Positivity

My grandfather was Italian. He lived during WWII. He was sent to a concentration camp because he was missing a finger and was no use to the Italian military. In said camp, he learned to speak and understand German. I never learned to speak Italian but grew up with German. My Nono (Italian word for grandpa) spoke to me in German. He once told me that he hated the reason why he knew the language but loved that he knew it to be able to talk to me and my sister.

In my book, that’s positivity. The old man could have refused to speak the language he associated with so much misery, but he chose to speak it. And I am forever grateful for that.

Another memory I have about him is that he couldn’t pronounce my name. My Italian family calls me Katie. My Luxembourgish family calls me Cathy (which sounds like Cutty). He said Kettey 🙂 Also makes me smile.

Not sure where this thought came from but, there it is. x

PS: if I had been born as a boy, I would have been named after him: Giuseppe.

Whispers of Hope

It comes in waves
Louder
Louder still,
The silence.

Whispers of hope

Almost unheard
Taking seed inside my mind.
Grow
More and more.

Whispers of hope

A flower in bloom
A sun rising in the sky
A song sung out of tune
A smile, for no reason.

Whispers of hope.

I will grow

My hands are tied
My mind is lost
As I run naked through the night
And surrender to the frost.

There is no place for you
No trust to give
It was never about us two
But, I will live.

Let me freeze for now,
My heart will thaw soon
I will go on somehow
And send our love to the moon.

For years you darkened my thoughts
Please allow me some happiness too.
Feel some pain over my loss
And remember how my life and love used to be just for you.

Words and pages written, all meant for you
But they stayed silent and unread,
We know it is true.
“Everything is okay,” you said.

As the frost on my face turns into tears,
I mourn what we never were
But I will not regret our years.
Even with you never really being there.

One last kiss to make me breathe again
One last kiss to say goodbye
One last kiss to keep me sane
One last kiss before I learn to fly.

Inexistence

Gently put your teeth in me

Devour me from within

Decaying thoughts

All is lost

Forgotten,

As if I had never been.

It’s okay

Recently, I read on the mighty interwebs that “it is okay to not be okay”. Usually, I would agree. But life taught me differently. Sadly, I might add.

I have not been a good friend to my oldest (best?) friend for the last months. There are a couple of reasons. One of the most important ones is her constant negativity not being compatible with my depression. It took me a long time to admit that I have indeed depression and to seek help. And yet, I haven’t told anyone in my close circle of friends and family about it. I did however confide in someone who probably couldn’t care less… But that’s not the point.

I pushed my friends away more and more. And her too. Whenever we met and I tried to talk to her about me and that I am not well and that I don’t know how to deal with it; she made everything about her. And there came a moment when I couldn’t deal with it anymore and began to keep our contact to the barest minimum.

Yesterday I sought contact, writing a message and apologising for the last months. What I got was an accusation of creating a “wall of rejection”. Again, I apologised – and I probably said the lamest thing ever. “It’s me, not you.”

She didn’t even ask “why?” And it gives me the feeling that it is not okay to not be okay.

The thing is, if we honestly want to know and have answers, the question to ask is “why?” We don’t ask though – most often out of fear to hear the answer and not liking it.

If she had asked “why?” I would have dared to open up. I would have dared to say “I am not okay and I am trying to get out of this emotional dark hole.” Yesterday, I would have talked and explained. But she was not interested. And maybe that says a lot about our friendship. Too much?

Why is it not okay to not be okay? Why is it still a taboo to say when you’re not alright?

Why do we never ask that one-word question and why do so many people don’t want to hear an honest answer?

Everything is okay. But I am not. I am well enough to fonction and I am well enough to be passionate about this or that. But I am not well enough to pretend, and I am not well enough to spend time with negative people (not even those who I appreciated dearly once)

I am a giver, a feeder. But once in a while I have to take and get something in return. It is hard to ask for it. It is hard to admit that I am struggling.

Life could be perfect and maybe on the outside it is… But on the inside it is not. And that’s okay.

