Frank Sinatra - I'm a Fool to Want You [1957]

The song has pulled me down to my emotional bottom these days. Billie Holiday's version is more popular and I like her singing, but it's originally Frank Sinatra's. I love Sinatra's singing a little more, particularly this version, desperately feeling the unreachable.

Brit...

Countdown

Can I stop spending my days in a state of torpor like quitting on life? I think I have to do it, but only in thought it whirls, I cannot help myself. Days over, however, I'll do it anyhow, anyway.

Three years or four years, I cannot tell. In number, four years have passed since then, though, the shadow has actually cast three years. Three years could be either long or short, but anyways, I cannot stand time’s whipping any more, nor does she. She already expressed her resolution and I did mine, yet I’m not confident in our minds because emotions don’t come up to one´s will or expectation. “Do your best. Man proposes and God disposes.” I think she has done her best and I’ve done it my way. We have constantly proposed it, so the disposition is God’s will. If it comes along against our expectations, it is not her destination. We’re prepared to accept it, though we should bear some disappointment and despair. Temporary depression could follow.

Let time flows on, and against all odds, we’ll live our own ways respectively willing to be agreeable to nature. 

Brit...

In the chaotic darkness

 

Her pride/dignity have been intentionally hacked and ruined by vicious meticulousness which entirely fooled her discretion. Considerable parts of privacy have been stolen away and she is feeling naked on the road. There's no history between them. There're not yesterdays at all. All were erased and deleted, so the years they've piled up became nothing. Nothing remains, but just an empty void totally unknown, making them perfect strangers. Finally she realized that she had suffered from psychological blindness. She will not forgive it, after all she's not Jesus as well as Buddha.

 

(Brit... 11th May, 2014)

A diverter in the afternoon



“Wow, you look so gorgeous. Your dress is sexy.”

 

“Is that it? Thanks, but it’s not 'that' sexy. Rather, it’s a kind for funeral.”

(Actually, the black dress [one-piece] was not figure-hugging, on the contrary, nearer to loose-fitting.)  

 

“You shouldn’t wear the dress at any funeral, it could be a distraction.” ;)

 

“That’s the point and the matter. Every dress I wear looks sexy. Because I’m ‘the very' sexy, not the clothes.”

(Self-confidence saying out of sanity, or just joking?;-p Thanks, anyway!)

Brit…(7 Nov. 2013)

 

What on earth is "feed spot"?

Do I need it?

I just received a mail from so called “feedspot.com”. They say I can view my blog and its followers through the site, but for that, I have to join the site with Twitter, Facebook or Google account. That means my information will be additionally handed to another internet site, doesn’t it? No, I don’t want it. I’d like to make myself in the market as less as I can. I don’t wonder how many followers I have and who they are unless they are my friends. I’m not interested in increasing followers. As I said earlier, almost all contents of this blog are about my personal life, my favourites or my mind’s story, and they don’t need to be made popular. I don’t think whatsoever I write may be practically useful to anyone who don’t know me. This blog and its contents are just for me and those who have interest in me. I don’t need many followers in my blogs including this, but ones who are willing to know me, or communicate with me. I just want to share something whatever in mind with those who understand my feeling. The ones who can sympathise with each other on anything! I already have one follower whom I know, who is my friend Vlad.  

Feeling sorry about usefulness...

Brit... 

Since Then

An Anticipated Thing

Though anticipated, it’s very tough to deal with in my mind. I’ve often trapped myself and all the mistakes used to be that I could’ve avoided, but I didn’t, so I deserve all this agony. Nevertheless, I need consolation impudently. I always want a shoulder to cry on. For me, this wretched world is too big to handle. Living in this world is so often beyond my capacity. (Written on 28 September, 2010)

I don’t remember exactly what made me write that. It must have been some harsh situation to me. I only conjecture that it was around that time when I recalled him. That night I wrote to Y in U.S.A, but I received nothing from him, though I eagerly desired for some friend-like words. I did want to keep any tricky situation away, and I just needed a tolerantly unconditional/unlimited embracer who was willing to protect all my absurdity at all times. Definitely Y was not the one and P, either. There’s only one in the world, I knew, whose concern for me being cherished all the time and react to me at any time, at any place. He’s the one, I knew, who has constantly loved me from the first time we’ve met. I couldn’t reject him anymore, but get back to hide in him.

