sorry.

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it started off as a feeling

BIRCHES

i'd like to get away from earth awhile
and then come back to it and begin over.
may no fate willfully misunderstand me
and half grant what i wish and snatch me away
not to return. earth's the right place for love:
i don't know where it's likely to go better.
birches, robert frost

I got home at 5am this morning, and slept until 2pm. Sleeping in planes seems to be an impossible feat. Tell me if you ever find an effective method that doesn't involve extreme pain.

I love planes. I love taking off and landing and the views in between. I love trying to work out exactly how it works but never managing to get my head around it. It just happens and it's amazing. Seeing all the lights dim away as we slipped further up into the clouds is such an awesome feeling.

I also loved seeing my family again. And welcoming a new uncle into the family. Weddings make me giddy and happy and hopeful (?).

And parascending was absolutely amazing. I am still in awe of the views and the feeling of flying above the sea. My cousin and I wondered if it was possible to be towed back to England on it.

Jetskiing was also fantastic, but bittersweet. My Grandad passed away a year ago, and my Nanny a few years ago. They loved the sea, so yesterday (our last day) we put some letters from them to each other in an old tobbaco tin, and threw it out to sea.

I didn't half miss my piano though. Not being able to just pick up an instrument and improvise or compose was so frustrating.

I am off to Marseille in four days, to stay with a friend and take more pictures and see more sights. After then, posting will become more regular.

Song recommendation: Gravity - Vienna Teng

little deaths in musical beds

I've stopped numbering my posts.

So hey there, again! It seems I can never quite keep up with blogging. Maybe that's just the way it's always going to be with me. I won't stop though, honest.

It's summer now. Or it is here, at least. I like it here in England right now. Never thought it would be the case, but I don't want to go on holiday this year. Today is my first free day in ages. There have been sunny days and 'lets-dress-up-as-Harry-Potter-characters' days and days with loaaads of walking. I'm not quite ready for three weeks worth of too-hot countries and doing nothing all day.

They're making The Time Traveler's Wife into a book, did you know? I'm not sure whether to be pleased or not, after they (in my opinion) killed My Sister's Keeper. I'm glad they made Rachel McAdam's hair the right colour, though. It really irritates me when they can't get the simple things right. Like Meggie's hair in Inkheart (it's meant to be curly and brown FYI), or Harry's eyes (if it's so bloody significant that they're green, why can't they bother with contacts?).

See, Harry ain't happy about it either.

So, I'm going to try to revamp my blog a bit. Make it a bit more interesting, readable, or whatever. Not anything drastic (I happen to like this layout), but a few subtle changes and some more relevant topics.

I went zorbing a couple of days ago. For those who haven't tried it, do.

I re-read the first three Twilight books (refusing, as ever, to recognize Breaking Dawn's existence) and do indeed despise Edward. He's such a two-dimensional character. Hey, I'm all for perfection in romance (though, really, I tend to fall for the unconventional options eg. Maxxie, from Skins, or Remus Lupin from HP), but Edward is just so... bland. He's not real enough for me. Too overprotective with not enough spark, or enough personality. Jacob, however, never fails to make me squeal (as I said, in my world book 4 does not exist). Even back in the days where Edward didn't make me grit my teeth and internally recite the Greek alphabet, Jacob > anyone else.

I can't think of anything substantial to write, so I'll leave off here. I'll be back in a few weeks with some pictures to show you from my travels to Cyprus and Aix-En-Provence.

To those who still want to venture into a group blog, thankyou for your patience. If it's okay with you, could we start it in a couple of months when I'm back in England full time, with nothing better to do than schoolwork. Thankyou!

trente-cinq

What have you been thinking about lately?
Loads. Mainly the things I should be doing weighed against what I want to do. I usually choose the latter. Also how truly beautiful the world is when you're smiling.

What’s been on your mind?
What to take for my A levels. I've managed to narrow it down to six (for those who don't know, the recommended amount is four, and most drop to three in their second year). I want to be a musician, so Music and Music Tech are agiven. There's also English Literature, which I'm definately taking, not doubt about that (we study Sylvia Plath and Margaret Atwood)! And then it gets a bit tricky. Do I take Philosophy, History or Politics? The syllabus for each of them looks really interesting. I have around four months to start thinking about it before I make my preliminary decisions.

What are you excited about at the moment?
Not much, to be perfectly honest. I don't tend to get excited about holidays until the day I leave. I don't look far into the future at all. The furthest is probably 'Which Andrew McMahon song shall I listen to on the bus home?' There's Cyprus soon, for my auntie's wedding, and then Marseilles with my friend, and band camp too.

When was the last time you made a difference to somebody?
I'm not sure. Positively or negatively? Big or small? I gave a friend half my crisps today, but does that really count?

Who are you really happy for at the moment?
My friend who's gone back to the Phillipines until the end of the summer holidays. Seeing her dad and the rest of the family and whatnot. Have a great time Jessi :)

When was the last time you felt inspired?
Oh definately today. In my History A level taster session, learning about these two amazing men. It's horrific how people can cover up amazing acheivements out of embarassment. Selfish and dishonourable.

