Love in the time of corona

Ok so the title is and adaptation of the book “Love in the time of cholera” by one of my favourite writers Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I just remembered a funny story and made an adaptation with the situation we are facing today.

A few weeks back I was sleeping and through my weird dreams I hear music. At first is mixed with my dreams and then it becomes more and more a reality. I am half awake at some point and I have the feeling that there’s a party under my balcony (I live on the second floor and next to the building there are some villas). I really thought that some people wanted to continue the party (it was a Friday and it was after new year) so I said to myself that if I’d just close the balcony door (I keep it open for my cats) I’ll be just fine.

Done deal. I get up, I look at the time – 6 am – and then I go out on the balcony to see who’s the culprit. Nothing under the balcony, no movement, no lights on and yet the music is super loud and it has a lot of bass. Then I notice between the trees that on the street there’s a car and the music is coming from there. First thing that crossed my mind is what sound system he has on to produce that kind of quality. Then I get pissed. I hear voices and then I think that there are some drunken people who stopped their car in the middle of the road and they continue the party.

But don’t they see the buildings around? Don’t they think that people are disturbed? Anyway beyond my understanding why they’re there.

Music starts to fade a bit and I’m like “Yeah” I’ll go back to bed. I close the balcony door and jump back in the bed. It’s still warm and inviting. I’m almost back on track and then boom, the music is louder.

Wtf! I mean it’s freakin 6 am! Go home douchebags! I go out on the balcony again and look towards the street to see what’s happening, who’s there. I want to check if screaming at them makes a difference. Probably not, the music is too loud. I have some apples; maybe I’ll throw them. What If I break something, I don’t want to get in trouble.

Anyway, I close the door again and try to sleep but now I’m angry and I can’t sleep. I’m thinking I should call the police but I can’t do this to fellow party people. Maybe if I were younger I would do the same.

Anyway I’m tired, I finished work very late the previous night and reached around 1 from my shift. And it was Friday! I was hoping I’ll sleep late and here I am at 6 in the morning forced to listen to music.

Next thing I know, I put on my fluffy robe on top of my pajamas and I’m out the door. I didn’t look in the mirror when I left and to my surprise I looked like a damn raccoon when I saw myself in the elevator mirror. I was too tired to remove my make up and now all my mascara was under my eyes. I looked like that chick from The Grudge. Anyway, this didn’t stop me and I continued my journey downstairs without actually having anything planned. I reach the ground floor and find the security and to my surprise the sound can’t be heard from here. Hmmm.

I tell him in one breath that there’s somebody playing loud music outside and he’s like “Where” and quickly rushes outside. I wait. He comes back and says that there’s nothing he can do because they’re on the main road. It’s public space. I obviously get angrier and decide I should go outside myself and sort things out. With my raccoon eyes.

Said and done. I walk towards the sound and there it is, a yellow Lamborghini only. No other cars. Next to the supercar there’s a dickhead who tries to be all romantic for one chick. And he hugs her and she giggles and tries to escape his hug playfully. And then he’s catching her back and she giggles some more.

In disbelief my brain goes like “you fucktards are high, not drunk and it’s a very dumb thing to do with a Lamborghini in JVC”.

I stop next to the car and they don’t even notice. They are drunk in love. Beyoncé will be proud. Goddamn. I say, “Excuse me!” Nothing, they are nose to nose like some freakin eskimos. I say, “Excuse me!” again and my voice is loud already and I think I made it clear. He turns and he freezes. She giggles like a drunken hen. They’re both fairly unattractive but I guess his lambo makes him very attractive to the little hen.

Anyway I asked them politely what the fuck they’re doing on the street waking up the whole neighborhood. Then I throw in the fact that I have a job like a poor and ordinary persona that I am and tell them that I would like to continue my miserable existence in peace and that my daddy, may his name not be mentioned, never spoiled me with riches and supercars.

They are frozen. None of them says a word. I pretend I get the number of the car and I turn and leave. As I turn I see the security, which probably saw the entire scene coming towards them like a rooster and telling them the party is over. Sorry friend your entry is very late. I did the job for you. Anyway, I go back to my crib and I think about what just happened and how funny the whole thing was.

I mean the guy tried hard, he stopped his lambo in the middle of the street and played some music trying to impress that girl because he probably didn’t have any place to take her or he was really in love, or really high, or both.

