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!

Advertisements

Greek summer nights

I remembered this time of the year, 2011. I came back from England in April, for Easter. I was working there as a babysitter for a Lebanese family. At the end of my Easter holiday the family decided that my help isn’t needed anymore. So, there I was, unemployed in May. On my birthday I didn’t see anybody. Kept my phone closed. Everybody knew I was supposed to go back.

I learned the bad news and I told my brother about it. Actually, it’s improper said. He felt it. He asked me what’s wrong. I told him I won’t be going back to England. He told me to go have a barbeque with friends, anyway, it was already scheduled, and then we will sort it out. See, this is the thing about my brother. He feels when I’m going through something. And he helps by acting normal. This is his super-power. He lifts people up.

After the sad news I decided I won’t tell my family. I’m talking about my grandfather, who raised me. So I decide to stay out of reach in my mom’s apartment. She was in Spain anyway. So I hid there for almost a month without anybody knowing what I’m doing. Depressed and lonely. 24 years of age and I don’t know what’s going on with my life. No income, no support. Till one day when somebody saw me going to the supermarket and told my grandfather about it. Then I had to come clean.

I tried to find a job in Romania but everything was shit man. Salary will not cover rent and monthly expenses. So I found a job in Greece. I applied. They took me. Here I am, mid-july on the bus to Athens. Took the ferry to Crete. I was on the ferry looking at the stars and imagining a fairytale. Clear moon on the mediteranean sky. 8 hours with the ferry and I reached the port. Heraklion if I’m not wrong. From there I had instructions on how to reach the resort. I was supposed to be a waitress in a big resort in Crete Island.

I reached the port and looked for a bus. My last money went on the bus ticket. And guess what? The bus took me to the wrong place, even though I had a long conversation with the driver about my destination. It took me to the wrong place and, given the fact that I was in a completely different country, I decided to go back to where I arrived and take another bus, that will hopefully take me to my destination. Good plan, but, as I said, I spent al my money on the previous ticket. So here I am, where I started, but with no means of going further. You know what I did? I saw a bar, I went in and I invented a story on how I lost my money and I need somebody to help me find my way to the resort.

I still see the image in front of my eyes. I am at the bar chatting with a young bartender and she keeps on asking me how I lost my money. Between us is a jar on which is written “tips”. I glance at it while I’m talking to her and I feel she doesn’t believe me. Probably she thought I need money for drugs or something. Tears dance in my eyes, and she feels it. She opens the “tips” jar and gives me the money for my trip. You don’t know gratitude the way I know it. You don’t know how my heart exploded in that moment. Strangers. Strangers will sometimes do more than somebody you know for a lifetime.

I went on the bus again and this time I reached my destination. 5 pm in the afternoon. I was supposed to be there at 2pm. I tell reception why I’m there and they call the manager. A Spanish guy. Ricardo if my memory helps me. He takes me in his office and asks me about my trip. I tell him the reason I was late. He’s very calm and gentle. God bless him. He tells me about the schedule and all work related details. He tells me that my uniform is ready and that there’s a shuttle that will drop me to my accommodation, in a village nearby.

I thank him and I’m happy I made it. I’m ready to go. He stops me. He asks me if I’m hungry, if I have money for food. I am embarrassed, but yet I admit. My voice strangled. He looks at me, he opens a drawer, he takes 500 euros and gives it to me. I am reluctant. He tells me to take it for now and it will be deducted from my first salary. I told you, you don’t know gratitude the way I know it. You don’t appreciate people the way I do.

We shake hands and he sends me away with the driver to my accommodation. I have no words to thank him. The ride to the accommodation it’s a local tourist train. Like the toy ones. The sea on one side, mountain on the other. Beautiful Crete. We reach to the accommodation. A 2 or 3 storey building. I am on the ground floor with one of the chefs, Polina, a Greek girl. She was never home as I, later, found out.

I didn’t realize it at the moment, but, when you go out of the building, the sea it’s a few meters away. There’s a secluded little beach with rough sand. Old people go there. There’s fish in the water. The small ones, the type that eats your dead skin. The elders are in the water letting the fish do their job. Over a pile of rocks, on the left it’s a proper beach, with long chairs and umbrellas. A few pubs and music in the distance. But I prefer the secluded one. Also to the left, uphill, there’s a small church, where later on I went and cried my sorrows away.

