“The woods call to us with a hundred voices, but the sea has one only — a mighty voice that drowns our souls in its majestic music. The woods are human, but the sea is of the company of the archangels.”—L.M. Montgomery, Anne’s House of Dreams (via livetophotograph)
apparently, to get my guy friends’ attention and to be considered as a viable dating option I should start acting like a rude, self-centered, insensitive of others, child and make them jump through as many hoops as I can concoct to see how far they’ll bend for me…and then kick them in the jaw while they’re on their knees professing their love to me. …
I’ve found, as people from home ask me “what is new”, that I have significantly more to say than before. I think this is because we aren’t in constant communication. My updates are actual updates, there is actual large chunks of my life they know nothing about.
For some reason, this got me to thinking about life before cell phones. Life before girls filled their days texting and calling their friends…it astounds me they have so much to say. Maybe this is why we fill the need to post pictures of our breakfast, lunches and dinners, to post status updates about the song we are listening to right now, or the play-by-play of every activity that filled out days. We communicate TOO much about our lives, and therefore have less to say. So we fill the spaces with the most mundane of details. I doubt any of you want to know exactly what I did today, minute by minute, what I made myself for breakfast, what music I’ve been listening to or every thought that has sloshed around my brain today. No, I find that mystique of not knowing so much more alluring. When I do share something with you, or you with me, I know it’s worth the sharing.
People tell me that they find my music “sad” “nostalgic” “bitter in the sweetest way” “raw” etc. if you know me, you would probably not use a lot of those terms to describe me. I want people to make my music into their music, to find the threads within the rhythms to rotate and relate to it any way they choose. But it’s funny to me, since music is probably the greatest betrayal of the true soul, that these are the words people use. This album is the lock on the box of things remembered and things forgotten-forever put on a shelf. Who will I be in the next box?
….freeze to death, or stay inside where it’s warm.
I was supposed to go to Trivoli today. It’s a nearby garden of eden basically. Turns out the weather had other plans, and it’s currently snowing in Rome. Instead, I’m sitting in my apartment, drinking some hot tea, watching the blustery flakes slowly fall and day dreaming of a million things. It’s a lovely way to spend the afternoon
“Research shows that the current generation of millennials, who are in their late teens or 20s, are more self-absorbed, self-centered, confident, entitled, and narcissistic than even their parents …it makes the case that millennials are more hedonistic, image conscious, sexually active, and unlike their parents were in the ’60s and ’70s, the millennials take these qualities for granted…they are the most entitled generation and yet the most miserable generation.”—Close Encounters (relational communication textbook)
My professor for art of Rome reminds me so much of you it’s a little alarming. Right down to the mannerisms and the way he speaks…it catches me off guard honestly.
What catches me off guard even more is how your memory haunts me now and every time I go to class it’s as if you’re there and I somehow feel closer. Yours were the last I gave face to, and the context was so bizarre I don’t even know how to make sense of it. But that memory follows me now like a half full balloon wandering in the empty vacuum of space. Why do these things stay with me? Any normal person would have shuffled them away from their being the day after…but not me, I hold on forever
“Don’t talk to me, show me. When we sit together in the middle of the night, don’t talk at all just hold me tight. Anyone who’s ever been in love can tell you that this is not time for a chat.”—My Fair Lady
“There is a quality about women who choose men sparingly; it appears in their walk, in their eyes, in their laughter and in their gentle hearts. Women who have had too many men, seem to choose the next one out of revenge rather than with feeling. When you play the field selfishly everything works against you: one can’t insist on love or demand affection. You’re finally left with whatever you have been willing to give, which often is: nothing.”—(via goodgriefdina)