alivingolive

[alivingolive]

First of all, whose idea was it for Billy Joel to be born so long before me? Now I’m stuck in a timeline where I’m frantically hoping he doesn’t call it quits before I can see him live (IT SUCKS 😣)

I’ll admit, there’s a certain charm in being late to the party—like finding a book everyone’s read and realizing it’s every bit as good as they said. That’s how his music feels to me: timeless. 

So.. this leaves me with no choice but to dive headfirst into a very enthusiastic (and probably incoherent) rant about his music.

This is probably just me and my low-level understanding of music (i'm self-aware, okay?), but I’ve never experienced anything like his discography before.

Usually, I’ll find one or two songs I love, a few I like, and the rest are... there. But with his works? Well, I’m not saying every single track is a masterpiece (calm down, super fans), but liking almost 90% of someone’s work? That’s unheard of for me.

Maybe I just don’t “get” other artists, or maybe I’m just clueless about music. Either way, he’s different. I’m over here liking entire albums. Who does that? Is this what having standards feels like? 

Now, after hours of unnecessary self-inflicted stress (and questioning whether I even understand what “favorites” mean), I’ve landed on a top three.

Is this ranking stable? Absolutely not. But for now, these are the songs I’m obsessively replaying while pretending this choice isn’t tearing my soul apart. Let’s unpack them while I still believe in my own decisions. (spoiler: i don’t)

Got to Begin Again is the first. This song doesn’t just ask you to feel; it demands it. And I’m not usually the type to be all lyric-driven, but this one? It kind of broke me.

The whole thing feels like it’s saying, “Look, life sucks, but it’s cool. You’re fine... Probably.” (notice the optimism dripping off that word) And the melody? It’s like the universe is both yelling at you and patting you on the back at the same time.

I don’t know how he managed to create the musical equivalent of a therapist with zero solutions but a really good playlist, but here we are.

And Going to Extremes? Don’t even get me started.

“And if I stand or I fall, it’s all or nothing at all.”

That line is so ridiculously good it makes me want to get up and do something dramatic—like, quit my job, burn a bridge or two, and then confidently walk into… I don’t know, the nearest cafe? Because I didn’t plan that far ahead.

For exactly four minutes and twenty-three seconds though, I’m convinced I’ve got life all figured out.

Then there’s 52nd Street. I’m not even going to try and pretend I understand what’s happening in the music (do me a favor and listen to the 1:02-1:19 part)

I don’t know why it works, I don’t know how it works, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel—but wow, does it work.

It’s so perfect it makes my brain short-circuit. It’s the musical equivalent of staring at a masterpiece in an art gallery and thinking, “I don’t get it, but I love it.”

And... it’s frustrating because I know just enough about music to know that I know nothing (cue existential dread) Like, how does someone even create something like this? It’s so good it feels unfair.

But here’s the thing: I’ve always loved music—it’s been a big part of my life—but now it feels different. For the first time, I feel like I want to do something with that love for music.

Like, he’s set some kind of invisible bar that I have no business trying to meet, and yet, here I am. It’s not about connecting with people or becoming the next big thing, though. Honestly, I don’t care if no one ever hears it (definitely a lie)

But.. I want to take all the messy, confusing, slightly chaotic parts of me and turn them into something that makes sense—something that sounds like me (no clue how to do that)

So yeah, he’s officially turned my interest in music into an existential crisis. I’m supposed to be figuring out how to do something with this inspiration, but instead, I’m writing yet another long-winded Tumblr post about him while procrastinating on literally everything else in my life.

[alivingolive]

Friendships are weird, huh?

One minute, you’re bonding over that time you both got way too dramatic over your exes’ text messages and mocking each other’s cringey phases. Next, you’re sitting across the table like strangers, thinking, “Wow, we used to talk every day” (you didn’t, but nostalgia loves to gaslight)

No messy arguments or dramatic speeches, just this subtle understanding: it’s done.

Not because anyone screwed up, but because there’s a gap now—one that no amount of, “Ayo ketemuan” texts will bridge. Some friendships simply come to an end, and maybe that’s okay.