Beautiful church, with glasses full of colours. I went there to pray, to think, to cry. To cry my loneliness away. I still remember those day. They’ll never leave me.

I started work. I was a waitress in the lobby bar. And, man, how many glasses I broke. We had the coolest manager. After duty he will give us shots of tequila and then he’ll take us to the city to dance. I made friends. People that I still remember, that sometimes I talk to. I advanced from the lobby bar to the mexican restaurant with Argiro. I don’t know how to write her name now, but she was like a mother to me. From there I went up even more and I reached the VIP restaurant. Because this is what I do, I get better. Except when I don’t fully understand what my job is. But when I know what I’m supposed to do, I’m the best.

In the VIP restaurant I met the funniest and the kindest chef. Manthos. He made my life easier only with his presence and his words. We talk from time to time. Manthos if you read this, you should know how grateful I am to meet you in this lifetime. You are one of the good ones.

Dimitri, the hotel chef, you should also know that I respect you so much. You’re the coolest. A team I will never forget.

Then the season ended. Rain started. I was one of the last to leave. Only a few guests in the hotel. They’ll close for the winter. But that summer was one of the best in my life. I can never forget the rides I was taking with the toy train to work. Sea on one side, mountain on the other. Shepherds and sheeps. Dogs guarding them. Exploring when I had some free time. Mesmerizing green and blue sea. Skinny dipping at night. Beach parties. Bike rides. Sangria, home made, on the balcony. You can never know the happiness I lived that summer.

You don’t know gratitude the way I know it.

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

 

Writer’s unblock

I am one of those people who believe they are good at everything. Haha, I know, I can be an infatuated asshole. As though I’m good at a lot of things, obviously I’m not good at everything. For a long time I struggle to find out what I like the most. What I really want to do in life, and man, that turns out to be a headache.

I believe so much in myself that I can even imagine myself a ballerina, but yeah, that’s really too late. I took a make up course while in Romania and I even have an internationally acredited diploma to certify that. I think I left it England where I used to be a babysitter. Then I went to Greece and worked my way up as a waitress in the VIP restaurant.

I, then came to Dubai and struggled from waitress in a horrendous place to hostess in a fine dining restaurant. From there i transitioned to a real estate company where I was initially a receptionist turned Short Term Rentals in charge and the Marketing Coordinator. Oh, I forgot to tell you that in Romania I was working in construction companies.

My background is Economics, but there is no relation between us whatsoever. I am literally sickened by my years in university and even though I barely missed a day of highschool, I skipped half of university time. I was also working during university, so yeah, I started to enjoy work more than economics. But some of the things I learned there stayed with me and, let’s say, gave me some knowledge about certain situations. If I look back is not really Economics that I hated but other courses. Techology of Communication, that I gloriuosly failed three times, is one of them, and it actually convinced me that I don’t need a diploma. And I’m diplomless let’s say.

Oh, and I worked for a local newspaper for about six months. That was probably something I enjoyed the most in my life.

Over the years, even though I’m more unstable than Elizabeth Taylor when it comes choosing a path, I realized that there is something that never left my side. Writing. I used to write when I was young(er) and then, even though I took long breaks, I continued. I am writing quite a lot these days, as you can see.

Few years ago I enrolled in British College of Journalism and got my accreditation. I am a Freelance Journalist with diploma and Press Pass. Now, this is something I should work on. Yeah, it looks that I talk to myself.

I don’t know if I’m that talented, but one of my dreams is to publish something. But then again, I don’t know where to start, as I am split between monologues, simple absurdities and sometimes free verses. Ah, you must also know that I hate free verses, but as I am a person who most of the times does the exact opposite of what they preach, here I am madly in love with free verses. Why I love perfect rhyme? Because I have OCD. I think free verse is a way of fighting it.

Most of the times I’m shy to post what I write. Yeah it might sound shocking but it’s true. In time, though, I became bolder and even though I forgot a lot of it, I decided to start a blong in English, for a bigger audience. I started to write quite a lot these days because, as everything else, writing needs practice too. And I also want to observe the response.