It is okay to not be okay!

Did you know…?

I am just an ordinary woman doing ordinary things. I don’t wear lots of make-up, and I don’t wear high heels. I work for a living, and scrub toilets and kitchen floors when I am done with work. I live for my kids and have a husband too. Nothing about me is extraordinary in the least. I am not tall (in fact I am quite short), I am chubby and I don’t take extra care of my hair. (Which is long and has gray streaks that I dye myself). I say goodnight to online acquaintances and begin to read until I am too pumped to sleep and that makes me feel guilty when I read or write something online. I read a lot and whenever I have a moment on my own. I listen to lots and lots and lots of music. I write poetry and flash fictions daily. I eat and drink and shit. I drive a car and cook and clean and curse and fold laundry. Sometimes, I want to be more – more of everything. But in the end I am content with what I have. I am not striving for success, but I would lie if I would pretend that likes and votes didn’t boost my ego. I like words and react to them in an intense way. I am moody and I can be quite rude too. I don’t believe in regrets, which makes me have to stand up for my own mistakes quite a bit. But if I make a decision based on this fact and that emotion, then I can’t regret it later when it went wrong. So… I make mistakes and have bad judgment all the time. I dream myself away and fantasise about a different life. But I am too scared to act on my impulses. Though I wouldn’t consider myself to be a coward. I am, however, shy and self-conscious. I am funny too. But I can’t tell any jokes. I laugh a lot and adore subtle humour. I like eyes and passion and compliments. I am honest and polite and kind. A little submissive at times too, but that doesn’t mean that I am not opinionated. Most often I stay silent when I am not informed in a matter. But I am not afraid to ask for more information. I love my job, even if it is very exhausting and it is emotionally and physically draining to manage the family, the house, the job, the writing, the virtual and real friends, me, and my moods.

In the end, I am just an ordinary girl, living an ordinary life… Nothing special.

Come!

I run and I run. My legs are burning. They are heavy as lead. But I keep running. I run towards the dark alley that is calling my name. An alley I would avoid at all cost every other night. Not now. Not tonight. You are calling me. And I have to find you. I need you.

“Come Cathy!” I hear it loud and clear. And I keep running. And running. Because I want to catch you. You are my safe haven. I need to find you. Your presence will give me peace. And I keep running towards the dark. And the unknown. Edged on by the hope to find you, my love.

“Come Cathy!” And I want to come to you. But I can’t reach you. No matter how fast I run, you are never there.

“Come Cathy!” It beginning to be frustrating. Devastating. Desperation sets in. How can I reach you? And I run and I run. Until I can’t run anymore and I stop. Everything is dark. There is no sound. Claustrophobic. Empty walls are closing in on me.

“Are you there?” I whisper. It sounds like the loudest scream in this absolute silence. I can hear my blood pounding in my ears. And I realise that I am afraid. Fucking scared, actually. Of this silence. Of this void. Of this emptiness. Of you not being there.

“Are you there?” I whisper again. There is something cold and wet on my cheeks. Tears? And I can’t fill my lungs with enough air to breathe properly.

“Are you there?” I turn around several times. Turning in never-ending circles. I don’t know where I am. Lost and confused. And I am so alone. And so cold. Cold and alone. Inside, and outside too. Lost in the dark. In the unknown. Inside my dream.

“Come Cathy!” But I can’t do what you want me to do. I am not there. I am not real. Nothing is.

I wake up drenched in sweat. I remember the voice loud and clear. I know the voice. Your voice. My heart is pounding against my ribs and I can still hear my blood’s flow in my ears. It makes me deaf to every other sound surrounding me. Around me, the bedroom is bathed in a red hue from the sun touching the closed blinds. “Come Cathy!” resonates behind my eyes, and between my ears. I don’t know what it means. I can’t remember a thing. Nothing that matters. And in my agitated state it feels as if someone is watching me. I am at peace. I am safe. Because this is real, and you are not there.

Forget me (or not?)

