I just had a conversation with another friend, and here is what encapsulates it all:

"Now, let it work; mischief, thou art afoot, take thou what course thou wilt!" – William Shakespeare

Life is so short and I take everything so seriously. I think it is a very Russian trait. As it stands, if this is indeed the time of changes and 'i shall overcomes', then I am better served to add some levity to my routine. I think it may be time for a Monty Python marathon in the coming weekend.

Some days you realize that not everything can be fixed. And far from everything is within your control. Also, that other people can be a bit like planets moving within their own trajectories and following their own gravities.

I took astronomy a couple of times. The second time was an online class which qualified as a GE credit for my university, but I was also an employee at the online department of the college I was taking it at. Which, incidentally, put me in reach of all answer books for online quizzes and exams. I am sorry to say but my integrity was severely tested by such circumstance. I passed the class muster. I also helped myself to the answer book once.. or twice..well. Let's just say that I did not retain much of that class.

That said, I have always had a fascination with astronomy and things celestial. And I can still remember meteor showers in the mountains above Montreux.. walking up the path in complete darkness, touching the cliff walls for guidance, with a shooting star flashing every second or so.

If you were a planet, what would you be? Or, if not a planet, would it be a star? A gas giant?

I think I would probably be a comet. Fire and ice,  a traveler, somewhat of a loner and occasional catalyst. It's not that I want to be one, but it seems that a number of choices I have made so far in life have led me to become one.

Living hurts. And oftentimes it's hard to remember that just like with physical pain which is the body's message, being alive and discomfort are almost synonymous. The more unsure one is of what tomorrow brings, the more aliveness is allowed in.. but it's messy, unpredictable and raw to the senses.

Tonight, after a stormy 24 hours, things are simple an I cherish them:

a few hours spent in company of a luminous person who is a dear, dear friend and soul sister.

a birthday gift sitting next to me: rainer maria rilke's Book of Hours, which makes me want to give German a second chance.

 an opportunity looming;

a bed. A temporary place to call home.

a few days to rest, regroup, reconsider, reassess. And go for it. Again.

London calling.

"I live my life in widening circles

that reach out across the world.

I may not complete this last one

but I give myself to it."

(RM Rilke)

I had a night of really vivid dreams. I wish I remembered what they were exactly. I keep telling myself I’ll keep a dream journal and seem to always forget. If anytime, I should do it now… I have some important choices to make at the moment, and as usual, my access to my intuition is far worse when a number of important things are at stake. When it’s something casual, or has to do with someone else, my ability to follow the ‘small voice that never leads us into folly’ is unparalleled. Perhaps I get it now why the majority of psychics or intuitives can do it for other people, but not for themselves. There is not enough separation to be able to do it for yourself..

Anyway, if we truly do get messages in our dreams, I wish I could remember mine better at the moment.

But what I do remember was that I was embarking on a journey, I think. Maybe. I am not sure of the scenario, but the country or the dimension I was about to get to was called ‘Unfamilira’ or something of the kind. Which, of course, is basically ‘unfamiliar’. Nice one!

Why do I start a lovely, sun-kissed morning by writing in my blog, one may ask? Well, there are a few reasons, I am sure, but the main one is: it calms me down. A cup or two of tea, and words on a page do me a world of good.

In a recent conversation with my mom, it did come up that had I become a marine biologist (which was my aspiration when I was about twelve), my life would have had a lot fewer ups and downs. Well, some stability, yes. And some stability of the financial sort, as well. Oh my, what is that, exactly? I am not familiar with it.

I said: ‘mom, but do you really think that I would have been happy to be in a lab somewhere, living a quiet and normal life? Knowing my nature, I’d probably be somewhere on a boat with Greenpeace, with the Japanese placing me in handcuffs’.

As it stands, though, I don’t know if it is the artist in me that has created the storms and upheavals in my life over and over again, or if it is, indeed, the artist that has helped me get through them and stay reasonably sane. I have a very mercurial nature. Writing – be it poetry or songs – solidifies me somewhat and grounds me. If I didn’t have that… not good.

I am currently more and more in wonderment of what is going on in the world in terms of connectivity and technology. On a bad day, I have to remind myself, unequivocally, that I am incredibly blessed to be here now, with my music coming into its maturity. The ability of a song – like a message in a bottle – to reach one person, has now become a way to reach thousands or millions in minutes or days. It is a unique point in history. And also, it seems to me, a time where the fact that I am more and more prolific each day in my songwriting is finally a blessing, rather than a curse. In the coming days and weeks, my songs will go out there, like bits of emotional code, to be read and interpreted by people of all walks of life.

Today I went to have a coffee with my best friend. Since I am a temporary Venice, CA dweller, I do partake – very occasionally, since it is heinously expensive – of the local coffeeshop 's wares. The coffee – well – BAR – is called Intelligentsia. It is populated by smart and deceptively casually dressed successful professionals – and their dogs, who are always well-groomed. Plus a zillion Mac laptops. Someone should take a picture of this place and email  to Steve Jobs. Maybe I will do so. This is currently my 'elly is going to go have a treat' coffee moment, since the coffee is really stellar but it is very pricey. All in all, the design, ambiance, people-watching and being outside, plus tasty brew make for a destressing experience.