What I noticed is that my saddest posts are the most successful. Noticeably more likes and more views than any other topics I approach. I don’t know if people are more susceptible to this kind of posts or they just appreciate the fact that you pour your heart out. Don’t know, I’m experimenting.

Posts about love are also top of the list. When it comes to love, it’s tricky. Most of the times I embellish it, I twist it.

Abyway, I have a new little something to work on and it makes happy at the moment. As I said befor, one of my burning wishes is to be published.

And I’ll find somebody to proofcheck my posts.

It’s all love and after work writing shenanigans. Peace!

Family portrait

Sometimes, me and my brother, we’ll go up on a hill, next to the forest alongside the road towards the city. From there, we’ll just look around us, everything quiet, everything green in summer, everything yellow in autumn. We’ll ocassionally play “next passing will be my future car”. Or second, third, from the left or right, etc. We’ll talk about what we had in, then, our raw minds.

He’ll make me laugh most of the time. I’ll laugh to tears. We always enjoyed a good laugh. We were naughty kids. I remember we were saying that God laughs at our jokes because He made us funny. He’s up there having a good laugh when He looks down to us.

We’ll look forward to see eachother ehenever we can, because we never lived together except later on, while at university. You have to know that there’s no man in this whole world that I love more than my brother. He’s the coolest, funniest and brightest brother anyone could wish fore. He turned out to be a loving husband and an extremely involved father. He’s the perfect combination.

If I think about it, all men in our clan are very dedicated to the family life. They’re all settled, responsible and above all great husbands. Women on the other side are a bit… the opposite. Women in our line had a share of turbulences, as I can see going down the line from my grandmother to me. Hopefully will not continue. We are a bit unsettled… a bit tormented… a bit missunderstood…

I used to talk to my grandmother and she used to share with me bits of her life and from her I learned to admit things, to open up, to share my sorrow. When I was upset she was hugging me and crying for me, with me, for her… ar all together. She was the best grandmother anyone could wish for. Uncommonly kind. Beautiful and caring. Worrying and feeling for everybody. An oasis of love when times get rough.

I lost a few good years fighting with my mom on the other side. I lost innocence in words and actions and it took me a long time to understand her. To truly understand her essence, my feelings towards her and to be wise enough to put myself in her shoes. I make myself believe that I managed to make it up to her in time, but I didn’t… I need to do more for her. I needed to do more for my grandmother. I thought I had time…

You’ll never know the time you have left next to someone.

I remember that new year. I celebrated it with my grandfather. My grandmother was hospitalized, almost unconscious. My grandfather went to sleep early. I took a glass of wine and I went out in the freezing cold. Sky full of stars. Full.

Firecrackers blasting around. I couldn’t cry. I can’t acknowledge terminal situations. There’s an unreal optimism that keeps fueling my hopes that everything will be fine in the end.

I kept on looking at the stars. It’s the first new year in my 18 years of existence when my grandmother was not with us. And I said to God “You don’t exist if You take her away!”

And He did. Seven days later she was gone. She was the first mother I knew, she was there when nobody else was, she felt the life inside me, the mind inside my head. She was a futuristic soul caught in the past. The level of understanding she had was simply amazing. She was a combinations of stars and flowers, she was my confidant and my strenght and she told me to “go see the world, get away from here”. And I did, grandma. I did. You should see the things I’ve seen, the people I’ve met. I remember you so well. There are things you’ll not be proud of, but I know you’ll understand me.

The day she died I was not at the hospital. My uncle called and told us to rush to the hospital. I reached there after an hour or two. I found her room and I opened the door. She opened her eyes. She saw me, she took a deep breath and there she was… gone. Then one more breat, deeper, when the soul leaves the body. And there I was, no reaction. My stupid mind couldn’t process what just happened. I went out and made a phone call.

I found her later on at the morgue where I had to dress her lifeless body. We took her home where I had to see her being embalmed, watched and then burried. And I still couldn’t cry. I cried later when I realized she’s never coming back and loneliness gets deeper. I lost my rock and I drifted away. I don’t even feel like home at home. I don’t belong there anymore.