There was a moment when all she ever wanted was to be remembered. Now, she began to wonder if being forgotten wasn’t a better choice. Remembering someone was too often linked with painful thoughts. She wanted more for the people she loved. They deserved better than her.

Take away my fear

I wish you were here to take away my fear

Knowing that you are just around the corner

A touch and a swipe on the screen away

Today, I need you to be here in my ear

I need to hear your voice, your words

Just for me and for you; you and me and you

Your guidance would help me through this struggle

Giving away my thoughts and my control

I feel this mind is losing a battle again

But I don’t dare to get in touch with you

I can’t burden you with my egoism

But…

I wish you were here to take away this fear

I haven’t been going out in a while. Tonight I will enjoy myself. Usually, I am wearing black (apart from the shoes). Today, I am wearing red. 🙂

Well that was me going out. I’ve been stood up and I am quite pissed about it. I was looking forward to tonight. Instead, I am sitting at home with the family again. Don’t get me wrong, I am happy to have them… But I was ready to socialise tonight, with the added bonus of music I like… So… As much as I said that I am not mad and that I understand, it doesn’t make me any less disappointed. I could have stayed on my own, but the mood was ruined and maybe I stood in my own way there for a moment… Too late now though…

The truth seeps in

I stand in a corner afraid to fall apart My dress comes undone at its seams And the truth seeps in. Your hands cover my heart They must be feeling the distress. Don’t leave. I look at you the moment I wake I feel as if I am standing in a corner My legs don’t know any way out And the truth seeps in. Your eyes bore into my soul They must feel what I am not saying. Please leave. And the leaves fall from the trees And the rain pours out of the clouds And we don’t know in which direction to go. And the truth seeps in.

highlights of the day

I did not do much today. Much to my husband’s dismay, I imagine. Lately, I am very tired. Exhausted really. There is no physical explanation, I had everything checked, and yet, I am tired all the time. During the summer months, my schedule at work is a different one. It allows us to go on daytrips with the kids and do other fun stuff we usually can’t do because of the number of kids. (I work at a daycare center for kids). My own kids are away a lot too. They have summer vacation until mid-September and they visit aunts and uncles and grandparents. (instead of having to go to summerschool or something like that). I work three days a week and have two days off. Today was an off day. I slept in. Or at least I tried. Truthfully, I slept until 8am and then I began to read the news on the internet and caught up with the social media. (twitter, IG, facebook, wattpad) I watched a bit of Netflix (the New Girl… I am not a particular fan of the show, but the episodes are short and there are a couple of funny scenes in it) and when I got hungry around noon, I made lunch. And this is the actual highlight of the day because for the first time ever, I made tomato-soup from scratch. It was fairly easy to do. And it was delicious with a tad too much garlic though. I read some more (an actual book!) and watched a movie (on Netflix again – handsome devil) and then I decided to take a bath – where I read some more (on my kindle this time). I cleaned the house a bit, but not too much, and then I sat down at the laptop to write. I had 789 words ready but then I had this feeling – you know the one? The one where you look at your words and realise that they are pretentious crap that no one wants to read – and that rightly so? Well, my post was deleted. I made myself a cup of coffee and ordered two tickets to a concert this Saturday, before I finally decided to write anyway. They say a writer needs to write. I don’t consider myself an author – I have an issue with labeling myself and other people.

I have not been inspired to write stories lately. I can’t put my finger on the reasons, but I guess it has to do with the fact that I am so tired. I do have ideas, but as soon as my pen hits paper, they are gone. Weird, but it happens to all of us. It just feels like an internal drama to me, because I used to sit down and write entire chapters of stories. I haven’t done that in years and in a way, I don’t miss it but I feel that I should write for the people who read those early stories. Almost as if I feel guilty. But only almost.