Not today, however. As I walked in and spotted my friend and then ordered a latte from the 'barrista', I turned around and walked smack into one of the two former most significant relationships in my life. Who was walking in and wearing a green jacket. Who I had not seen or exchanged a word with in the recent, say…oh… 3 years. At least. Who I figured to be back in New Zealand, happily putting sheep out to pasture (oh, just an attempt at a joke, he is – or was – an IT sort of guy).

It was a strange moment. We exchanged a hello and it turned out that he lives here, and has lived here, for all this time. Santa Monica, namely, while I live in Venice. After an awkward moment or two (and why in the world did I volunteer to give him a hug, I have no clue) we parted ways, and I returned to my friend, who upon seeing a fixed and nervous smile on my face, inquired: 'who was it?'

How strange it is that we can spend so much time with someone, then part ways and one day cross paths again as complete strangers. Is that one of life's greatest ironies: that we search for connection and being able to share and be shared, and yet after sharing space, time and ourselves with someone, we shed those lives like an old skin? Some people can do that better than others, I guess. But then, in order to make a place for the present or the future, oftentimes it seems that we need to let go of the past. Funny how that wisdom is commonplace: I mean, it makes us sound like containers of sorts; it's very physical. It's like saying that a human emotional space is closely related to one's wardrobe: if you want to fit new clothes in, take the old ones out first. A touch of spring cleaning for the heart.

That makes me wonder: could you tell one's emotional patterns by the way they treat their stuff? Some people hang on to their old things forever. Others are happy to clear out and start again with the season.

It has been that kind of week or two: a week of ghosts of my Christmas past. I am starting to feel a definite affinity for mr. Scrooge and the stress he must have gone through. The closer I get to my birthday, too, the more of them seem to pop out of the corners, and my ex was just one of them.

To be completely truthful, at the moment L.A. is the last place in the world I wish to be. In a way, it is a relief of sorts that I will be in Hudson recording throughout New Year's Eve, almost. When I come back, it will be 2010. I just have to keep myself sane for the next week and a half, and it appears that I'll have access to a studio starting next week.. which means I'll be able to closet myself away and work, immerse myself in music and the time will fly by. Is that sad? But recently, two things create a buffer between myself and anxiety: music and creative writing. Hence, this blog and now. Hence, more poetry. And a third thing: my best friend, whose insight and kindness never fail to astonish me..

I played a song at a book launch party last night, for a lovely human, writer and fledgling friend, Jessica Bendinger – who among other things wrote screenplays for 'Stick it!' and 'Bring it on'. Her book 'The Seven Rays' is out now and in stores. There is a soundtrack attached to it, and my song 'Alchemist' is on it. Last night, though, I ended up performing one of my poperatic songs, namely Odi et Amo, and it was fun.. the piano at Chateau Marmont is old and a touch rickety, the audience was taken by the operatic bits and it was a lovely experience. However, I realized once again how much I dislike going to parties with large numbers of people I do not know. It exhausts me, somehow. Or maybe I am just Scrooge this holiday season. Yes, that's probably it. Also, I am starting to notice a distinct pattern, especially here in LA, which is chock full of gorgeous and tall people (I am 5.7 and I don't consider myself especially tall. Last night there was a whole bunch of models there): boys who would normally look straight through me prior to my bursting into song, all of a sudden decide I am the world's most fascinating creature upon hearing me do so.

Perhaps it is just what a friend's friend said last night after I shared my above insight:' oh, it's just, you know, kind of like that unwashed and grumpy guitar player in a rock-band. If you spot him in a crowd, you wouldn't give him a second glance. But then after you see him rock it on stage, you can't help but wanna just…well… '**** him.' Oh great: thanks.

Hmmmm… in words of another friend: 'What?? Elly, you can't date a groupie!! What are you thinking?'

sigh. This line of thought just brought me back to my green jacketed ghost of Christmas past and something he said a long time ago in one of my moments of insecure petulance: ' but I am not in love with Elly the artist. I am in love with the person'. Perhaps I get it now. But perhaps not, because it seems that with passage of time that line between myself and what I create is becoming more and more blurry and less distinct. Perhaps I am creating what I become. Or vice versa.

Holidays terrify me. I know it's something rather extreme to say, but in the years of living on my own and traveling, being away from Russia, I have acquired a significant amount of holiday baggage. I am sure many people have it. Mine is not particularly helped by the fact that my birthday is the day after Christmas. On this day time time around I will be in the air across country, flying back to NY to finish my acoustic record.

Would I rather be elsewhere? I don't know. Maybe. But probably not. This year was all about connecting the dots for me as an artist and a person, growth and progress. On this birthday I'd rather be traveling for 11 hours; on my way to finishing something important and ending the year on a note: 'and this was the year I recorded my full acoustic album'. Yes. Maybe I'll celebrate the special day by a Guinness on a cold Hudson evening (I hope it has been snowing because I am in the mood for some white christmasy stuff) at around 11:30 PM eastern time. On December 26th..