Anyway I give it to them that they managed to keep the romance alive in a difficult time like 2020 with all the war, the viruses and the economical crash. Good for you guys that you believe in love when clearly the apocalypse is coming. You guys are my heroes now and I’m sorry I ruined your lovey dovey scenario but I really need to sleep.

I wonder how funny is their story when they tell it to their friends…

Anyway, it’s all love and late night writing shenanigans. Peace!

Delete. Next!

Two thousand fuckin nineteen.

What a joke! What a disgusting year this has been.

Yes it’s true, years are good and bad. It’s absolutely true. Some bear luck and prosperity and some are barren like an old witch.

I am angry at this year because it tricked me. It tricked me just like a man I loved. And only those who I love trick me.

It tricked me from the beginning, even though I started my new year in a foreign country, alone in a square full of strangers while it was snowing like a motherfucker.

And there I am, picture this, my face red from the biting cold, my eyes like 2 stars, looking at the sky and wishing the year will be good to me, and wishing that I’ll manage to be better, and get better, and do better.

Just picture a stupid face in a crowd, hoping for fairy tales. That’s how stupid I am because you know how I finished this fuckin year? Out of my damn fuckin mind.

I’m not even going to celebrate anything. I’m just gonna wait for this nightmare to be over and sleeping my way into 2020. I don’t even want to hear the fuckin countdown at midnight.

It was a deceiving year. You might think you had something good and yet it was showing you only a dark side. You have something that you care for and then boom! Makes you want to hate it.

Thank God for friends. This is all I have to say about 2019. Thank God for those who truly care about me and thank you for putting up with my instability. Thank you for continuous and unconditional support.

I lost some people too because they pushed too much. I have no tolerance for people who try to create something out of nothing. I’m done. Everybody is grown up and they should be able to deal with their own shit and not put the blame of fictional problems on others.

This year was the year I lost my mind for good. The year I decided to make major changes in my life and I panicked along the way to a point were I broke down.

The year I loved a ghost and a pretender.

The year I cried most of my tears. I cried. I cursed my life on and on. And my roots, and my fuckin destiny. And the sins I have to pay for generations. I read in the bible that the kids pay for their parents’ sins til the third generation. It makes fuckin sense.

It’s an existence of torment, of not enough or of too much, of imbalance and of bitter taste. It’s an existence where I can’t enjoy anything without paying the price.

It’s an existence where I rebel against myself sometimes just to end up punishing myself.

It’s an existence where I am good at everything and yet I’m totally useless. The confusion reached such a level that my brain sunk in an abyss that was so dark and deep that I couldn’t see shit anymore.

I needed a grasp of air, or light any fuckin thing that can get me out if it and you know what’s the saddest part?

To keep fuckin smiling like you have no worries in the world. When the soul inside you is turning to ashes and you feel like cursing the day you were born.

This year has been like fishing. And I am the fucking bait. This year has swiped the floor with me and reduced me to nothing.

And yet I keep on acting like nothing is wrong and I know that are some people who truly believe that I have no worries in my life. That I live and laugh and joke and that this is my life. Just because I don’t throw myself on the floor ripping my hair off, it doesn’t mean I’m fine. Fuck this shit! I still hear people saying “you’re a party girl”, or “you have no family so no responsibilities”, or that “everything is smooth and easy”.

I have nothing to say to you, than to open your damn narrow minds!

Or just come be in my head for one day. House of terrors is a fuckin joke.

If it was for me, I would’ve had a family and kids and a dog in the backyard. I would’ve cooked everyday and cleaned the house. I would’ve gone to work and then back to my kids and husband but that doesn’t happen to everybody and it doesn’t mean it always should.

I am just afraid of ruining somebody else’s life, that’s it. And obviously it’s a reason why it didn’t happen. Anyway this is not what bothers me the most. This is just the social pressure, so present after a certain age.

You know what else happened this year. I was afraid. Afraid of many things, I panicked. And people think I’m tough and I can handle things but I’m just broken glass. I often hear people say “I thought you were tough!” well guess what, I guess it’s all just an act. I guess we all have to do what we need to do to survive. Probably that’s why people hate me when I love them, because I’m not tough anymore, because I would do anything for them. Because I’m fucking weak for them.

This year I complained more and I’m usually the one who says things will work out. Apparently not to myself.