From time to time, I wonder what makes me special and unique. And I can’t come up with anything, really. I am kind and compassionate, I try to help as much as I can. I am a dedicated mother, a shy person, I can be funny and sometimes outgoing too. I am loyal, supportive, I can speak to you in four different languages, I know how to use words with an emotional impact and I like music a bit too much. But are those really things that define me? Is the fact that I chew chewing gum while driving my car something that makes me me? Sometimes, I feel like a little kid. At 34 I should have figured life out, one would think, but is there really something to figure out? I like to go with the flow and I like spontaneous decisions – when I can make them. I don’t like surprises and I don’t like mean people. But I like men and men knowing how to play the piano and use their words correctly – that’s something I love a lot. (how did this fact slip into this?) I like sunrises because they are more hopeful than sunsets and I like clouds. I like the sound of rain when it is pouring (and it is raining a lot right now) and I marvel at rainbows like a little kid. I love soap bubbles and voices. And green eyes. Feeling appreciated too…

How this post started out with my day and ended with a description of me, I don’t know. Of all people, I am the one who knows me the least.

I wrote some posts in this book lately:

Burnt Wood

They will not take a lot of time to read because they are all under 500 words long – some of them aren’t even 100 words long. If you ever want to know what else I write, you should try and hit the link. I am a pretty great person, you know? I just don’t always have the right way of looking at myself.

So… you really read this far? Thank you. And now I exceeded the initial word count by 100 words. Isn’t that something?

Here… you deserve a song:

Radiohead – man of war (from their album OK NOT OK 1997-2017)

I enjoy this song a lot. (I didn’t watch the clip, lol)

 

Have a great time…

Cathy

Still in love with you

Sore
Thoughts.
Invisible
Lines.
Lovesick.

Inner light
Never bright.

Little known truths
Of love. Loss.
Vulnerable. Almost unbearable.
Empty heart. Heartbroken.

Words lick my skin
Inside. Craving the sin.
These truths became fantasies
Heaven weeps. Lost minds?

Yielding strength. We gave up.
Old wounds become new scars.
Untouchable thoughts. Forever hidden memories.

(Dedicated to my best friend who passed away two years ago. He shared the Thin Lizzy song “still in love with you” with me one night. (Sharing music was our thing.) I listened to that song earlier and that’s what inspired this poem.)

Hurt

One leap and
You’ll be free
But you fear the hurt

The hurt you’ll feel
The hurt I’ll feel.

If we changed directions now
Into the future, away from the past?

But I fear the hurt
The hurt I’ll feel
The hurt you’ll feel

You will not leap
I will not jump
Together, we fall

Dear stranger

Dear stranger,

It has been a while, hasn’t it? May was the last time we spoke. May 8th. Not that I am keeping track, but I remember the day. Since then, I deleted your number from my phone. Not because I despise you or don’t want us to be in touch, but you told me to wait for you and that’s what I am doing. Waiting has never been my strongest quality and I know that I am waiting in vain. This – this entire situation is harder on you than it is on me. I guess it should be the other way around, but I can’t change it. And I don’t regret it either. Sure, for you everything is different and I can’t pretend to understand you, your motives, your reasons, or your actions. I can’t and that’s a fact. Once, we agreed that we need to be friends and trust one another. Maybe we trust each other but I don’t think that we are friends. We never shared anything that really mattered. We never were in love. Just in lust from time to time. And with our lust, desire, passion, we broke limits and boundaries. Maybe a couple times too often? Yes, maybe. Certainly. Some of it was my fault. I enabled you and didn’t stop you when I should have said no. I gave you my control when I should have taken control. I let you be the dominant one when I should have been. I write this right now because I do miss you. For a week now, I wasn’t sleeping right and I blame it on you. Your presence in my mind. And I worry. Also, I want to know how you are. And selfishly, I also want you to remember me. You will never forget me. I know that for sure and yet… I want to touch you again. I like your social media posts just to make you see that I am still there. Maybe we will never speak again. Maybe we will be an active part of each other’s lives soon again – truth is, it doesn’t matter. We will always have our memories. You will be a memory. And in many years time when I can grandchildren, I will tell them all about you. (The censored version! But come to think about it, then there isn’t much to talk about.) I wish that my presence how ever short or intense left some sort of impact on your life. Preferably a good one. I will never know what you won’t tell me.

