Thoughts of thoughts

I don’t know when you get your energy kicks, but mine is right now. I don’t sleep much. I can’t and when I can, it’s one of the best things I can get. I love sleeping and in the same time I’m not very succesful at it. Exactly like everything else in my life. What I really love, I can’t have. Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think? (Alanis Morisette loop).

Anyway, me and my energy kick are doing fine for now. I didn’t write on the blog for quite a while because I had too many things on my mind, and honestly I didn’t know where or when to start. So I waited to settle down a little bit.

What goes through my mind? Oh, tons of things an ideas. Tons of projects and dreams and I can’t seem to reach where I want to. It’s not that I’m stuck on the negative aspects in my life. It’s not my way. I can’t find hope in the darkest moments. Don’t worry about my hoping skills.

I always thought of myself a person of no ambition. By nature, I am a person that loves comfort and stability. I like to have my own habits and privacy and I’m visibly bothered when I’m distracted and invaded. I like to grow, but I also like to enjoy my habits. I like to be challenged, it gives me a push but I still don’t consider myself ambitious. Ambition, in my opinion, means to reach a self-set target, by any means. Even if they don’t match your capacities/requirements/personality. It’s very impressive, when you can pass anything that comes your way.

Me, I like to prove that I can do things. But these things have to excite me. Most of the times I do things because I don’t like to let people down. I am always afraid that I will disappoint people’s expectations. But this can’t last for long with me. Redundancy is something that I can’t take for long. I need to know more or to be honest I like to know everything regarding what I do. I don’t like limitations. I always want to be in control even though I don’t want to be in charge. If that makes any sense.

Many times I seek satisfaction in what I do, because I don’t have much satisfaction in other aspects of my life. And I don’t mean material satisfaction, even though that’s a key factor too. I seek personal satisfaction and I like a job well done. I like to look at what I’ve done, and say to myself “Well, Gabz, you outdid yourself!” Yeah, cocky.

Sometimes I’m good at what I do, sometimes I’m very good and sometimes I’m careless. When I’m careless it means I don’t know much about what I’m doing or it just doesn’t spark in me… what is supposed to spark. I try to learn everything and to manage everything and yet sometimes I fail. I hate to think I’m not good at something. I’m one of those people who take failure personally. Too bad. This didn’t help me much.

I believe ambition comes with motivation. It can be your self-implemented goal that can trigger that motivation or it can be an outside source. Usually when people motivate themselves is because they want to achieve a material target or a career/position goal. I desire none. That’s why personally, I prefer the outside motivation. When other people grow you. But I’m also aware that you can’t be praised when you don’t do much.

You will say that everybody has material targets and I’ll strongly agree with you. But I don’t think amounts or goods… almost never. If y ou ask what’s my goal, is to be able to cover all my expenses and in the same time to be able to enjoy life in a good way. If you think that’s not a goal, it’s ok. I would like, for example, to be able to travel whenever I want to, be it for a weekend only. Just to be able to book and flight and be gone without thinking too much.

If you think that building an empire it’s a real goal, then I’ll agree with you too. Only that building an empire consumes a different kind of currency. Time. And it’s your time. You’re the only one who pays. And it involves possible failure, something that I can’t take well. It involves responsibilities, and I hate to be responsible for others.

Many times I sit and think about these things and in the world we live, I seem naive. Maybe I am. I still believe that goals can mean a beautiful family, time for yourself and all that. To be honest if you look at the world nowadays these are rare. I think the goals game might change.

Anyway, these are things that bother me from time to time. I often find myself loyal to the bigger picture but bitter to my daily routine. And I don’t know how to describe this feeling exactly and I hate myself sometimes that I can’t be a mercenary.

And all these thoughts and feels make me think of what I really want and this is where my dilemma starts. I find myself in the position of a 7 years old who’s being asked what he wants to be when he grows up. I am still tempted to say “ballerina”.

If only everything will be that easy. If only we’d know what to do or what we want. If only we wouldn’t find ourselves lost from time to time, in thoughts and promises of better opportunities. If only…

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

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!