This year I’ve been ungrateful and selfish. And I don’t like myself like that and probably that’s why I started a war with myself.

This year even though it seems I was successful, I wasn’t.

Again, this year is a master of illusions.

I hated myself this year and I let myself go. And I hated life.

And to end up in glory my Godfather passed away on my niece’s birthday on December 20th. Isn’t life a bitch?

It’s just like you are not allowed to have problems or complain about anything anymore. It’s like your problems are not real problems and you become a stranger more and more and more. To yourself too.

It’s like I’ve been reduced to nothing. I didn’t even take myself seriously. I thought exactly what others think, that I have no real problems, that as long as you are not responsible for others you don’t count. Well I’m responsible of my own and if I can’t take care of others at least I can take care of myself. I failed to do that too. So much negative bullshit we are ready to feed ourselves in a blink of an eye.

I’m just a castaway, that’s how this year made me feel. More than ever.

I’m not wishing anything for next year. Just to keep this fuckin smile on my face. And if I’m too harsh and if I’m wrong about feeling this way I hope the new year will prove me different.

Happy new year!

Lonely are those with no memories

After being bored out of my mind and utterly unimpressed with any fucking thing, here I am in a totally unimpressive club. At least I have good company. But all this while it felt like something is about to happen. That little rush was inside me and just at the point of making peace with the fact that nothing will happen and I’ll have to go to sleep as disappointed as I was the entire time, there he comes.

I see him walking through the crowd and our eyes lock and I don’t let go until he’s next to me. I let him make a few steps and then I turn to see if he turns. I said to myself “if he turns godammit that’s it” and guess what? I turn and he turns and we both smile knowingly. Of course I turn around and pretend it meant nothing to me but the countdown has started. When will he come and talk to me? Of course this kind of moments seem an eternity but I didn’t have to wait long.

Here he is saying “Hi” and so damned close to my face. He doesn’t say much he just grabs my hand and guides me a bit further away from my entourage. A lil shy there mister? The he asks for my name, his eyes locked in mine. And he just doesn’t let go. I do because I don’t usually like to stare this long at people. Haha

He likes my name and my eyes. Thanks, I got them both from my momma. He likes my dress. “Thanks” I say. I’m a bit too formal for the club though. The music is so loud and I’m 70% deaf so we have a prety awkward conversation with me asking 10 times to repeat what he said. He comes closer and he hugs me, eyes deep in mine, and then our lips lock. Soft. He tells me he’s an army man. “So young” it’s the first thing that runs through my mind. And so gentle. His eyes make his most noticeable feature but he has a pleasant face with a greek nose. It’s something about him that I really like, even though I expect every moment to be disappointed. I can switch in a moment from liking somebody.

My people left and there we are, locking eyes and kissing. He’s asking me what I want to do, if I’m gonna go to my place. I tell him “we’ll see later, let’s just go out of the club”. He holds my hand and we’re out. We walk around a little bit and looks at me expectantly. I pretend I have no clue what’s happening. He’s asking me if I want to have a drink in his room. In my mind it’s the usual “yeah, here we go that’s the cliché”. But I don’t want the night to end and I like his company, and I can always leave if I don’t like it anymore. And heck, I’m far from home.

We go to his hotel and he never lets go of my hand. We reach and of course he starts tidying up. Men! Just leaving everything upside down. Even army men make no exception when they’re on holiday. He pours a drink while I admire the beautiful view. It’s a really beautiful view of a very decadent city.

He takes my hand again and he asks me if i like to dance. Well, of course. Next thing I know he plays a Latino song and tells me to remove my shoes. He then places one of my hands on his shoulder and then takes the other one and we start swaying around the room. Oh the man can dance! I giggle like a school girl. He takes the lead perfectly, he sways and swirls and turns me around like a pro. I absolutely love it. I don’t think I’ve been living a more delicious moment in my life.

We keep on doing this for at least half an hour, laughing and staring into each other’s eyes. And then we kiss…

We saw each other one more time before he flew, to a whole other part of the world but closer to my world. And today he told me he never met someone like me before.

You know what, I heard that a lot lately. And it’s the first time I can truly say it back.

Life is a collection of memories. Of course you have categories and types but you always have that corner of best memories. The ones you go through sometimes with warmth and a little melancholy but with absolute gratitude and fulfillment that they happened in your life.