I am still there…

xx

5 years ago…

On December 21st 2012, I started this very blog. It was the day that had been predicted as the end of the world because the Mayan calendar ended that day. I cannot remember what made me start this thing, but it is one of the few things I seldom neglected. Back in the day, I shared a lot of music and rambled about it. That was until the day I realised that I don’t know anything about music. And even though I am passionate about it, I am in no way qualified to write about it. I began sharing my poetry and my writing but due to poor tagging I kept myself in my own little space. I didn’t read this blog or that either. I just wrote for me and used this space as a safe haven for me and my inner turmoil. Not much has changed since and yet… And yet. I am censoring myself and my words a lot more. For no real reason. But I am a bit more shallow these days. At least I think I am, I am not sure how regular readers see it.

I am sharing mostly poetry or short stories these days. The music is still present but not as much anymore.

There are times when I am more quiet. Those are the times when I am well and balanced within myself. Then, there are the times when I write a lot and the manic depressive episode is palpable through the screen. I don’t do it on purpose, but I don’t talk a lot to people; I need to write excessively during these times or I will implode. It is a part of who I am. And I am not looking for fame, but if readers can rely, I feel a little less alone. (And they do too.) And that’s something that means a lot to me. Comments are rare, but I cherish them all the more and it warms my heart to see the same usernames and avatar pop up in my notifications again and again.

Today, we are celebrating 100 followers here on micqu.wordpress.com It’s a small number, but I love it nonetheless. No post ever has 100 reads here… Most have around 10 to 15, depending on the tags I use.

Happy anniversary to us. To you and to me. And thank you for the generous gift of your time. I will never be able to repay you. Here’s to 5 more years and many more after that.

Lots of love,

Cathy

https://micqu.wordpress.com/category/about-me/

20170708 (untitled)

Awoken by the sound of a dropping eyelash
Floating to the pillow, loaded with memories
A puff of sleeping breath prolongs its journey
Hiding it from the world; making it disappear.

awake

She lay awake in bed; wide awake. The time on her alarm kept moving forward until it was 04:26 in the morning. She only heard silence. No birds tweeting in the trees, no chirping in the grass. In the far distance, she thought she had heard thunder, but maybe it has just been a plane. What kept sleep so elusive? It was a memory.

“I made a mess,” he chuckled. I need to take a shower,” he said still trying to catch his breath. “Will you stay on the line?” She was somewhat surprised by his request, but she agreed. “I won’t take long,” he added. She heard the rustle of his sheets and the padding of his naked feet on hardwood floors. Doors opened and a shower curtain was pushed aside and then she already heard water running. She could almost see the water cascading over his naked, still flushed body. She heard how the water got caught in his hair and how it was released with a splash against the tiles. She heard bottles being open and shampoo being squeezed out. It was all so mundane, yet so intimate. And then he began to hum. She smiled. She loved listening to him. He wasn’t holding back. Just being himself. It filled her with a sense of serenity. Words were added to the sound of water. They didn’t make sense to her, and yet… She kept listening in. The water stopped and the curtain was pushed back again. Was he brushing his teeth now? The sheets were rustling again. “Are you still there?” “Yes, I am” she said fondly. “I need to go, I need to meet with my brother.” It wasn’t how she had the call expected to end, but he never did the expected. “I’ll get in touch, okay?” “Yes, yes okay. Take care.” “It was nice talking to you, sweetie. Bye” It had taken three months before he got back in touch.

She had been listening to his new record. It had been released weeks prior to her sleepless night and one particular song felt familiar. For days she wondered why. Until it hit her like a brick wall. That day in the shower, he had hummed the melody and sung some of the chorus’s words. Had she inspired a song? He hadn’t said anything in that regard but still… A girl can dream, can’t she?
“It’s in the way you need me,” he sang.
5am. The sky was changing its colour. A little over an hour before the alarm would go off. And she tried to hold on to his memory. A man who had since left her life. She still saw him at the edge of her life, but it became easier to ignore him these days. It became  easier to not wait anymore. Most days anyway…

shadow of the ghost

I was trying to catch the shadow of a ghost and I was wondering why you kept slipping through my fingers.

