Hi guys, it's been a long time, I know!
Ever since I came to London, I absolutely had no desire to write anything at all, not even my personal diary, which is like, super-strange and absolutely not like me at all; as I always need a outlet for my feelings and thoughts (I kind of have that paranoia that if I do not do this, I'll burst sooner or later, no doubt about it).
As for London, my feelings are...mixed. I don't hate it altogether as some of my friends here do, but I definitely must agree that the city is completely overrated. But to explain why I came to this conclusion it will take it's own blogpost, so to those who are actually interested in my opinion, please have a little more patience and joyfully wait for my next post, as I surely will cover that matter as the main topic. Those who are rather interested in my Au Pair (and other) experiences, I also have to ask you guys to bear with me for a while, as for today I'd rather want to talk about a decision I made and about a truth that stroke me:
Have you ever heard of Hecate? If the answer is no - neither had I! I only know the name and, the meaning behind this name, because the gorgeous Fender CD320 ASCE acoustic guitar in my room now bears that name. Yes that's right, I bought myself a late birthday present for my 20th birthday, which I named "Hecate". Although, in Hecate's case it was rather "making a pact" than "buying her". I am, without a doubt, of the opinion that some things become just so much greater by the moment they are given a name. That is, because by the moment a thing is given a name, it ascends from a thing to an individual. An individual with unique features and personality; an individual with a soul. Imagine you would be called "human" all your life. In my opinion, that would be horrid! Maybe it's not the name entirely that makes you an irreplaceable, unique individual; but it certainly is the starting point for that process. I do not know wether that belief of mine that things should have names as well (my Iphone is called "Karl" by the way) originates from the tradition of my mothers' and I to name our cars ( I still can remember our first car I was to name, Felix, vividly), but I really think it gives you a connection to that certain object you otherwise would't have; it becomes more special and dear to you. But back to the story:
Ever since I came here, I came to different conclusions and grew certain about various things (and about the same amount of thing I grew uncertain about); and one of these certain conclusions I made was that I cannot go on without music in life (a fact we all(at least all my friends and regular visitors of this blog) already know), and, that now finally the time has come I have no more excuses to postpone my starting to play the guitar to later has come. In fact, the urge to get into the possession of a guitar became overwhelming, and as days passed by almost unbearable. Therefore I did a little research and found out that there is something like little Eden for all music lovers in London, namely an inconspicuous little street in Soho called "Denmark Street"; which basically only consists of music shops for all kinds of instruments, music pubs and CD and record shops. By the moment I set foot in this rather dim, sombrely looking street, I knew that this was going to be my favourite place, but I was sure of it when I set foot into the first music shop. I started on Monday with trying out different guitars in different shops, asking the most basic questions (greenhorn as I am) and spent the whole week agonising about whether I should buy an Epiphone I really liked but that was slightly over my budget or going for a Fender model as I grew certain of the fact that Fender felt best and most comfortable for me. Furthermore I wasn't sure wether I should buy my guitar to be at Regent Sounds (where a friendly (and rather hot-looking, Rock version of Brad Pitt like) vendor explained everything to me in detail and really was eager to get me the best guitar for my money) or at Wunjo Guitars( Where the most sympathetic Scotsman you can possibly imagine, Bryan - apparently the shop owner himself - showed and explained me over an hour the differences between particular guitars and showed me my very first chord(e minor) ) .
On Friday I went to Denmark street again, visiting the rest of the shops I haven't been so far; but in the end I landed at Regents Sounds and Wunjo Guitars again. Neither Bryan nor the Back to Black version of Brad Pitt were there on that day, but when I passed by Wunjo's, the very same vendor who'd later sell me my very first guitar already looked me in the eyes and showed a foreseeing smile. It wasn't love at first sight, as I had already tried out a Fender CD320 on monday, but when I hold Hecate in my hands and strummed my e minor (the only chord I knew) with all I had, it just made 'click' and I knew I was going to buy THAT exact guitar. On surplus I treated myself to a rather expensive hard case (which was absolutely crucial as I knew it had to be flight-proof and the vendor recommended me this one) and while Steve, another vendor, got my hard case from the storage (he only did so because Charlie, yet another vendor, was, according to Steve when asked about his whereabouts,"out riding the f*cking unicorns or whatsoever" - I liked him on the spot) I had a little chitchat with the guy about to sell me my guitar and got to know that his sister apparently had been to Osaka for several months - I knew we had a connection!;P
While driving home with my new enrichment of life I grew certain of the fact that my guitar needed to have a name. The first word that popped up in my head was "the witch". Well, that's not a name. "Bruja"? Neither did I buy her in a Spanish speaking country, nor is Fender a Spanish maker, nor am I able to speak Spanish - apart form "té negro con leche frio por favor" and some other scraps of Spanish I dealt to remember from the ten weeks I spent in Mexico when I was six years old. Then I thought about what is connected to a witch: The wood. Wood was good since she is completely made out of solid wood. So, Vivienne (in allusion to Vivienne Westwood)? I like the queen of anarchism, but I don't fancy the name for a guitar. So maybe Diana(in allusion to Lady Di and the goddess of hunting and the forrest)? Too posh, but nice direction. When I was at home, I researched Artemis, the Greek equivalent of Diana, and thanks to Wikipedia stumbled upon yet another equivalent of the two: Hecate.
