Song of the night

Johannes Oerding – anfassen

From the album called “Konturen”. (2019, Columbia Records)

The lyrics to this song are very touching and valid.

German original:

Wir wissen alles überall
Doch viel zu wenig über uns
Und dieses Bisschen wird dann noch geteilt
Was einmal echt war, ist jetzt kalt
Heute künstlich, früher Kunst
Weil Grenzen nicht bemerkt, geht oft zu weit

Wir haben tausende von Freunden
Doch Haben sie jedoch noch nie geseh’n
Viel zu grell blendet der bunte Schein
Wir haben tausende von Träumen
Doch verlieren das echte Leben
Es zerfällt zu Staub aus Nullen und Einsen

Ich brauche was zum Anfassen
Dann kann ich wieder loslassen
Ich will mich nicht mehr anpassen
Ich will mein Leben wieder selbst in meiner Hand haben
Wenn wir ertrinken mehr und mehr, in diesem kalten, lichter Meer
Wenn überall über alles geht
Ist der Moment nichts mehr wert

Falsche Richtung Schritt für Schritt
Bis die nächste Welle bricht
Keine Zeit um noch mal Luft zu holen
Wir entfernen uns Klick für Klick
Von dem was eigentlich wirklich ist
Schwimmen wir gegen oder mit dem Strom

Wir haben tausende von Träumen
Doch verlieren das echte Leben
Wir verlaufen uns im Smog und Nebel

Ich brauche was zum Anfassen
Dann kann ich wieder loslassen
Ich will mich nicht mehr anpassen
Ich will mein Leben wieder selbst in meiner Hand haben
Wenn wir ertrinken mehr und mehr, in diesem kalten, lichter Meer
Wenn überall über alles geht
Ist der Moment nichts mehr wert

Und wie oft habe ich schon gedacht
Wie oft haben wir uns verpasst
Weil unsere Welt zu laut blinkt
Man kann viel klarer hören und sehen
Viel besser fühlen und verstehen
Komm lass mal wieder ein Bisschen reden
Und die Köpfe wieder hochnehmen

Ich brauche was zum Anfassen
Dann kann ich wieder loslassen
Ich will mich nicht mehr anpassen
Ich will mein Leben wieder selbst in meiner Hand haben
Wenn wir ertrinken mehr und mehr, in diesem kalten, lichter Meer
Wenn überall über alles geht
Ist der Moment nichts mehr were

English translation:

We know everything everywhere
But far too little about us
And that little bit is then shared
What was once real is now cold
Artificial today, art in the past
Because limits are not noticed, often goes too far

We have thousands of friends
But have never seen them before
The colorful glow is far too bright
We have thousands of dreams
Yet lose real life
It disintegrates into dust of zeros and ones

I need something to touch
Then I can let go again
I don’t want to adjust anymore
I want to have my life in my own hands again
If we drown more and more, in this cold, clear sea
When everything goes above and beyond
The moment is no longer worth anything

Wrong direction step by step
Until the next wave breaks
No time to breathe again
We move away click by click
Of what actually is
Let’s swim against or with the current

We have thousands of dreams
Yet lose real life
We get lost in smog and fog

I need something to touch
Then I can let go again
I don’t want to adjust anymore
I want to have my life in my own hands again
If we drown more and more, in this cold, clear sea
When everything goes above and beyond
The moment is no longer worth anything

And how often have I thought
How many times have we missed each other
Because our world is blinking too loud
You can hear and see much more clearly
Feel and understand much better
Come on, let’s talk a little more
And put your heads up again

I need something to touch
Then I can let go again
I don’t want to adjust anymore
I want to have my life in my own hands again
If we drown more and more, in this cold, clear sea
When everything goes above and beyond
The moment is no longer worth anything

This is google translate but I was not calm and focussed enough tonight to give a proper translation.

Change is coming, but as of this moment, I am not allowed to share more information.

But the books… The support is overwhelming; the sales not impressive at all. But… I’ll keep on keeping on. There are fire and passion in me, and everything will be okay. There was another anxiety attack today, after some calm and quiet weeks.

In other news… I celebrated my 13th wedding anniversary last Monday. I am longing for a lot of love, but the truth is, over 20 years ago I met my best friend and married him. Maybe we are not the most conservative and regular couple, but we love each other. Phew…

Love me.