It’s all love and writing shenanigans. Peace!

The muse comes, but mostly goes

Sometimes I look at couple’s pictures and I try to find that sparkle, that something that keeps them together. That privacy that only people who are accomplices in love have it. Yeah I spend some time looking at their pictures, because that’s the only thing I have, especially when they are not people I know directly. Or sometimes it’s somebody I like and I didn’t know he/she had a partner and then try to see if they match their levels of reciprocating. Of course pictures are not reality. I know people who never posted pictures of them together and when you see them in real life they are the happiest.

But I realized that I like to make scenarios in my head. I mean if I like the person I want their partner to love them crazy, because in my opinion they deserve it. If I have a feeling that their partner is cold I’m like “Hey, you need to shower my friend with love, you ungrateful potato”.

But yeah, this is one of my unusual hobboies. Weird yeah. I’m weird, is not news. I just want people to be loved as I think they deserve. And anyway is not that I’m the only one who loves scenarios. Everybody does. Especially when they are not in them and they can gossip about it.

There are a lot of people living other people’s lives because theirs is boring as fuck. I know a few and I directly talk about them. Haha, I wish I could name them. Oh! how much fun we’ll have!

It’s human nature, we want to see what’s happening in the neighbour’s backyard. If something exciting happens we feel alive. Boom! Time to live a bit! That’s why we like movies, books and gossip. It teleports us in parallel universes where exciting things happen. Not only exciting! Outrageous, shameless, on a level we can’t afford to reach.

Routine is a monster. We want scandal! If there’s none, we’ll make some! Scandal! Scandal! Or simple thrill.

Yeah we all have our buttons, our weirdness, our little turn-ons. We are stalkers, creeps, surveillance cameras, etc. We just don’t like to admit it.

Or we are just a few in this elite circle of weirdos. Mybe it’s just me. Maybe people are normal. Though I doubt it. Strongly, fiercly doubt it.

Rarely I get the chance to write about things I feel inspired about (I don’t know how to properly describe them). Those things that are really smart and witty, and light up like an idea bulb in your head.

Those are coming to me at the wrong time. Always! At the worst time! For example: in the shower (most of them, and by the time I’m out they’re gone), when I’m driving, in the gym, when I have a task to do (especially then), even during sex sometimes (that’s the worst).

So yeah, inspiration comes at the wrong moments and it’s long gone by the time you are ready to lay the words down. The paradox! And you know what’s the irony? That even the words that your brain masters at that time are of a rare quality. It’s like you’re a sensei of words, they make so much sense and are so fucking artistic and meaningful that you just have to stop for a minute and kiss your own forehead with the utmost pride.

And then, on the other side – the dark side, the sad side – when you actually prepare and sit down to write something, it’s not freakin working. It’s like your brain becomes all of a sudden retarded. It’s like when somebody asks you what’s your favourite something of all time and your brain is opening all the files at once or it just can’t find anything. Blank! And you’re just there like an idiot, mouth open. Brain.exe has stopped. You need to reboot the entire system.

So yeah, basically when you want to do something purposely it just doesn’t work. It’s always the case.

Oh, and we also live in an era of distraction. I want to write and next thing you know I’m deep on some thoughts about how I will help ONGs in Africa or I’m deep in videos of cats doing stupid shit. Or no shit. They are amazing. I love them. See, it’s that easy.

Anyway, it’s very easy to stop writing as well. I was trying to keep a constant pace and once I fell into the trap of “I’ll do it tomorrow” it’s “Hasta la vista baby!” and almost never “I’ll be back”! Please read in Arnold’s voice. Thank you!

All this being said I will go lurk on social media for a while.

It’s all love and late night shenanigans. Peace!

Chidi-ching-ching

I realized I’m not a very ambitious person. It didn’t take me long. I know this for a while because I feel the lack of it. Easy as it sounds.

I have no hunger for money even though I like nice things. Now that’s where the tricky part is. I do like comfort but I don’t like money in particular. I kinda hate it because it fuckin makes the world go round. I hate it because it causes poverty and war. I hate it because a bunch of hungry, selfish monsters rule the world. I hate it because it changes people. I hate it because it makes people discriminate other people. I hate it because it doesn’t buy things that are more important than material possessions.

