Live Like You're Dying

So much talking in my poor head, the words coming out in a solve-in-yourself jumble of new relevations, in-betweens and old knowledge. I can figure it out. After all, it's my head.

Food is a gift, to be able to cook is a blessing and culinary its process of giving and is often hard, hard work. All I ever wanna do was to make people happy and as a rule, food does that. Even if I ended up so exhausted to my bones, and with infinite cuts and burns and now bruises. That I ended most days in serious doubts. Cooking comes from the heart, where little perfect universes spewed. I do not bear that heart and spirit, even though I try and every time I fail. The point lies in never giving up, throwing in the towel and quite literally. The harder it gets, the longer one persists, the sweeter and more lingering it'd be. Kinda like cooking sometimes.

Tonight, my present came brown-bagged. Nothing of the usual variety, I'd give you that but it sure pleased me immensely. And beer. I finally picked up the offer at 7-11. It's 2 bottles for 1 Orchard. They have been beckoning, wailing children waiting to be fed, only not. It's hard to turn a back on that. Not that I'm a drinker, not even leisurely. Ok, so I might have lied on that note. Never forget beer. It does the most amazing things when you least expect anything to.

If I were ever a fraction of a psychic, then I must have only endings in my head. I would picture travelling from one place to another and still accomodating images of a real home, warm amber lights emitting from dangled and loosely hang fairy lights, a well-equipped but hardly ridiculous kitchen, romantically furnished rooms with beds, wardrobes, and a table with stationary. And if I can ever be selfish, I would love to get home and under the sheets to a goddess who feeds my soul and heart perfectly. I could feel the hot sun beaming down on my face, and probably burning my shoulders and chest. I could watch the black sky with only a handful of stars tossed carelessly across the expanse. And the moon that follows anywhere whoever goes. It seems to wanna speak, to tell the world of her story but every time, she chose only to shut up. Why, I never understood. Heck, I can't even pass Math, let alone Universe 101 or Moon-speak 101.

But here's the point, ok, the real point, somewhat somehow, is that I don't know what my life is about at this stage, at this ripe old age, what I wanna and can do. I try to talk to mom about it but it ended ugly so...Anyway, in that film, the Ramen Girl, which, let's go back to why I am even typing this entry not unlike others, my fingers, injuried and un-, type furiously and on a mild alcohol-induced high, that I just caught is too beautiful. I am, too looking for hope and a reason to continue this life, and what I do. She found it, Abby, Brittany's character did. And it was the first time I've watched any of her work. Always wanted to though and now I did and it was on a rare occasion, a wise decision. She's a great actress and that voice. I wanna find hope but before it all can happen, it's all about sacrifices and sleepless nights and pain. Hmm...pain. That, I can do. First, I have to harness it. Let it all out before anything else could take its place and precedence. I have to clear my mind of distractions and fairy tales before I could even begin to take the first step. And I have the ability to heal, albeit it takes a million years but still cause if I try and put my heart to it, I will succeed.

I just typed several wee mornings ago, freaking furiously a letter of appeal to whoever wishes to hear and answer me. I am looking to crash the writing scene, and for good. I just need to be employed, a gig or even an internship. And I need some serious connection, big time! So please, if you read my letter, please help me.

"One of these days you’ll be
under the covers
you’ll be under the table
and you’ll realize
all of your days are numbered
all of them one to one hundred
All of them millions
All of them trillions

So what are you gonna do with them all?
You can not trade them in for mall
No no

Take every moment
you know that you own them
It’s all you can do, use what’s been given to you

Give me a reason
to fight the feeling
that there’s nothing here for me
Cause none of its easy
I know it wasn’t meant to be
I know it’s all up to me
It’s all up to me
So what am I gonna do with my time?
Oh

I'll take every moment
I know that I own them
It’s all up to you to do whatever you choose
Live like you’re dying
And never stop trying
It’s all you can do, use what’s been given to you

All of the moments you didn’t notice
Gone in the blink of an eye
All of the feelings you couldn't help feeling, no matter how you try

Oh oh
Take every moment
you know that you own them
It’s all up to you to do whatever you choose
Live like you’re dying
And never stop trying
It’s all you can do, use what’s been given to you

Live like you’re dying
And never stop trying
It’s all you can do, use what’s been given to you

©Lenka, Lenka ~ Track 9, Live Like You're Dying ~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A6fX9mjMZkE