Insomnia, dear stranger

It’s 2:45 in the morning, and I am wide awake. This hasn’t happened in a while and I feel how my mood is changing. I am irritated with myself because I am to blame for tonight’s insomnia. I was tired but had an appointment tonight. I thought it would be good to have a cup of coffee. I should have drunk espresso instead. No matter how many espressos (espressi?) I drink in the evening, I always sleep through the night.

Also, it is hot, my partner had too much beer (TMI: his farting keeps me awake), and I need to get up for work in three hours.

I tried avoiding my phone for a long while, but gave up eventually. I probably had 2 hours of sleep so far.

On a positive note, I sold two books, and the more I think about it, the happier I about the release. Just 3 more hours at work, and I will be on leave until August 25th. I bought a dress for a wedding, it is unusually colourful, but I look good in it. Waiting for the first review of my novel.

Most of my thoughts these days revolve about the novel and how readers perceive it.

I should try to catch some sleep.

***

Dear Stranger,

It is late, and I can’t sleep. You were on my mind these last days. A lot. All the time. It is good that we are strangers right now, but once in a while, I would love it if we were acquaintances again. Ah, stranger. If you only knew what I know. Am I awake in your dreams? Some nights, I dream myself away to you. My head on your chest, your fingers combing my hair. Sweaty from the day, our skin would stick together, and unbothered, we would lead a naked life. Naked body, naked soul. I close my eyes, and I see you. Always yours, “marriage material”

3:32 – goodnight

ramble…

You know what? Fuck it!!

It’s okay. I am okay the way I am. Including all my flaws.

We are all told every day that we need to change this and that to be loved and to fit in. But honestly? Who cares? No one does. No matter how much we work on us, it’s never okay anyway, and haters will always find something to criticize.

I am just fed up with people. At the same time, I want to acknowledge how far I came these last months. I did not learn a new language or learned to paint. I lost some weight and put it on again because I liked to have a drink (too many) a lot of the time… But skipped meals. And workouts.

I am passionately listening to music again. I haven’t written any poetry or anything else in a moment. I haven’t taken any pictures. And honestly, being here or not – it doesn’t matter. Or does it?

In my life was a person who didn’t speak well of me writing the blog. Did he ever read it? I am not sure. But everyone is a judge these days.

Years ago, someone told me “who cares? It doesn’t matter.” And I was so hurt back then, because I thought that it had to matter and that everyone has to care. But as so often, this person taught me a valuable lesson. How I miss that person…

So… I was sure to take a break and be quiet… Because I felt hurt. But I am a grown-up and will not act like a teenage girl. There is nothing wrong with being a teenage girl, I was one twenty years ago, but I am not anymore.

How is a grown-up supposed to act? How is a mom of three supposed to be?

I am me. I don’t always feel right, but in the end, I am.

I did have a drink tonight, but I also had lots of fun.

I don’t feel right – Tadgh Daly (2020)

Cathy, as a mom (it’s a conscious choice not to share many pics of my kids online. They are at an age where they are allowed to choose if they want to be present in an online world or not – I only share pics with their consent.)

3 affirmations

I noticed that these three positive things of a day are quite intimate and private. I shared yesterdays post on IG too, and I think I will refrain from doing so. I am using IG far too much anyway these days. So, I’ll leave them here in our little corner.

The goal is to create a new routine. I want to be more mindful and positive about myself. I have compassion and empathy for everyone but myself. I need to stop sabotaging myself, and hopefully, this exercise helps.

Why do I feel the need to share online anyway? Simple. To do it at all. It is too easy for me to give these things up. And let it slip, dismissing it as being unimportant. And for the others, it is unimportant, but not for me. And so, to get things done, I will share them daily for now. Hopefully. Feel free to remind me of posting.

xx

Friday Afternoon Musings

I believe that things happen for a reason and that people are in our life for a reason too. I thought about this a lot recently. Why do friendships fade out, and why do new people enter slowly, and suddenly, you realise you are in touch daily? Why do lovers need to leave, and why do they come back on occasion too? Why was that perfect job given to someone else? We will never know. And overanalysing doesn’t help us to move on.

I used to write a lot. And when I say that, I mean that I wrote novels (60k words and more each) back to back between 2012 and 2016—18 full stories, and countless ideas that never made it past chapter 5. In 2017, I didn’t write all that much. I stuck with poetry and short stories, and I kept writing one or more poems daily until early 2020. I find it hard to write this year. As if the words are not there, or the emotions that fueled those words. And I can’t blame it on the pandemic. It is the change inside of me. Am I growing up?

