A Diary of Dreams...

So last night was Eurovision. The only reason I know that is because my facebook news feed EXPLODED with posts about Conchita Wurst. They ranged anywhere from hate to love and adoration and expressed views on both her appearance, the reason why she won and not that many on the song itself. My news feed exploded with posts about her some months ago when she was announced as the official representative for Austria. Back then people hated on her and said she doesn’t deserve to be at Eurovision (rough quote). All this really bothers me for a number of reasons. 1) The easiest thing ANYONE can do is to hate on someone who has achieved something in life. And then love them when they win and with that win do something for you, directly or indirectly. I don’t understand why is it so hard to support someone ALL THE WAY TO SUCCESS and not just at the top. The ROAD is the hardest, celebrating the win is the easiest. 2) I’m TIRED of people being intolerant towards others....

Well, we're already 35 days into 2014 and I guess this post comes a little late, but I didn't get the urge to write it until now, so here goes. I set a lot of goals for my 2014 self in my contemplative period between my birthday and New Year's Eve and to be honest the list has been growing all the time with constant tiny new little challenges. I guess I need a place to keep track of all this and I don't mind it being public. As little and insignificant as these things might be, they are my little victories and they matter to me. This list will most probably expand as this year progresses, so just in case you're interested, check in from time to time. I will also mark goals I have reached no matter how tiny. I will keep track of my progress on every goal and update accordingly. In 2014 I will: be drama-free for at least (a total of) 10 months this year  (1 down) get rid of everything and everyone negative in my life  (currently identifying negatives) learn ...

So, I had this sudden realization some days ago that there are some (very few, but existent) bands that feel like a part of my essence. OneRepublic have grown to be one of those bands and I'm eternally mad at myself from 6 years ago for not getting into them back then and eternally grateful to my 2012 self that decided to finally give them a proper listen and to my 2013 self for completely falling in love with the awesome people they all are and the amazing music they create.  Their beauty is in that they pour their completely human emotions into songs and manage to create lyrics that you can relate to, at least 90% of the time. Their beauty is in that they are extremely down to earth everyday people who just happen to create music you can relate to. Their beauty is in that through that music they teach so many lessons. And that is why I fell in love with them and why they will always hold a special place in my heart. So today morning, as I was watching something, I came across t...

Because this band is of significance for various reasons.  Because this song is of significance to me and you know it. Your defenses were on high, your walls built deep inside. Yeah, I'm a selfish bastard, but at least I'm not alone. My intentions never change, what I wanted stays the same and I know what I should do, it's time to set myself on fire. Your reflection I've erased like a thousand burned out yesterdays. Believe me when I say goodbye; forever is for good. Was it a dream? Is this the only evidence that proves it - a photograph of you and I... in love...

...when he has power over your euphoria of seeing your favorite band in just a few hours. And I'm left to wonder: why? Why you, of all people?... 26.11.2012 Replica

Ти не се страхуваше да плуваш в дълбокото. И полудях по теб. Обърнах живота си на сто и осемдесет градуса и скочих. В дълбокото. Не умеех кой знае колко да плувам, но вярвах, че двамата ще се държим, когато някой се умори. Но теб те нямаше там.  Цапах с ръце и крака, държах главата си над бездната и се опитвах да не мисля за нея. За миг се вцепенявах, когато ме прерязваше мисълта колко незначителна съм за живота и колко несъществена за света. Тогава усещах как краката ми натежават като грях, а ръцете ми са пречупени пориви. И студените пластове ме засмукват надолу. Към мрака.   Много пъти се разделях мислено и много пъти търсех думите на прошката, която никога не изрекох. И после някаква животинска сила ме изтласкваше отново за поредната глътка въздух. И следващото загребване напред.   Понякога си мислех, че виждам острова, където ти вече си пристигнал и ме чакаш... И това винаги се оказваше гърба на нечия чужда мечта.   Понякога виждах и перките на ак...

To all my twenty-something friends  1) There is a nagging suspicion in your brain that there’s something missing. Not missing as in “Shit I lost my cell phone.” But missing as in, you wake up in the morning not really sure of your path in life, if this is really what you want to do, and if this perpetual hangover is really how life is supposed to feel.  2) Your finances are constantly subject to new “budgeting” attempts, new excel spreadsheets, new financial plans, and yet never really seem to accumulate as quickly as your friends say theirs do.  3) Your friends’ jobs are all better than yours  4) Your friends’ apartments are all better than yours.  5) If you’re single you are worried you’ll die alone, if you’re in a relationship you’re constantly worried if “this is the one” and otherwise you’re newly engaged and everyone else is jealous but you’re worried about becoming a divorce statistic. Really though, everyone just lives ...