 

In them thirties

So, recently I turned 31. Not a biggie. Still single. Still crazy. The road to become a genuine cat lady it’s at its glorious start. I already have 2 babies. See, see! this is the thing. When you call them babies. Just joking. They’re feline friends as far as I’m concerned and I slightly love them. Slightly.

Agonizing. I should stop.

Anyway, I was thinking about this ride from thirty to thirty one. Everybody says OeMGi, thirty is a new step, a different one, a more mature one, bla bla and blu blu. To be honest when I turned thirty I felt Twenty. Gloriously twenty! So, to act accordingly I started being a late adolescent. If in the past I managed to be more grown up, apparently I lost that aptitude when I turned thirty.

I did a lot of freakin shit! That’s what I did. I allowed myself to fall for somebody just like an adolescent, I dramatized, I became the most popular girl in school and so on.

I realized that I have a lot of friends though, and that they genuinely love me. That’s the best thing I realized. And I gave myself a break. This is what I actually did for a year. I had a vacation without guardians. And it felt good, liberating. It felt like I’m brand new.

I travelled a lot. I visited 3 new countries. I reached a total of 13 countries. And counting, hopefully. I baptized my niece, the cutest little angel. I spent more time with people that matter.

I found a cypriot God, in it’s shiniest shape and with the purest of hearts. And I was happy! Oh God I was happy like I haven’t been in ages. For what can possibly be, the only time in my life when I met a person who is all sunshine and candies. I swear to all Gods of Olympus, his presence could heal a terminal disease. A soul with no traces of perversion. He added at least 10 years to my life, in case I won’t destroy it with drugs and rock’n’roll.

I fell for a guy who vanished. Platonically! Unfortunately. Haha yeah I’m nasty. Half Chinese, half Native American. Now how freakin sexy is that?! Yeah I regret it was platonically! Man I was ready to do things for him. But, he just teleported to a different movie. Ninja kind of way.

But my pact with the devil was still on. And the devil takes his tribute. Always. He tormented and haunted me. He left marks on my skin and under it. He took those 10 years from me. Until one day… I exorcized him, only to let him come back later when I thought I was cured. Now I just learn to live with him. He hisses and tries to drown me back in sorrow with foul words. Your force is not with you anymore, Vader! Muhahaha! You are not my daddy anymore.

Yeah, I mentioned in the beginning I’m crazy.

I’ve been to weddings because I like them. I’ve been to two. I love to see hope. I sometimes imagine mine. I will dance a lot and my husband will cry at my speech. That’s it, that’s what I have till now. Ah, and my brother will give me away.

I partied like crazy. Why? Well, a question I hear a lot. First of all because I never got to enjoy myself as I should when I was young. And back then I was the unpopular one, the bullied one. And when I finally got rid of that, I was broke. And after that I was a babysitter. So, see, life’s a bitch.

But yeah, I enjoy myself and the things I like as much as I can, as much as I still have time. So I can be ready to settle. I don’t want to miss things, I don’t want to regret wasted time. So whatever I like to do, I simply do. Not a big deal. I give myself a break from all this shitty boundaries of what and when you can do things. And if I’ll never settle you’ll see me in Vegas 2 times a year. Joking. 3 times. Haha, no, of course I’ll settle. Because I want to have what I never had. A proper family. Dear relatives, before you cast me away, please note I said “proper” family.Β Ah shit, now you’ll do it for what I just said.

All my life I wanted it, but, as I said before life’s a bitch, and here I am at 31, becoming almost immune to alcohol. Joking, I don’t drink. Haha, not everyday, fortunately. Whenever I had a relationship I thought that’s it. That things will settle, that we can start to build. Probably that’s why none of them worked. Because I started with this thought. And when everything turned to shit I became the opposite. Wolverine. Haha, I wish.

I am not chickening out, I am just skeptic and even though I am really sad to admit it, afraid. I’m afraid man. Of everybody and everything. But I have a stupid bravery and I keep on trying. And man, I swear to God, my hope shines brighter than fireworks on New Year. It’s like I have a gland of hope in my body. I just produce hope and hope and hope and hope. One day I’ll have a hope attack.

Anyway, these are things and thoughts that I sometimes sit on, and even though they seem a bit dark I’m enjoying life as it is. I do, in my own way. But I love myself more, and I’m happy that I still find humanity inside this body.