All this reflection came after listening to an episode of the Podcast “What Do You Say?”. I mentioned it a couple of days ago, and this episode with Noah Kagan had some highlights for me. Fodder for thought, as they say.

What Do You Say?

Up until 2016, I was a housewife and stay-at-home mom. I had three small kids, a house, and a husband. And lots of time. I had routines and was able to set aside time to sit down and write. I was inspired to write, and the inspiration came from nowhere really. My life was so small, and I was living in a tiny bubble with almost no social life whatsoever. There weren’t many distractions. I dove head-first into my love for music and live concerts and discovered that I had some talent for writing good fiction. No, by far, not everything is worth reading, but I am proud of my writing voice.

We grow all the time, and life changes all the time. We adapt without really noticing. In 2016, I found a job at a nursery. I didn’t stay at that nursery but switched a couple of months later – and that’s where I am still today. I love my job. It’s not only an occupation, but it is also like a calling. And once in a while, I am fed up with the team or with my boss or with the decisions of our minister in charge of education, but ultimately, I love what I am doing.

If I had a choice, though, I would make writing my top priority. I was wondering if I could set aside time again, to make new routines and maybe set daily word count goals. But my schedule at work is inconsistent. Sometimes, I need to get up at 5.30am, other times I can lie in. And I love to sleep in. Sometimes I am done at noon, other times it is 7pm before I am home. It is exhausting. And then the chores are waiting and the kids deserve their time too.

How are those different thoughts linked? I have been chatting a bit with Gavin Simpson – Sourfish. And I listen to his weekly podcast, which was insightful and inspiring this week. Truth be told, we were following each other for years on Twitter and IG, but we were never in touch until last May (?). His enthusiasm and passion are contagious, I am learning a lot. And as I mentioned before, this episode 006 of his podcast was what I needed to hear.

Things happen for a reason. People are in our life for a reason. Life is a string of lessons, and we never stop growing and learning. Maybe I am at a time in my life where I want to take over more control again. I want to stop lamenting. And be happy. There is light inside of me. Somewhere.

I had a hard childhood and youth. But as much as I believe it shaped me into the woman I am today, I cannot allow it to keep me hostage. I cannot change the past, and I am tired of using it as an excuse. And I do—all the time. I want to stop that behaviour. It is the right moment to change for the better. I don’t want to be this version of myself anymore.

On top of all this, I still have my shoulder to deal with, and I decided that I will have a second opinion about it because I am in a lot of pain again. (I was diagnosed with bursitis in February and had a Cortisone shot that didn’t help at all.) There will most probably be surgery. And to be honest, I am scared. I was never at a hospital (apart from having my babies), I never had surgery, not even stitches. I never had to be treated at an ER. I am all original Cathy. I know the pain I am in now. It is familiar. The pain after surgery is unknown. But again, I want to face that fear. Maybe.

Furthermore, I don’t want to use the word “try” as much anymore. Either I do, or I don’t.

My mind is philosophical right now.

Everything happens for a reason—no need for any regrets.

And… if you like Podcasts and aren’t afraid of a Scottish accent, then, by all means, listen to the link I shared above and then go back and listen to the other episodes too. What do you say?

about yesterday

So… yesterday was a streaky day. Waves of emotions flooded my mind. And there was an underlying anxiety for most parts of the day. My heart raced for no reason. Similar to being in love, but with a more negative mindset. My eyes were burning with tears that had no reason to be shed, and they didn’t come. I don’t know where this is coming from. But it has been there for a couple of days now, and it makes me nervous. I am not anxious about the COVID-19 situation or the lockdown; I don’t have to fear for my job or my health. Money is tight, as always, but it is not an issue either. But yes, I am restless. Something is not quite right.

At the same time, I also feel happy and elated, in a good mood. And it is contradictory. These feelings and emotions are contradictory. They make me unsure. They are also a reason why I posted about me reorganising my CD collection twice yesterday. I did not expect to have so many views and even likes as these two posts collected. I just needed an outlet for these feelings I can’t shake or place.

Maybe, choosing this task of clearing and cleaning out the shelves was a substitute for clearing and cleaning my mind? I was solely focussed on the paper and jewel cases in my hands and where to put them. It gave these few hours of the day a purpose, and I forgot to think about the racing heart and the butterflies in my stomach.

I have troubles sleeping these last days, I guess that too is part of this weird phase I am in, and it doesn’t make it better.

Dreams I don’t recognise. Voices I never heard.

