I am a visitor here, I am not permanent.

Sometimes, I forget how fragile and fleeting and uncertain our lives are.

"I used many times to touch my own chest and feel under its asthmatic quiver, the engine of the heart and lungs and blood and feel amazed at what I sensed was the enormity of power I possessed. Not magical power, not all that Carrie teenage telekenetic wank, but real power. The power to simply go on, the power to endure, that is power enough, but I felt I had also the power to create, to add, to delight, to amaze and to transform. Yet I was unwanted, rejected and unthought of. No one believed in me."

Whenever I remember, I feel overcome with love for all things living and their musings and emotions; hopes and fears. I take a morbid comfort in the fact that we are all destined for death, not long for this world, and that everyone is united by simply being alive right now and sharing their lives with others. People are arrogant, selfish and shallow, but when I'm honest with myself, I can't help but love humanity. Because I really believe that most people are trying to do their best, even if their attempts are misguided.

I read the news today, Oh Boy.

In the year below me at school, there are two refugee boys from Afghanistan. They joined the school last term, and are very unfamiliar with our culture. I don't want that to sound patronising. It's just true- for example, neither of them can speak english.
The school bulletin this morning described how a group of boys in my year took it upon themselves to attack these boys. Attack. That was the word that was used. It makes me feel sick.
Of course, I am and angry and disgusted. They made victims of people who were in need of looking after; people who were under circumstances that are likely to make them feel nervous or vulnerable; people younger than them. The frustrating thing is that I'm not surprised. My year group is notorious for acting like this. I really do love people, but I don't know how to relate to people like these, even though they're people I'm surrounded by every day. I know that I don't have the capacity to justify doing something like that and I don't know how to understand people who do these things.
Everyone has a sob story. Everyone has a secret that could break your heart. But sometimes, it doesn't matter.
In three years, I will have left school. In ten years, I doubt many of the people at my school, other than my friends, will be able to remember me. A lot of the time, I am frustrated with myself for being so inhibited at school, but occasionally, like right now, I'm very glad to be apart.

The song Two by The Antlers is amazing but so, so sad.

You had a new dream, it was more like a nightmare.
You were just a little kid, and they cut your hair,
then they stuck you in machines, you came so close to dying.
They should have listened, they thought that you were lying.
Daddy was an asshole, he fucked you up, built the gears in your head,
now he greases them up. And no one paid attention when you just stopped eating. "Eighty-seven pounds!" and this all bears repeating.

Got bitten fingernails and a head full of the past.

I would kill for a very long night-time drive right now.

I can't stop thinking about a friend of mine. Whether it's because I am still angry at them for the hurt they caused me, or because I am worried about them, or because I love them helplessly, I cannot tell. Right now, it's hard to distinguish between wanting to scream at them, or wanting scoop them up in my arms and tell them to be okay. Being beside them is overwhelming and paralyses me. Our conversations are faltering and short-lived, our mannerisms awkward and hesitant.

Unlike my friend, I do not know how to burn bridges. I am too sentimental to sever connections with someone I am fond of. It's unbearable.

What hurts me the most is her revealing that every beautiful story she told me about herself, from her recurring dreams about death to her crying along to Sufjan Stevens on a bus, was fabricated. Because, to me, it means that I have lost her. Really lost her. The person she was to me, the troubled, sensitive, dynamic, amusing, angst-filled, naive, adoring firework of a person she created for me is gone, and she's doing everything she can to destroy that person. Even small things, like nicknames, have been dismissed. There's a wilderness between us now. I do not know whether the loss I feel is over losing this friend, or losing my idea of her.

Shyness is nice, but shyness can stop you.

The snow on fog meant that the world was wedding-cake white. It was the kind of day that is just begging to be watched silently and left undisturbed. Ideally, I wanted to be a recluse today. Stay in with coffee and DVDs. Cacoon myself in blankets and observe the day through my living room window. But school was open, so instead I got a snowball in my eye and felt uncomfortable walking home on the icy paths. I get self concious when I walk by myself, but far more so when I can barely walk straight.