I guess sad topics make the best writing. It’s too personal. I lay these words down here so I can remove them from my head.

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

The face of a man

I stopped at the supermarket. I get the stuff I stopped for and then I’m waiting at the counter. I don’t like queues so I’m a bit annoyed. And then I look at the man in front of me. He’s old and tall… and his face strikes me. It’s a mix of extreme kindness and deepest resignation. He’s humble and polite. He buys just a bottle of water and he thanks again to the cashier.

I can’t erase his expression from my mind. It feels like he’s seen so many things in his life, and most of them were not pleasant. And there I am annoyed that there’s a queue.

I watched him walking out and I felt like talking to him. I don’t know what I would say but I thought he had a lot to tell. I still remember him. I don’t know if it’s the urge in us to try and find out what happened to people around us or the need to fix them. I guess we like to fix people. We feel attracted by people with issues hoping that we are the reason they’ll get better. Or it’s just the powerless feeling that ignites us.

But it’s also the sympathy. That original good that still exists in us, that makes us unable to close our eyes to other beings sufferings.

I’d like to think that’s more the latter.

Anyway, he reminded me of my grandfather. He never looked his age in my childhood. He always looked strong and young and tough. I liked him that way. An iron fist, the head of the family, the alpha male. He was a bit too tough if you ask me but he had his funny, loving moments and I loved it when he’ll spare some time to play with me. Good times, childhood memories.

He was married to my grandmother for almost 50 years. 50 years! Some people don’t even live that long! When my grandmother passed away, that’s when it happened… The strong man was gone. I came to visit again and I saw him… older. Way older. In a few days he got old. His hair got whiter and his face was reading the same expression… resignation. His eyes always filled with tears, his voice cracking. You can read an entire life on his face all of a sudden. You can read such a loud loneliness…

I think that’s the worst thing that can happen to somebody. When they just give up. When they live because they have to. But there’s no joy, there’s no will. Just passing the days. This is how the man in the supermarket looked. And I felt sorry. I’m not gonna start with all the philosophy of taking things for granted, but we should be more aware.

Anyway… I guess it’s just life. Sometimes I see things like these in faces I never expected. They seem like they have everything figured out and then one day you see darker circles around their eyes, they sigh a bit deeper than usual, their eyes have a shadow. And it makes you wonder… life really doesn’t spare anybody.

And it gets everybody in different ways. And there’s still a fight, people try to keep on going. And they should. It’s hard, but then again, it’s all you got.

It’s not like I know a way through this, I just write about what I see and what I think it should be the way. I’m probably far from understanding what this people go through simply because I’m not in their shoes.

On the other side you see people who are getting tougher. Angrier. You can’t read their eyes, their expressions. They focus on something else just to get distracted from what bothers them. And maybe it’s better.

And then there are the ones who are very good at pretending…

It can go on forever like this. Anyway, I just remembered this man and his kind face and I said to myself, for a change, to deviate from my minor issues to him.

This is for you stranger with kind face. I hope I wasn’t right and you have plenty of joy in your life.

It’s all love tonight. Peace!

Some Christmas melancholy

I wake up and the snow reaches the window sill. All is white around the house… everywhere. I look outside and all I want is to go and play in the snow. The house is so warm. There is some food cooking in the stove. Smells so good. I must have breakfast before I go out and play.

See, there’s a tradition in our house. We all eat together. Nobody starts until we are all seated. I know, sounds uncanny. But it’s actually beautiful, it’s so personal. We are too busy nowdays. Everybody on its own.

I have my breakfast and I put on my jacket, my scarf, my woolen hat, my stockings and a pair of woolen pants. Ah and boots. Waterproof boots. I can barely move now and you can only see my eyes and nose. I can see myself so clearly now and it’s so funny. These memories are so precious.

And… I’m out in this snow paradise. You can’t see anything but snow. It covered everything over night. You can see here and there cat traces and their paws leaving prints in the snow. I bet it wasn’t something they want. Chicken are also inside, they didn’t go out yet. It’s not cold. Yet… Some nights will be so cold that everything will freeze and you’ll wake up to mirror like ice everywhere.

I room around, playing, imagining adventures and quests. It’s beautiful, it’s what every child is waiting for in the winter.