So, yes, I apologise for two unnecessary posts yesterday, and I thank you for your support, I did not expect that.

There is no need to worry about me; I just want to add that. Because honestly, I am well. Most times.

EXcnmnhXQAAbHM9

I took this picture last night before I went to sleep. The moon shone bright; it was beautiful. There are no filters on this picture; it is the way I took it. All my photographs are taken with my mobile phone. (moto g6) If you want to see more of my pictures, I have an Instagram account: https://www.instagram.com/micqu_1/ Take a look and let me know what you think.

Lots of love to you,

xx

Cathy

A thank you note… and some advertising

wp-1588750333272.png

Last night, I wanted to share the Amazon link for my books on Twitter, and I saw that coincidentally, Joe had written a review. Sneakily, because he hadn’t told me about it. Joe is the man who also reads my poetry on his IG Livestreams regularly. Above is River’s review, River is a regular reader and an amazing writer and person.

I thanked Joe on IG in my stories, guess who was amongst the 10 views this morning? Yes, Seal again. I did some research about that and found out that it might be a bot. A mass viewer app as a marketing tool. They actually play with the curiosity of people and their pride too, a verified celebrity in their stories might generate income in some way. I am not sure if they always go back to the same accounts or not, but that’s that.

Reviews matter… not in the way that they push sales, but they matter for the writer. My heart is light this morning and I am motivated to write more content for you. At the same time, I want it to be good and worth your time and your while, but I am not someone who can force creativity. I am an impulsive writer without style or finesse. It all comes straight from the heart and soul, although much is fiction, some is real too. But, as the title of this blog says, fiction and reality merge in my writing. Yesterday I was confident about my writing skills, today not so much… Ups and downs.

I’ll try to find us a good song for this Wednesday…

Thank you for your patience and your support.

Cathy

My books “Unquiet Minds” and “Drowning in a Sea of Voices” can be bought on Amazon as eBook and paperbacks. For signed copies, you can get in touch with me or purchase via the links on this blog, but, due to Covid-19 shipping could be delayed. Consider browsing the blog for older poetry or short stories, there are some emotive pieces to read. xx

 

imho

Classic books or movies or music is imho often overrated. Maybe I am not clever (smart) enough, maybe I am too young, maybe I am too numb and saturated with books and movies and music.

But I too can appreciate some classics. Tonight, The Graduate was on TV. Not overrated or dull at all. Yesterday, there was a documentary about Joan Baez – the verdict is still out. Her lyrics are good, and I like the political edge and her engagement, but her voice – not my cup of tea.

Then again, I am not a critic. Never was. Even when I post music, I am biased. I will only share music that I like. I gave no knowledge other than knowing what I like and appreciating this or that technique or genre more than an other.

I scheduled a post that will be published in about two hours… 🙂

Until then, goodnight.

xx

Thoughts of the day while enduring the Hobbit on TV

I miss work. Not the colleagues, but the kids and the work itself. Right now, I am on leave because of my own kids. They have a two week spring break, but after that, they will need to be homeschooled again until May 4th. (At the earliest.) My boss sent out emails to every employee this morning to plan ahead and organise out next weeks; To think about projects and write down activities. As I am working part-time (20hours/week) at a nursery, I was required to write 20 new activities. I did it all in 4 hours, and thinking about it and the development of each child made me miss them even more. Later this morning, I received an email stating that everyone being on leave to be with their kids did not have to do this. Well, I was too fast, it was too late. 20 activities had been written down.

And while I am missing the nursery, the toddlers and babies, I am also happy to be home. I am developing some kind of phobia. I don’t want to see anyone; it makes me uncomfortable. And I can’t do video chats. It makes me even more uncomfortable. Once every week, I need to make a video conference with my two co-workers. It makes me nervous, and I hate seeing myself on the screen. I was offered an opportunity to video chat with Nate Maingard (musician and modern troubadour), I had to decline – with a heavy heart. But at this time, I can’t step out of my comfort zone for a stranger when I can’t even video chat with my sisters.

Before our confinement, I flat out refused to do these video chats. Now, I have to make concessions too. Ah, I am rambling again.

All to say… I want everything to go back to normal, but the thought of leaving the house scares me shitless.

How about you?

PS: since March 13th, I had three calls from my mom; before that, I didn’t have any news in 6 months…

PPS: the title of this post was promising, and it was followed by nothingness. Sorry.

Old wounds weigh heavier than newer ones.