I really wish I wasn't so self aware. It would be so much easier to let myself commit senseless acts of kindness and beauty. Right now, I do small things that go unnoticed and hope that they will make someone feel better. An uplifting postit, some hopeful graffiti. And I would feel great to know that these little deeds have affected anyone in a positive way. I just want to be more reckless eventually. It's so easy to try to make others feel better without even reaching out. To just relate to them from afar. I want to be able to open up to most people. I guess another resolution for 2010 is to be the kind of person who can have an easy, heartwarming conversation with a stranger, and be able to tell them directly, "I hope that life your life is as beautiful as you dream it. You deserve to be happy." That would be better.
It is very, very hard to do this with social anxiety, because you feel that everyone is judging your every word and action, inwardly criticising you, so you leave them with nothing to judge and act like a shell of a person. I would really love to shed this shyness.

Here's some encouraging banners for anyone feeling in need of them.

I heart Heartland

Owen Pallett's new album, Heartland, is streaming here. It is stupendous. Highlights for me are Lewis Takes Action and 'E' is for Estranged. In fact, the latter is probably my new favourite Final Fantasy song.

I ♥ Music Videos

I surely do, more than I can express. The marrying of beautiful imagery and audio can be just breathtaking. Three or so minutes of perfection. That would be my dream lifestyle, really- to direct music videos. Whilst living out in the Mojave Desert. Mmm.
These are some of my favourite music videos from the past ten years. The ones that have inspired and affected me the most, and others that I just think are fun.
The Shins- Australia
This is a good example of a very fun video. What illustrates freedom better than a bunch of escaped convicts with tangerine balloons?

Department of Eagles- No One Does It Like You
I love Department of Eagles. No One Does It Like You is an eerie and beautiful song. The video truly does it justice. A beautifully choreographed battle sequence, complete with dancing amputees and singing ghosts.

The Postal Service- We Will Become Sillhouettes
I wish my life was like this music video.

Decemberists- Sixteen Military Wives
This video is very reminiscent of the film Rushmore, which is probably why I love it so much.

Beach House- Used To Be
This song means an awful lot to me, and so does the video. To me, it just captures the loss that comes with freedom. The loneliness you contract from being nowhere for too long. It's so Summery and beautiful.


I will definitely add to this.

White Hinterland

So I am crazy in love with this
White Hinterland- Icarus
It is a simple lovely dreamy pop song, that is perfect listening for snowy weather. I'll probably be listening to it on repeat until our snow melts.

Won't You Bring Light To My Day?

I watched my very first episode of How I Met Your Mother today and loved it. The episode was called Intervention and during the last scene I realised that I recognised and loved the song playing. That's always an exciting kind of familiarity, especially if it's a song you've half forgotten. The song was Coming Home by the 88, and I got warm fuzzies because of it.

I love making lists. My current wishlist:

The last Death Cab tee I ordered never arrived, so I'm a little hesitant.

Really, I want this for the Young Pilgrim's maze.
On a Summer Night print by Patrick Moberg.
This would be form over function, except that I've wanted a Holga for months. Its so pretty.

Me So Way-lo

Whatever Way-lo is Furby-speak for...

My brother just doodled a kickass furby and now I'm pining for my very own. My older brother and sister each had one back in the nineties. But not me. They both had a fully sized, mechanical, incoherent english speaking ball of fun. All I had was a half sized furby plush with a chipped beak. I loved it very much of course, but it just wasn't the same. They had the real thing and I had second best. They had Coca-Cola and I had pepsi. The jealousy consumed me. So, obviously, a resolution for 2010- obtain a Furby, a proper Furby, at some point over the course of the decade.

I know that it isn't something to rush into. I don't want it to end up forgotten and unloved like my siblings' furbies, festering away in a dusty cupboard. So I've assessed carefully all the various kinds of furbies (who knew there were so many?), and have decided to get a Mink furby (bottom right). It shall be called Tenenbaum.

In an earlier post, I included some Bon Iver visual art. I took this from a collection by hypemachine, where the 50 most blogged musical artists of 2009 were celebrated with some gorgeous visual art. I love stuff like this. Here are my favourites.

Sufjan Stevens by Patrick Moberg

Camera Obscura by Chris Govias

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart by Khoi Vinh

Lykke Li by Nitzan Ron

Au Revoir Simone by Emery Norton

Radiohead by Jordan Rutherland

Fanfarlo by Calvin Muse
TV on the Radio by Andrea Foht

Andrew Bird by Ben Lovosky

This one is my favourite, but the Bon Iver one is a close second.