I developed a lot of mischievous traits in time, it’s true. Life didn’t spare me the metamorphosis of innocent me into being a little douche. Yeah I can be that, too. Unfortunately. Work in progress.

The thing is that I’m well educated and street educated. That’s half good and half bad. Why? Because I’m half boy. Haha gotcha!

Drifting away. I’m tired and it’s late. I have trouble sleeping lately. I thought I passed it, but yet insomnia slowly works its way back.

To close this mental journey through my last couple of months I have to tell you that I let my heart get what she wanted. I went for everything I liked. Only that sometimes I was given half. And now, the beast wants the other half. Hmm, nonsense you’ll say. Not at all, fellow readers, not at all.

My conclusion, now, after a year full of happenings? I’m definitely going to hell as Satan’s wife. Anyway, I like hot weather.

And I have an army of people who love me! All jokes aside! Thank you awesome people for being there. Infinite gratitude.

P.S. I hope you all read this the way I imagined. If not you’ll be confused as heck!

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

Mom, I’m fine

Now that I have your attention:

First of all, I want to share with you some good news – I bought my own domain recently so now I’m inthenightair.com. I don’t know if you care, but I do! Getting serious about all this writing thing… I think. You’ll never know with me. When I start to like something I immediately start to have an aversion to it. Yeah makes no sense. Let’s move on.

Second of all, something funny happened today. My mom asked me if I’m fine because she saw a post on the blog and she thought I sound disappointed and sad.

No mom, I’m not disappointed nor sad, I just write, and even though I have a tendency to write a lot about feelings it’s not always something i’m feeling at that moment. Sometimes I keep a subject in my head for weeks. Sometimes I even write it down so I won’t forget it.

Of course those subjects are also inspired by reality because most of the time I’m subjective in my posts, but it doesn’t mean that what I write is happening at that exact time.
Most of the times I’m euphoric and sometimes, just sometimes, angry, when I write. Ok I’m also disappointed and sad sometimes. But JUST sometimes.

I can’t always write about funny stuff, even though I like to do that too. My mom said she’ll love to read funny posts all the time. Haha relax mom I’m not that upset and I promise I’ll write about fun stuff soon. I actually have something on the pipeline.

What can I do, my mom has access to the internet… Together with other members of my family who are probably thinking I’m a wreck.

Nah. I’m good. I just like romantic shit and I like to disect feelings. The real deal is never published. Some people know I keep the realest posts hidden.

Too much subjectivity might hurt sometimes. I also mix some fiction in my posts strictly for embelishment purposes, but not too much. Sometimes it’s my imagination or my hidden desires. Man, i’m experimenting. Whatever you read it’s a test until I find my way and I polish my talent. I think you’ll all know the difference then.

From time to time I write about feelings or memories long gone, just because they pop somewhere in the back of my head like popcorn. I’m very disorganized I know, and no, I’m not putting real effort to change it. Simple. Let it flow as it is. Might be messy in the beginning but then it becomes a lot better.

I also noticed that all these touching posts bring a lot of reaction. People start reacting on the blog from the first minutes. I can see I’m touching the sensitive chords of my audience.

If you ask me, I love to write about feelings. I find it beautiful. I find it rich in everything. Aesthetically you have so much space to develop the writing, the language, the effects. It’s truly creative.

And I do think that we all have a sensitive side and deep inside we like to read emotional texts. I have to admit I used a few texts to manipulate and mislead but only I know where and when and who. Ok and a few other people. Hahah, yeah I get caught sometimes.

So, see. Mystery solved. I’m not at the end of my despair. I’m just feeding my blog. Got it mom?

How cool is she! Love you mom!

On a serious note yeah I find various subjects in day to day life. And that’s about it. My true writings are on a different blog. Hahaha no. I barely maintain this one. I could never keep two. Seriously. No. Seriously.

It’s all love and petrol station (again) writing shenanigans. Peace!

Fail to reboot

You know what’s the worst? When somebody you used to love becomes somebody… regular… again. That’s cruel… when your heart doesn’t skip a beat when you look at them and they don’t warm you up like they used to.

