends or family. Actually it was because she had no problems. While all her friend’s parents were dying and divorcing, she was perfectly fine. It was actually frustrating for her. So she ran away. Because she thought it made her deeper somehow. She needed to create some sort of mid-teen crisis. At least later in life when someone asked her about her rebellious days or her sad days or her ‘deep’ days, she could say in a low, silky voice, “I ran away from home when I was fifteen. I know, it was stupid but I couldn’t take it anymore. The parents, you know…”
See, I wonder what’ll go through their minds when life hits. You know, when something bad and tragic finally happens to them and they finally have their first, deep, soul-searching thought. Because shit always happens. Sooner rather than later. And you have to deal.
At a point everyone wants to be deeper. Wants to feel and experience and think beyond the shallow surface. The idea of being ‘deeper’ isn’t even clear. It’s very wishy-washy. And it’s not held in high-esteem, seen as unnecessary a lot. But still, people go on those soul-searching trips. But the thing about being deeper is that you have to give up your glassy-eyed innocence. When you accept to feel…what is really around you, you have to accept that a lot of what you will feel won’t be nice. Because of the sort of world we live in. A lot of what we feel will be sad. Quite sad. There’s quite some happiness too because you understand things better and it helps you grow but there will be some things that you finally have to reconcile with yourself and that will be hard.
At least from what i’ve heard.
And experienced.
*little wave.
Much love all around.

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Remember Me

I really loved the 2010 movie Remember me. I didn’t cry at the end but I think I would have if I had been watching it on my own and not with 10 other very heartless girls. I actually really liked Robert Pattinson there. But all that aside, R.I.P, the victims of 9/11.
Anyway it was a really great story line and I do love these sort of movies/stories that make your chest ache a little at the end and you just want to climb through the screen and stay with the characters. And I love when movies inspire me to think and write and all that. Though I have to admit, it’s mostly sad things. So there are two quotes that stick out for me whenever I remember this movie. The first was when Tyler was narrating and he told us what he would say if he knew his dead brother could hear him.

“I said I do know. I love you.  God, I miss you. And I forgive you.”

There’s something just immensely heart-breaking about that statement. Yet, it totally sums up everything that I think I would ever say if any of my siblings, or rather anyone I love, commited suicide. After all the hate and anger and betrayal and confusion has boiled over, and there’s nothing left but loss, it just says everything you needed to say while he was alive, and everything you’d say now that he’s gone. I love you more than you could possibly know, I wish so much that you were still here and that I could do something about that, and I forgive you for leaving, because you’re gone anyway.
The second quote was also as Tyler was standing in one of the twin towers.

“Whatever you do in life, will be insignificant. But it’s very important that you do it. Because noone else will.”

There’s so much truth in that, it entered my favourite quotes book (I don’t really have a book of fav quotes, but there’s one in my head). The truth is that most of us will pass through life making an impact on a very minute amount of lives. On the global scale anyway. But the beauty about that is that it’s okay. It’s perfectly fine that very few people will have the chance to be Mahatma Gandhi or Marilyn Monroe or whoever you think is worldwide. Because that isn’t the true purpose of life. I can’t say what the true purpose is but I can’t believe that’s it. Not ending up as some sort of a celebrity isn’t a reason to not be happy with your life just the same. Because it’s very important that you are. Not one of the seven billion people on earth can live a life the way you do. And not a single one of them will try. Because it’s not their job, it’s yours. People have very different conceptions on what is important to accomplish in life. Some need to impact the world, others want to impact their loved ones, and some need only impact themselves. In the movie, Tyler’s whole life had been set to take off when he died. Things had finally been looking up. You could say that he hadn’t been able to accomplish much of anything important in time. But he really did. He was the best brother to his little sister. And a rock to his girlfriend. He paved the way for both girls to be able to stand on their own. And grow. And be able to LIVE. I guess how important you think that is depends on the way you see life. Even if you are a milkman who lives and dies in the suburbs, it’s very important that you live a life to be proud of, because you don’t know if your smile saved someone’s life, or your signature on a petition inspired a new invention. Your best accomplishment might have been that you were a good parent, or a passionate and compassionate worker. And at the end, whether you are happy with what you accomplished, no matter how small, is up to you and God. You’re not presenting what you hoped you could have done, your wasted dreams, and why you couldn’t do them. You’re presenting what you did do. In YOUR life.
Inspired by REMEMBER ME-the movie.
Much love all around!

The bowling date

This is just one of those little stories that pop into my head.