Wilco by Sergio Serrano

Remember Earth Clearly (part two)

What one moment for you defines what its like to be alive on this planet? What's your best memory of Earth?
I can try and describe mine for you.
Its Summer 2008 and its a small town in central France called Bort-Les-Orgues that I visit often, and have grown to love unconditionally. I'm sitting at a cafe table on a hill overlooking the Dordogne River, reading my now favourite book for the first time with a plate of tagliatelle in front of me. It was a hot day, but not overwhelmingly so- no shimmying trees melting in the distance- just sunshine ebbing along with the river and an awesome blue sky. And in the midst of this beauty, I'm alone with the pages I'm reading.
I can't remember whether I said thank you.
I finish the book. My mother and my brother are now sitting across from me and I can hear them talking and joking and laughing. I begin to start playing with an empty coke glass in front of me, considering how what I had just read had affected me. The sunlight coming through the glass plays irredescence off the last pages of the book. And I just sit there and let the moment happen. I watch the rainbows dance around the type, and the sunshine surf across the water and the sky is clear and bright and infinite, and so am I.

Remember Earth Clearly (part one)

"Snow," says Claire, at the very moment a hailstorm of doves erupts upward from the brown silk soil of the yard next door.
"I'll always remember the first time I saw snow. I was twelve and it was just after the first and biggest divorce. I was in New York visiting my mother and was standing beside a traffic island in the middle of Park Avenue. I'd never been out of LA before. I was entranced by the big city. I was looking up at the Pan Am Building and contemplating the essential problem of Manhattan."
"Which is-?" I ask.
"Which is that there's too much weight improperly distributed: towers and elevators, steel, stone and cement. So much mass up so high that gravity itself could end up being warped- some dreadful inversion- an exchange program with the sky. I was shuddering at the thought of this. But right then my brother yanked at my sleeve because the walk signal light was green. And when I turned my head to walk across, my face went bang right into my first snowflake ever. It melted in my eye. I didn't even know what it was at first, but then I saw millions of flakes- all white and smelling like ozone, floating downward like the shed skin of angels. Even Alan stopped. Traffic was honking at us, but time stood still. And so, yes- if I take one memory of Earth away with me, that moment will be the one. To this day, I consider my right eye charmed."
"Perfect."'
- Generation X by Douglas Coupland

This day was an exceptionally beautiful day. The sky was clear and blue and icy, and the sunlight on the snow made a dizzying sparkle on the Earth, as though somebody had covered it in glitter while everyone else was asleep. I felt myself overcome with awe and gratitude just looking at it. I felt alive, and homesick for being alive all at once. Today isn't how I'd like to remember Earth, though. I'll come to that later.

First, I want to share this song.
. re: stacks- Bon Iver
Its melancholy, ethereal and perfect for watching flurries of snow through panes of glass. Vernon's sublime vocals guide you through the mind of a man who has given up- a wasteland of loss, alcoholism and apathy- and rarely are such things so beautiful or soothing. The artwork is by Alex Witjas.

I feel a bit too Charlie Brown right now...

Are you the favourite person of anybody? That's a loaded question. Ask someone you know, and you're almost guaranteed some uncomfortableness. Worst case scenario- either
a) they'll tense up, shake their head, then confide in you about a crippling loneliness all the while crying on your shoulder and you feel like an asshole for asking the question or...
b) they'll respond with a thoughtful "Yeah", then smile with a smugness and distance that obviously means they're thinking about that person. And you'll feel a pang of jealousy and an overwhelming urge to kick their shins. That'll teach them to be beloved.

It is a loaded question, but its intriguing all the same. As is wondering whether or not you have a favourite person yourself.

I first watched this short a few months ago. At the time, in spite of being surrounded by people I loved, I felt desperately alone. A huge factor, I think, in that is that didn't have a favourite person, nor was I the favourite person of anybody. In hindsight, I was being overly co-dependant. I still don't have a favourite person, nor am I the favourite person of anybody, but I don't feel as inadequate for it as I used to. I console myself with the idea that it isn't always a positive thing to have or be a favourite. It is so rare that someone can invest everything in another, and even rarer that the investment will be mutual. Rarer still that neither party will be hurt by this. Surely its better to love and be loved by many. It is less responsibility for everyone involved. That's what I'm trying to console myself with.

Still, I could sure use some oranges right now...