We run out of love, or we force ourselves out of love, and then the object of our adoration has no significance anymore. Is not that we completely take them out of our system, but they don’t have the same effect on us. Like a medicine that doesn’t do the job anymore. Your body just doesn’t respond to it.

It’s hard to have loved somebody and then just look at them plain. Simple. With no excitement, with no desire. And how much you used to feel those before. When their simple presence tormented and twisted the thoughts in your head. When you thought of them so much that you’d start dreaming of them at night.

Now you just sleep peacefully.

All that love gone to waste. You still look at them with that warm feeling, that “yeah, this was my favourite human once” and… that’s it. They made you feel so fuzzy and giggly, and every single thing that they said or did left you in awe. And now all that is mockery.

You go to sleep at night and you don’t feel the need to have them next to you. You don’t want to text them, even though before you were desperate to get in touch. You don’t have them constantly present in your thoughts and prayers… they are just drifting away. Apart.

If once they consumed your whole being, now you are somehow grateful they don’t. It’s like that love was also a burden, and not more than once you felt its pressure.

You still wish them well, you’ll always feel that way and if you don’t it means you never loved them. This is how love works for me. If at any point I gave a part of my life, of my time, of my heart to somebody and it was true, then it will always remain as an echo of warm feelings when it comes to them. And yes you can love more than one person, the difference is when you find the one you’ll love the most. That’s when stars align and fireworks crack all night and lit the sky. And even then things will not be easy. Love, as anything else in life, has ups and downs and it doesn’t make it any less real and amazing.

Starting to lose the chain of thoughts…

But it’s sad when you don’t need somebody anymore, when you don’t feel the need to share with them simple things, and when you don’t really care how they’re doing, or if they’re ok. It’s sad that you don’t want them like you used to. That you don’t replay in your mind all the nice moments that you’ve been through. You don’t think the whole day about the night before…

It’s sad that you don’t want to make them happy anymore and to protect them from anything bad that could happen. It’s sad that everything nice turned into spite. And you spit venom when you say their name. That’s resentment. And that’s still better than moving on. Moving on means game over. Resentment means you still want to play.

The day something they do doesn’t affect you anymore it’s a sad they for them. The day you see them with someone else and tears don’t gargle down your throat it’s the day your calvary is over. If the idea of them with someone else doesn’t make you lose sleep and burn with jealousy, then you’re done. Your herculean labours are over.

And it’s sad. How come a person your heart made an isle for, can become so… ordinary. If once you saw perfection in them now you see all their flaws. And it bothers you. No we are not blind. We saw everything before, it just didn’t bother us. Perfectly imperfect.

It’s sad that you want to find someone new and you let the dust cover their memory. It’s sad that all your projections are not including them. If before you imagined them next to you all along, now you just do math. You become a cold-blooded mathematician, analyzing every possible theory. Because now you’re awake.

With every part of our heart that we give away, we become colder. The more we used to give, the emptier we are left. We regenerate, but with new feelings, with new focus. No place for old feelings. You can’t rekindle something that is consumed. Let the wounds heal and look at the scars from time to time.

And sometimes love is not even consumed. It didn’t even get the chance to fully blossom. You HAD to cut it because it was actually poison ivy. And all those “what if” all those “what could’ve been”… those hurt. You didn’t even get the chance to mature your love. You didn’t have the chance to love enough. You just have to repress it, to pull back all those feeling that will never reach their purpose.

I regret the love I couldn’t give. I regret when I don’t have the chance to show somebody how good I can make them feel, how dedicated I can be to them. I regret that they’ll never know how I can love them… because they just don’t want to.

But then what can we do? We’re not left for dead; we just stand up and move on. Until one day our efforts will be rewarded and not only we’ll get back what we give, but we’ll not ne afraid to give some more.

We try, we fail sometimes but I always say that whatever was done with love can’t be blamed.

*

Can it be resurrected? Read between the lines.

It’s all love and afternoon writing shenanigans (for a change). Peace!

In loving meowmory…

I know that are people who love pets and people who don’t. It’s simple. This post is not about convincing anybody to love pets. This post is about why those who do.

I love pets since childhood. Something about, actually, animals in general, makes my heart warm. It’s such a lovely feeling. And even petting them brings me joy, brings me happiness, it’s a feeling that I can’t explain. It’s like you want to hug them until you squeeze them with love, and you don’t want to let them go. It’s a pure form of happiness, as there are no material benefits from that.

