If not now, when?

Processed with VSCO with ih5 preset
The Doge and I – three pairs of feet.

I walk into the living room and see the Doge lounged out on the sofa like nobody’s business. It takes her 0.75 seconds to rearrange herself on the floor and be all like ‘what sofa? The only bed I know is on this floor, true story’. How could you not believe her?

But this is not what we have gathered here to rant about.

Right, so how do I put it – it hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park lately. If I’m totally honest, it’s been rather sh*it. But after some pretty gruesome introspection, I have come to realise much about my feelings and how I process things. As a side note – writing is one way of processing things for me. Man, it’s uncomfortable, but I’ve got to do this. The alternative would be shutting myself out completely, but that would probably worry some people (but man, it’s tempting).

But back to the point – feelings. I have been too weak to let it all brush past me. I have been going through a plethora of emotions. I have been feeling hurt and betrayed. I have felt the weight of injustice and harshness on my shoulders. I have felt insignificant and way too weak to take it all in stride. I have felt incompetent and at loss, stuck. I have lost faith in a lot of things, including some which I believed to be the pillars of my truths.

I guess it has kind of shown also – I mean people notice when you show up at a meeting with eyes swollen like a [I actually googled a lot of things, starting with ugly fish and finishing with crying animals] … something. I guess people notice when you sob or shout down the phone or when tears just start dripping down when you’re just hanging out, being cool.

Someone I know recently said that losing faith etc – those things are the things that make you grow up. I guess they were right. I am a later Y-generation bloomer, I guess. And who said really growing up is pleasant?

But when you reach a point of UGHHH and you have no more tears left, what do you do then? You start to get over yourself. You put your ego aside, and look at the bigger picture. You remember that there are people whose opinion matters and who are your safety net. You stay true to yourself, your conscience, and like go kick something if it helps you get your chin up again. If there are people or things that are trying to pull me down, I will not let them. They won’t get my soul. Not any more. [I have put it away in a safe place.] And I won’t let the cat out of the hurty-feely bag any more, I know better now being older and wiser (teeheee).

When I started listing the emotions and feelings in my head, the processing of them started immediately. It’s like when you name something, it becomes less scary. It loses its power. It’s like turning on the light when you’re scared of the dark.

I have decided to turn on a gigantic spot light for that matter. Come at me, life! It doesn’t mean my legs aren’t metaphorically shaking like hell, but I am armed with a fresh dose of healthy cynicism, a much thicker skin, a fresh knowledge of what’s what and what’s not and why that matters, and I will smother the adverse with kindness and compassion. I’ve heard good things multiply when you use them wisely and share. Nothing to fear, theoretically. Nothing to lose. Oh, and another important thing – always expect the lowest of everything, this way you’ll never be disappointed.

I accepted a challenge that at first glance felt nothing short of masochistic. Now, I am excited about the possibilities and up for the journey. And hey, one’s gotta keep the pulse up somehow, eh? 😉

If not now, when?

Advertisements

An ode to love

Quite evidently I haven’t gotten around to writing much lately. I have indeed been writing, but for others. And I guess I have put so much of myself in there that I haven’t had much more to spare for these lines. Apologies and excuses aside – I have sat down with a cup of green tea and a whirlpool of thoughts in my head that somehow need to be organised. A whirlpool of feelings in my soul that I will try to somehow decipher. If not in writing, how else? I have neglected the technical extension of my frontal lobe.

It’s somewhat difficult for me to write this as I don’t know where to start and it kind of feels like I’m standing in quicksand.

The past year has been exceptionally difficult. I’m not going to indulge in lining up all the difficulties that I have endured, but let’s say my skin is growing so thick now I think it’s turning into an actual armour. The delicate issue there is to find equilibrium between resilience and coldness. I feel I have become more cold, but I am constantly trying to work on that.

The best medicine for this coldness is being surrounded by amazing people. This I have been extremely lucky with. Through the toughest of times, there are people who have picked up my calls to hear me scream in despair, there are people who have quietly given their support, and those who console with a few kind words, there are people who get up to all sorts of silly stuff with you to get your mind off things, there are people who just understand. And there are people who creep into your soul when it shouldn’t have happened. Words seem banal in trying to convey depth of the gratitude I feel towards all of my top notch lovely friends who have been there for me one way or another. I am in awe by the warmth, kindness, and compassion you have shared with me.

I love you. Sorry if I have been terrible in showing it.

Processed with VSCO with kp2 preset
Inserting a sunset photo for more #feels.

