Spain [Cherry-Coloured Funk]

somewhere in Spain, May 2003. a ghost must have appeared in front of my camera. obviously

It takes me back....

...to the sounds. the lights. around Seville. around Madrid. coach trips, foggy mornings in the middle of nowhere. having a crush. thinking "maybe...". losing myself in a medieval town under the drizzle, as if time had stopped, and wish i could disappear right here. make one with the grey blue air. mosques turned churches. mosaics and ornament. briefly feeling that awkward presence of God. a car crash. a furtive glance at faces covered in blood. sand everywhere. horses in the sun. cities by the sea.
the Sea.
people. evening lights. bridges and aqueducs. his body next to me. admiring the most breathtaking view ever. containing my emotions. escaping through the sunny streets of a town. A Silver Mt Zion. playing cards, the 4 of us sitting in circle, surrounded by trees. on the top of a hill. views. fantasies. teenage angst. "I hate this trip". "I hate people". "I hate Spain".
so many.

that bookshop in Madrid.

castles and kings and windmills. Velasquez and Goya. panic attacks and shameful tears.

-the fantastic sight of a city bathed in gold, orange light on the evening we arrive-

that feeling of independance. that feeling of being out of place. that feeling of being incomplete. that feeling of being a teenager.

-unbearable beauty-

Cocteau Twins albums on repeat.

and, many, many other things.

I met a girl at school yesterday. We started talking about how she ended up studying in France. When we first asked her where she came from, she didn't answer right away. She wanted us to guess. Italy? Spain? Somewhere in South America? The answer was Israel.  

First, she mentionned the catastrophic situation of culture, education and arts in her country. Artists from Israel do exist, but the point is they have to study and work abroad and get recognition to be accepted in their own country.  Basically, all the money goes into war... From that point, she evoked how she just came back from military service.  

She told us that when people turn 18, they are strongly encouraged to do benevolent work for a year. She chose to help at an orphanage. Most people working there were just as young as her. The people actually qualified for that job usually refuse to do it because the salary is ridiculously low. They prefer to search for more lucrative ways to make a living.  

Then, when that benevolent year ended, she entered obligatory military service for 2 years (and three 3 years for boys). Basically, most of these young soldiers have only one mission: protecting the borders of Israel. Depending on where they decide to send you, and also whether you're a mad or a woman, this can be an extremely traumatic experience. Some are chosen to literally go drop bombs on Palestinians, others just control and check, some others are sent on missions in enemy territory...  

When that military service ends, a lot of people decide to go away from Israel. To breathe, and most of all, forget, she said. Some of her acquaintances went to spiritual retreats in India for a year.

Her way to give some meaning to her life was to become an artist. And this is how she ended up in our school.

At some point she said "that's strange. when I'm in my country I'm a real leftist who works for peace and understanding. I don't want this war. But when I'm abroad and hear people talking about Israel, I want to defend my country. I know what we're doing is wrong, I'm against it, still, deep inside it really hurts me. Because we are the bad ones and we know it."  

And later in the discussion I understood that she was always reticent to tell people about her origins, because she fears harsh reactions. She loves Arabic culture but when she meets arabic people (or people in general) she prefers to say she's from Spain.  

Is it guilt? Of something that is not even her fault, and that is much, much bigger than her anyways? Yes, talking with her I could feel a lot of guilt, and a lot of doubt. A strong dichotomy between her beliefs and harsh reality, and also how hard it is for her to take position with more affirmation against her own country.

She's only 22. And she's lived so many things already. With time, her mind will probably clear up and I hope some parts of her many doubts will disappear. She has conviction and is willing to help things change. Still, it was quite fascinating to hear her talk freely about it all. It's stuff I had read about and seen documentaries about, but it took a whole different meaning with that girl sitting in front of me. The war became real, suddenly.  

Her love for art moved me a lot, as well. She clearly said it was her way to deal with it all. Art as a necessity... Often when people tell me stuff like that I think "so cheesy..." because art world is full of posers and I'm so tired on it. Here, I was in total awe. Seing all that strength and sincerity reflecting in her dark eyes. It hasn't been easy for her to end up in this school and she looked extremely proud. It was a great reality check for me. I'm lucky to be there, too. It's a chance, I have to enjoy it and never take where I am now, what I have now or at any moment of my life for granted.  

It makes me think that in this conflict and in war in general, everyone becomes a victim: the ones that are attacked and the attacker via the population, that has to suffer and pay for things they can't even control. 

nouveau

It's strange how things always come to an end. Inexorably.

I used to feel like dying a little everytime something ended in my life. Good or bad. Major or minor. That's not the point. It's more like, getting used to something and then lose it. That impression of losing something. A part of you. Something that won't come back, again, positive or negative... It was a part of you after all. It was your life. It was your world. The place/state you felt comfortable with. It's hard to let it go.