The last time I saw the moon was when you and me were merged at the centre of our beings.

The last time I enjoyed the sun was when your perspiration mingled with mine.

I was trying to hold on to the stars but they faded every day at sunrise and you kept slipping through my fingers.

And I became blind and numb without you.
And I became blind and numb with you.

With you
Without you.

The moon. The sun. The shooting stars. The shadow of the ghost I was so in love with. They were a romantic illusion I held on to, while you gently slipped through my fingers.

Blueneck – ghosts (from the album The Outpost)

holes

​There are holes in the ground
Fill them with the debris of our love
Scattered fragments of our souls
Floating in a sea of tears.
This was not what we signed up for
Emotional baggage bringing us down.
Hauntingly whispered ditties ring in our ears
Out of tune,
Lost synchronicity
And what remains of who we were lies buried in the ground.

Pictures of us

The end of the line

This is the end of the line
This is where I tie my noose.
I have been loosing my mind
But that’s okay, it lost its use.

I dance and I turn around and around
A manic laughter erupts from my face
My thoughts are now unbound
Lost in my lost mind’s maze.

Where is my mind?
It is drowning in a sea of forgotten memories.
The agony has turning me blind
But there is hope for recovery.

New hope under a different horizon
And the noose releases its grip around my neck
Isn’t life mesmerising?
I am back.

My weakness is how strong I can be
My earthly vessel is my kingdom
With blind eyes I can clearly see
Incoherent thoughts fuel my wisdom.

I can’t let go
Broken mind and closed off heart
I won’t say “no”
New dawn. New start.

The Pugilist – Keaton Henson

Oh I’m sorry I broke it
Never forgive me
Your love is the hopeless
Light that I need
To remind me I’m living
And that I still need it
You pulled me together
With blood and soft stitches
You’re proof that I’m breathing
And that I still need
To be loved and to hear you
Whisper to me

You’re enough
You’re enough
You’re enough

Well I’m a self-centered writer
Loving myself to sin
Stay away from me
Don’t find a way to get in
I care only for art and career
So scared of death that I try to leave part of me here
I am lonely
Lonely in the fact that I need to be loved
And told I am deserving

We let us be, just to be

Isn’t that all we should need
We need
We should need

But the truth is I need you
To tell me I’m worthy
Of all this great living
That I’ve been doing
And I’m sick of the silence
Greets me when I go to bed
And the waking in a cold sweat
After all I’m an artist
And I’ve still got songs in me yet
And I’m frightened
Frightened to death you’ll forget
Don’t forget
Don’t forget me

I guess that’s the most
Honest thing I’ve written yet
So here goes
Forgive me I’ll sing it again
Don’t forget
Don’t forget me

Don’t forget me…

Don’t forget
Don’t forget
Don’t forget

I still have art in me yet

(source for the lyrics: azlyrics.com, original lyrics by Keaton Henson)

 

There is nothing more to add… An honest song and too many artists are described in this song.

I will not forget you and what we had, I promise…

pictures of us

This is me when I’m with you
and this is me when I am not.
I still believe that we can be in tune
And I pretend to miss you a lot.
Pictures of us

This is how I imagine you to be
and this is who you really are
I am not blind, I can see
There is a new model waiting at the bar.
Pictures of us

This is how we fell apart
and these are the tears we shared
I’ll still keep a space in my heart
where we don’t need to be scared.
Pictures of us

This is how we moved on
and this is who we became
Both of us are strong
Too many times we were the same.
Pictures of us

This is me when you’re not there
and this is my freed mind.
I stood in front of you, bare
and you saw, you were not blind.
Pictures of us

This is me and the happiness that was your gift
and this is you living under clouds
It is me who is missed
whose face you will not see in crowds.
Pictures of us

This is me and I will not forget
and this is you, you are all set.
I promised no regret
Thankfully staying in your debt.
Pictures of us

This is me when I am in the dark
and this is me when I am the light
You ignited the first spark
I drink up the night.
Pictures of us

This is how it used to be
and this is how it really was
frames filled with memories
loving them just because (they are)
pictures of us.

