[Annoyed]
is not the best mood to be in.
It's difficult to understand from the outside, not an emotion to evoke sympathy the way [sad] can, or fear the way [anger] does.
Like a parasite it begins small and undetected. Then, a blink of the eyes later, and it has latched on and taken possession of all you think and feel. Suddenly, everyone and everything grates against your every nerve like sand paper. You find yourself behaving out of character. And, justifying this behavior because you're in a bad mood- therefore, it's okay... but it's really not, because no one else understands your feelings of aggravation, and you are inadvertently spreading your annoyance to others.
Today I am annoyed. The reasons range from fairly logical to completely silly, but don't blame me. I just hope you don't catch it.
I want a T.V.
khjwqfhef!
The lady protests too, too much.
I heard many vicious rumors about Milan before arriving here. I heard it was ugly, industrial. Didn't have much, just modern... Looked like any other city in any other place.
My personal verdict?
All those rumors, like most, had their truth. But- here's my revelation: Milan is Italy's best kept secret. More and more, I find myself becoming attached to this "ugly industrial city". When I leave and travel elsewhere, I find myself eager to come back. In Milan, I constantly discover new people, places, and things unlike anything I could even hope to dream of. I believe Milan keeps Italy's head above water, saves this ancient beauty from drowning in own former glories. Pasta sauce and Renaissance art have their merit [I find both amazing], but the current times call for something a bit edgier. Parlez-vous design? Milan does, but seems to me the rest of Italy still babbles on in Latin and communicates via smoke signal. [Scusa, a bit harsh, perhaps?] The Sistine Chapel left me speechless, but the Triennale Design Museum in Milan boggles my mind as well.
Do you see this bracelet above? Someone made that, and this jewelry out of paper. PAPER. The shit you blow your nose with. The flimsy thing receipts get printed on. The worthless material most commonly found in any and every household. Riddle me that. I love Michelangelo. I love Donatello. I love Botticelli. I love Da Vinci. But- I also love whatever punk ass kid spray painted all the vending machines and urinals at the metro station a few blocks away.
I am not entirely sure what this man's real name is. He is a French illustrator. He is the newest person I have fallen in love with. The universe he has created, Maniac World, is filled with the characters he draws, the Maniacs. Depicting daily life- only with a dash of fairy tales, a hint a immaturity, and a good heap of morbid humor. Drooping, colorful, absurd... Completely postmodern. Cured my annoyance, partially.
Whenever people ask what generation or era I wish I had been born in, I always say this one. We get the most awesome things + all which came before. Forget happiness, I'm on the pursuit of cool, if anything comes along the way, that's alright then I suppose.
Oh hey!
Represent, Represent.
Everybody thinks they're so fucking neat.
And I'm giving up on everything because...
I know everything sucks, Whoa.
I know everything sucks, Yea.
And this is gonna be the last time you hear me complain*
-Reel Big Fish.
♥ Lini.
*maybe.
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