I am at a point in life where yet another restart is required. Apparently the human mind is wired to be uneasy when there are decisions to make and the more choices we have, the more stressful the situation. How about when your decision-making is faced with a thousand unknowns? What if every unknown is a never-ending closed circle of ‘what-ifs’. How do you take a leap of faith when you have lost faith? This sounds darker than it’s meant to. And what if the things that your heart yearns for the most, are the most irrational, stupid, crazy, and difficult things, not to mention nothing is certain?

BUT. We all know that to see a rainbow, you must endure the rain. So enough of the not so pleasant stuff. There have been things that trigger that mischievous spark in my eyes, some things that make my heart want to burst with joy and pride, and some things that give this deep and warm feeling inside. The things of love. This post is an ode to them. And a reminder to remember them.

In the midst of some of the weirdest times of my life, I have met some spectacular and wonderful people who have swiped me off my feet quite unexpectedly. I have opened my heart in a way that makes me extremely uncomfortable and scared. A soulmate and a partner in crime can be discovered in a friendship that has lasted for years. I started skydiving again – passed the AFF course with the help of the amazing instructors at Eesti Langevarjuklubi (skydive.ee). I have had some pretty crazy fun with people I have met during my travels. The list could go on forever, but we’re all busy people, so let us rather go and make memories ourselves.

Tampere out.

PS. I’m looking for a job.

 

Exile.

Dear diary, I have been stranded on this desert island for seven days now. My body is starting to get accustomed to the climate, and I have stopped craving the familiar. My mind is set on autopilot, which makes passing the hours comfortably numb. I find comfort in staring into the void, with my baby panda George by my side. I don’t find comfort in any position, because my back refuses to cooperate. The imagined ticking clock is in sync with my brainwaves. I know what my neighbours are up to, I know their timetable – yet I cannot confirm whether they actually exist. All I hear is drilling and hammering. If I’ve never seen my neighbours, do they really exist? Are the sounds I’m hearing just an echo of my own subconscious?

This is going to be a long one. I’m not even half way through the meds.

Yeah, being ill at home feels like being stranded on an island. Can’t go out because I’m poisoning myself with antibiotics, which screw up the body in order to screw the infection. Made the mistake of thinking I’m well enough to go back to work (honestly, I was just bored and restless at home), and caught a cold as well. Congratulations.

Argh.

Sónar 2014

Throwback Tuesday. Sónar, that beautiful thing, happened now quite some time ago. But that’s left some time to ponder and look back, and assess the experience as a whole. Sónar has one big advantage going for it and that’s the location – sunny Barcelona is not far from a paradise (if you subtract the hordes of tourists), so the mood will be set accordingly. What better way to spice up a beach holiday laced with beautiful foods and sights, than the most incredible sounds this world offers, as well as some brain tickling visuals and workshops?

One of the indications that Sónar is something else, is the fact that I’d heard about for years, way before I made it there myself, and it was always described with an air of something that… can’t quite be put into words. A certain mystique.

I was most looking forward to Massive Attack, Trentemøller, Bonobo, Koreless, Four Tet, Moderat, Jon Hopkins, Monki, Throwing Snow, and Camo & Krooked – the first “mainstream” dnb act to play at that festival. Eventually I didn’t make it to all of those, partially because old age is taking a toll, but partially because city festivals don’t call for crazy allnighters like standard festivals do. And that’s not a bad thing. The fact that the festival was divided in two, in terms of music, forced for some serious decision-making in what to go for and what not.

I was delighted to see Koreless and Throwing Snow, whom I saw for the first time ever. Beautiful music, a crowd that knows the smaller acts and enjoys the whole thing in a unanimous agreeing content smile. As expected, Bonobo Live filled Sónar By Day outdoor area to the brim. Having seen them live in Tallinn not very long before, I had my hopes high, but feared that perhaps they might be a little tired as they’ve toured the new album for a whole eternity now. I’m glad I was wrong about that. The absolutely stunning Szjerdene on vocals wrapped the crowd around her finger, and didn’t let go. It’s hard not to be mesmerised by her beauty and voice. Of course the main man Bonobo aka Simon Green himself holds the whole thing together with sheer el mágico through sound. He is a legend for a reason, a truly dedicated creative genius. His music becomes a force majeure. Words don’t do justice to what people experienced that night. Let it be.