After a few days Christmas will be here. Oh, the Christmas tree, mom is coming, my uncle is coming, presents, cookies, that divine smell of Christmas specialities. I can’t wait. We usually buy a green tree and I decorate it. We add the lights and cotton at the end and boom! Christmas is here! Right here on the hallway of our house. Santa can come now. It’s freezing but I can’t take my eyes of the Christmas tree.

My mom is here. She and grandma are starting to prepare the food. My uncle will join later on and we’ll fight in the snow. More likely he’ll throw me in the snow. It’s always so good to have them all at home. My happiness has no limits. I remember waiting for them and listening to them so attentive when we are all at the table. Mmm… I smell something sweet. See, my grandma rarely bakes sweets, except pies and now it’s the time to have these awesome Christmas cookies.

Maybe that’s why Christmas was so special. We were keeping its traditions untouched and its charm, its uniqueness. We have dishes that we only eat on christmas. Of course, more than that, the entire family comes together.

I’ll spend Christmas Eve with my brother and we’ll go from house to house singing and people will give us sweets, nuts or fruits. Traditions that may seem ridiculous now but were so joyfull back then. The best part was that we get to watch movies till late and spend time together until 4 or 5 am when our grandparents will get us ready to go out and sing. We will snow fight of course, we will meet other children and we’ll come home with our bags full of goodies. Oh man the joy of those moments.

I used to be so naughty and search for the presents before Christmas. Most of the times I was lucky and found them and I had to act surprised on Christmas morning. Until they learned my ways and mom and grandma started to step up their game of hiding the presents.

We used to be so stuffed on Christmas day. Delicious food. And then we’ll just sit around the TV and watch Christmas movies. Real Christmas. Entire house smelled like Christmas, that smell that will never leave you.

I don’t know how many kids nowdays get to feel this Christmas spirit. Maybe back then I didn’t realize how much it meant, but I definitely do now, when my Christmas is so much different.

But I believe one thing. It’s about the spirit, it’s about being together. That’s the most important. Maybe I don’t bother that much but one day my family will see how I like to celebrate Christmas.

I just wrote this so fast with so many vivid memories passing through my mind.

Merry Christmas Everyone! Let it be love and peace!

It’s all love and Christmas shenanigans. Peace!

Growing up faulty

I was talking to a dear friend of mine and I asked him if he’s planning to have any kids anytime soon. “You’re old enough” I added. I believe I added that by now he should’ve had a child already.

His answer was not what I expected. He told me that he grew up poor and he couldn’t satisfy many of his wishes when he was young so he does it now, when he can, before he will take the crucial decision.

I know he works hard and he’s in a good place trough his hard work and determination. He still has 2 jobs and I admire him for that.

Then it hit me. He’s right. We grew up poor. We never had what we desired, we only had what we were given. I didn’t grow up in a poor family but I always had a limit to everything. I never had pocket money or lunch money or if I had it was really not enough. I never went on trips or excursions with the colleagues from school, I never had more than necessary. I don’t complain here but it made me want to leave everything behind and go for those things I never had.

My friend just became more ambitious and decided to get everything by himself. He travelled, he bought a flat, he got married, he did it! He tried and he paid for everything he could never afford. He outgrew his condition.

In my case it made me leave, it made me a stranger to what I used to call home. It didn’t make me ambitious money-wise, as I never had a real understanding of the value of money. It made me actually a spender. There is always that thing in my head that I should do it for myself, that I deserve it. It made me selfish. It made me a loner also and unable to settle.

And also I strongly believe that there is a time for everything. Or at least a period of time. Disneyland doesn’t feel or look the same when you’re 40. I’ve seen it at 28 and I think I felt the same joy I would feel as a kid. But there is a time for everything so if you can do it, don’t wait, keep the magic, don’t turn it into dull moments. Do it while and if you can. Don’t even hesitate!

We were also too poor to date. He couldn’t afford to buy a girl a drink and I was dressed as a small boy and lacked self-esteem. I should add here, also, that my teenage hood was dominated by some prominent scars on my face but then again, if I was rich my situation would be different or I wouldn’t have them at all. I should’t think like this or say this? Really? Because ever since those days most of the times I see that money brings you upfront and looks gets you out of trouble. Just sayin’ feel free to cash me ousside if you have strong arguments and you don’t talk exceptions. Yes, of course I wouldn’t be the person I am today if that is the main argument.

