Smil-du er på

Ed Sheeran. Så fantastisk talentfuld han er ! xx
Et par af mine veninder er så heldige at have nået at få nogle billetter til hans koncert d. 12 november i Edinburgh - I envy men håber de får en fantastisk aften. Han virker jo så super god til at håndterer sine fans, så mon ikke det bliver en mindeværdig aften.

Denne ferie har været dejligt. Vejret har jo ikke været helt som ønsket - rain rain rain rain. Men har det super skønt. Slapper af men forbereder mig også. Har en masse tests efter ferien, så er nervøs, men glæder mig super meget. I morgen skal jeg ud til en veninde og holde lidt film hygge. Fredag er jeg blevet inviteret til en fødselsdags fest, og Edinburgh Dungeons - mon jeg overlever?
Det hele er så godt. Filosofere mere end nogensinde. Vil åbne op for tankerne sooner or later. Men ligenu vil jeg smutte under dynen med et smil på læben og Ed Sheeran i mine ører.

Kys. // Mille

Dare to be . . .

“When a new day begins, dare to smile gratefully.

When there is darkness, dare to be the first to shine a light.

When there is injustice, dare to be the first to condemn it.

When something seems difficult, dare to do it anyway.

When life seems to beat you down, dare to fight back.

When there seems to be no hope, dare to find some.

When you’re feeling tired, dare to keep going.

When times are tough, dare to be tougher.

When love hurts you, dare to love again.

When someone is hurting, dare to help them heal.

When another is lost, dare to help them find the way.

When a friend falls, dare to be the first to extend a hand.

When you cross paths with another, dare to make them smile.

When you feel great, dare to help someone else feel great too.

When the day has ended, dare to feel as you’ve done your best.

Dare to be the best you can –

At all times, Dare to be!” 

Glasgow

Har været i Glasgow med nogle super søde og dejlige veninder! Det har været en dag udover alle forventninger, og det har bare være så skønt at være i deres nærvær. Har grint så meget, og hygget mig udover alle grænser. Fryder mig over at jeg har ferie. ♥

/Mille

FAITH

Der er bare nogle sange som kan få dit hjerte til at smile, din krop til at grine, og dine tanker slået fra. George Michael's sang, Faith, er en af dem. Jeg er på ingen måder religiøs, men denne sang slår altså lige i hjertet.




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Cs3Pvmmv0E





//Mille

Rebecca

af Daphne de Maurier. Simpelthen en af mine ynglings bøger of all times. For nogle uger siden, blev jeg bedt om at skrive en short story på 1000+ ord, i engelsk. Den skulle handle om en speciel situation i en bog, fra et andet perspektiv. Da vi kun arbejder med gamle bøger og værker, valgte jeg Rebecca. Jeg kan huske da jeg læste den for første gang; det var min morfar som anbefalede den, og derfor ville jeg læse den. Jeg blev bogstaveligt talt afhængige af den, så jeg var færdig med den efter 2-3 dage. Den er fantastisk og virkelig velskrevet. Her er min short story (selvfølgelig på engelsk).

Notice the slender perfectly sowed figure. The dazzling color of the snow itself. The highlighted details. The puffed sleeves and the little bodice. Everything combined with each other, makes it the ultimate fire in a woman's desiring heart. It is the attachment to the very feminine side of your inner goddess - only to be created by the dress itself. Who am I kidding? The goddess is me; dress or not. But surely, the dress sparkled my body up, more than usual that night. Oh that night; surrounded by the purest and finest furniture. Only to be completed by the perfect matching colors on the walls. The champagne bottles were popped off and as to fulfill the missing sound of cheerful laughter, gossip and money discussion were set alive over the dinner. The mood was excellent and the atmosphere was filled with excitement - as always, when around me. 

What I didn't do to make the night end perfect, to make it memorable and worth the price of the dress. And now, all I can do, is watch. Watch carefully as the dress adjusts to the body of a young woman, who seems too eager, too distracted by the situation and her excitement, unaware of the dress' real owner. Will she even have the guts to do, what she has planned, not aware of the consequences? I know the consequences of her decision. Yet, I can’t help but smile at her failed attempt to be something she’s not and will never be. As she stands there, fitting the dress by the help of her ally, - her so beloved Clarice - with lighting in her eyes, equal to her beautifully yet too innocent blond hair, framing her round face with marked cheekbones and blue eyes, the act itself gives me blood on my teeth. Nobody knows I’m here in the corner of her room, only able to see by the light of myself, which no one notice. If my imagination wants to, I can walk a few steps closer to her, do her harm in a certain way - observe and capture the moment, without her notice. She would scream and accuse her ’oh so dear Clarice’, and she would deny and there would be accusations against one and another - just the way I like it. 

As she carefully receives the brown curly wig from her ally and puts it on her head, the reflection of herself in the mirror, surprises all corners of the room. The curls of the wig, perfectly standing out from the face, do such a change in the young woman’s face, that I by fright take a step back, and to my surprise I can’t feel the wall against my back as I have expected. It is as if I see my very own breath in front of me, yet it is only the light from the moon. And as the light from the moon falls on the young woman, her face lightens up by the beauty of herself - or is it the fact, that she’s finally someone else than herself, that has dawned her? My lips pulls up into a smile by the thought. 

