Alive ’20

I can feel my heart beating again
The moon lights my way
as the wind blows every part of me back into myself
I fell down into a magical land
and emerged as someone new
Show me where you are – I show you where I stand.
I can feel my heart beating again. I am alive!

Song of the day

Once again, I share my happy song with you all… The song that makes me smile from ear to ear. And I shared it time and time before…

I spent the day outside with my youngest daughter. We set up our inflatable pool and spent most of the day in the water, playing and goofing around, but we also had some serious conversations. My middle daughter and my son didn’t make it outside.

Tonight, I made dinner, and after that, we played a round of Trivial Pursuit. And later, we watched music videos on YouTube. We made an entire playlist. My older kids went on their way again, but my youngest stayed put, and we ended our day with the above song. *sigh*

It was a really nice day – apart from the slight sunburn on my back because my youngest was too eager to get into the pool to put lotion on momma’s back 🙂

It is all well, though. No work until August 25th! Yay!

What am I even doing here?!

I had a bad day. That’s the biggest understatement today.

I barely slept. How do things go from “why aren’t you on FB?” to “why didn’t you reply to my message?” (a message that said I will go to bed in a minute and that I only saw in the morning in my notification bar – I didn’t think it was important!) How do things go from “I want you in my life and I want to know everything about you” to “I struggle every month of the year.” (as a reply to me explaining that July is particularly strenuous and challenging for me because it is the month I lost my best friend and the anniversary of my suicide attempt and I am preoccupied with my own wars instead of being my usual supportive self). How do things go from “We have a deep connection” to being blocked on FB (facebook that I only reactivated because they insisted!). I am unwanted.

I was sent home at work because there was no work for me… I wasn’t needed. My boss apologised when I pointed out that it is hurtful to be sent home as much as I am sent home right now. I know, we are saving my hours to use them when I am really needed, but honestly it hurts. And it makes me angry. We were three people with four kids, of course, I had to leave, I am the one with overtime, but I was also the only one of us three doing something with the kids, while my colleagues sat on their asses, complaining about a change of schedule, I entertained the kids – it is our job, for fuck’s sake. But, I was not needed.

I feel useless as it is and now I read this… And mere moments ago, I read a personal blog post that basically said that the concept of survival of the fittest is destroyed by modern civilization (sick people taking medication now that would have died years ago) and that everything was better when people were free. I don’t disagree with everything. But, I was born to a sick mother. She was sick before I was born, according to the logic of this writer, she should have died and I would not have been born at all. I have no right to be here.

And wow… that just plays into that whole shitty day thing.

Please listen to Damien Rice singing Sia’s Chandelier:

Dear musician

From the bottom of my heart, thank you. This letter is for every musician, lyricist, poet, and writer who ever touched my heart and my soul.

In today’s world, it is easy to focus on the negative and to take art for granted. All too often, it is consumed in the background without giving it thought—just backdrop noise. And I guess, entertainment should be like that once in a while, it should distract us for a moment from everything that is going on. And yet… People are giving their all to make us feel what they are feeling while creating. Making art of any kind is expensive, and I don’t only refer to money but also to time and emotions. With every piece of art you buy, you’re buying a piece of the artist. “Art is the ultimate truth teller.” Gavin Simpson

I don’t cry a lot; often, I am perceived as cold, distant, and closed-off. But when I see a film, or when I hear music, that’s when my emotions begin to overflow. And I am grateful for that outlet – that support. Crying is freeing. It cleanses the soul. I like sad songs, I like piano and violins, but I also like guitar solos (soli), and double-bass. I like strong lyrics but I also like instrumental music.

I am thankful to every musician who dared and dares to release a piece of them. As a poet/writer, I know that most releases contain a tiny bit of ourselves. As much as we are proud to share it with the world, it is also scary. What if no one reacts? What if they don’t like it? What if I could have done something differently? What if they like it?

It is easy to touch me; it is not easy at all to touch me. I am a tough critic, but I know and acknowledge that tastes vary and that every piece of music, every artist, has its audience. But man, when the right song comes, I am all-in. I am not bound to a genre, something unique and good can be hidden in any style, though I gravitate more towards lesser-known artists. They are not bad at all, hidden gems, I like to say. I mostly listen to postrock, prog rock, indie, alternative, singer/songwriter, but I also like 80s music and Otis Redding a lot.

I would be nothing without music. And maybe I give it more importance than most. Do I need to grow up? As a child and teenager, music helped me escape the cruelty of my reality. Ever since, I am a passionate listener, not only a consumer, but I really listen to every song – several times. I pick up on nuances and layers… I listen to the lyrics and read the booklets or sleeves of every album or record I own. I could never make music myself; for me, it is like a magical skill. (I can sing and write lyrics – but that is nothing special.)

The feeling when a song hits you, when you sing or hum along, when you can’t sit still – or when you are paralysed with its beauty – that is indescribable. Is there something better than turning up the volume of a song you like, closing your eyes, and being devoured by it? It is a kind of bliss I never experience with anything else in my life. No questions. No judgments. Nothing asked in return. And floating in that bubble, everything else loses its importance. For 4 minutes and 52 seconds, all that matters is the song in your ears and the smile on your face.

Dear musician, without you, I would be nothing. Keep going. Keep spreading your magic into this world. Be bold, be brave. We need it more than ever. I need it a lot right now.

Sincerely yours,

Cathy

Blocked

You closed the door for good
No light to guide my way back into your arms,
No back window left ajar for me to sneak in.

Brick by brick, I’ll build a wall around myself
An ivory tower, painted in black,
Just to stay away from you.

I want to fly from a bridge
Cover myself in water
Just to set my mind free.

Autumn leaves reveal shattered minds
Dry rivers, left no tears to cry
Just soundless silent pain.

A chain with too many keys
None of them opens your heart for me
No screaming and yelling will break the lock.

You closed the door for good…

Where is my light?

Where is my light?

I lost the sun, the moon, the stars,
now I am following a map with no directions.
Like a seed that is never watered,
parched lips – starving for affection.

Where is the light?

And I exhale my last life’s breath,
Giving it away to make you stay.
Can you feel me now?
A kiss from your soul will end the everlasting night.

Where is the light ?

I am running, but my legs aren’t moving,
wishing to be in someone else’s mind for a while.
Like waves that are licking the sand,
Tasting what is missing – unable to hold on to the things I find.

Where is my light?

I woke up with a poem in my fingers.