Pets, in time, become part of your day, of your life, of your rutine, of your house. For me, my cats (2 naughty boys) are somehow the joy of coming home. I know, it sounds weird, but I’m single and until I’ll find somebody, they’ll be there when I open the door. I’m not taking this to any extreme, I’m just saying that when I finish work and I reach home and they come to meet me, feels less lonely… feels better than to open the door to… nobody.

I pet them a bit and I talk to them, and I, immediately, disconnect from the rest of my day. To be honest I prefer them to people just because they don’t talk, and because I can give them belly rubs. All these things aside, I am not a crazy cat lady, I just decided 3 years ago to get a cat, and even though I consider myself an irresponsible person, I managed to take good care of them in time.

I always had pets around me, if I think about it better, and even if, not once, I got bit by them, I can’t blame them for anything. They’re animals, they’re not acting responsibly.

I know there are cats or dogs lovers, but I’m both. Or i’m all animals lover. Yeah don’t count snakes as pets, lizards, gators or tarantulas. Let’s keep it casual.

One of my cats sleeps with me at night. Sometimes he sleeps like a person, with his head on the pillow. Sometimes he lets me hug him to sleep (yeah that’s quite difficult for cats) and in the morning he wakes me up by touching my nose with his paw. He is awesome. Yeah, you will never hear an aminal lover calling them “it’.

They say cats don’t really show love, but I disagree. They do in their own way. And there are different types of cats. Some of them are not really interested in humans, except when it’s time for food, and others are cuddly and loving. They just casually come next to you and rub their noses agaisnt you hand, their body against your leg, they lick your hair or just look into your eyes and blink affectionately.

We love them because they are warm souls around us. Because when we’re sad, they make us feel a bit better with their presence or by petting them, or when they do something naughty. We love them because sometimes they seem to understand, only by looking at us, what’s wrong. Something that people most of the times, lack.

We love pets because they’re warm and fuzzy and naughty. They’re love. That’s it. They don’t bother our lives, they add to it. Yeah, of course there are moments when we tend to say the opposite but that’s just human nature. We say the same about kids. And no, I’m not comparing them with kids. It’s a post strictly about pets, even though I can show you people who love their pets more than anything in this world. No that’s not wrong if they keep anything else normal.

There’s only one issue with pets. They leave us… Too soon sometimes… and even though we know that their span of life is not as long as ours we are almost never ready to lose them. They have a place in our hearts, we love them and it’s hard to lose them or to get ready to lose them. We want to take care of them and make their lives better because they make our so. And when they’re gone… it’s just that empty bowl of food next to the fridge and a collar that carries such a beloved name. They always have funny names.

Almost everybody will tell you a story that starts with “I once had a pet..” be it dog, cat, bird, hamster, guinea pig, etc. There’s always a funny story about these pets. Because this is their purpose, to live with us bringing happines and warm memories later on.

Sometimes we look at them and they are so damn cute. They just make you feel like a child. You start being silly around them. You love their paws and cute noses and their furrr. And you know what I like the most? To see the toughest people becoming so gentle and warm around pets and that’s such a great thing to see.

Yes, we are grown ups, but a loss is a loss. And nobody has the right to say that it’s not a real pain when we lose a pet. They become friends in time, they have their role in our lives and now they’re just… gone.

And the worst part is that they can’t tell us what’s wrong, we can’t help them with anything, they are so helpless and sometimes they suffer in silence with us looking at them… helpless.

I’m not writing this because I lost one, even though sometimes dark thoughts make me think about that day. Or maybe I write this for all those I lost. But most of all I write it for those who did lose a friend.

In loving memory of our friend Goofus. A brave little soul.

It’s all love and heartwarming feels. 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!

Tabloid inspired post

I am tired. I am tired of not being able to do what I want to. I am tired of shattered dreams, of insufficiency, of window shopping and so on. The worst part is that you can get all that with money. Money makes this world go round. And I’m not a kid but I still consider it so unfair.