My goal until now, was not to make money. My goal so far, was to enjoy my life. And you know what? I fuckin did mate. I have so many splendid memories and you know what? They’re fuckin free. Priceless. We should trade memories on the stock market because a lot of rich people don’t have them and they’ll pay good money for them.

And again, I just fell into the trap of selling. I just said we should trade memories which involves selling and buying and here I am in the money territory because they do fuckin make the world go round.

I don’t want to admit this. Buuuuut we can’t live without it after all. But we can choose what kind of life we want to live. Some things are meant to be done at a certain age. You all know what I’m talking about. Life is meant to be lived in some ways some times. Not always, but I’m just talking about the impact of some experiences. The intensity of them. You can’t do drugs at 70, makes no sense. OK bad example hahahaha it was just trying to make you get the point.

Moving on.

So, I was saying I am not an ambitious person. I love life and I love traveling and thank God I’ve been blessed and I’ve seen soooo many places. I left Romania when I was 21 and I never looked back. I didn’t make money anywhere else I lived and worked. Not in the UK, not in Greece and goddammit not in Dubai. I can file for bankruptcy anytime now. Ahahaha I’m watching too many Wall Street related documentaries recently.

I made money to live. I borrowed money and so on. I bought a car and I moved alone. These are my biggest accomplishments. Oh and of course visiting almost 20 countries. 1 more and I’m there. Oh God this the thing I like to do the most. Except packing and unpacking. Yuck! Sucks balls!

Oh I also don’t like branded stuff. Thank God, otherwise I would be very skinny. (I won’t eat in order to buy Louboutins. But I have a feeling I won’t give up on food for Louboutins). Ahahahah please this is a pamphlet, treat it accordingly

Anyway yeah I didn’t have grand financial accomplishments and my family thinks I’m a failiure mostly. You know, I can’t even keep a man and I’m not making good money on top of that. I also wasn’t able to catch a sheik in my net.

Again, family, take it easy! I was only talking about granpa. Gee I’m on a roll. A sushi roll.

Again going back. Damn you ADHD! Mixed with a bit of Tourette.

Going back Gabi, you can do it. Focus!

Do you guys read this with a funny voice inside your heads? This is how it’s supposed to be done. And role playing.

So yeah, I was just thinking that yeah I lived my life, I have great memories, bla bla, I am not such a bad person so maybe it’s time to, you know, swim a bit with the sharks, take a few risks.

And definitely I want to travel more so I need more money. And living along is expensive too, and having a car is expensive and breathing is expensive as well in Dubai. But worth it if you ask me.

Anyway, just wanted to share this. And I’m ending abruptly because I actually forgot my train of thoughts.

It’s all love and evening shenanigans. Peace!

Word omelet

Sometimes I think it will be nicer to write on paper. But when I do, I realize my brain is so much faster and my hand can’t keep up. But then we have keyboard prediction and text to speech and boom it’s easier.

But writing is about being in the mood.

OK so before I start, there’s a weird thing. When my domain was paid I didn’t have this much traffic. Now that my subscription is over I notice an increase in traffic. A notable one. I’m trying to write almost everyday to compare it with older posts and see the difference.

I go through drafts a lot. They’re silly some of them. It’s funny how infatuated you are about some things sometimes and then you go back just to laugh at yourself.

Some drafts are good. Some are jokes. They’re never gonna see daylight.

I love how my phone corrects my shit. I’m so sloppy and I hate to go back and check my grammar.

I’m thinking of monetizing this website, but obviously I’m too lazy to follow this through. Some adds won’t do no harm tho. But I’ll have to write a lot. Everyday. I don’t know if I can do that.

This is a post I’m writing right after I published yesterday’s post which was a draft from Feb maybe. Yeah, was feeling kinda victorious.

Anyway. I fell a bit into the well of memories and decided to reminisce some more.

*

He told me “Come help me fix my tie”. We both know what that means… Oh, but what a lovely little game! What a pleasant request!

And here I am, in front of you, pretending I’m so diligently fixing your tie. I’m not even looking into your eyes this is how much I’m into my play-pretend.

But I did see your lips. I do know your face. And I know you just keep it in for the sake of the game.

Not for too long, though.

“Kiss me” I hear all of a sudden.

And I’m not waiting for another moment…

Mhm, I take your face into my hands while you grab my waist and man do I kiss you!