This Corona thing is different for all of us. I admit I am coping well enough. I feel lonely but also relieved that I don’t have to deal with as many people daily. I am most happy at home or in my garden. I am not trying to improve or learn something new. I am just being a mom and taking care of the house. I neglected that a bit in the past, but now that we are at home all the time, I want our home to be clean and tidy.

I am lonely, however. I am online a lot, more than I already was before the lockdown. And at one point, I became obsessed with news about the progression of COVID-19 in Luxembourg.

I noticed something with my husband yesterday: we kiss when one of us leaves the house or comes home. Now that we are both home, the physical contact is reduced to a bare minimum. I mentioned it, and as so often, it was countered with a joke. You see, we laugh a lot, a big part of us is banter and calling the other out on their bullshit. We never fight, and it is all in good nature, but the intimacy, the physicality is missing.

But I also need to admit that I have many times when I don’t want to be touched when I don’t like the feel of skin against mine. I flinch away. From my kids too. I try to apologise, and lately, I began telling my kids when it is okay to touch and hug and when it is not. It makes it harder for everyone around me to know and understand that I need those hugs. They keep me together some times.

When I was a child, I was not hugged, not touched, and I was never told that someone was proud of me or that I did something right. I was ignored, insulted, and ridiculed. I remember a big hug from my grandmother when I was seven, and she told me that a girl from my class had died in a car crash. She had been run over by a drunk driver. I remember a couple of slaps, but what I remember most is the cold shoulder—not being heard or looked at. Not having a voice or being allowed to use that voice.

I was a timid and taciturn child. I was not really bullied but singled out for being the only kid with Italian roots and divorced parents. Add to that that the kids from school didn’t understand why my mom was in a wheelchair. I didn’t understand it myself, but since it was my normal; I didn’t know it any other way.

My childhood and the emotional abuse I endured left deeper wounds and scars than anything else ever will. It is the reason for all these self-esteem issues. For the depression too. In my head is this voice that tells me that I am not loveable and that I don’t deserve anything good happening to me. I don’t trust people and don’t confide in them. My mind is constantly working, but no one even knows the half of it.

When I was a teenager, I craves affection and attention. And so I began flirting with many boys and men. I just wanted to be loved and appreciated. And I was never short of boys who were willing to flirt. I had boyfriends and received love letters. My first time having sex was me being abused. After that, I took my distance from men and boys. It took a couple of years before I let anyone physically close again – he became my husband.

I am a sexual woman. I like flirting, and I love writing my more smuttier one-shots. Heck, People are checking this blog for those posts alone.

I am starving for affection more days than not. And I want to be good enough, loveable enough. I want to be funny enough. Interesting enough. Clever enough. Sexy enough. I want to be enough. But there is this barrier in my head. I don’t know when I will attain this “enough”. Enough is never enough. I need to feel love from other people to feel love for myself—a vicious circle, bound to leave me with a couple of new bruises. But I can take it. I can channel that kind of pain and pour it into my poetry and writing. I may not be the most amazing person, but my writing is often decent.

I am thinking a lot tonight. I was watching Gone with the Wind (1939) tonight and after that, I can’t quite seem to find sleep. It is 1:30am.

And with my thoughts going in circles and me thinking about my grandmother tonight, I realised that my emotional wounds, the one’s from my childhood and teenage years are heavier on my mind and soul than physical wounds ever were.

Writing this reminded me of Robert’s blog post. Pain is relative. Pain is not relative. Emotional pain is relative. Physical pain is not.

Cathy: April 7th, 2020

On that pic, you see me with no make-up and my favourite t-shirt. (Pink Floyd). There is a beer mix in the back, and – get your head out of the gutter – that phallic shaped thing with the colourful bubbles is a Galileo thermometer.

I often wish that I was a normal 37-year-old woman. But how does a normal woman my age behave? I am a bit crazy around my kids too. Often, I am dancing or singing or wearing a plastic crown. I write about music – a new review is in the making. I ramble about unimportant things. But if these things and themes and subjects matter to me, then they aren’t unimportant, right?

I just hope that my kids will be less damaged than I am. They know my moods. They don’t fully understand them yet, but they are tuned in to my manic moments and to my depressive episodes too. I try keeping them out of it all. Not to wear a mask or to lie to them, but to stop them from worrying.

In this Corona times, I am less alone, yet lonelier than ever. I am coping quite well for now, and I hope I will manage these next three weeks of lockdown too.

I hope you are okay and safe.

Cathy