No I’m not bitter about my condition. I was bitter then. I was suicidal. I was full of pity for myself. I felt like the burden of the entire world was on my shoulders. I didn’t have much to count on. Maybe using the word poor is not the best choice here. I understand and I see poor and it’s not what I was. Let’s say limited. Limited – replace the above with limited.

Anyway, i grew up despising money. You want them and you can’t live without them. And then you just become a robot on an everyday quest to get your bread money. It’s so ridiculous how controlled we are by these papers. We can’t make a move without it.

Yes, I said it before, and I will say it again: the best moments I lived were not expensive at all. Were feelings and emotions, sunsets and rays of light. Were laughter or tears.

I grew up a dreamer even though everything I ever lived was too real. But I refuse to let myself dragged into what others think it’s best. I spent a lot of time thinking about what other think so I’m not willing to do it again.

My friend said he wanted to see places he always wanted to see, to do things he always wanted to do before he will decide to have a child. He doesn’t want to live with the regret that he didn’t follow at least few of his dreams. And it’s true, a child is not easy work. It’s definitely a blessing, I am deeply convinced of that, but you have to be ready to have a mini-you around. You have to be able and mature enough to raise and guide a newly born human being into life the right way. I believe the regrets and frustrations of the parents can affect the child. Happy parents, happy children. Simply, at least this is how I see it.

Now he’s good. He probably did most of the things he wanted to. Soon maybe he’ll share some good news.

Back to me. Ah man, now it becomes messy. Where I am now? Good question.

I am somewhere good because I made peace with myself. I don’t know when that happened but it did and I couldn’t be happier about it. For the first time in a very long time I don’t punish myself for my mistakes or other’s mistakes. I actually reached a point where I cover for myself like I would cover for a best friend.

Am I happy? Weirdly I am, even though is not the best period of my life, but I learned in time to see positivity in every situation. And I am surrounded by good people. I learned to be happy just by myself. Of course I have my moments but they don’t define me. Am I still a bad mouth? Yes. Is not that I am a new person and that I lost all my bad habits, it’s just that I am happier.

I have a few more things to tick on my bucket list and then I’m ready. The scary part is that I somehow feel ready to settle down but at the same time it scares the shit out of me. And a baby… man a baby is the scariest thing right now. I am afraid of myself. I don’t know if i can make it, to be honest, or I just don’t trust myself. All of a sudden you are responsible with the happiness of your husband and then with the well-being and highest level of care for your baby. You are responsible for a life. I feel that I can’t possibly reach that level of responsibility.

I think we are a generation of pussies when it comes to responsibilities. We have everything delivered, we barely make an effort to get what we want. We don’t work that hard anymore. And we take so many things for granted. We don’t work on us or on each other anymore. We give up or get scared so easily. It’s also me right now. Complaining like a kid who didn’t have enough candy…

This asks for another post… another time…

Disclaimer: my ADHD doesn’t allow me to have coherent thoughts anymore so I might’ve deviated… quite a lot.

We are all mad in there

Gee man, I wanted to be a TV presenter when I was young. I wanted to play the piano and  dance. And I wanted people to like me. Yeah just like any other teenager.

I wanted to be able to sing and sometimes when I managed a decent note I already imagined myself on a huge stage. My fans are screaming deliriously while they throw flowers and teddy bears at me. Yeah, and my talent, my heavenly voice and goddess moves will bring tears to their eyes.

Yeah, I was still in my room :))

But I still keep these imagination gaps. They’re like the inside of an empty wall. Nobody can see it. I bring some candies and I stay there in my own little rabbit hole for a while. In that hidden gap I am saving people, I am a superhero, a singer (again), occasionally I save animals, I am super-smart, role-model, but most of the time I bring innovation and peace to the world. Everybody claps in awe, overflowing with admiration and wondering where I was all this time.

