The Scientist~Coldplay

Come up to meet you, tell you I’m sorry
You don’t know how lovely you are

I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart

Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
Oh let’s go back to the start

Running in circles
Coming up tails
Heads on a silence apart

Nobody said it was easy
It’s such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard

Oh take me back to the start

I was just guessing
At numbers and figures
Pulling your puzzles apart

Questions of science
Science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart

Tell me you love me
Come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start

Running in circles
Chasing our tails
Coming back as we are

Nobody said it was easy
Oh it’s such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be so hard

I’m going back to the start

This used to be our way of communication. Me using other people´s words to let you know what I feel. we have always been effective at that. Now I´m sick. And I´ll make a move. Dont know for how long, maybe forever. I miss you, and I always will. But I wanted you to read these last lyrics. If possible, hear this song before I go. It is beautiful!

Love

you

Shy 

I wrote today. I miss writing, not the ranting and rambling of blog writing, but fabrications from a delirious mind sort of writing. I wrote until I was sagged of emotions and of words. It’s been a year since I wrote fiction, and all this analytical and real life commentary writing are killing my words. Frustration built, a sort effable. I see it in my mind. I could have directed a nice screenplay and I painted the mood, but I couldn’t put it on paper. I couldn’t pen the adjectives and verbs and taste them and watch them paint the story for me. I’m trying so hard, squeezing out creativity, drowning in music, but I end up crumbling on the floor, foresaken and rejected…for today at least. Tomorrow I will try again.

I will write again.

I will write again.

I will.

…hummed

today… today I dreamed about you.

and I missed you so much that I cried.

Just wanted to let you know.

Why here? I know you see me here.

Dil Se…

Shy

Losing My Identity

I often used sit back and wonder what it would be like to be in someone else’s body. (mentally and physically) . I seemed to find amazing qualities in everyone else but myself. When I was younger I always tried to fit into everyone else’s mold. I did things for everyone else but myself. I constantly cookie-cuttered into the shapes of my family, friends, and boyfriends…trying to appeal to them and their senses. Years of that finally built up, and when I was finally conceptually alone, I realized that I was no one I wanted to be. I always put my beliefs aside for the sake of pleasing others, not realizing that in the end I was the one stuck in this body, not them. Many times I even fooled myself into thinking I was something, when in all actuality I was really far from it.
About six months ago I started a journey of self discovery(eye’s roll) I have learned to follow my stomach, and my nose instead of taking advice from those who “think they know best. Granted I still periodically have feelings of low self worth, but nothing compared to my “former self.” Not only am I now much happier in my own skin, but I have actually enjoyed reacquainting myself with myself.(former) I have realized in this ongoing process that we are the most important people in our lives… get to know yourself, and follow your gut… you have nothing to loose.

Do something good for yourself this week… write yourself a love letter or treat yourself to a dinner in solitude … and nothing gets you more in touch with your body than yoga! Go for it… INDULGE!

I´ll spend some days in Paraguaçu Paulista at a friend´s house. It is in the countryside of Sao Paulo estate. Small city, diferent from whatever There is here. HHmmmm ….I’ll rest…..

Self-quotation and other pretentious nonsense

Nothing to say but I can’t stop talking
Nothing to do so I’ll just keep walking

I plan to use those words in a song some day. It makes me want to cry to think of all the good lines that I don’t seem to be able to expand into songs and poems. I just have to remember that patience and persistence will pay off… Sigh. If only I possessed either of those qualities.

As is usual for a Tuesday night, I spent a considerable amount of time last night talking to my friend who´s a math teacher-Ana. One of the topics that came up dealt with how pretentious it is to quote yourself. I think there’s a fine line to walk there – I may get my friend Ana to work out a mathmatical formula to deal with it. On the one hand, as a friend once said to me, “Why are your thoughts any less valid than the writings of a bunch of dead guys who lived thousands of years ago?” That was a thinker… Because as my friend is fond of saying, “Just because they say it better doesn’t make them right.” I completely agree with both those statements. I really don’t see why an opinion becomes more valid once a person is dead or why my opinion is more valid if other people happen to agree with me. But there seems to be this pervasive feeling that one’s own opinion should be devalued for modesty’s sake or something like that.

Here’s what I think… Every person is exposed to a large-if-finite number of profound or share-worthy thoughts and ideas in their life. Some of these will have occured within the person’s own mind. There is something of an obligation to share these thoughts with others if the situation calls for it. The line should be drawn when you find yourself quoting your own thoughts more than anyone else’s. Yeah, Ana really needs to help me with the mathmatical formula for this….

****Who was talking about changes???

Shy

***changing skins…and thoughts as well. old skin and old thoughts smell bad, they need to be removed and replaced from time to time. Listening to Maná…

Late start and I’m lovin’ it. When given enough time to sleep, I am definitely a morning person. I can see it already, awoken by the sun rays gliding across white sheets, getting up without hitting any snooze buttons, drag my feet across the floor to the wide windows, feel the early morning breeze…over and over, and begin again. I’ll make my tea with a kettle, check my mail , delete the junkmail before coming to notes from him, the kettle then will scream and I’ll run to the kitchen and pour it into my green tea mug. How lovely life would be…and I’ll spend the rest of the day, writing, until maybe some friend comes over, and we’ll watch a movie…

Dreams. Dreams are beautiful. They are the vitamin pills of my life. They keep me grounded, and yet ungrounded at the same time. How I love…how I would love…but can life be like that? So curse the realist. Happiness is so hard to attain, so relentless, sometimes if feels like I have to rip it apart with my teeth, only to realize that’s all I’ve done, ripped it apart. Maybe I will forever live in dreams, and ten years from now on, I’ll have nothing. But we’ll see, won’t we, o worthy reader. Check me out in ten years, say hello, see where I’m at, see what I have to say

Shy