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Just read this fantastic little train of thoughts from Cece Harbor, about not having to be perfect at everything you do, but enjoying the journey more than the end result. Definitely a worthy read!

#RethinkingMyStory

What is it about the prospect of something new that excites us? We often start one project or venture in our lives and then soon thereafter we’re off to another, leaving the one before us unfinished.

Or is it just me? Ahem.

I had to take a hard look at myself recently. I had so many irons in the fire, I could pass for a professional blacksmith.

Just kidding.

But seriously, I was doing way too much, at the same time, for some of the wrong reasons.

And I’m not talking about vanity or prestige, nothing like that.

I’m talking about for the sake of having something creative to do. I find that when one aspect of my life is not going as well as I hope, I compensate. And it usually looks like me starting a new project.

Did I just shrink myself?

I also realized that I tend…

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the apple

You walk through the garden.

Paradise birds sing around you,

And the sun warms your golden body.

You are naked.

 

 

In the distance you see a tree,

With a dragging power so strong,

That you mechanically walk towards it,

Without knowing

Why.

 

When you step closer, you notice that the tree is full of fruit.

And you feel the power radiating from it,

You feel that it’s important.

But you have no idea how valuable it is,

To me.

 

You see him sitting in the tree,

Slung around a fruit he sits.

His eyes are black as coal,

They stare right through you.

Around him fruit sparkle in the sun,

Blood red and smooth.

Heart shaped apples,

“Would you like a taste?”

 

You shake your head and laugh.

Because you know, that you must never do

What He told you never to do.

But he, who sits in the tree,

Smile at you and motion for you to step closer.

And you cannot resist.

You are merely a naïve child,

In a woman’s body.

“Come only, my beauty, my darling,

Only one little bite?”

 

And the paradise birds scream.

Warningly, frightened,

To remind you,

That you must never see them again,

If you are tempted, if you are weak.

 

He urges you with glowing eyes,

‘Till you with hammering heart steps forward.

He bewitches you with his hissing voice,

His gleaming eyes.

You grab the Sin with steady hands,

Never do you look from he,

Who hangs above the sin like a snake,

You hand closes around the read sin,

My heart.

The Apple.

 

My chest hurts, when it breaks off of the tree of knowledge.

Of my innocence.

And you lead it to your red mouth,

Which shall mark me forever.

And when you lips touch the peel,

You taste the flavour on your tongue.

The dizzying longing, the sweet taste of guilt,

Your heart beats fast, and with closed eyes,

You take a bite.

 

My entire being aches, because you have ripped out my heart.

You have ruined a part of me.

You have damaged my purity.

And with a passionate sigh you chew on me,

You hold tight the ruined heart,

Because you have realised something,

That to you seems wonderful,

But will to me be an eternal pain.

 

He laughs.

And you look at him dazed.

What have you done?

He smiles, and your knees shake, while your stomach clenches.

Hungry,

For more of my innocence.

You have stolen my virtue,

Smothering it with dirt,

Made it filthy, with you ignorance, your animalistic lust,

Your stupidity.

 

I trusted you.

I put my life and my fate in your hand,

And you let me down.

You took from me something I will never get back,

Led by desire you put me at risk,

For something as simple,

As a blood red apple.

 

You are punished.

You shall give birth in shattering pain

And live at your husband’s mercy,

But so shall I.

 

Thus shall I and my daughter and my daughter’s daughter,

For a crime that was never ours.

For something we never did.

 

Why?

Why, Eve, did you not listen to your Father?

Why did you disappoint him?
Why did you do me wrong?

Why?

Breaking broken dreams

Of pride and arrogance,

You have never lacked,

And your thirst for triumph,

Takes you through a forest.

 

A cover of broken dreams,

Lying across the ground,

Like dead autumn leaves,

Cracking under your feet.

 

Every breeze a mourn of sorrow,

For every thing undone,

Every wisp of air, reminding,

Of all things regretted.

 

Running through the forest,

Searching for escape,

Slamming tired feet hard onto the ground,

Breaking broken dreams to pieces.

 

Looking forward, light ahead!

The last branches hurting, scratching,

Looking back and brushing off leaves,

Never realizing, you were the one,
Breaking all the dreams.

Writing into the future!

I have been practicing future-writing for a couple of years now, and I know what you’re thinking: What the heck is future-writing??!

Well, it’s a term that I came up with myself, for a kind of email you send to yourself. Here’s the trick: It arrives in the future!

Thus, you can write an email to yourself about your state of life, what you’re up to, who you love or hate, and then you can send it to yourself, making it arrive 1 year, 2 years or a 100 years from now, on the mail that you’re using. Isn’t that totally awesome???

You go to http://www.futureme.org/, where you can either register or just write with only your mail.
I’ve been doing it for many years now, often writing an email to myself every other month or half a year, so as to not have it be too long between each mail.

And the great thing is, that almost no matter what you write, there will always be one part of the letter that you’ll laugh about – how stupid or naïve you were, or how awful your taste in music was! I often laugh when I recieve a really old one, two or three years past, saying that I was totally loving this or this guy – a completely closed chapter!

 

 

And I think another thing is the importance of looking back – but moving forward.

Being able to learn from your mistakes, laugh at your perks and be proud of the things you achieve really helps you evolve as a person, so that you can take new steps into your life instead of just sitting there! Looking back often make us realize all sorts of odd things! It does for me, at least!