*

See I would love to write fiction man but where the hell do I start? I’m no JK Rowling riding the train and then, boom! I write 7 books of Harry Potter.

I’m not even a Sandra Brown. At least not yet. From my tendencies I might be a pretty good one if I stick to it.

But I don’t want it cheesy and I don’t know if I can do it hardcore. There’s a niche of course, but you need to know a lot of words to describe the same feelings and actions on and on. I mean how would you describe multiple sex scenes throughout a book without repeating yourself? That’s a goddamn dictionary exercise.

Where does Stephen King gets all his stuff from? How much inspiration can be in a human being. Is it the alcohol? The tragedies in his life? Or is is just divine intervention in the sense of pouring talent in industrial quantities in some.

Anyway, dilemmas, dilemmas.

Hm, my laptop is not working these days and I live on my phone. I’m quite productive I’d say.

This is an absolute blab and I bored you all to death because you thought something will come out of it.

Nah, it’s just me talking to myself and sharing with you because, yeah, let’s admit it, I do like attention and I enjoy it!

It’s all love and evening writing shenanigans. Peace!

Victory in a trap

I get it man! I get it! I always get what I what with one condition. I can’t keep it! That’s the damn thing about this wicked life I call my own. It doesn’t make any sense, I know, but it does for me.

You see, I sometimes made it happen, I push for it or I get it just like that, out of thin air when I least expected it. But I always get what I want. When I don’t want it that badly, it always stays. When I want it the most, it never does. When I want it the most, it hurts me.

Then what’s there for me? I mean if I can’t have it because I want it, then what’s the solution. What can I have?

I don’t know about what I deserve, I’m not fooling myself that I deserve the best. I have my demons, made my mistakes. Made some terrible ones. I don’t even seek for forgiveness. This is how much I started to assume them. I just want things to be easy. Ok easiER. No that’s not the word, I don’t even believe in easy. Nothing in easy. Maybe you get lucky but it’s never easy. It’s always so goddamn nerve-wrecking. Anyway I don’t want it easier, I want it transparent.

It’s ridiculous how much we lack responsibility and honesty in our bones. I have a very short temper and I’m just like that, a bull in the middle of the arena or on the green fields. Doesn’t matter wich, I’m just a bull. Thick legs, always on the ground, freaking big horns, and ready for anything. I know there’s the sky above me and the ground beneath my feet. I know what I am and I do it my way. I can always become infatuated over a small thing but it’s ok. I think I somehow manged to control it over time. And I think the charm is lost.

I mean I love spontaneity because it’s so entertaining. It works for me. And it brought a lot of great things my way.

Leaving analogies behind, is not that I’m a very transparent person myself, but I’m true to myself at least. I don’t facbricate another person when I look in the mirror, I don’t fabricate it outside neither. I mean what’s the worst that can happen. You’ll never be able to please everybody. And who ever does that? No-freakin’-body.

And I always get the opposite. Anyway, the irony.

I always end up in a rant, with my feelings, the world, the universe. Each and every single one of us it’s an universe by default. If you could only disect a person to see the ideas, the feelings, the emotions. The colours…

Drafts from when I finally conquered you B.

P. S. Did you notice how much ADHD is in this text?

It’s not all love today, but the usual evening writing shenanigans. Peace!

The doers, not the sharers

Sorry but I can’t take it anymore. All this thing of sharing tragic videos of whatever animals, whatever motivational speakers, one sadder than the other just makes me lose it. You can think whatever you want of me but I’ll be damned if I’ll share any video that says cows don’t give milk without giving birth, chickens are victims for laying egss, let’s be vegetarian because you have to cut your own pig and because we are cavemen. Honestly we were doing just fine as cavemen. And there’s a freakin cycle in this world, isn’t it. Yeah tell me about elephants being extinct because fuckers want to sell ivory, tell me about the white rhinoceros, the white tigers and lions and the whales but come on, pigs and chicken and cows. Is not that I’m fuckin insensitive but it’s becoming such a soap opera.

We just need reasons to cry and feel pity. OK the world is going to hell, we can all see that. We are brainwashed, lied to and abused every single damn day and yet we add more to it.

