You are currently browsing the monthly archive for August 2013.

I miss text messages. The 140 characters that convey wit, joy, interest, and a little bit of longing. I miss sending them, too. Coming up with whimsical replies that would awe and conquer the receiver. I’m still witty, and joyous, and interesting, and filled with a little bit (okay, sometimes a lot) of longing, but there is no-one to see. It’s the whole ‘if a tree falls’-conundrum. Am I less special now that there’s nobody here to notice?

I enjoy being on my own, and being able to make my own decisions. I like that I can go anywhere and do everything and only have to check my bank balance and my remaining holiday hours to do so. I am free to decide what time I go to bed, whether it’s at one or at nine-thirty. I can snooze guilt-free; I can do or not do all my single-self grooming in the privacy of my own delightful sanctuary of a bathroom. I am – for all purposes – completely free to decide how I live my life. I no longer have to struggle between my best self and my true self, I only have to figure out  the self I want to be.

But still, I miss text messages. Those tiny little reminders that I am more special than anyone to one specific person. The little stutter that my heart makes when my phone beeps and the exciting thrill of imagining his reaction to my reply.

I can’t think of any song that can convey the missing of text messages. Just one about the huge dichotomy between loving being single and loving being in love:


Wes Anderson’s vision on the world is so humane in its absurdity. Its highly stylized imagery and acting at once hide and reveal all the qualities we have that make us who we are; love, understanding, fear. I adored Moonrise Kingdom because of the fearless way the main characters fall in – and pursue love. It seems to me that this fearlessness is something inherent to being a teenager, but I’ve never felt it. I’ve always been worried about the consequences of my actions, thinking three if not fifteen steps ahead and not bothering because I wouldn’t be able to deal with the amount of trouble I‘d get into. And I would care.

This hasn’t meant that I haven’t made some questionable decisions in my life (dropping out of Uni would be one of them, even if at the time it felt like the best choice I had ever made), but most of my wonky decisions have had disagreeable financial consequences, not necessarily the life-long regrets that I would sometimes be worried about.

I’m still not a big risk-taker. I don’t jump off high things or take leaps of faith (although having broken both my legs at some point might have something to do with that), I don’t make rash decisions or say things without having thought them through. I wish I had a greater sense of daring and more faith in the ‘Everything’s Gonna Be Alright’-adage rather than ‘So It Goes’.

Maybe it’s time for me to start stepping out of my own skin, and to widen my comfort zones. To start a new adventure while I still can.

‘In August Away!

I Must…’

Usually when I listen to music I want to feel something. I don’t have to immediately love what I’m listening to but I need to be able to react to it. The music becomes a give and take between me and the artist; you give me a beat, and I’ll dance to it. Sing me a melody and I will screech along.

But sometimes someone comes along who reaches down into your soul and tears you up from the inside out. For example, I’ve always said that if someone can make me feel the way In A Sentimental Mood by Duke Ellington & John Coltrane does, I will marry him. José James’ Little Bird’ reminds me that I was once touched by a love as strong as a thousand suns and I came crashing into the sea.

Nadine Shah angrily rids you of your demons. Or does she summon them?

It doesn’t really seem to matter if she cleanses your soul through fire or lets her passion burn you to dust; it feels damn good to be this close to the fire.