There’s so much potential in some people who just don’t have the means. And some people, plain flat and useless are drowning in money. I mean we see everyday, on TV, on social media, the “influencers” of today. I mean, man, take the Kardashians. What’s their talent? Leaked porn videos. Inherited money? Their fake asses? And why is one of them one of the most influential people today? Why do we promote nudity and pornography when it comes to her and when it comes to simple people we are hypocrits. We can all agree that sex sells but then we are against it also. Where’s the sense here?

Why do I hear people say “Good for her, she was smart!”. What did she do, first of all? Lay on her belly? Name something notable for the good of mankind that she accomplished in her life? And don’t start with charity and donations. If you ask me this should be, by default, something rich people should do. Share the damn wealth, you have enough, help those in need if you can. It’s called decency. It’s called caring for your keen, help chidren, help people with disabilities. Help those who can’t help themselves.

The worst part is that the richer they get, the more they want. More and more money and fame, until they what? Where is the limit to this?

And children today take that as influence. We grew up having role models our parents, our grandparents, or brothers and sisters. We had different dreams. We wanted to be decent when we grow up. TV presenters, ballerinas, doctors, astronauts, etc. Nowdays they want to be famous by any means even if this usually ends with sacrificing their innocence.

They want to be people with no values, and escalate the levels of society without any dignity. The first lady of United States has a naked pictorial and she married the man she probably hates from the depth of her heart, for money and fame. But everything has a price.

Some of the people that most contributed to the good of humanity were humble and private. Even though they had so much to show and to share, their wisdom and common sense kept them on the ground, kept them anchored to reality with no desire to be worshiped. And the best part is that they deserved.

That’s the pattern nowdays, attention seekeing, over the night achieved fame. And I don’t mind when somebody who really deserves it, gets it. It’s not about that. I support and I can be happy for people who make it. But they need to inspire the others with something positive. Not sex tapes and scandals.

Want a sex tape, keep it for you. Watch it from time to time if you like, but to make something so private a public topic it’s a bit too much. Do whatever you want with your private life, who am I to judge. We all have our own sins and guilty pleasures.

Shouldn’t we be ashamed to have as a base, as a starting point, a sex tape? Aren’t morals working this way? I am not a conservative person. At all. My mind can open up to anything, anything. But I can’t take these fake, sex fueled “celebrities” and the huge influence they have on society. You should have sex because you want it, because you feel like it, because you thought about it, etc and it should remain there in your bedroom, or whateve place you choose. Does that make me conservative? So be it, then.

From what I know, and I happen to know quite well, public sex is an offence but then again we have no problem in making some boring porn the start-up of fame. Hypocrites man, hypocrites.

Our childen and their future children are watching this! They want to become this! What in the name of God! I have no children but if I will one day have and they’ll thell me when they’ll grow up that they want to be like the people I mentioned before, I will feel that I failed as a parent.

I wouldn’t want them to be like me, even. Not that I’m bad but I have my mistakes and my vices. And I know myself enough to admit that I’m not a role model. But I can work on myself and what I’m feeding to my children’s minds. I’ll want them to be decent human beings with common sense and respect for themselves. And it’s normal. Everybody should want that.

But I see more and more parents saying “go for it, take the money”, “do whatever it takes to reach there”, “as long as if benefits you, do it”. Stop it, please! You are encouranging your children, that you so hardly raised, to be cheap people, to sell themselves. You teach them how to take shortcuts and you protect them, until they will be faced with a tragedy and they won’t have a clue on how to hande it. They will be used of having everything, spoiled little brats, who never worked a day in their lives for something that they want. They will be used to just take.

Yeah, provide for your children, I strongly agree, but it’s a very fine line for when it’s too much. Don’t make them believe world is easy and they can have everything they ever want, because when they don’t, they will be so hartbroken, and so lost because you created this bubble around them.

Life is not about paparazzi chasing you, or your face on media every single day. A lot of celebrities suffer of depressions, drug abuse and unhappy marriages because they just don’t know how to handle fame. They are lost in a vertigo of temptations and vices and rarely come out of it.

Let’s be role models for our generations. Let’s make them want to be less like these superficial people and more like themselves. Let’s encourage their talents and abilities, rather than pushing them to a life of lies.

