Esther Vallee – Hardcore.

Hi guys. πŸ™‚

We’ve had quite a lot of mainstream, or mainstream sounding, music on my blog in the last couple of weeks. Guess I need to prove that it’s not like so many people think, I don’t listen only to music that is absolutely out there, and niche and no one knows it hahahaha. Well, as for that no one knows it it is actually true, but still, it’s not always that very extraordinary.

And this song won’t be an exception. I’ve heard it a couple of days before in the Swedish radio, and it seems to be a bit of an earworm as I still have it in my head. It’s not like anything very special, but it’s definitely cool, and I do like Esther Vallee’s voice, it’s definitely very interesting and seems ear catching.

Question of the day.

Big up someone in your life who deserves a round of applause or a big thank you. My answer:
MISHA, MISHA, MISHA!!! What would be my life without Misha? Well, I’ve lived many years without Misha, but now, with Misha, everything is so much better and more beautiful. He’s such a lovely child, he means everything to me, he has so many important functions in my life and I really don’t know what I would do if I lost him. I wish everyone could have their own Misha – be it a cat, a dog, a pet, another human being, – anything that is as important and helpful and dear for them as Misha is for me. Who would it be for you? πŸ™‚

My ideal home.

What would my ideal home look like?

I really like our current house, and I think I’d like to have a lot of things the same way as here.

I’d like my ideal home to be in Wales – it could be in any of my favourite countries but I think as for living long term, I’d choose the UK, and most willingly Wales, particularly north Wales, especially if it could be somewhere in Gwynedd, perhaps in the countryside. I’d like it to be rather bigger than smaller, but not very huge, definitely not bigger than my current house, and this one is rather big. I’d like it to have the “feel”, you know, that you just want to be there, I’d like it to be atmospheric. My Mum is the best interior designer I know so I’d ask her to arrange it for me. It would be a vintage house, with a mix of old, kind of retro things, and new ones. I’d like it to feel cosy. I think I’d make my room in some calmer colours, it could be green as my current bedroom. I wouldn’t have ANYTHING red in my house, but kitchen and living room would be in more warm colours, just to make it more comfortable and homely. I would like my house to be as natural as possible – stone, brick and wood, no artificial stuff or as little as possible. And I think a more natural house would fit the place much better. I’d like it to have a big terrace on which I could go from my room, and from the terrace you could go into the garden, as we can here. Yes, I’d like to have a big garden. If my family would move with me, my Dad wouldn’t be able to exist without a garden, as gardening is his newly discovered passion. That’s all I can say at the moment, but I am sure that if I was building my ideal home, I’d have much more detailed picture of it.



My Mum feels exasperated because of Sasha. We all feel in a way, I guess. He is a cute kitten, but he has a really big flaw, Misha has already mentioned it a lot. He doesn’t know what is the litterbox for. If you’ll watch out for a while or just close him in the loo, he will do his business in the right place, but he’ll never go to the litterbox by himself. It’s almost a month since we have him and it’s always the same. He happily pees and poops on pillows, sheets, blankets, poufs, sofas, wherever, but not to his litterbox. It looks like he knows where he should do it, because once when he was trying to pee on a bean bag, my Mum saw it on time, pulled it out from under him and then he ran like crazy to the litterbox. But other than that, he won’t go there on his own. It’s worrying for us, and, like I said, quite exasperating. My Mum wonders if he has some sort of trauma around the litterbox, but to me he doesn’t look as if he could have, he’s always so very cheerful. It is Misha who acts a bit as if he was traumatised, but rather by humans, not by using the litterbox. He is a very nice kid, Sasha, I mean, but we have to close all the rooms from him to not let him poop somewhere. It would be so nice if he finally could learn where to do it, and could sleep with us at night, but we are simply afraid, ’cause who would like to wake up and realise there is shit on their pillow? Really yucky. If it was up to me, I think I wouldn’t be as thoughtful as my mum, and would sell him. Looking at it from a perspective I don’t think really that it was a good decision to take Sasha. Misha is more anxious than happy and Mum has twice as much cleaning, plus all of us have to be caerful with him. And what is also worrying is that he is still sick. It looks like he had to come to us sick, my Mum is exasperated that the breeder didn’t tell us, or actually didn’t take care of it himself. It’s sad to see him sick. He’s still a very happy child,but is constantly sneezing, has runny nose, watery eyes and breathes very loudly, which sounds cute and funny for us, just as he was a sick baby who can’t blow his nose, but it’s certainly not pleasant for him, and he sounds pretty husky, which is funny too, and my Mum calls him drunkard because of that. πŸ˜€ So yeah, it is a very troublesome kid. And it’s only a month…


River. I like this word in English. River is one of my favourite nature baby names for both genders. I would never use it, but it’s very interesting. And I like rivers in general. I like to hear them lapping, I like to dip my feet into a river. We have a river running through our backyard. As you may remember from my earlier posts, because we have the river running through our backyard, and because our street is literally called Acacia Street, we named our house, even if it’s not common in Poland, and its name is Acacia River.

And I like how this word is versatile and can give a lot of space for your imagination.

I can say that my mind is a river – of neverending thoughts, dreams and memories. They can be calm and gentle one minute, I can hear its waters splashing peacefully and playfully, I often let the water carry me wherever it wants, and sometimes would like to never have to come back from wherever it brings me to. Because the river of my mind can bring me to some very nice, interesting places, where I could never be otherwise. I happily drift at its waves, immersing myself in the water, which feels so very smooth and calm, and I am happy to play in it like a child.

The next minute though, it can become very unpredictable. It’s more like a sea than a river then. I can suddenly feel there is more and more water around me, and it’s hard to get out. The splash becomes deafening, I can’t hear anything besides. The waves surround me and it’s harder and harder to fight them, IΒ  can fall over anytime. My thoughts are racing, memories overflowing, and I can’t have any control over them. My most beautiful dreams become the most dreadful nightmares which overwhelm me so that I can barely move. Sometimes, everything around gets flooded too. Once in a while, through the mad roar of waves, I can hear someone jauntily sailing by. I want to scream to them, ask them to rescue me and help me out, but I can’t. Even if I could, there’s way too much water all around, and waves are roaring, so they wouldn’t hear me. All I can do is wait. Sometimes, I feel I’m sinking and there is just no way out and will never be. I subside into the mud and the waters are closing above me, not willing to let me out. It feels scary. Even though you’re at the bottom, your darkest thoughts, saddest memories, scariest dreams, your depression and all your anxieties, they can still reach you. And now you can’t fight. So you have to wait…

Eventually, the water will always throw me ashore and let me go, which doesn’t make it less difficult and frightening, but always gives me some small glimmer of hope that it will be better.

And then, after all, things get back to normal for some shorter or longer time, and the river of my mind is peaceful and safe again, with some occasional stronger waves flooding through it, until another storm comes.

What would you compare your mind to?

Question of the day.

What’s the nicest/kindest compliment anyone has ever paid you?

My answer:

When I had a Polish blog, my friend from an online community for the blind where I had it, told me that the only thing that she likes to read more than my blog is “The Three Musketeers”, which is her favourite book. Although I am not a big fan of Alexander Dumas, like I’m neutral about his books, he’s a very well-known and estimated writer and I found it a big honour, but also a bit funny, that my posts were being compared to Dumas’s prose. πŸ˜€

Also, my penfriend compared my writing to Astrid Lindgren’s, that it has a similar feel in a way, which I find even more kind the more that I love Astrid Lindgren so much!

How about you? πŸ™‚