My fingertips, and my lips, they burn

I wanna see your pom poms from the stands
Come on, come on

If today had a soundtrack, it’d be this (because it encapsules exactly what I’m talking about, except that Frank’s reminiscing while I’m longing for it)… no. 8

My fingertips, and my lips, they burn
From the cigarettes
Forrest Gump, you run my mind boy
Running on my mind boy
Forrest Gump

I know you Forrest
I know you wouldn’t hurt a beetle
But you’re so buff, and so strong
I’m nervous Forrest

Forrest Gump
My fingertips, and my lips, they burn
From the cigarettes
Forrest Gump you run my mind boy
Running on my mind boy
Forrest Gump

I saw ya game, Forrest
I was screamin’ run 44
But you kept runnin’ past the end zone
Oh where’d you go Forrest

Forrest Gump
My fingertips, and my lips, they burn
From the cigarettes
Forrest Gump you run my mind boy
Running on my mind boy
Forrest Gump

Forrest green
Forrest blues
I re-mem-ber you
If this is love, I know it’s true
I won’t for-get you (you)
(You you, oh you you) It’s for you Forrest
(You you, oh you you) It’s for you Forrest
Forrest Gump

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Preconceived requiem for a teenager.

Five months, nine days, four hours, fifty minutes and thirty-nine seconds. The word “teenager” floats away from me. The experiences of a teenager float away from me. Opportunities of silliness, recklessness and naiveté are lost. Instead, they’re replaced by responsibility, seriousness and logic. I am ready to move on to adulthood, but there is one part I am reluctant to skip. A piece currently missing, leaving a hole. On my road through adolescence, I don’t want to drive past the pitstop called “love” without stopping. I don’t want to settle for having crushed, without walking through liking and loving. Having looked, without running through flirting and kissing. I want emotional butterflies. I want emotional rollercoasters. I want emotional everythings. And I want it before age taints me. I want the sort of stuff you read books about, see movies about, hear songs about. Almost 20 and as untouched as a girl can be, in every way you can imagine. A damn shame.

28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, 12 seconds.

“A storm is coming,” Frank says. “A storm that will swallow the children. And I will deliver them from the kingdom of Bane. I’ll deliver the children back to their doorsteps. I’ll send the monsters back to the underground. I’ll send them back to a place where no one else can see them except for me, ’cause I am Donnie Darko.”

I’ve been looking in the dark for a place to hide my heart and it’s killing me.

I forgot forgot forgot
The world isn’t just a thought
And it’s killing me

Sometimes time moves a little slower. I move a little slower. I can feel every step, every move, every breath a little more. I feel myself a little more. I also feel not-myself a little more. I can feel the air pulsating with life, the universe breathing me in the face. As I walk, I look around me. At colors faded, at worlds clearer than ever. My surroundings are soft and quiet, but my awareness is harsh and loud. With every exhale, the world is breathing along with me – gusting the word “life” over and over again. Time is moving slowly, and so am I. My mind is everywhere, and nowhere at once. Existence. As I arrive, I hear a voice talking about love. About all the things that love is, and all the things that it is not. I stop moving. Time stops moving. I feel nothing and everything at once. Existence. I inhale, and so does everything else. Time starts moving a little faster again. I move a little faster again. Everything is back to normal, and the world is breathing life. Life. Life.

If that moment had a soundtrack, it’d be this… no. 6

I’ve been wasting all my time
Counting crimes behind my eyes
And they’re stealing me
I’m lost I’m lost I’m lost
I’m a loser without cause
And you’re missing me

Be my flower girl
Cause things can’t get any less perfect
Be my flower girl
Cause we can’t get any less perfect

I’m not ready to be happy
But if you would take my hand
And lay me down so softly
I think I’d make it out just fine

The existence of a self.