It took me so long to accept it. I still think that I don't.
Slowly, I'm learning.
I try to imagine how things are gonna be once the "thing" is gone... I used to think only about the negative part. See how I used the expression losing something. Is it really a loss? Because if you look at it carefully, life keeps going. New events, new people, new everything. And it all depends on what you make out of it. How you accept these new things or people and make them become your life, your world, your cocoon. Allow them to become a part of you.

Learn from the past. Enjoy what is now. And most of all, don't fear the future.

I try to make as if I could live by these words. When depression kicks in, I think about the people I care about and I realize for the first time in my life I guenuinely care about someone. I want to protect. I want to comfort. I want to be there. And this, is a reason why I try to take care of myself now. Because I want to be there and experience life, so the ones I care about can benefit from it too.
I know I should do all those things for myself first. But after hating myself so much for so long, I'm more than satisfied to finally have a reason to stop the self-destruction.
And it gives me hope that if I am able to do that for someone else, I will be able to do it for myself too, one day. If others deserve to be forgiven, I myself must deserve it too?
Gonna take some more work, a lot of work.  

Such a strange feeling. I think. I guess. I'm slowly starting to allow my old self to go.

Haruki and me

 Rinko Kikuchi as Naoko in the movie Norwegian Wood (2010)

I hated the movie but the images are so beautiful...

This summer I decided to read as many novels as possible and most of all, start exploring Haruki Murakami's bibliography.
I guess anybody who has a fondness for Japan has heard about his work... So I told myself, for my general culture and dunno... yeah, culture, I have to read his books.
Everyday at work, I would spend my "lunch break" reading instead of eating. Or socializing with my co-workers.
Among others, I managed to read four novels by Haruki Murakami.
In order: Kafka on the Shore, Sputnik Sweetheart, Norwegian Wood and The Wind-up Bird Chronicle (finished that one yesterday).

What struck me first is how much you can feel that these books have been written by a man.
Often written from the main character's clueless point of view, most of the time an ordinary guy with no specific characteristics and an uneventful life (=real life..) which fate changes suddenly, change always brought by one or several women, mysterious, sometimes magical.
There's always that helpless fascination for women, and as a matter of fact, female characters descriptions seem real but a bit too magnified.

Today I only want to talk about Sputnik Sweethearts. This novel touched me particularly.
I could totally imagine myself as the heroine, Sumire.
Intense, overreacting, sensitive girl who feels deeply and makes no concessions. Most of her words in the book, it seemed that I could have said them too, the exact same way.
I wanted to share that quote with you, because it describes my current situation perfectly.
In this extract, Sumire talks on the phone with her best friend and confident named "K", and tries to explain what is going on in her life.

“- It’s not just that I can’t write. What really upsets me is I don’t have confidence anymore in the act of writing itself. I read the stuff I wrote not long ago, and it’s boring. What could I have been thinking? It’s like looking across the room at some filthy socks tossed on the floor. I feel awful, realizing all the time and energy I wasted.

Sumire tapped her nails against her front teeth, one of her many habits when she was thinking.

- I’ve hardly ever felt confused like this before. Not that I’m always confident, sure of my talent. I’m not that nervy. I know I’m a haphazard, selfish type of person. But I’ve never been confused. I might have made some mistakes along the way, but I always felt I was on the right path.
- Maybe you’re right. But at this point, things aren’t working out.
- Right. They aren’t. Sometimes I get so frightened, like everything I’ve done up till now is wrong. I have these realistic dreams and snap wide awake in the middle of the night. And for a while I can’t work out what’s real and what isn’t … That kind of feeling. Do you have any idea what I’m saying?
- I think so, I replied.
- The thought hits me a lot these days that maybe my novelwriting days are over. The world’s crawling with stupid, innocent girls, and I’m just one of them, self-consciously chasing after dreams that’ll never come true. I should shut the piano lid and come down off the stage. Before it’s too late."

Replace "writing" with "painting" and you get a very accurate picture of me right now.

 Naoko and Toru in the movie Norwegian Wood

I also watched the movie Norwegian Wood, adapted from the novel.
Such a mess. It had so much potential. Perfect visuals, good looking actors and overall great atmosphere. But the storyline... really messy and totally misses the point of the story.
For example, the scene where Toru and Naoko go out for a walk and end up making out in the middle of a field. Everything that happens there...This scene has been totally ruined in the movie. In the book, it's one of the most beautiful description of love I've ever read.

A few weeks ago, I came accross Lantern Parade's new album and listening to it I thought "this is Norwegian Wood!".
You can hear it has been influenced by The Beatles so much. The folk melodies are delicate and dreamy and have that lo-fi, fragile quality.
The album immediately reminded me of that scene: Toru and Naoko together in the middle of a field, loving each other.
Images and sound became one in my head. Now everytime I hear these songs (especially Kinmokusei no nioi ga shite) I tear up a bit.
I know I'm obsessed with this song. Can't get it out of my head. The memories tied to it calm me down and make me feel good in a strange way.