Yeah, I’m still in my room :))

Narcissistic, I know. I am the goddess of my philanthropic universe. You should see me glowing. Man, I’m something else. Just like you, when you escape in your rabbit hole. We all are the best (or should be), for us. Imagination keeps us sane, keeps us down to earth even though it sound antagonistic.

Most of the time I am saving animals just before a speeding car is about to send them to a better place. At the last moment, with perfect make-up, hair, clothes, high-heels and so on, I just save the poor beast from a tragic destiny. Of course the audience is entirely made of ex-s, crushes, recruiters, Bill Gates, bitches I don’t like, my future husband, Usain Bolt and people from work. It’s time for them to see how I sacrificed myself for a poor soul and to marry / love / hire / make me rich / forgive me / give me a star on Hollywood Walk of Fame / offer me a part in a blockbuster / (but mostly) praise me unceasingly.

Some other times, I just enter or reach a certain place (just me and my perfect self) and for an extremely long second everything and everybody stops and admires me. With other occasions I am plain brave and save people’s lives. Or I am part of the circus, olympic team and so on. The scenarios are infinite. I just have to bring them to life.

What’s your escape from boredom and routine? What do you do in that corner of your mind where you are allowed to escape the ordinary? Can’t be worse than mine. Share ;).

I remember (my story)

As most of the people I don’t remember the first years of my life :))))) but I remember when I was riding my tricycle and i was smiling with only my two front teeth. I remember the sun passing through the vine leaves greenish and retro… I was running all day around my grandfather’s big yard, full of dust and full of curiosity. Playing with my neighbors, forgetting about food or sleep.

I remember the angel face of my grandmother, her hugs when i was falling and hurting my knees, my face or my hands. I remember my great-grandmother chasing me all over the place so she can feed me. I remember my great-grandfather squeezing my little finger and watching me patiently doing my homework.

He wasn’t much of a talker but he was always smiling at me with his whole face. His eyes especially. He died of a disease i can’t actually remember, but it was destroying one of his legs. He didn’t want to amputate it saying that God made him a whole and he will go back to Him as a whole.

My great-grandmother died before him. I saw her dying but I didn’t realize at that time what’s happening. I remember she looked frightened at one corner of the room mumbling some words and then she took a deep breath and, mouth wide-open, she died.

I was eight or less. I don’t know. Blurred… I remember a lot of people in my grandfather’s house. Relatives, neighbors or people I have never met. I remember walking around them, being ignored and not realizing the morbid event. I remember some women together with my grandmother washing my grandmother’s corpse and I watched until they told me to go away. I still wanted to watch. That childish curiosity.

I remember our dog biting my hand while i was feeding him beetroot. It was an old dog, maybe 15-20 years old, looking wise and humble. Still he bit my hand, proving that his instincts are stronger. I was trying to pull the beetroot out of his mouth though. I remember that I pulled my sleeve and all I wanted to do is to go and hide under my grandmother’s hug. I remember the painful injections in my stomach.

I remember my grandfather willing to play leap frog with me. Imagine a 50 years old man bending just for me to jump over him. And that was fun. We were both laughing and my grandmother was watching us without being fully convinced of what she sees. My grandfather is a very strict and serious man that was never seen being so childish. This is one of my warmest memories especially that nowadays he’s not the man I used to know once… Different chapter.

I remember golden wheat fields and tall green corn. Burning sun.. I was wandering all day either alone or with my brother. My brother… another chapter.

I remember eating strawberries straight from the garden. And apples, pears and cherries. I remember lizards and bugs. I remember caring for injured birds or cats. I remember burying them when they died in small graves. I was bringing them flowers.

I remember summer and winter. I remember when the snow was higher than me, almost reaching the edge of the window. I remember ice flowers on the window. I remember how my cheeks burned when I was entering the house and heat would hit me in the face. I remember the smell of homemade bread. I remember the smell of chamomile tea. The same chamomile I was picking from the fields or from the garden and keep it in the sun or in the attic to dry, and then drink it in the winter.

I remember my mom visiting. I remember autumn. So many leaves and colors and the sky was autumn grey. I remember springand flowers pushing through the snow. And birds chirping. Life coming back after the long winter. THe smell of lilly… So strong!

