Girl on fire in the light/ Now we’re fighting side by side/ As your arrow flashes by/ What it takes to stay alive/ It’s the way I’m feeling/ I just cannot lie/ So I’ve gotta let it show…
And I have to say: kinda catchy. Ah, fandom mania–you always know how to turn my mood around. I’m expecting ‘Peeta Rock Anthem’ to be the next big hit.
With that said, go watch The Hunger Games. Its one awesome mind-trip of a movie.
All my love!
That moment of beautiful clarity and oneness that you feel when the rain stops and leaves behind a mist of sparkling and cool droplets hanging at every corner, is perfectly encapsulated in this song. It fills me with a childish and giddy spark of happiness every single time I hear it.
I love the rain the most when it stops/ We can see the big white houses, yeah, and the docks/ And we can jump in the river/ Don’t know if the water or sky is clearer/ But I know that I love the rain the most when it stops ♥
Montreal is cold. It can plummet to degrees of coldness here that would easily rival the Arctic. Streets become covered in icy slates of slippery death. The trees shrivel of all color and stand as frigid, lifeless skeletons of nature–black and haunting. Montreal is swallowed up by a cape of white and no other color emerges but the graying fog that fills the skies, and the occaisonal purple scarf peaking out from under the heavy winter jacket of a rosy-faced schoolgirl walking back home from the bus stop, muddling across the slushy pavement.
I’ve never been a winter person. Raised in Kuwait, my flesh has always longed for the warm beam of sunlight that penetrates through my blue window-shade every morning. In Montreal, no sun penetrates through my window-shade.
But, sometimes, I look out the window at the stark ocean of whiteness and a warmth radiates in the soles of my feet. I’m moved by the overwhelmingly freezing touch of the window-pane to make a cup of warm tea. I am moved to cuddle up in bed and read Paul Auster’s ‘The Invention of Solitude.’ I am moved to seek out the tiny movements of life that lovingly peek their heads out at the world despite the cold and the lifelessness and the whiteness of Montreal on this winter day.
And whenever I spot the fleeting yellow of a moving school bus, see the shadow of a small girl’s pink parka running across the snow, or hear a dog barking with such forceful glee at being outside despite the whips of freezing wind, I am, for a brief second, a lover of winter and all that it brings.
The surprising jolts of life that push their way through the cruel and graying air make me smile. I’m not sure why, but they make me hopeful. Hopeful of what, I can’t say.
Montreal is cold. Montreal is not Kuwait. But Montreal is the most beautiful in the snow.
If you have ever experienced a great, true, pure love then you are one of the lucky few. I honestly don’t believe in the power of material things or great, grand gestures as real indicators of love. My love is a kind of love that even when made the subject of the longest letters and the most breathtaking songs, still can’t compare to the simple beauty of the real deal.
Next door there’s an old man who lived to his nineties/ And one day passed away in his sleep/ And his wife; she stayed for a couple of days/And passed away/ I’m sorry, I know that’s a strange way to tell you that I know we belong/That I know that I am the luckiest ♥
This song is all about dreaming in the midst of our humdrum lives and the daily lull that marks most of our days. If we can still dream of things as wild, free, and invigorating as big jet planes by the end of the day, then we’ll be just fine.
Gonna hold ya/ Gonna kiss ya in my arms/ Gonna take ya/ Away from harm/ Gonna take you for a ride on a big jet plane ♥
Whenever I’m feeling a little homesick I play this instrumental song and it really feels the same way that getting a short postcard from someone far away might. Warms your heart and soothes your nostalgia, not completely but just enough.
People either hate or love this song. It’s spare, its long, and its filled with an odd sense of anxious optimism. It’s basically everything a Sunday ever is.
Outside I look lived in/ Like the bones in a shrine/ How am I forgiven?/ Oh, I’ll give it time. ♥
There’s an innocence and a charm in this little heartbroken song that makes you smile despite yourself and, at least for the two minutes that it lasts, you might even feel okay about it all.
I started healing/ Soon as I regained the feeling/ In my fingers pressed so hard/ Against that steel the night before/ I wrote another love song/ But my heart, it wouldn’t sing along/ My head agreed, I didn’t need/ To try and right the wrongs ♥
This really just kind of explains this.
All my friends/ are dear to me/ Oh when the storm comes/ they’re as close as family/ All my friends/ are the ones I chose/If I hear them knocking/ you know I can’t refuse ♥