Feed me dust and let me drown, wash my memories of you. Feed me dust and make me frown, as I wash you clean of me. Feed me lies and broken dreams and let me have illusions. Feed me promises and sweetest things, but never be for me. Feed me everything you want and think that I believe it. Feed me everything you want and never forget me. 01.09.2012 Replica

Никой не обича крадците, но всяка жена мечтае за мъж, който да открадне съня ѝ. Подхвърли ми го близка приятелка. Една от онези, които минават за емоционален рентген в дните на драма и сантиментални вълнения. Кимвам позакъсняло и нагазвам в размисли. Един такъв прекрасник, който минава за мъж, гледа като лунатик с недоизяснена диагноза и ми говори твърде мъгляво, неусетно успя да се засели в телефона, контактите и мислите ми. Докопа се до спокойния ми сън и го превърна в розова прелюдия на една съвсем неромантична лудост. Всичко си беше наред. Играем си ту на криеница, ту на настъпванка. И все се намираме измежду паузите. Аз го карам направо, без заобиколки – непрактично откровена и излишно самонадеяна. Той, уж без да иска, ми обърква компаса и представите за "направо". Спорно е, гледаме ли се или дебнем – кой пръв ще се издаде какво остава между редовете и чий ще бъде финалният почерк. Всеки ден ритуално го разнищвам. Опитвам да гледам отстрани, сякаш цялото Той се случва н...

It seems like recently everyone's attention is suddenly drawn to ACTA and SOPA , since now those have become a real threat to "pirates" worldwide. In a nutshell, for those of you too lazy to read what ACTA and SOPA are, according to them you are a criminal. Because the big record and movie companies earn shit when you download Katy Perry's new album or the latest flick off a P2P site. So in the end it's all about the money and the fact that some of us are not willing to pay for shitty music and even shittier movies. The past decade or so has been a killer for people like me who appreciate good music, or a good movie, or a good book - musicians don't make the music they want to make, they make what sells and everyone suddenly can sing (all hail Autotune!); screenwriters' original ideas often get neglected because of the risk such a project holds; writing books has now become something that everyone suddenly can do... am I supposed so settle down for somet...

Седя на ръба и си мисля. Мисля си дали ще ме бутнеш, или сама ще скоча. Непредвидим си в това отношение. Но пък затова ми харесваш. Кой ръб ли? Онзи, който е в съзнанието. Грозният, който кара повечето хора да изтръпнат само при мисълта, че го доближават. Кимаш ми с глава насреща, знаеш много добре за какво ти говоря. И с усмивка ме буташ още малко напред. Това е онзи ръб, границата на зоната ти на комфорт, след която всичко от приятно става болезнено. Границата, която не си готов да прекрачиш и която почти винаги е наложена от някой друг, не от самия теб. Това е границата, която дефинира кой си ти и какво си готов да направиш. Границата, която никога не си оспорвал, дори в моментите, когато нещо ти се е струвало неправилно. Седиш до мен на бара. Говориш ми на ухо, споделяш неща, които само аз и ти трябва да знаем. Седя до теб на бара. Говоря ти на ухо, споделям неща, които само ти и аз трябва да знаем. И някъде там, между всичките думи, сме си казали нещо, което ме кара да се приближа...

...или как най-накрая някой написа нещо, което отговаря на моето мнение, поне мъничко. Децата на прехода не получиха по-добър старт от родителите си и излизат със скършени илюзии, но и здравословен прагматизъм Те израснаха през 90-те. С MTV и IRC. В ценностен хаос, но свободни да опитат от всичко. И колкото по-рано, толкова по-добре. Докато чатеха с непознати "Hi, kak si? ASL, pls" в интернет клубовете и пушеха първата си цигара на гърба на училищния двор, родителите им водеха битки с хиперинфлацията, погребали надеждите си от митингите на промяната. Възпитаха ги да се уповават религиозно на двата глагола - "учи" и "бягай". Влязоха в университета тъкмо когато България получи европейски хоризонт. И бяха първите "Еразъм" младежи, замаяни от възможността да пътуват и да попиват мултикултурната среда на връстниците си в Европа. Повярваха, че ще живеят по-добре от родителите си. Само за да разберат миг по-късно, че с все хубавата им диплома, двата ези...