I remember having 3 small goats and the mom-goat and a reddish cow with straight horns. Happy childhood. Nature all over, green grass, fresh air, freedom..

I remember being the youngest in the neighborhood and when all the kids went to school i begged my grandfather to take me too. I was six years old and the principal of the school said I can join only if I can keep up. And i did. I finished school one year earlier than everybody in my generation. I loved it. I didn’t skip many classes.

I wanted to be a reporter, news anchor or ballerina. I am a certified freelance journalist today but ballet classes were too expensiveand considered quite useless by my family. Piano lessons as well. Basically anything artistic..

I remember childhood games and cartoons, school activities, teachers and colleagues. I still see my principal from the first school I’ve been too. When I have the chance I pass by the school and talk to him and the other teachers. He is a friend and a mentor. A funny, down to earth human being with great love for history and teaching children.

I remember forests and rivers, flowers and bees, birds and trees. I remember…trippy_zalgo_peri_xd_by_8mono

One for the heartbreaks

3 years ago I landed in Dubai for the first time. 16 november 2011. And I fell in love… with the beauty of this place, with their ambition of building the future, with the diversity and lack of boredom. This is what it feels to be alive.

Why I left? It’s a long story. Many things determined me to leave everything behind. One of them is that I wanted to leave somebody behind. There was no future…

I used to love this somebody so hard that I ended up ruining everything. I was obsessed and dramatic and always fighting… with him and with myself. I strongly believed that I could never find somebody better. I did… but different. There’s no comparison. People can’t be compared, what you find in some can never be found in others.

We’ve been through so many “adventures”… I smile when I remember (sometimes I blush :P). We were both crazy about each other and the time spent together left some powerful memories.

Some people don’t agree with this, to remember or to praise long ended romances. They say you should focus on what you have presently. I disagree, beautiful memories always remain and I’m sure if you ask people of their first or strongest love they will still remember, they will still have that “tone” or that “look”.

Anyway, when I reached Dubai and I realized I am bound to a contract and I can’t go home anytime soon the first thought that smashed my mind was that I can’t come back to him anymore. That I can’t see him anymore and he will move on. I wasn’t ready to leave him behind. He was already moving on but the worst thought was that he will… forget me…

He will forget me and he will love somebody else, he will share his life with somebody else, he will hold somebody else in his arms, he will make love to somebody else, he will get married and have children with somebody else. I am supposed to be the one to give him all these things. I am the one who’s supposed to hold his hand until the end and now I’m here, miles away from him…

Isn’t this the most painful feeling that somebody can feel? When you are replaced with somebody else and you just watch from the outside, on top of a skyscraper, so close to the edge with the same feeling, empty stomach…

Only the thought is pure pain… the purest. You have the feeling that for him everything was erased all of a sudden. Nothing from him, no comfort, just silence and then you go back trying to fix what you did wrong. Merciless time, can’t be reversed. you wouldn’t have said those words and you wouldn’t have missed a chance to kiss him and live up every moment.

And then you blame yourself… Maybe you are not his type or you just didn’t notice what he likes, maybe he is with a better looking person… The looks… so important for women, always comparing themselves… so wrong. And yes he is with a better looking woman. Maybe a better woman… And this is how your thoughts assault your entire being, reducing you to nothing.

Every time is the same. Same old shit, blaming yourself for the failure. After all is normal, there’s no happiness in a break-up. Human beings are inclined to self destruction. The amount of negative thoughts is a lot bigger than the positive ones. Scientifically proven… unfortunately.

And then you move on. One day you raise your head and get up. The floor is not the most comfortable place to be. First steps… You learn to walk, to talk, to smile. Take a few friends and go out. Get drunk, laugh, dance… already easier. You had your portion of self destruction.

But you never show. Nobody knows the storm inside. You are ashamed of being so low and you hide. Nothing happened… various excuses. Nobody needs to know that you are weak or entirely devastated. No, we are afraid of people’s perception of us. Maybe if we would seek help it would be easier… Maybe people will share their own stories and comfort each other instead of judging.

Everything has an end and fear is normal but unnecessary.

And then you find somebody else in the crowd… A smile, a face, a name, a number… A new story…

Now let me show you my new hat 🙂

bite.me