Hecate was apparently highly appreciated by Zeus because she was the only Titan helping Zeus to win against her own kind and was therefore granted the same powers as Zeus. She is ruler over sky, earth and sea, or alternatively heaven, earth and underworld. She's goddess of the moon and protector of women, she is able to give and take away everything from humans, and she's the goddess of crossroads and decisions, often displayed holding a torch or keys, and her familiars are dos and dragons. When I read this, I was like: Yeah, that's the perfect fit.
So all i need to do now is getting myself a good teacher and practise, practise, practise. but the best thing is that we'll get better together, literally: Because the CD320 models are made out of all solid wood(spruce on top and mahogany on side and back), their sound will only get better over the years and develop; just as with a good wine.
Well, that's it about my new guitar (I would have never imagined one could write that much about a guitar - seems like I'm already a maniac!), so the second thing I wanted to write about was about my chance of seeing Brad Pitt.
It happened to be the last day of the London Film Festival (BFI) to which I sadly enough couldn't go because the tickets were sold out. Anyway, I totally forgot about it and when some of my friends and I were walking to Leicester Square I was like "Ooh yeaaah!.. " because there was a bunch of excited people. My friends really wanted to go there, and I agreed with them that the whole matter was rather exciting. But after the first excitement about seeing a red carpet with actual stars and starlets on it, I was like "Hmm, well, it's nice to see them, but we're pretty far away anyways and originally we wanted to grab some food, right?" Of course, the other two desperately wanted to see Brad Pitt, even if they weren't even sure wether he'd be there or not. Hungry? Food is overrated anyways. Well, be it because I've talked with the sexy Hobo/Rock version of Brad Pitt for hours a few days ago on Denmark street or not, I simply couldn't look at Logan Lerman (Perks of being a wallflower) and think of him as something more special than the sweaty tourist on my right or the two Italian hipsters on my left. As fabulous an actor as he may be, in the end he is nothing but a mere, simple human just as everyone else. And I couldn't convince myself that the case would be another with Brad Pitt. Delicious Japanese food or maybe a glimpse of Angie's Hubby? Just when I almost had left Leicester Square to grab myself something at Japan centre, I heard a ruckus, looked at the monitor and saw..well, Brad's back. "Well," I thought, "at least he's bringing the sexy back." and left in direction Piccadilly Circus; wondering about what I should buy for dinner. I always imagined premieres, opening- and closing nights to be fabulously exciting, but when I looked at all the fanatics waiting to catch a glimpse of a slightly more well known face with a slightly better income, I seriously felt disgust. If Brad Pitt had become a rich banker he'd still be handsome and rich, but nobody would faint at sight just because of his presence. Don't misunderstand me - Brad Pitt is one of my most respected actors - but I don't get why he should be any different from the rest of the world. I can't 100% say that the case would be the same if there was, say, Jared Leto or Miyavi up there, so I kind of empathise with the crowd of today (although I love these people mainly because of their music rather than because of their acting), but I seriously just felt unexitement about today and I was shocked and disappointed about my unexcitement. I felt cheated myself out of an Image I had in my head and rather cooled off. But then again I was glad for that experience because now I know it's not that big deal after all, even if the same evening must look totally different depending on what side of the security guards and fences you are standing.
I don't want to drag things out and I apologise for not having a fancy last sentence or splendid way to end this post, but thank you anyway for reading so far an just give it a think!:)
See you soon,
your cheeky devil