I used to think that life was this thing I couldn’t keep up with, that I was a child expected to be an adult. But something has shifted. I still feel like I sometimes can’t keep up with things, and the expectations are still breathing down my neck, but there’s one thing I can say for certain – I’m not a child anymore. I think I’ve been straining against this realization for some time now, immaturely refusing to conform to the societal norm, but I feel like the process has been accelerated this summer, the signs magnified to the point that ignoring them is impossible. Changes. A lot of changes. Like enjoying a TV show that I used to figuratively blush at. Like leaving the country because I want to. Like seeing myself being completely independent. Like making decisions based on ethics. Like realizing I can actually do something based on ethics. I think that it’s only now I’m starting to really feel like there is an “I”, and how much in control of that “I” I am. And at the same time, how much the world tries to take that control away from me. I think growing, and gaining maturity, is all about awareness, and I feel myself becoming more and more aware… Of everything, really. It’s a strange realization to have, and it’s constant. I can feel myself growing taller and it’s pretty amazing.

The Royal Tenenbaums: A pictorial study

I am in love with Wes Anderson’s movies. He’s one of the most hyped directors/producers/screenwriters on the “alt movie scene”, but I think he’s one of the few artists truly worthy of the buzz. There’s something about the way his films depict the dynamics of human relations that just captures real life in a really hitting way. Not to mention their aesthetical beauty – minimalistic, colorful, symmetrical, timeless. I change my mind about which one is my favorite all the time, but at the moment, I’m especially in love with The Royal Tenenbaums. So here are some of my favorite screencaps of the movie.

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_001

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_003

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_035

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_051

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_052

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_056

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_070

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_174

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_205

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_223

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_298

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_299

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_347

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_357

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_382

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_413

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_450

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_499

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_502

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_584

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_641

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_646

The_Royal_Tenenbaums_670

PS. I now realize that my selection has been very Margot/Richie-centric, but can you blame me? I mean, the bus scene – my heart.

Remember walkin’ in the sand. Remember walkin’ hand in hand.

If this day had a soundtrack, it’d be this… no. 5

Seems like the other day
My baby went away
He went away ‘cross the sea
It’s been two years or so
Since I saw my baby go
And then this letter came for me
It said that we were through
He found somebody new
Oh, let me think, let me think, what can I do?
Oh no, oh no, oh no no no no no

(Remember) walkin’ in the sand
(Remember) walkin’ hand in hand
(Remember) the night was so exciting
(Remember) smile was so inviting
(Remember) then he touched my cheek
(Remember) with his fingertips
Softly, softly we’d meet with our lips

Whatever happened to
The boy that I once knew?
The boy who said he’d be true
Oh, what will happen to
The life I gave to you?
What will I do with it now?

(Remember) walkin’ in the sand
(Remember) walkin’ hand in hand
(Remember) the night was so exciting
(Remember) smile was so inviting
(Remember) then he touched my cheek
(Remember) with his fingertips
Softly, softly we’d meet with our lips

A dream of light and beauty and sadness.

I dreamed that I was alone, in a big house bathed in light. There were gauzy fabrics swaying back and forth through the windows. She came, to keep me company. Like she always does. I had to cross the street. When we got outside, the rain was pouring. I called the other her, reassuring her that I was alright. That I wasn’t alone.

We found ourselves on a roof, seeing the identical buildings stretch out into infinity. Yet another her could be seen from a distance. She was with a he. She was being broken by a he. We called out to her, telling her to come with us. She looked up at us with the eyes of a frightened child, asking if we came there too. We whispered mischievously that “we totally do”. The smile was back on her face.

Then we were back in the house. The rain had gotten worse, and now the whole neighborhood was within the same four walls, bathed in light. That was how I knew it was over. But I guess I’d always known.

I was in a room, the most beautiful room I had ever seen. Flowers and light everywhere. It was innocence and the loss of it. The coming of age and the departure. A transition. There were several other shes now. We were sisters; not of blood, but of oath.