Another highlight for many was most definitely Massive Attack, the founders of trip hop and Bristol sound. While I didn’t detect touring tiredness from Bonobo Live, I did notice a hint of it from Massive Attack. Don’t get me wrong, those guys have defined and determined my music taste in a very large part, and I do love them unconditionally (as do the other thousands who had gathered to Sónar By Night to see them), but it wasn’t quite the same as the first concert of their Paradise Circus tour, which I had the honour of witnessing in Tallinn quite some time ago now. The political and beautiful visuals accompanied the much loved anthems of trip hop, but in addition to the trance they induced (and in my case there may or may not have been tears on several occasions) among the crowd, a certain spark was missing. An awe-inspiring experience nevertheless. It was quite hard battling the cognitive dissonance of wanting to shut up and just brood over what I’d just experienced after Massive Attack, and being in the middle of a massive rave at Sónar By Night. And a good one.

I’ll only say this about Trentemøller – HOLY SH*T. I guess that describes it the best – cognition-changing beautiful music altered with an ungodly good rave. Anyone who loves electronic music, needs to go. It’s heartwarming to see so many people caring about music you thought was somewhat… well, not unpopular, but not as mainstream. Sónar leaves an air of a rock festival, but with much, much better intelligent dance music. I have to repeat myself and say that words do not do the music side of the festival any justice, so I’d rather refrain from saying anything further.

Now that I’ve drooled honey and love all over it, I’ll drip some tar into the honey pot as well. Organisation-wise there was a lot of confusion (among staff, too!) with the coupon system. That needs to become more straightforward. The “no cash” system should make it easier, not more difficult. Drink and food prices were definitely amove the average and in stark contrast with the rest of Barcelona. It would be cool if the festival wasn’t divided into two – and that day passes were sold. The fact that the event was split in two made me miss quite a few acts. Getting back from Sónar By Night proved to be only a half nightmare for me, because luckily there was a shuttle bus for accreditation holders. No luck for the ones who didn’t. Or if there was a way… then it definitely wasn’t communicated well enough.

Nevertheless, I want to finish with this: go to Sónar. You’ll be sweetly rewarded with an experience to remember. It’s something else.


Koreless


Trentemøller


Bonobo Live crowd absolutely loving it


Bonobo Live


Massive Attack

Hat-trick.

Image

It’s all fun and games, until it’s not.

Funny how hurt boils up all this poisonous crap inside one’s little heart. It’s a chore and a half trying to morph this into something bigger, better, something to power whatever else. One can only hope the recycling is a quick process. Why not use it as fuel? The practicalities, of course, might turn out to be a bit more complicated… but I’ll give it a good shot. Bitches be adaptable. For anything to hold fuel, however, the container has to be fixed first.

Oh whatever, life can go fuck itself for a bit now. Pardon the vulgarity, but when one gets hurt three times in a rather short period of time, it makes one a bit erm, edgy. Metaphorical punching oneself in the stomach is in order. I guess people learn from their own stupidity. It’s always good to remember that really shitty things happen for a reason, and once you’ve reached the bottom, it can only get better. One door closes, another opens and a thousand other clichés.

It’s gone really quiet all of a sudden. The silence is deafening. At least there are the halcyon skies to drown into.

But hey! Look at the sunset my new ghetto flat provides. Pardon the slant, couldn’t be arsed to straighten it.

Image

And at least there’s music. Thank god for music. Simon darling delivered just when needed the most.

Paper trails.

En route to Vilnius and we’ve barely left Tallinn when some douche is listening to his questionable choice of music with headphones that seem to leak most of the sound externally. And he is also most definitely trying to deafen himself. Let’s hope his iPhone runs out of battery soon.
Anyway, I’m quite excited about going to Vilnius. Never been, only passed through. With Elina honeybunny there, don’t really need any more incentive.
The summer schedule at work starts in a few weeks with the first holidays, which means I will be filling in and doing the evening shift (as well). So this was just about the final call for a little downtime. Next time you see me, it’s probably September.
Mundane worries: the trouble with walking up early is that one gets hungry early as well. Eight and a half hours left.

Veritas odit moras.

The new home is fabulous to say the least. I’m definitely still in the honeymoon phase of excitement. Seeing as I am a sucker for all things sky and all things heights, I’m not sure I can get tired of the view and endless colours of fire the sunsets here provide daily. Change is good for the soul. I’ve got a whole new army of me giving me (will-)power and strength. Let’s hope this wave doesn’t push me off anytime soon.

And on a personal level things are getting crazier and crazier. Just when I thought the epitome of crazy had been reached, something completely unexpected decides to jump on board as well. Life is starting to beg for a novel to be written about it. All norms have been surpassed, and what’s happening now, is more like some crazy Hollywood blockbuster. But hey, if you buy the ticket, better enjoy the ride. Let’s see how long we can go before the defense mechanisms kick in and some other part of my brain calls for quits on the second violin situation. For now, happiness chokes the frustration.