The tricky part? Not feeling guilty about it.

It’s easy to spiral and wonder, Was it me? Did i not reply to their IG story enough? But maybe nothing went “wrong”

People grow, life shifts, and sometimes, friendships quietly unravel without anyone yelling, “I hate you!” in all caps.

Funny thing is, we’re sold this idea that friendships are unshakable—ride-or-die forever. But no one warns you about the ones that fade, not from drama, but from... not explaining yourself anymore.

It’s like both of you slowly stopped trying, and suddenly, all the plans and bucket list ideas are just wistful what-ifs.

Connections are supposed to feel easy, not like you’re cramming for a final because you forgot to study all year.

Sure, effort’s great, but when you’re just showing up because “we’ve been friends too long" you’re not really connecting—you’re just dragging a dead horse through the finish line (spoiler: it’s not winning any races)

It’s in those moments you start questioning whether the connection is still mutual or just muscle memory.

And if it's the latter, maybe that’s normal. Not every friendship is a lifelong saga. Some are seasonal. Some are situational. Some are just perfectly fine until one of you stops needing to vent about your ex. That doesn’t make them less real or valuable—it just means they served their purpose.

Still, it makes you wonder: Do we really need to save every friendship? Or is it fine to let some fade without overthinking it?

Maybe this is just a phase. Or hormones. Probably hormones. 

But as I scroll through old group chats, one thing’s clear: every friendship leaves a mark.

Even the random ones, the messy ones, and the “How did we even become friends in the first place?” ones.

They’ve all shaped me. Some taught me to laugh at myself, others taught me to listen. (and a select few taught me that I should never text after 11 PM)

Would I immortalize these friendships with some cool tattoos? Probably not. But if I’ve become a better, more self-aware person (or just someone who finally knows what “boundaries” means), it’s because of these people.

So here’s to the friends who aren’t here anymore. You were part of the journey, and you helped me become slightly less of a mess.

PS. And honestly, you left me with a pretty solid collection of inside jokes and memes, so I guess that’s something.

xoxo, olive

[alivingolive]

I am not the perfect daughter, sister, friend, coworker, stranger, ex, girlfriend—you name it. In fact, I’m probably doing a terrible job at most of them. 

I make mistakes—some I can laugh at, some I’ll try to forget but probably never will (special thanks to my brain for the constant cringe moment reruns)

I trip, I fall, I stutter. My intentions? Not always great. I might sound mean when I don’t mean to, or I might care way too much (at least it’s never boring)

I cry more than I should, and it’s not always for the right reasons. Sometimes I talk too much, sometimes too little. I might annoy you, or I might just forget you exist for a bit—your call. 

I laugh at things that probably aren’t funny (it’s a problem), and I apologize for things that don’t need an apology (help)

I stress out, then forget about it 5 minutes later ’cause I’m too busy obsessing over something I said in 2017 (it’s a full-time job)

I have dreams, but right now they seem like more work than I’m ready to put in—so, procrastination it is.

I’m a walking contradiction—imperfect, yet somehow still managing to exist (well, “managing” might be too strong a word, but you get the idea)

I’m unapologetically human—messy, complicated, and occasionally lost.

And even though I don’t have everything figured out, I’m still here, trying (mostly because giving up would be way too dramatic, and honestly, what else is there to do?)

Perfection is a myth, and honestly, I think we all know that by now.

And life... well, it doesn’t make sense, and none of us really know what we’re doing (please tell me i am not the only one)

We’re all just trying to make it through without completely screwing things up and embarrassing ourselves too much. 

If you're feeling like a mess, well, join the club. And honestly, what’s the alternative? Sit around waiting for things to magically fall into place? Nah, I’d rather keep moving and see where this all goes.

But at the very least, I’d like to say I’ve lived this thing, not just survived.

So, why don't we embrace the chaos and actually live while we’re at it?

I hope you’re with me (not that I’m giving you a choice, but still)

xoxo, olive