They were by no standards the perfect couple. In fact, after three years of constant problems, people often wondered why they were still together. They fought and  broke up constantly and had each cheated on the other once before. Things with them always went from good to tentative to tense to ferocious.  But they always wound up circling back to good again. And that was what had people a little confused. Because most couples didn’t survive the kind of fights they had.
But you see, they had this thing that they’d do whenever things reached boiling point. They’d go on a bowling date. Just the two of them. There was something about it I guess. Whoever was less angry would drag the other to the bowling alley and they’d bowl till they were happy with each other again. Everytime they went, neither was sure it would actually work, but it always did. Because you see, whenever they went there, they both agreed to push everything bothering them aside for one night and just have fun with each other. Because it was so easy to forget how much fun they actually had together.
So they’d buy a load of food and take turns knocking down those pins. They’d laugh at each other mercilessly, whenever someone made a bad throw or even a mediocre throw. They’d trash-talk each other. And whenever someone got strikes or spares, they ‘d cheer and yell and jump into each other’s arms like it was the best thing that had ever happened to them. It was a sad sort of happiness though, like this knocking down of pins was the only good thing still going for them. It almost had a metaphoric meaning, like they were knocking down the pins of trouble in their relationship. It wasn’t like the bowling itself was really the key thing, it was just that they just wanted so deseperately to save their precious thing, so they tried what they hoped would work. And then at a point, when it was getting later and later and they were getting happier and happier, she’d jump on him and they’d kiss and kiss because they remembered what they had and knew that it was worth keeping. And they’d keep kissing till she started to cry a little and that was when they’d pull away because they had a pact not to cry or be any type of sad on bowling dates. After that they were sure they were okay again at least for that night. And they’d end their bowling date for that night.
I don’t know why this story popped into my head. I don’t even know if this couple actually lasts. This just happens to me. Hope you enjoyed it though!
Much love all around!

The people to find

I haven’t met a lot of people in my life. I’ve been very sheltered so I haven’t come across too many different personalities. I feel like I need to though, to be able to evolve myself. It is true that the people you surround yourself with have a lot to do with how you yourself act. I want to meet those passionate people, the ones who truly believe there are more important things than yourself, no, really believe it and yet are still able to make themselves happy. The artists, poets, photographers, activists, the philosophers, parents even, the anythings! Who actually believe in what they do, not the ulterior motive they have. I’m not interested in the politicians and celebrities and doctors and lawyers who have the most straight-forward of lives. I want the people with the messy, ruff and tumble lives and spontaneous personalities who have realized early enough, or just in time, that this is their one shot at this life on earth and they won’t spend it being ruled by how to make money till you die, how to be more important than everyone else, how to acheive what society thinks will make you happy. They try their best to be happy, pursue their passion with enough fire to cover the earth and then at the end are able to look back on it and beam with satisfaction. Because this one life they were given, they did a hell of a lot with it, they did what made them proud, their achievements out-weighed the regrets. They’re the ones who aren’t suprised when life is over, but glad that they won.
Much love all around!
Ff @esiro_i

Grimacing about Uni

How’s it?
So it’s like two weeks until I’m off to UNIVERSITY!!! Mega ultra shock-face! I honestly still don’t think it’s hit yet! I keep finding one reason or the other to say I might end up not going yet. That I can still end up in some dank local university where they don’t actually educate. But it’s getting closer and closer and everything with preparations has worked out so far so frankly, I think I’m going! I am excited! Scared but not really. I still go around in a daze I guess. I think I’m still living in what I think university is like though. I think the real university will be a bit different from what I’m imagining but that’s okay. It’s the wake-up call I need. After being in a boarding-system for so long, les parents are still scared I’m going to implode when I’m on my own. But I fancy myself a pretty sensible gal and that is not the part I’m worried about.
One of my best friends is already in university and she was telling me that it’s just her first proper week and she already has so much work. That didn’t worry me at first. Till I started to think about it. And my shock-face turned into a bit of a grimace. Most freshmen go to college with either the mindset of studying diligently to get good grades, or going to party and have fun.  I’m going with the former objective. But what if I’m actually just thinking it won’t be hard to handle but in reality I’m kind of in over my head? I mean, my brain has not been put through much studying and grueling work in 3 months! That’s a lot of time for the booky side of my brain to fall asleep. What’s going to happen when it’s rudely awakened by mean british professors who don’t give a fuck if you haven’t had your morning coffee before class?
Anyway, Much love allllll around.
Ff @esiro_i

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Le Harry Potter

There were like 2 extra i’s there but i thought it might be too much. Anyway, thank you to those following me. Please your input and comments are welcome at any time.
Now, I’ve been thinking.
As of late, my e-reader crashed (sob), but I swore I would’nt point fingers (cough, technology-destroying brother). So I have’nt got anything new to read. Which is EXTREMELY hard. I have’nt got the time or money to buy a new one right now, or to buy much of anything right now actually, so I’m quite stuck. So I do what I always do in book-less situations. I re-read all the paper-back novels I do have. Honestly, urgh! I’ve done this too many times to still enjoy it. The only novel I know I have’nt read multiple times is Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s stone. Tres weird, considering I’ve read all the others a million times. It’s not that I don’t like it, i just would rather read the latest ones. From what I remember though, the first Harry Potter was the first proper novel I read. I mean, I’ve been reading books since i was little but it was mostly baby Enid Blytons at that time. I was sooo in love with my baby enid blytons with their happy endings and fairy tales and moral lessons and goblins, fairies and elfs. I went through three a week. And I was satisfied with them.
So when my mum first presented me with this Harry Potter novel, I looked at it with serious suspicion. I was very unenthusiastic about the change. I think that maybe I had this notion that I’d read enid blytons for the rest of my life (speaking of which, who the hell is Enid Blyton?). I complained in my head about this new book. It was too long. The print was microscopic! There weren’t any pictures. The paper was yellowed. Honestly, this book is amazing but at that time, my head ached and ached trying to get through it. I can’t remember how I hadfelt about this book at the end but I must have really liked it because now I’ve got the complete set! (except half-blood prince which was stolen from me which is really sad ’cause that’s the one when Harry and Ginny get it going!).
And also, as I read this first novel, I remember why the Harry Potter series deserved all the money it raked in! This series is truly AMAZING! Unlike the twilight
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