Now listening to Mutemath – Control. “Surrendering somehow becomes so beautiful.”

 

It’s been so long.

I love it when situations, people, memories, and places get their own soundtracks. Those classic “our song” moments (eugh, cheesy) are soundtracks in sync. But anyway, in reality it’s just another little layer of emotions. And music does, indeed, make life so much better. So, I am super content I got to roam around Helsinki with a shared little secret in my ear. Silly self-explanatory smirk on my face, the arctic gale didn’t even seem so bad. Spring came early this year, and despite the weather changing, the spring has decided to stay. For now. One may or may not be speaking in riddles. Snicker snicker. It’s been too long since I last paid attention to this properly.

Helsinki was as lovely as expected. My heart wants to burst with happiness. When all shits on this planet hit the fan, I think of the wonderful people around me, and realise that I must have done something right along the way. How else would I have earned this army of sweethearts? Seeing my dearest ones loved and happy is the best thing ever. And yeah, have I mentioned I love-love-love Helsinki? My beautiful escape.

The problem with Helsinki is that one needs to take the boat there, though. And one should never take the Saturday morning boat. It’s a workout for tolerance, but demographically definitely a fascinating observation. Until the “DJ” comes on, and starts rocking out disco tunes from 70s and 80s (while mumbling into the microphone in between tracks; sound levels of course completely messed up, so everything starts with the speakers imploding a little – saying stuff like “yeaah, this is a sweet track, one of my favourites”), and the half past drunk tourists find their courage to hover on the dance floor a little. And the second leg of the trouble is the journey back. The homecoming boat wasn’t as festive as the Saturday morning one, but an exercise for one’s poker face. There’s always that one crazy person (not sure if actually a bit on the funky side, or just delirious, or maybe both?) that takes the dance floor and shouts his or her approval towards the people entertaining the indifferent commuting crowd. And then they hear their favourite ever song and then there’s no stopping. And then why not smear some lipstick all over one’s own face and even hair? Anyway. It’s always one hell of a ride. But maybe I’m too narrow-minded. Need more yolo.

I’ll go put out some fire now. With gasoline.

Oh, and watch this. This dog definitely knows how to yolo.

Tangle.

Jetlag is the hot topic of travelling and mostly discussed in the context of long haul flights. Yes, completely reversing day and night is a tricky business, but when one takes on a longer trip, one normally accounts for that, too. For me the smaller time differences do the worst damage. I’ve just got back from London, which is two hours behind. And I can tell I’m going to be staring at the walls-ceiling for the next two hours, which means getting two hours less sleep. And work tomorrow. This is going to be fairly unpleasant.

But London was oh-so-necessary again. The past almost two weeks have been a rollercoaster of all sorts. I’m sure there’s a diagnosis for what I’ve been doing. I seem to plan my life so that I can run along a sine/cosine graph. I’m gasping for air in equal horror and excitement, feeling the most alive at that fraction of a second of suffocation.

I’ve talked about this with several people who make their living by making other people’s lives better with their creations in them. It seems to be the standard that the most complicated states of existence bring about the greatest creative flow. I think I experienced the same in London this time. In my own little microcosm, I outdid myself. The bar has been pushed higher. The final product will follow soon.

And now a little cryptic meditation. Fear is a strange thing, it makes people make decisions full of fear. At the very moment it might seem like a good idea, but how can people live with themselves with a whole closet full of ‘what if’ skeletons shadowing every step? I’m not even sure if it’s sheer cowardice or self-deception. But when has anyone ever really managed to fool themselves? The world would be a much more exciting – but also at times more difficult – place if people had courage to look themselves in the eye and be wholeheartedly truthful with themselves. Only then can honesty with others follow. And if you’re not honest, what are you? I’ve come to this point with a little help from some people who are much better at the introspection thing, and have thought me a lot about how to push your own thought so that they actually flow freer. Of course the trouble is that when you free yourself, the amount of information-feelings-thoughts to process grows exponentially (as a tangent, if I may get all trigonometric again). Only half-processing one’s own shiz, the outcome can never be fully satisfying. But yeah, I can understand the scariness of truth. It’s not called the inconvenient truth for no reason. But what do we want more? Complacency in our comfort zone, or a clear conscience and a peace of mind, regardless of the nature of the conclusion?

I vote for honesty. I vote for feeling alive in all forms.

Now listening to ‘Tangle’ by The Hics.