the-eirenei

[the-eirenei]

[the-eirenei]

I think it would be very funny if after Obi-Wan kills Maul in Rebels, an entire small army of Mandalorians turned up in the desert (led by Sabine, who got tipped off by Ezra) to harass him into becoming the rightful leader of their government

[the-eirenei]

"If im technically not officially recognised as a person by republic law how can i be PERSONALLY responsible, Senator. Just a thought exercise."

[the-eirenei]

I demand unconditional love and complete freedom. That is why I am terrible.

Tomaz Salamun (via quotemadness)

This is so freaking true  it’s not even.  Always hanging between the two, and people (my family) wonder why did I grew out of my cute stage to... well, this.  But the thing is, you can’t demand something like this without working for it.  Not to be a dependable on the others, but dependable on yourself, becasue only one person can give you what you want without being dismissive or critical of the two needs you have.  And this is yourself. It may portray you to be terrible to the others, but to you, it’s essential to your life and survival.

[the-eirenei]

Time likes to trick us into believing that we’re running out of it, in a lot of ways– we really do have a lot of time, we just tend to waste it. The questions come faster than answers. What if I can’t do it? What if I suck? I just don’t remember the technique. What if it’s not good enough? Why can’t I just be good already? That’s the thing about being a perfectionist– you want to get it right the first time and be amazing at it. That’s the thick and thin. You’re already good, you’re just slowing down your own progress. Some people are truly talented… The rest? It’s hard work and grind. For art students, you’ll have many rough drafts. Half of which, you’ll never ever look at, you may never finish it. For the writer– you’ll have rough drafts everywhere, your journals will be missing journal entries, where did the time go? Where did your mind go? Where did your heart go? You used to be so passionate. What is it called again? Writer’s block? Everyone experiences it. My English professor from years ago used to give me writing assignments, she used to make us free write. Hours in, I’m still confused. She simply told us to write, because how can you claim to be something if you never do it. How can you excel if you’ve not even lifted a finger? So it’s more excess than it is a complete waste of time. So draw that same stem a million fucking times, maybe after the million + plus, you’ll finally get it right. So rewrite that paragraph, maybe then that extended metaphor will convey the beauty of the blossom, maybe then you’ll believe again. You have got to stay hopeful, because once you lose that– it’s all over. Writers, artists, musicians– if you’re in the business of being creative, you know it doesn’t end with a simple finished verse or piece– it never looks perfect. There’s always something bothering you. Something missing. Maybe that’s the trick about time… we have to convince ourselves that the seconds we put into our craft… it’ll masterpiece itself into existence. And if not… we need to put that idea into the air. How can you be a writer if you never write? How can you be an artist if you never create? How can you be a musician if you never play? How can you live your life and be satisfied unless you try? That’s the thing about hope, that’s the thing about art, music and words. There’s more to the flowers than the petals. There’s more to you than your pause. So what if it’s not Van Gogh quality? So what if it’s not Mozart or Beethoven? So what if it’s not Robert Frost? To be or not to be, that is the question. Do or do not, but at least attempt it. That isn’t quite the answer, but darling– there’s always try, there is always try.

Artists, musicians and writers (via everylittlepieceofyou)

True, true.  But it’s not about being a musician, a writer, a player, but more about expressing yourself, to find something within that resonates with your own view of the world and how you represent it through the prism of your own art. Most of us loses it  because we are little shits that can’t help but compare ourselves instead of enjoying the diversity of our works, just like they are.  Yes, there are days when writing or making any kind of art  is an exercise  in futility. But there are also days when everything flows. We all walk that tightrope, swaying on the lifeline. It always takes courage, grit and determination, no matter if you are a newbie or an experienced artist in your field.  It never becomes easier, just like each sunrise and sunset are  different  from their fore bearers. Just breathe. Just create. Just live.

[the-eirenei]

Holy Shit.  This is scary! 

It shouldn’t have been, what with our well-wishes to each other and ourselves and dreams for the next year, but trailer as in, everything is already planned for you and you will have to go through it no matter how good or how bad -  it makes me want to hightail under the covers and stay here until 2018.  Seriously.  Which is kind of funny, when I am curious enough to use tarot cards and runes for how the things would go in a day or two or a week.  But  The Trailer....Woah, buddy, hold your horses!

But if I created this trailer, I would hope for it to be good -  a little bit snarky,  a lot optimistic, with some funny moments thrown in, tears, will, success with a generous pinch of love and my loved ones along the journey.

What would yours be?