We were wearing white. Velvet, lace and silk. Clothing from another era. In a world of no era. The rain was pounding against the window. We wanted to end it together. I looked around me, tearing up. This was the end. This was a beautiful end. People kept barging in, wanting to disturb. There was no lock on the door. There were things being thrown. People staring. But no one stopped us. Eventually, we could barricade ourselves. Keep the others out. I wanted to have a picture taken. Wanted to remember. No, wanted to be remembered. It was instantly forgotten. Two of the shes were ordering something. We all knew what it was, but not a word was uttered. Understanding lay thick in the air.

The rain was still pouring. The soft tinkering of a piano sounding. We had eaten cake. One of us was tearing what little was left into small pieces and another made swirls of cream. I looked around me, realizing that I had to do it now. Capture the moment before it was too late. I looked around me, and it was all too much. Where does one begin? A she was sleeping in a bed of blooming peonies, blushed like the apples of her cheeks. I raised the lens and all sound stopped – the nothing, strained and brittle in the air. A soft whisper was heard: “She has to do this.” The snap of a camera echoed, and the silence was shattered. Piano and rain was heard again, now with the echo of an instant being suspended into eternity. But we were done and it was all over. Gone. Forever.

———-

This is the prettiest and most sorrowful dream I have ever had.

Questions about the only one.

Why am I so affected?
Why do I care so much
Why am I so disappointed
Why do I feel like

you failed a test

Why is there a test for you to fail?
Why do I expect more of you

as if you owe me anything

as if there’s even a “you” to be owed by
How come I expect so much from you,
even though I know better
even though I don’t even know

you

How can I be so bound by nothing

how can I bound myself to nothing?

Why do I cling
to your gaze
your your warmth

your attention

Why am I so affected by nothing?

Why does it give me a thrill to know
that your mother adores me
that your family already see us as together
that it’s “practically in the stars”

Why do I ignore that this has nothing to do

with you

with me?

Why am I so disappointed in you,
and yet I feel a tiny rush because you came to

see me

but not
her

That you said no to

blood
but not

connection

And why do I think about this forged connection,
one-sided

But is it?

And why do I still care?
When it all started as a crush from someone who barely knew
what attraction was
but now knows that

attraction is

what it was

8 years later,

Why do I still care?
Why do I still cling to what
you were, and what

I believe you still are

Why can I honestly say that
 I don’t want to be with you
When I can’t even begin to think that

I don’t want you

Why do I cling to the barely-nothing I have
Fantasizing about the possibilities,
even when I know that

they’re fabrications

Why do I know that there are answers,

but don’t want them?

Why can I tell myself that
you’re my first everything
and know that

I’m not lying

Even though we barely
touched
Why do I know that
you’re my first everything,

in all the ways that it matters?

Why do I feel like this is how it will be
forever

And why is that okay?

Why am I not waiting for you,
but still expect you to

come to me

Why do you mean so much?
Why do I see so much
feel so much

Why are you

the only one

that can affect me so?

Liebster award nomination shindig

So this fellow (far more legit) blogger Julia was super nice and nominated me to these Liebster shenanigans, which is apparently a blog award thingy? Considering I just started blogging again after a year long hiatus, I’m pretty much fumbling around in the blogosphere, doing whatever floats my boat. And of course, writing things about myself that no one would care enough to ask me otherwise floats my boat so much it’s practically levitating – so let’s go!

The rules:

Post the logo above

Accept the nomination and link back to the blog that nominated you

Share seven things about yourself

Nominate blogs and inform them of the nomination

I’d like to nominate…

No one? I know, I know, I suck royally but I really am noobing it up right now! I only know of one other blogger, but I asked her if she was up for it and she declined like the little brat she is (just kidding Kiki, ah fookin luv ya). So I swear I’m not an awful person, I’m just not down with the blog-kids yet.