And if it doesn’t, you can always have yourself a good laugh!

Would you want to write yourself a future-letter?

A BOOK SPINE POEM

I had a surge of inspiration, when I read a blogpost by Brice Maiurro, making book spine poems. The idea is to pick out books off your shelves, stack them on top of each other and make a poem out of them. I also saw book spine Haiku poems out there, the list is endless!

Here’s my contribution:

 

“To Race a Dream”

The Kingdom of Summer,

And the Philosophers Stone,

In the Hand of the Goddess,

To Race a Dream.

:::

“In the Break of Dawn”

Breaking Dawn

Shadow Souls

Wuthering Heights

Wild Magic.

Just Another Friday Night (15+)

Another night another bar,
Left the keys and left the car,
People come from near and far,
Tonight you’re gonna be a star.

Killer heels, a belt to match,
Oh the boys you’re gonna catch!
Ruby lipstick, snatch their breath,
Your eyes of blue will be their death.

Buy a drink, take sip,
Lick your full and blood red lip,
Lock those eyes on your prey,
Looks like it’s your lucky day.

He looks fine, burning hot,
Show him all the stuff you got,
Beckon him, will you dance?
A little innocent romance.

And how you dance, how you move,
Stir and shift, will he approve?
When the song fades out, he blink,
Would you like another drink?

Yes, you say, with a purr,
He gives you one drink, two drinks, more,
You drink until your throat is sore,
‘Till your vision is obscure.

You show him all there is to see,
An awful tipsy smile of glee,
He pulls you in a hug and says,
Why don’t we go home to my place?

While you walk you hold his hand,
‘Cause you’re unable to stand,
And when you reach his door you fall,
On to the ground, against the wall.

You feel ill, you moan in pain,
And you try to stand, in vain,
Stick a finger down your throat,
And vomit all over your coat.

He doesn’t care, he pulls you close,
Kiss you hard on the mouth,
You gasp and writher, he’s so strong,
And he pulls you right along.

The bedroom’s small, his lips are wet,
You nervously begin to sweat,
He says – you’re such a cute brunette,
This is a night, you won’t forget.

Your eyes they widen; let me go!
I don’t want this anymore!
He only laughs; it hits your core,
“You’re such a dirty little whore.”

You’re on the bed, it’s all a trick!
You try escaping, he’s too quick,
Suddenly you’re all locked up,
Begging him to please just stop.

He tells you no, you had your chance,
Don’t come up to me and dance,
If you’re not ready to comply,
I’m just not that kind of guy.

He rips your jeans off, then your shirt,
You’re so completely filled with hurt,
You cry, you writher, off it goes,
Now you’re naked to your toes.

He climbs on top of you and hisses,
That you wanted this, all along,
He smears you face and chest with kisses,
And you whimper as he goes.

Now it stops, you think he’s done,
But he’s not, oh how you’re wrong,
He’s just preparing for the show,
You’re honoured guest, on the front row.

You realise what he’s gonna do,
You widen up your eyes of blue,
And you scream out hard in vain,
As you feel the crushing pain.

He slams into you quick and hard,
You realise It’s just the start,
You try to fight but he’s so strong,
And he just keeps on going on.

He thrusts and thrusts, it hurts so much,
You scream due to his brutal touch,
You cry and cry in aching sorrow,
Wondering about tomorrow.

He keeps going, panting, moaning,
Then he stops. . .
And falls without a warning,
You lay still, afraid to move.

He rises from your injured soul,
Leaving traces of himself,
It seems that he has reached his goal,
But you have never felt so cold.

He lifts you up, limp as you are,
And throw you on his porch,
And drop your clothes, close the door,
“I hope we’ll meet again, whore.”

As you lay there in the cold,
You wonder – was it truth he told?
Was is your own naïve mistake,
That brought upon you such an ache?

As you lay there in the mud,
You wonder, are you just a slut?
Did you, or did you not, ask for more?
You dirty little whore.

Sorry I’ve been away for so long, and then starting off again with this!

What do you think?

A Game of Thrones

Today I received the books series A Game of Thrones in the mail. Author George R.R. Martin really outdid himself with this. I got the books in a box set, including all five books – to of them being divided into two, so that all of the books are of aproximately equal size.Looking at the picture below, could you imagine “A Storm of Swords: Steel and Snow” and “A Storm of Swords: Blood and Gold” to be one big book? I think not!

I have only read five chapters so far, but I am already completely captured by it, I find it even hard to write this, I just want to get going!

I love how the chapters have titles matching the main character in each one. Every time a chapter is seen from the child Brandon’s point of view, the chapter is called “Brand”.
It makes everything so much easier.

Only downside is the fact that there are so many characters to get to know – it’s quite the journey!
Not to worry, though!

There’s an appendix at the back of each book, explaining to you all the names of all the families, even the deceased family members.

I can’t wait to get on with it. Will probably post along the way. Will not spoil though, as I know a lot of you guys are probably either reading it yourself or watching the series on TV.

– Look!
I even got a huge poster of the Westeros (the main land) and the Free Cities. Now I can’t keep from following the characters everywhere they go on it! I haven’t figured if I want to hang it on the wall yet, though. I don’t know if it’s too nerdy!

How do you find it so far? Have you read the books or are you following the TV series?

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