If you could be in your dream place at the moment what would you be doing?
Meeting Sylvia Plath and having mango and passionfruit tea with Lyra Belacqua and Pantalaimon. Seeing for myself how truly beautiful the Northern Lights are, and discussing everything there is to discuss with my best friend, Galadriel of Lorien.

If somebody was describing your personality what would they say?
Quirky, I suppose. A dreamer, but logical. Someone in love with life, but so curious about death. A walking oxymoron. Someone who wants to know about everything to do with literature and art and music and culture and animals and philosophy and history, but wants nothing to do with maths and science. At. All. I'm a complicated person. I can't just sum me up.

What are you most proud of?
I don't like to be proud. I only ever get proud of the collective 'us' when I've just played a good concert with a band, orchestra or choir. Never really myself, if I'm honest.

What’s been tempting you lately?
Lying to my parents about my whereabouts, and being disloyal to one person I've known for seven years in favour of following my own dreams.

What’s been the one most consistent thing in your life?
I will always be in love with music and words. And stars.

What do you love about people? or What do you love about (person’s name)?
Their ability to forgive, and to create beautiful things. Whether it be in their minds or in the form of art, architecture or gardening. Everyone has it in them the longing to simply make and be.

TAGGED: Natalie, Hannah, Lizzie, Jessi

I found this earlier when I typed in 'meaningful questions' on Google, but I think I might start a tag, as they're quite fun to answer. I'm sorry yet again for the irregular posting, but I've had so many concerts (like performing in the National Festival of Music for Youth, get me!) and social events and various other bits and bobs. I promise I will get back to regular comments on your beautiful blogs soon, and I thank you all for your patience :)

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

Sylvia Plath - From 'Mad Girl's Love Song'


P.S. I forgot to get back to the people who are interested in the group blog. Skill isn't an issue, just an eye for beauty :) The quality of the pictures themselves don't matter. It's the intentions behind the lense. So, Lizzie, Aivilo*, Natalie, Dvsone and Aren, I'm ready when you are! Any queries (or if I accidentally left you out), just drop a comment.

*I'm terribly embarrassed to admit I just noticed that clever little backwards thing you did there ;) I now know your name is Olivia. God I'm slow.

trente-quatre

I wish I'd stuck with the violin, sometimes.

I sometimes wish I'd stuck with acting also. Seven years of tuition adding up to nothing.

I sometimes wish I'd said "yes" when asked if I wanted to go to private school.

I sometimes wish I'd never met some of the people I know now.

I wish I'd approached some others earlier.

I wish it was easier for me to talk to people. And that I wasn't so shy around strangers, or so easily intimidated.

I wish I'd begged harder to stay living in the countryside.

I wish I'd said "yes" when given the option of learning Latin after school, and when I was given the letter two years in succession, offering me a place in the Duke of Edinburgh scheme.

I wish it was possible to wish upon every single star in the night sky for the chance to start over again and live a different life.

It would be interesting to see how different I could be.

Maybe, in a parallel universe somewhere out there in the solar system, there's another me.

She has already worked up the courage to ask out her childhood friend. They're quite happy, thank you very much. It's not awkward, as she feared it might be.

She has a plethora of friends, a neverending web of connections and phone numbers.

She is Grade 8 violin, and has never heard of a euphonium, let alone played one. She hasn't touched a tuba before, or been near a trombone. Flugel horns and cornets are foreign names for her, and she thinks there are french horns and trumpets in a typical brass band (she wouldn't care if she were wrong, anyway). Orchestras are more her scene. She loves the swell of the timpani, and the slow diminish. The attack and crash of the cymbal and the tinny after effect, rattling her bones and shocking her to the core. Even when she thinks she is used to it, it still comes as a pleasant surprise.

She speaks Latin fluently, learned from a teacher, instead of herself, at home. She is a student of theatre and dons a blazer each morning before catching that shiny yellow school bus, adorned with the name of her destination and full to the brim of teens loosening their ties and fanning their bare faces with their school books. She opens a book each morning and doesn't get interrupted when she reads to herself, the words flowing through her mind. The simple transition between seeing the word, and understanding the word is not recognised. The word 'plate' has meaning straight away. It is never simply five useless letters strung together.

Like the familiarity of a scent that floats through the open window and washes over her softly. It conjures up images and memories with no warning. There is no slow recollection, no turning point when smell becomes memory. They are one and the same. Like the words she reads. Meaning and notation. Notation and meaning.

She, in fact, would not be that different from me. The world around her may've changed, but I can't imagine her being any less in awe of the meaning of things and the beauty of the world. She is still deep in thought, every second of every minute.

I no more wish I could be her than I wish I could be me, but everybody around me different. These are idle dreams. Pipe dreams. They are there for no purpose but to fill the void of my mind, barren of wishes with any substance. If given the choice, I think I'd stay here, in this world so familiar, with smells which conjure memories and memories which conjure smells. This world with its words and people and music.

I sure would like to find out how my parallel self is doing, though. And whether she is truly happy there, in a world devoid of all the regrets I hold in this world.

Pipe Dream: An unrealistic hope or fantasy.