You know who wins at this and who does it right? Those people who are actually doing things and not posting things. The winners are those people who planted millions of trees and restored the habitat in South America. Or those people who took care of pandas and breeded them until they’re not extinct anymore. Or Leonardo di Caprio for trying to clean the planet. The winners are those who DO.

The fuck you’re doing behind a screen thinking of yourself to be so righteous and a savior of this planet. Go clean the streets with the laborers and then we talk. Oh that’s degrading work for you isn’t it? You prefer to post videos from your super expensive phone / tablet / laptop.

Call me whatever man but a lot of things will be solved if all of us will just participate to this massive campaign of saving the planet and not only talking about it.

Don’t you think it will be more efficient to go on a recycling campaign every weekend than to go on social media.

Oh so the video reached 2 million people? Oh how many crying reactions to this! Oh the turtles are covered in plastic. But you know that you can go save them, right? And out of these 2 million people who actually gives a crap? Tell me! How many stop buying plastic bottles or get all their groceries without plastic bags. How many of them stop throwing their chewing gum or cigarette butts on the street. How many?

Oh so you did your part to saving the world by sharing a tearful video just to go back and do your usual shit.

And you know what bothers me the most. It’s the tragedy. Oh God the scenarios they come with. The commercials. Christ it’s doomsday and we are all murderers!

We can be educated through positive facts also. We can be educated by not being blamed.

I eat meat and I fuckin love it man. I’m not going to be hypocritical about it not a single damn moment. I love it, I wanna eat it everyday. I will not turn vegetarian because somebody is forcing me. First it has to be your own choice. If it’s a matter of religion or any belief you are into then I respect that to the max. But if you tell that I should be a vegetarian because it’s a trend and because I don’t know who says that, then I’m out.

And you can judge me. I honestly don’t give a damn. The power of positivity is way bigger and can actually make a change. Let’s get out there and change. We are fuckin 7 billion people. We can clean this place like it was never dirty.

And no, I’m not an example, I don’t do it but I also don’t try to make people cry at the sight of some super sad video.

I would love to help but I’m also a part of this millennial laziness and shitty lifestyle.

It’s a bit harsh I know and probably sounds absolutely cruel but I strongly believe that sharing dramatic social media content (that’s what it is after all, and it makes good money for some people by going viral) won’t magicly solve world’s issues. Honestly. Awareness can be brought in so many different ways.

And let me ask you, all these fancy commercial for these campaigns cost shit loads of money. Won’t this money help a cause better that going to the actors pockets? Just saying.

I was reading somewhere that one of Michael Jackson’s charity concerts raised so much money that could take Africa out of misery and yet see Africa today. Who freakin took those money? And all the charities ever made for Africa could have made it the richest continent and yet, look at Africa!

Let’s not just cry about it online. Let’s not just point fingers at those who eat meat or whatever petty millennial crime. Let’s DO something about it. I’m instigating to cleaning revolutions and rescue missions and going to the extreme.

But it’s more comfortable at home, I know, and balls are bigger online. I totally agree. Just don’t be hypocritical about it. Yeah we all got the planet in this state. Some more than others. I didn’t litter the planet by eating meat tho. And also it didn’t change the climate. Other factors did.

I’m ranting again. I’m not aiming at anybody in particular and I’m not going to answer any comments. This is just how I feel about it and I’m not gonna change it because it doesn’t tickle everybody’s ears.

It’s all rants sometimes and evening shenanigans! Peace!

Guess who’s back

I don’t do much lately. I barely write, even though I put together a collection of 50 poems that I like to call “my first book”. I am waiting to find that desire to publish it. It’s mediocre but in the same time, not that bad.

But it’s latent lately (see what I did here). I just don’t find that joy in the things I once liked. I just go home, eat, scroll through my phone or watch movies and then fall asleep. Earlier, day by day.

I got too comfortable living alone. So comfortable that I don’t really care anymore. And I can’t stop thinking, more and more, that I will never be able to accept somebody in my space. I see it as such a big intrusion.

I tried, you know. I tried to understand also. Some people are probably not meant to be with somebody, and it’s nothing wrong with that, despite what society or family thinks. I’ll not be with somebody just to be with somebody and be utterly unhappy. But it’s painful to see how every person you ever loved didn’t reciprocate and you can’t help but sit and wonder “then who?”.

And it’s not even about loneliness anymore, you actually start wondering if there’s a curse of some sorts hovering over you head.