Aaaaaand the queeestions (Yeah I don’t know what the excessive vowels are supposed to accomplish either):

1. What is your favourite book?

A part of me is truly offended that this is a question – you can’t just ask someone what their favorite book is! (Compulsory Mean Girls reference.) But I do have two books that I hold extra close to my heart:

The Catcher in the Rye, by Jerome David Salinger

and

Looking For Alaska, by John Green

2. What is your most memorable dining experience?

All those delicious breakfasts we had when we were on that school trip senior year. I mean, it’s Crete. The simplest dishes, but everything was just so fresh and real and rural and awesome. An amazing scenery (turquoise ocean and goats defying gravity by climbing mountains) coupled with homemade honey, bread, yogurt, goat cheese, orange juice etc. – you’re just genuinely enjoying life.

3. Favourite cuisine?

Cibo italiano! (I just spent six months learning italian and I’m going to show off my newly acquired vocab dammit, no matter how meagre it is!)

4. What is your favourite meal of the day?

I feel like this is a pretty taboo thing to say, but since I’m such a strong individual and have been put on this earth to guide people in the right direction, I’m going to step up and speak for the people who are like me but are too afraid to be their true selves… I’m not a big food person! And no, I do not have an eating disorder. I have no problem eating. And I do enjoy the taste of food I like… I just don’t have, like, a religious experience over it or anything… which seems to be the case for most people in my life, for some reason. So yeah, favorite meal of the day… breakfast? No, ’cause I skip that like every other day. Lunch is the most abstract concept ever, what is even lunch? Dinner is nice, except that I always eat way too late and then it’s practically a nightly snack. Ooh, I know! I’m gonna cheat, but I think it’s okay since I’m so charming and all (just go with it) – that meal when you’re drunk and all you’re craving is greasy, transfatty food and you’re just guiltlessly loving life… meal of the day. Okay that makes absolutely no sense but yeah.

5. What is your least favourite food?

Oh food, how do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways… No but seriously, I have a lot of food enemies, which probably explains my rant. My nemesis would have to be pancakes though… I know I know, I’m a freak, whatever, but I honestly think that if hell had a texture, it’d be the texture of a thin, mushy pancake.

6. Do you prefer cooking for yourself, or others?

Myself, hands down. No pressure. I don’t do pressure. That’s a story for another post though.

7. Favourite blogs on the internet?

/)w(\ <- I’m using this kawaii emoji to accurately convey my shame. Once again, I’m lost. I’m not really familiar with the wordpress-universe yet. Tumblr is more my thing and let’s not delve into the fandom-abyss here, I’m trying to keep it relatively PG up in this bitch. But wait, does video blogs count? I think I just found a loop hole, take that Libanon award! I’m joking Lichtenstein, you’re the best. Alright I’m just gonna link some shit:

Rachel Whitehurst a.k.a. icallitambrosia a.k.a. 87daysbefore – she’s a funny, sarcastic, cursing beauty guru with an A+ personality

Tyler Oakley a.k.a. tyleroakley – I just want Tyler Oakley to be my best friend, okay?

Christina a.k.a. hrhblaine – Okay fine let’s just tread lightly into tumblr waters. Glee or no Glee, Christina is the voice of every fangirl/fanboy (english, keep with us progressive swedes and come up with a gender-neutral pronoun already!). Just check the video tag – hilarity.

Yeah okay I’m too lazy to think of more.

8. One place you would love to travel to?

You might call me a cliché when I answer “New York” but girl, if you haven’t spent 19 and a half years living in everything-closes-before-it-gets-dark-Stockholm, you don’t have anything to say. I want to walk on the ground of the city that never sleeps, the city of dreamers, the city of everything and anything ever and I want to not be asleep when I’m doing it.

9. Casual dining or fine dining?

Another food question? Fine, casual.

10. Salt or pepper?

Really? Alright salt.

11. Spicy food: yes or no?

Oh come on! This seems to be the last q so I’ll indulge you – my stomach says no to spicy food, and therefore, I say no to spicy food.

———–

Yay that was fun!