The Optimist

Let me just quickly share my own personal thoughts about the latest Anathema release, called The Optimist. It was released on June 9th (by Kscope)

I’ve been a fan of this band – their music, for the better part of my life. Through all my life, there have been elements in their music that just spoke to me in a way no other band ever could. Though, let me admit, I was never a big fangirl of the musicians. It was just the music, the lyrics. It has nothing to do with the girls who love One Direction or Justin Bieber. And no, I am not judging, merely saying that it is different.

I digress. Back to the topic. The Optimist. It took until yesterday (June 19th) for this preordered record to arrive at my doorstep which strained my patience quite a bit. I didn’t listen to any songs while I was waiting, but I read the reviews. So many negative reviews. I wondered if it was the right decision to spend money on both the CD/DVD set and on the red vinyl. After all, people don’t seem to like the record very much. Me? I like it. I really do. While I was not a fan of their previous release (Distant Satellites), I have to say that this is a really good album. I don’t think that it can be compared to any of their previous work. I read in interviews that The Optimist is a sequel to A Fine Day to Exit. (An album I don’t particularly like or dislike – I don’t have a strong opinion on that one). It is in terms of the character who tried to find a way to exit and is now trying to find a way back home. Musically, it is not. Because, as I stated above, this album cannot be compared to any other album Anathema recorded.

So… The Optimist takes us on a journey. With pianos and guitars, with electronic aspects and string arrangements, we even hear some trombone in the jazzy Close Your Eyes. That trombone was certainly a surprise but it works in favour of the song. Just listen to some of Her Name is Calla’s songs (a British band), they use guitars, piano, strings and trombone too and it works well for them, in my own humble opinion.

Sure, the Optimist is a bit repetitive here and there (the vocals are and the melodies are sometimes too in some songs), but that repetivity is a constant in Anathema’s discography and it never bothered me. Also, I thought I heard some U2, some Radiohead (Wildfires), and even some Oasis (Back to the Start) influences on this album. Nice.
I like the heavy sound of the guitar, it sets a dark(er) mood. At the same time, there is a lot of hope and… optimism (duh!) on this record. For me, it is due to the strings and the piano. They can sound melancholic, but I don’t hear that here.

I wouldn’t recommend The Optimist to first-time Anathema listeners. It is not an easy record. There are many layers to peel away and to listen to. Too many? Is there such a thing as too many layers? My personal answer: No.

Lastly: in the many reviews I read Ghosts is often cited as a standout song. Personally, I think it is one of the weakest (alongside Wildfires) on the entire record. I like the lyrics, but that’s all I like about the song. Sorry.

My own standout song is The Optimist. (Followed by Leaving it Behind and Endless Ways). Can’t Let Go is a song I imagine could work on radio stations too… When I heard Springfield for the first time, I immediately thought that it would be nicer in an acoustic version… As for Close Your Eyes, I adore the arrangement of the song and even Lee Douglas’s voice. This style suits her.

Many words to say that I was afraid to listen to a bad record and I was positively surprised that it is not. It certainly isn’t easy to digest, though.

And now, the reason why I wrote this and will share it too: my inner music nerd was rejoicing when I listened to this brilliant record for the first time, but I still had the many negative reviews on my mind. (How devastating must it be for an artist when they invest time and creativity and emotions and money in their art and it is ripped apart?!) I needed to release my own personal thoughts and since there is no one in my immediate surroundings who feels as strongly about music as I do, I share it with you. And maybe you don’t care either but you will not hurt my emotions when you’re uninterested or rolling your eyes.

Thanks for reading and now go and search YouTube, iTunes or Spotify (or wherever you search for new music…) for this album and then go and buy it. 🙂 (And always remember that this little review was not written by a critic, I am merely someone who listens and likes music.)