I don’t know why I am preaching so much tonight, my initial idea for this post was so different.

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

Stand up Material

Life is weird, man. First of all we get born… out of a weird place. I mean ok you can’t vomit a baby but there are other ways. Like the delivery bird we are told about when we’re still too young to understand anatomy properly. Oh, you don’t know about it? Is it just us? Oh…

And we’re born so helpless. We need 6 months to start eating food and almost a year to start walking. We’re actually helpless until we reach 16 or 17 years of age. I know older people who are still helpless but anyway.

And then we have no power of choice until we’re major or legal (as if our existence til then is illegal or forbidden), eighteen years old or in some countries twenty one. I mean, the hell with that, you need to chill. In my country they put babies to sleep with vodka, what’s so wrong if they drink at 18. Hahaha I hope you’re laughing. I didn’t mean that. It’s not true. They use drugs. Oh shit, joking again. Too much? Ok, I’ll knock it off.

It’s been a while since I let the clown out.

Then we’re majors and then the real shit begins. Here we are making poor life decisions, not drinking enough water, stressing about making money, not making money, spending money, saving money, anything money.

Then we fall in love, another tragedy. Ok, we fall in love earlier but I don’t consider that true love, that’s just teenage fever. So, we fall in love and there’s more shit to deal with. And then we’re all about he/she loves me, am I attractive enough, should I be an asshole, should I shave my chest, should I skip shaving my legs tonight, am I sagging, is he sagging???, am I fat? please tell me truth! no, don’t tell me the truth, you animal!, I didn’t cum, it was too fast, is he thinking about somebody else, are we making enough money to have a future, money, anything money, love, break-ups, etc.

Break ups yes. We stress about break ups so much, that we become introverts, damaged, assholes, again assholes, more assholes, etc.

Then we struggle with depression, low self esteem, adult acne, ingrown hair… oh shit, is that just me? Anyway, from the small helpless lambs we were, we just left our families to see the world and become some walking trainwrecks.

You live and you become a bag of issues, a walking case study. We evolve. (mocking tone, like when you change your voice to be pompous and with a low bass).

Ok we have nice moments, yey! we enjoy picnics, parties, friends, pets, family reunions, marriage, sex, new family, kids, spending time without kids, travelling, pancakes (mmm I just gave myself a late night craving), new house, new car, getting alive form an accident, you know things like this, closing a credit card, buying a fancy dishwasher. We enjoy them, only to go back to being wrecked, to worry about making money and how many calories are in those damn pancakes!! SO UNFAIR (the pancakes part).

The we, let’s say, settle. We have our family, our kids, our dog that ruins the landscaped garden, we make let’s say enough money but freaking schools are so expensive, we afford to spend quality time and travel from time to time and so on. Let’s say life it’s good and everybody will reach there sooner or later.

But your health is already damaged, you worked like a dog to make money and you neglected a lot of aspects in your life and then Boom one day, Alzheimer’s! Tourrette’s! Or just menopause. You’re old and sometimes so unlucky that you won’t even remember the life you lived.

Ironic. Don’t you think? (Alanis Morisette in the background. I just made you sing that for the next couple of hours).

And then you get older, give all the money you saved for yourself, to your kids and to their kids, and then they put you in an asylum, because you’re a burden and life nowdays is too busy to allow them to take care of you.

You take your sagging self to the asylum and then bye-bye life. Thanks god we don’t get out from the same way we came from. Phew!

But even this is a bit weird. I mean we get burried, burned, embalmed, etc. I mean, why can’t we just evaporate. Less headache for all the people around us, for the environment, etc. Why we have to exit so dramatically from this world that cosnumed us. People crying their eyes off, the coffin is lowered in the ground (or your burned remains are scattered in the wind, depending on how brave you were in your will) and everything is black, together with the priest seeing your way out. I mean it’s a whole plot, a stage, costumes, a theme, etc. We get out of this world in the most dramatic way.

Why can’t we just evaporate. “Ah, you know, we didn’t even see him gone. When we reached it was just a dew on the furniture”. Boom! Simple! Effective! Eco!

I hope somebody makes this a stand-up. Enough with the shenanigans.

It’s all love and clowning around tonight! Peace up! A town!

 

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.Β 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!