Flawlessly, I nearly hover over to the doorway as few knocks on the door is set alive. I observe her expression and the sudden despair rush over her face as Beatrice, talks to her through the door, only to know when she will be down. Oh Beatrice, poor woman, the protective mind of her would stop this young girl abruptly, only to prevent to experience the facial expression of her brother, Maxwell. I smile at the thought of him. This will not only cause shock, but also a remembering - I told him he wouldn’t and couldn’t forget me, and this is how my word is being held. 

Beatrice is gone now, and I slender across the corridor to the doorway leading to the west wing, to stand beside Mrs. Denvers. All because of her, and all for her. The pleasure is her and mine, as well as Maxwell’s - if only he knew it. As soon as this young girl has secured herself that nobody is on the stairway, she quickly manages to get herself out of her room filled with excitement. We all are very excited, I think and smile divinely. By exchanging a few words to a young man, she gets herself ready as the sound of drums, as a presentation, fills out the corridor and down the stairs to fulfill the silence in the room that now is laid upon them all. She comes forward to the start of the stairs, almost as if she walks into a spotlight of fame, with a delighted smile on her face. And to complete this ridiculous attempt of hers, the hat which is matching to the dress, is in her hands, almost glued to the skin of her hands as if it is her property. None of this will ever be her property, and this will give her the lesson. I laugh exultantly as I watch the faces of the crowd. The light from the moon reflecting into the eyes of one and another, making their faces all pale white. The reaction itself is hilarious. I walk a few steps away from the doorway, to observe Maxwell’s expression clearly and detailed, always to remember it afterwards. Oh and Maxwell, his face all ashen white and eyes filled with anger. This is your memory of me, my dear. 

And as the first one to speak, Beatrice utters a cry followed by her hands to cover her mouth - no one dares to speak. 

He walks forward to the stairs and without showing her the slightest sign of loving her, he speaks cold and direct to her, ‘‘What do hell do you think you are doing?’’. Oh those words, so perfectly match able to those I heard from your lips that night, my love. That night you filled me up with lies, telling me you didn’t wanted me any longer. How was I supposed to believe that? Of course, you wanted me - and you still want me. The emotions in your face shows it all, dear. 

In cold and distant manners, the two ’’lovebirds’’ exchange words, and then I watch this young girl run down the corridor, noticing Mrs. Denvers, with that exact delighted smile, identical with mine. She disappears into her room, and after her is Beatrice in such a hurry. 

I hover into her room. 

Laughing my delicate grin while watching the hopelessly young girl all shattered, and Beatrice trying to cheer her up, I slowly disappear into the corner of the room again - lightly fading into the darkness as if I‘m equal to it.

I will always be the true, Mrs. De Winter. Rebecca.

/Mille

Smukkere end smukkest

Hvorfor bliver jeg altid syg når jeg har det for vildt? Mit humør er højere end skyerne, og endelig føler jeg at min min krop følger min tankegang - at jeg endelig er ''in ease with myself''; at jeg endelig føler mig tilpas i min krop og begynder at accepterer den, men så bliver jeg bombarderet med sygdom og migræne. Mine følelser er på kanten lige nu- men på den måde, at jeg er i et hjørne hvor det kan ske at jeg begynder at 'overdramatisere' og 'overreagere' lidt. Haha. Et minus ved mig! Men alligevel - syg, ingen make-up, sidder i mit fedeste kluns, og føler mig alligevel ret så smuk. Hvorfor skulle jeg ikke føle mig smuk? Hvis det ikke var for menneskets kloge tankegang og evnen til at udvikle, så ville jeg ikke have noget som helst på kroppen, eller sidde med denne computer. Jeg er smuk. Og det er du også.

I morgen starter jeg på rugby med nogle veninder. Det skal nok blive skønt! Mon jeg overlever? x 

 Life is two locked boxes, each containing the other's key

- Piet Hein

//Mille 

Live the life you love, love the life you live

Nogle gange kan alting føles som en evighed. Det kan virke smertefuldt; tilintetgørende; ødelæggende; opgivende når det hele bare slet ikke følger ens drømme. Men drømme er til for at man skal forblive håbende; uovervindelig - de er der for at man hele tiden bliver mindet om, hvad jeg gerne vil opnå. Og selvom det føles som en evig prøvelse at gå igennem, så vil det gavne sig i så mange situationer senere hen. Hvis ikke man prøver, bliver det heller ikke samme resultat. Forfølg dine drømme; også selvom at godt tit ikke er dit bedste forsøg på at opnå, så lad det ikke påvirke dig. Lad det ske og lær af lektionen; tro på dig selv og undgå negative kilder, steder, og mennesker. Lad dem ikke få dig ned med nakken, - giv ikke op men giv heller ikke efter. Vent ikke, - opsøg. Hvis ikke der kommer noget godt ud af dette, bliv ved - bliv ved, indtil du til sidst har fået den rette tilfredshed. For ingen andre end du kan mærke den lykke; glæde; kærlighed; sorg; ulykkelighed; utilfredshed som kun du vil opleve. 

Ingen har svar. Og det er dét som gør livet spændende. For hvem vil ikke gerne skabe sine egne svar, leve efter disse principper, og være lykkelig udfra ens point-of-views? Men vær realistisk. Tab ikke dig selv i fortiden, og håb på umenneskelige forandringer. Kun for dig selv. DNA - hvorfor du er den du er. 

- Derfor, lev livet som du vil. Society/human expectations or not. Go for it.

//Mille