It’s like all the bad luck of all the previous generations and the sins that they carried, ghosting on you.

Of course you have hope, aren’t we all hoping for something in this life?

When I was 18 I was saying loud and clear that I’ll be married by 26 and have 2 kids, because I want to be a young mother so I can play with my children. Because my mom is young and it’s easy to talk to her.

Here I am 6 years past my deadline. Times have changed, they say.

But sometimes I wish they didn’t. Because we kind of lost the sense of family nowadays. We are so busy being independent that we are so terminally lonely. We just use each other like disposable gloves.

And God forbids we admit we have feelings. That’s out of question. You have feelings, get ready to be taken advantage of.

I am jealous of those who actually managed to find a partner a decade back. They have different kind of memories and hell of a better music. They were still not devoured by social media and technology and they still went for a walk in the park.

Fuck me sideways, I wish it was different.

I’m not saying I wasn’t happy. Oh man, I’ve been so so happy in some of the days of my life. And I’ve had it all at some point. I was loved, I loved back and it was enough, bla bla. Of course shit happens. You look back and, of course, you’ll say that “yeah, that’s how it was meant to be”, because this is what we all say after all. We all suddenly believe in a greater power that has all of us hanging like puppets. Yeah it’s convenient to say that.

What if we fucked up? What if we should’ve, could’ve tried more and better? But no, out of pride, in one instant we are willing to lose it all. Because pride usually feeds us and makes us sleep better at night, isn’t it? Bullshit, man. We are just flawed. There’s a fuckin glitch in the fuckin matrix and I’m sorry for saying fuckin so fuckin much, but I just love it.

I’m not trying to blame ourselves for everything, but I’m just saying that we also changed. And it’s not just that, we let other factors change us because we don’t take change too well. Usually progress should touch us in a positive way, and yet we ruin everything we are given. Just think about it.

And then there’s THAT hope.

You hope that your turn didn’t come and you still have a chance at happiness. At some point you even start saying “But X was in her/ his mid thirties when she / he met the love of her / his life” and so we let ourselves drift in this lazy river of hopes thinking we’ll bump into the love of our life at the right time. I don’t even get out of the house man, I keep on hoping somebody will notice me while I go to the supermarket looking like a bum. I don’t even ride the metro. I’m not even able to carry a conversation without being super awkward. I’m not even myself anymore.

And I’m not even exaggerating, this is the state I’m in right now because I don’t believe in anything anymore and I don’t believe in that special someone who will make me want to move in with them. I mean, good luck with that. I find moving in with somebody, to be one of the hardest things ever.

Probably my brother will roll his eyes to the back of his neck and say between his teeth “you’re just like mom” but so be it bro. Come at me bro!

I know he’s reading my crap. Love you bro!

And now imagine I find the love of my life tomorrow and we spend the rest of our lives together and I need to go back and embarrassingly delete this post.

Eh, fingers crossed!

*

I enjoyed writing this, it’s been such a long time. Sometimes you just need a little push.

And please always keep in mind that the present situation is always a variable and it can change any minute, any second, so if I write some tings, sometimes, it doesn’t mean that I’m going crazy or anything. I just have my moments and I always share them as they are. I can’t write fiction, sorry.

It’s all love and evening shenanigans. Peace!

Happiness

Cookie: Why does she look so beautiful today? She makes me stare at her.

Fritz: Because today she’s happy. And when she’s happy, everybody can see it.

Cookie: Why can’t she be happy all the time, then?

Fritz (whispering almost to himself): Because she is human…


I’m going through my drafts again and this is the pilot episode of a short series I wanted to write about my cats. My two boys, Cookie and Fritz in their own world, talking about me obviously… Seems fun… cat wisdom.

Cookie got his name after the great Cookie Lyon in Empire and we also thought he was a girl when me and my flatmates first got him. I said he’s a boy but I gave up when my flatmates said he’s not. Not long after he grew the cojones.

Fritz is named afte Fitz in Scandal, the president of the US. I just felt he’s a bit german and I added an “r”. Makes a stronger impact.

One of them is a blessing in the shape of a cat, the other one is the Antichrist. I love them both to death for being so different. Call me cat lady as much as you want but they fill in my days with joy and mostly anger.

Maybe more episodes will pop soon.

It’s all love and cat shenanigans. Peace!