Don't know why I'm still afraid, if you weren't real I would make you up now I wish that I could follow through, I know that your love is true and deep as the sea. But right now everything you want is wrong, and right now all your dreams are waking up, and right now I wish I could follow you... To the shores of freedom, where no one lives. Remember when we first met and everything was still a bet in love's game? You would call; I'd call you back and then I'd leave a message on your answering machine. But right now everything is turning blue, and right now the sun is trying to kill the moon, and right now I wish I could follow you... To the shores of freedom, where no one lives. Run away tonight... We're made out of blood and rust, looking for someone to trust without a fight. I think that you came too soon, you're the honey and the moon that lights up my night. But right now everything you want is wrong, and right now all your dreams are waking up, and r...

Dyre is the smallest village you can imagine. It’s somewhere north of Central Europe, but if you ask someone from Dyre, they’ll tell you it’s in the middle of nowhere. And they’d be pretty right about it. Usually not a lot of people pass through Dyre and those that do are here only because they lost their way and need shelter for the night. The people here have learned to keep to themselves, though they would gladly point you to The Soul Cage. The Soul Cage is the only place you can go for a drink, or look for shelter in Dyre. It’s one of those really small pubs that you overlook on a Friday night in the city, the one that looks cheap and half-empty, with a bartender that’s lazily smoking a cigarette behind the bar and a waitress wiping the glasses with just as much enthusiasm. But when that’s the only place you can have fun at, you learn to live with it. People say strangers don’t last long in Dyre because it’s too small and too quiet for them. You have to be born in Dyre to like Dyre...

Having A Coke With You is even more fun than going to San Sebastain, Irun, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt partly because of the fluoresent orange tulips around the birches partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary it is hard to believe when I'm with you that there can be anything as still as solemn as unpleasently definitive as statuary when right in front of it in the warm New York Vienna 4 o'clock light we are drifting back and forth between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them I look at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world except possibly for the...

In a land where space and time collide, In a place where everything is real, I dreamt of us last night. You were a Poet, and I was your Muse. I looked over your shoulder, You wrote my name in tears And smiles and whispered sweet lullabies. In a land where space and time collide, We sat there – the Poet with his Muse, We conversed and said goodbyes And met again, and laughed and cried. In a place where everything is real, We spoke of many things, Of us, of fools, of kings And we forgot the world outside. I dreamt of us last night, As the Poet and his Muse, We sat there and conversed. I watched over you, you wrote my name. You were a Poet, and I was your Muse, The invisible, invincible precious thing, The one you left unnoticed and the one That wishes, dreams and whispers. In a land where space and time collide, I wish we'd sit there, a Poet and his Muse. In a place where everything is real, We'll meet and like a Poet with his Muse We'll converse, oblivious of the world, Of w...

There's really so many things to say about this song and the video, but I lack the words. It's all a haze in my head... Provehito in altum. Per aspera at astra.

Isn't it sad how memories die, How they turn to ash and wither away? Isn't it sad how we walk away, How we turn and walk away? Isn't it sad how without regret we burn The bridges that kept us from burning? Isn't it sad how somehow we lose track, How we go on and never look back? Isn't it sad that you die not by the hand Of your enemy, But by the hand Of your friend? My midnight sun to warm me, That's all I want right now. 16.02.2011 Replica

Кога пак ще я видиш, Срещу тебе да върви, Да се усмихва? Кога пак ще е твоя, В ръцете ти да се отпусне? Кога пак ще го види тя, Да се усмихва, Кога в очите му ще се загуби? Кога пак ще се смеят, Забравили света И кога пак ще се срещнат момчето със сините очи и дамата със сивото палто? 25.01.11 Replica

Попаднах на това случайно. Едно от малкото красиви неща във фейсбук. Хареса ми ужасно много по ред (лични) причини, а понеже авторката (Antonia Doncheva, ако попаднеш тук - това не е опит да плагиатствам :) ) не е сред приятелите ми и знам, че до 2 часа няма да мога да го открия отново, реших да го постна тук. Едно такова, ноемврийско... Най-тъжно е, когато е студено, а у дома не ти се връща. Града кръстосваш, уморена и от сърцето си събираш късчета. С наперената си походка, ще крачиш, ще изглеждаш хубаво – Кой знае колко си самотна? Кой знае колко ти е струвало? И някак никак не ти пука че кецовете пак пропускат, ти знаеш, че са само временни – и зимата, и кривите ти чувства. Дали са релси линиите на трамвая, със влак да те откарат до морето? И тръгнеш ли по тях, дали накрая ще пуснеш лятото в сърцето си? Разбира се, че тръгваш да се връщаш. Не може цяла вечер да скитоскваш. Но знаеш, че за малко, в тъмното, до себе си си се докоснала.