A compliment that made my day

"You dress like you are not bothered by fashion and just do whatever you like"

Confession

After waking up this morning I was showing my dad a surfing video filmed at the Irish coast. 

Then I realised my ongoing headache and moody behaviour might actually be caused by being homesick. I miss Ireland. I'd never fully admit it but I miss going out on Sunday mornings to return in the evening, all covered in mud, cold, tired and unable to walk another single meter. I miss drinking a bottle of Jack and feel absolutely shit the next morning. Or even more embarrassing: feel nothing at all because I'm getting used to it. I miss the cracks and the holes in the pavement on the way to University trough Castletroy. I miss the awful grocery shopping at Aldi. And I miss the people (and yes, someone in particular. A lot.)

I have been walking my dog every day now for a long time, and that is nice, but long not as satisfying as the hiking. I was talking to my dad this morning and I might just go away in April. Do some hillwalking somewhere. I have to get out.

It is Friday night, I should be getting dooown.

But instead, I am annoyed by my headache which I have for about a week now and therefore, locking myself up. I should be writing job applications but I am drawing an octopus. I am wondering if leaving Ireland has affected me more than I would admit.

Singsong

Music by singer-songwriters is excellent music to listen to if you want to be a little alternative but can't stand electric guitars or when you just want to get into a depression.

Occasionally I come across a singer-songwriter that I like but usually I find them whiny and just want to punch them in the face, tell them to get the fuck over it and be a man. Because they are usually men. Skinny men with dark weary eyes and at least fifty percent of them has a beard. I do like composers with dark weary eyes and beards, but then they are from Poland and compose classical music about the holocaust. They lock themselves up in cellars and are usually long dead, by suicide.

No, then the singer- songwriter. He starts of his career as Bringer of the Nagging Song in his late twenties (because before that age you cannot grow a full beard). His name is usually pretty long and difficult and he has to be grateful to YouTube for giving suggestions when you start typing, or else you will never be able to find his music.

His first album will have a short title that makes you wonder, like 'Fog'. It could also be a very long name like 'Confessions of an old one-legged man in a secret garden'. As long as it makes you wonder, it is perfect. The cover of the album should be some kind of vintage photograph of a senseless place. The singer-songwriter will receive his first fame by giving in depth-interviews at late-night radio shows and playing his first single, 'I Sail Away In My Dusty Canoe', unplugged on guitar. And us listeners will tremble with empathy because of his sad lyrics about his disturbed childhood and lonely roadtrips.

It is of great importance that you do not become too famous. For example, John Mayer, he is not underground anymore, that makes him uninteresting. This is probably because his name is way too easy for being a real singer-songwriter (he has no beard as well). Same goes for James Blunt. He has more of the dark weary eyes than John Mayer has, and he even has stubbles, but: too famous.

No, let's talk about singer-songwrites like James Vincent McMorrow (now thát's a name!). I have to admit I do like one or two songs but he is just the perfect example of the modern singer-songwriter. He is Irish, a beard, a difficult name and writes songs like 'Early in the Morning I come calling' and 'We Don't Eat'. We do not know if James is one of those pricks that phones you out of bed or might be a representative of the Anorexia Society, but at least: he makes you wonder!

Another example I stumbled upon and gave me enough inspiration to write this entry was 'Phosphorescent'. (again, thank you youtube because I had no clue how to spell it). I listened to his most popular song called Wolves. The song is about an awful childhood trauma of the singer, namely: he thinks there are wolves in his house. With an unstable voice (I already started trembling full of empathy) he brings us the following lyrics:

They tumble and fight
And they're beautiful
On the hilltops at night
They are beautiful

Apparently, this is what Matthew Houck (that is his real name. Good undergroundy choice of artist name isn't it),  thinks about when he thinks of wolves. Wolves tumble and they are beautiful. We just forget for a moment that wolves like to tear you apart, eat your guts and will drool on your heart while doing so, and will sniff your genitals when they are done with you. No, wolves just tumble around a bit on hilltops at night. The singer- songwriter reduces the wolf to something with the same reputation as a hamster, in exactly the same way he replaces good lyrics with unbearable poetry, 'what-the-hell-is-he-talking-about' or just plain bullshit.

But worst of all, he changes feelings towards bearded men from fear and admiration to empathy and pity, by replacing their axes by guitars. Where are the times bearded men with guitars used to be named Kerry King and instead of complaining about their traumas, traumatized us by yelling: God Hates Us All!- ?

Wake up wake up

Those moments where you wake up in the morning, you find yourself lying frozen in your bed, and you finally realise you have been dreaming. Thank God. But your nightmare has been so upsetting you feel exhausted, even after sleeping for eight hours.

It happens every once in a while. Bad dreams, serious bad dreams. When I wake up I find out I have not been moving a long time or that I have been crying in my sleep. I have no clue where they come from, I am a very happy and lucky girl in general. When I was younger I used to have troubles with falling asleep because I was scared. The past years I sometimes had panic attacks. Had my bad and my better times. I even had a period about a year ago I was having nightmares every night and I became a little nervous about going to sleep. But I had almost no problems with sleeping anymore since I moved to Ireland and came back again.

And tonight again. A nightmare where I have been so scared and upset that I still feel like I need to recover from it. Luckily I have the sweetest little brother ever who is now making me tea. The sun is shining and I will go for a run afterwards. Because in the end, it was only a dream.

Mooore pepper!

Have been drawing most of my spare time today. Not that I am good at it, but who gives a shit.

Black as Ink

Found the calligraphy pens. Should go to bed.

I finally got myself a nice large notebook with blanco pages to put in the things I have been collecting.

All the things that were in my head today got out, now I am happy, satisfied, and tired.

Het wordt een lange reis, een lange reis
Het heeft hier flink gestormd vannacht
Maar het klaart al op
Je hoort de vogels weer, je ruikt de regen nog
Misschien een andere keer
Misschien een andere keer
Want we moeten verder
Hoe dan ook tot het niet meer lukt
Tot het niet meer gaat
We zien dan wel weer
Alles op een rij

Ik blijf bij jou tot aan het eind
Zolang deze auto rijdt
Ik ben een twijfelaar
Maar jij nog meer
Dus dat zijn er twee
Ik ben niet meer heel erg sterk misschien
Maar ik maak je aan het lachen
Dus daar moet het dan maar mee

Het wordt een lange reis
De langste reis

Alles is oké
De horizon en het vlakke land
Ik rij en jij leest mijn hand
Ik ben een waterman dus deze week zit alles mee

De grote zon
We stoppen bij een tankstation
Waar de mensen doen alsof het nooit zo is geweest
Ik zie, ik zie wat jij niet ziet
Het is oranjerood en komt ons tegemoet
En alles is nu goed

- Spinvis, De Grote Zon (most parts)

Look what I discovered! A scanner.

grim.

Walked for more than an hour with my dog today. I did that yesterday too. I really missed having a good reason to wander outside on my own. It was a grey day, quite cold, and my dog was very happy to jump in all the mud piles. And since he is white and fluffy, I had to drag him to the bath when we returned.