[the-eirenei]

I fell in love with her soul. I loved how she composed herself so well yet had a mind filled with so many convictions and ideas. She was worldly, she was funny, she was smart, and she had class. I admired her. She was that girl that had guys crawling on their knees, but she never batted an eyelash. She wasn’t about that. She was much deeper than that, and that is one of the many reasons I loved her.

(via superbeethoughts)

I often wonder how the others see  me. I don’t exactly see myself in  a flattering light, because I know, only too well, that I am a human being with many mistakes. But recently, my aunt died -  I didn’t know very well, and it’s strange to remember all the vivacity  stuffed in one measly jar of ashes, about to be put into ground. I haven’t known her for very long -  in fact,  I’ve known her for some 10 years, give or take a few. But what I will remember - forever -  is her beautiful, kind eyes. The saying, that the eyes are the window to the soul, was true with her -  her  blue eyes, full of wisdom, warmth, humor and understanding, even if she had gone through hard times, lost her husband, reared two children and kept farm running. She had such a genuine warmth that it left the traces in her family -  her son and daughter, and her four grandchildren  -  all of them have this special spark of loving and being loved well  that  it’s really hard to miss, even when they are in a group of strangers.

I am sad that she couldn’t  dance with me at her daughter’s 50th birthday party.  But she was already 80 years old, so I suppose she will just owe me a dance on the other side. I didn’t  have a chance to get to know her better, because I was too young at the time, and then, the time ran away from us. But  this passage above describes her so aptly, so easily, I couldn’t help but be reminded of her.  Even if some would say that she was just a farmer’s wife, maybe not worldly at all, but  for me, it doesn’t matter.  She was a great woman - giving to the people -  giving them her warmth, understanding, hope and love -  so much,  that her last gift to the world, her family, remains a proof how can one woman’s love, strength, faith and patience give  to world six amazing people who would continue her legacy.  Her photo in front of her jar of ashes looked pale, even paltry in comparison with her soul, her very spirit. 

I hope that  someday, on my own funeral, people would say the same. I may not be like her, because I have my own way,  but I hope that at least in my stories,  I could give forward at least the small kernel of warmth from those days I am now spending  with my loved ones, no matter how much they frustrate, anger, amuse, surprise, sadden and most importantly, love me. My love for the moment, is prickly like a hedgehog, and about as awkward.  But for all the prickliness, there is something gentle and soft  that wants to be given, just because it could be.

[the-eirenei]

Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.

T.S. Eliot (via whatisthenormal)

How far will I go today?

[the-eirenei]

Moonrise-

How do you think the landscape would look without the lights on the ground?

[the-eirenei]

002 - Kaboom. Mind blown.

As a writer, it’s a rare occasion for me to get spoiled either by renditions of my work or outright pictures of the characters  featuring in my work. Maybe I haven’t talked about it yet, but  last week, I was blown away by YukiPri’s amazing art work from Yuuri!! On Ice, and what do you know, this poked into existence one of the stories yet-to-be-written out of its winter hibernation,  causing it to haunt me through entire last week to write it out. I Hope You Dance was a monster to write, even for me as a seasoned writer.  Five days. 20k words (almost). Crossover between YOI and Pacific Rim -  yes, I’ve gone there, done that,  barely survived it. At such moments, I regret not being used to the magic drink called coffee enough to stomach it, becasue in that instance, I sorely needed it.  It was intended as a homage, but I didn’t even imagine YukiPri would be inspired -  so much that she drawn the three heroes in their drivesuits. 

Kaboom. Cue my mind collapsing. I am not sure if I will ever recover from it, but  boy, was that worth all of the slugging through the data, movie and YOI episodes. So worth it. Once again, YukiPri, thank you. I’ve already gushed about it to you, so I won’t repeat myself at long, but thank you, this really, truly, made my day. Nah. Make that entire month. You have a gift for leaving me speechless.

In the spirit of December surprises and well-wishes, I wish all of you to do what makes you happy.  If that means writing, drawing, singing or anything else you are good at -  you have gifts hiding within you, so let them out to play and create something beautiful. Life is too short to be ashamed of doing what makes you happy because society said so.

[the-eirenei]

Now if only I could remember all of them, that would be awesome.

[the-eirenei]

My thoughts create my world.

Megan McCafferty (via thepersonalwords)

So true. Especially when writing. :)

[the-eirenei]

By Javier Canale

[the-eirenei]

Post 001

Welcome to my new corner of experiments  with the written word in many shapes and forms.  Hope we’ll get along for a long time coming.

[the-eirenei]

The Harp, the Swan, and the Milky Way