Maybe it's just me...

rookie

Erica Segovia for the webzine Rookie ("Younger Than Yesterday" series)

Birthdays.
To be honest, they don't interest me most of the time. I often forget about them (at least mine) and I never, ever celebrate them. I've never cared about my age or the idea of getting old.
But this time, something strange is happening: I am turning 25 in a few weeks.
25. It seems that I spent my whole 24th year thinking and overanalyzing that "25" number as it suddenly appeared to me as an important landmark. I can't believe so many years have passed, so fast.
What happened between 20 and 25? I can't even tell you. Only a thick fog and quasi-total inactivity. I'm not proud of it at all and am convinced that I've literally lost, wasted, ruined 5 years of my life.

At the same time, I see people that are the same age as me. Some have started having children, some others are already embracing a successful career, others have very clear ideas and dreams and are working extremely hard to achieve them. Some are just as lost , or even more lost than me.

I think we all have ideals, what our lives should be like. And I respect all of them from now on.
I just realized that these ideas and principles are the most important thing. They help us waking up every morning and keep going. These are the things we look up to when times are hard, and achieving some of them gives us the impression that life is meaningful and precious. They keep us alive.

I clearly remember how I was before everything started getting bad.
I was extremely confident. I was determined to become a succesful and prolific artist. I would work non stop. Of course I still had no social life and was already quite depressed in a way, but... I had that stuff to look up to.
And my hard work was actually appreciated by others and I could already see my dream becoming true. I would constantly tell myself that if I kept being that dedicated and hard-working, things would never go bad. That was my only hope.

I could already imagine myself at the age of 25.
I would have graduated two years ago and thanks to the many contacts I would have created during my school life, I would expose my work and, little by little, gather some recognition. I would have a part time job and saved up enough money to get the hell out of Europe and experience life abroad.
Of course I would still be making music and my guitar skills would have become acceptable. I would have already written enough songs and have enough material to start working seriously on an album.

I would have done so many things. At 25.
My goal wasn't to be happy... My goal wasn't to make someone else happy... My goal was to be... Satisfied? And fulfill my many, many high expectations. I used to be an ambitious chick.

A few days ago I went to get my public transportation card for the upcoming school year. There is an application form you have to fill and the salesperson kindly asked me "are you under or over 18?". She seemed quite serious. I couldn't help smiling.
Even though I'm very tall and have what I'd call a "womanly body", my face and shy, hesitant attitude, quiet voice makes it hard for people to tell what age I exactly am.
I still think the girl exagerated a bit but... I'm used to such situations.
Again, it seems that my mind and body don't understand that I'm an adult. I'm still stuck where I was 5 years ago. (with MUCH less fat, and better eating habits, fortunately -_-;;)

So, why am I writing all this?
Because I found out a fantastic webzine.
It's called Rookie and has been created by the even more fantastic Tavi, a 15 year old American girl known for her blog Style Rookie, that she started when she was only 11.
Style Rookie used to be mostly about fashion but little by little we got to discover Tavi's cool universe, her interesting, open minded, completely fresh outlook on life, and the world in general. We discovered a very mature and unconventionnal mind that was way beyond her years. It was kinda weird to imagine that such sense of humour and wit came from such a young person.
Tavi slowly made her way into fashion world. High end designers started inviting her to fashion shows, she wrote and posed for famous magazines etc... But she quickly realized that this superficial world wasn't HER world. And that behind all the glitter lies a sad and boring reality.
She started learning about Feminism, punk music, watching movies, forged herself a culture and strong opinions. She wrote about it all on her blog and gathered a large readership of teenage girls but also boys and adults, who, just like her, didn't feel like they fit in nowadays world and had things to say.
And that's how Rookie started.
The concept of Rookie is to talk about teenage just like a magazine would but from a totally different point of view. It's all about self expression, acceptation of individuality and, yeah, lots of fun.
There is a team of regular writers, photographers and artists of various ages that post daily articles (three a day actually) and then, readers can send their own works and texts, too.
Oh, last but not least, the comments are often interesting and hilarious too.

The webzine has been launched only a few days ago. I'm already loving it. Each and every article is interesting, fun, touching... It's totally different from the content usually aimed towards young girls. It's really unique. This is the reason why I think it will gather other readers too. Older girls! Boys! Parents! To me this is the most accurate view on what teenage is REALLY about. Not what they show in movies or on TV.
This is adolescence from an alternative point of view. Raw and real.

I'm 24 and I recognize myself in a bunch of things written there. And what I can't relate to made me laugh so hard or interested me so much that, yeah, you see what I mean.
I could say something like "I wish I had this when I was a teenager" since I didn't have many friends and even less female friends that were as, hm... deviant as me. So I had no real person I could express my weird ideas to and not many options to find and read about people like me.
I'm glad I have Rookie now. It helps me understand some things from back in the days and think differently about the issues I am having now.

For all the teenagers at heart.

I have no idea who took this picture.