It has passed another year.

Brit…

La Traviata

La Traviata/The Fallen Woman/The Woman Who Goes Astray

I don’t like it. I don’t mean that I don’t like Verdi’s opera. I just don’t like its naming, La Traviata. I don’t like the categorisation which drops Violetta (Marguerite Gautier in the novel) into one of fallen women. I’ve liked and pitied Marguerite since I first met her from Dumas’s novel in my teens. I think, however, she is absolutely different from me in every aspect. The only thing I share with Marguerite Gautier is too slim waist. Now mine is 21 inches though I’m an elder woman who has born two [grown up] children many years ago. If I tighten my waist with ‘corset or whatever’ as Scarlet O’Hara did, it would be much slimmer. I’ve never done that, though. I don’t like corsets.

The opera/novel was translated “춘희(椿姬)” in East Asia, which definitely Japanese did. The name “춘희(椿姬)” means ‘the girl of camellia’ which might’ve been brought from the title of its original story of Alexandre Dumas (fis), “The Lady of the Camellias” (French: La Dame aux camélias). I think it was childish/crude translation and I don’t like it, either.

My Korean name is 춘희(春熙), which has the same Korean letters with the opera’s translated title, even though the Chinese letters (春熙, mine) are different from the name’s (椿姬, the girl of camellia). The meaning of my name (春熙) is “spring brightens” or “bright spring”. Nevertheless, my nick name in younger years used to be “LaTraviata” or “Violetta”(the heroine) due to its same Korean letters with the work’s title.

Today I recall “Violetta and Alfredo” (or, “Marguerite Gautier and Armand Duval”), especially their desperate love which led to the end of the heroine’s tragic death. The young man’s pure love didn’t embrace (more properly, maybe, protect) the woman’s true love. He couldn’t remove her stigma of the fallen woman. It reminded me of several tragic loves such as Anna Karenina’s. In fact, Anna is more like me than Marguerite Gautier/Violetta.

My most favourite aria of Violetta’s is "E Strano!...Ah, fors'è lui"...Sempre libera" (Strangely…Ah, perhaps he’s the one…Always free), which requires high technique of coloratura. Now I’m listening to it through June Anderson’s voice, yet June is not my favourite Violetta.

Brit…

Struggle against the Meaningless

These days I'm struggling against the meaningless. Not searching for meaning, but making out meaning. In fact, it's nothing new for me to do it, since I've fought for meaning in my life all the time. All the meanings I’ve made have incessantly slipped away from me, though. Whenever I try to lock the meaning within my store, it gradually disappears as if melted or evaporated in the air. I’ve put my-made-meaning on every meaningless on which I thought it’s needed, nonetheless, there always left nothing. I think I'll have to do the same thing forever and ever, even though it sometimes gets tougher than usual and overwhelms me. Now my days are full of meaningless and I must give them some meaning, any meaning.

If I wouldn’t put the meaning on the meaningless, the Death will do it. Before the Death, all of us are going to hang out a white flag. Only death can put the real meaning on the meaningless, so we’re about to embrace the meaning that the death throws. We cannot not only conquer or defeat the death but also stand against it. If so, do we want to disturb its way and deter the process, then? Even if there’s hope or expectation to discourage the destination in my mind, it doesn’t reveal on the surface. Mine has just been in the realm of the subconscious, recognising as it can be. Even when I’m eager to die, I want to make out the meaning prior to the death. Perhaps do I expect the quasi-meaning I make before death could help me to be pompous in front of death?

Brit…

On and on

Can't let go, yet holding harm
Starts from that she really loves him,
Keep preparing farewell for.
Though it hurts him,
Can't let his toil die of loving her.

Brit...

Dream

Let her dream and stay beside her. Please be willing to play different roles in her dream at her whims. Maybe it’d be also your dream. The two are alike in absurdity. Their illusions seem to resemble with each other. She doesn’t know how to deal with the situation, yet or rather, she wants to do nothing.

Brit…(Written on 14 July)