Writing out loud

I think there are less and less original ideas and it’s very hard to be under the spotlight without anything groundbreaking. You can’t be mediocre. If you want to start something you must have a vision and that brief moment of genius.

The more time you allow to pass without doing it the harder it becomes. Just like everything else in life. You grow older and more complex. Your basic needs turn into intricate ones, you are not satisfied with little things, you are not satisfied with even a tridimensional view of things.

Your own self-perception changes and you aspire to be this great being doing even greater deeds and when you fail it resonates deep inside you. It’s hard to stand out in a world that fabricate ideas on a conveyor belt.

And then there’s this battle inside us that makes so frail. This antithesis of feelings and actions that makes us so eternally unsatisfied and changing. We criticize ourselves so badly that we just wish to give up right after we started. We put these insecurities and weaknesses first and then we just get discouraged.

Or maybe it’s just me. I’m so easily discouraged and I can’t really understand how I could go trough some really hard situations in my life and I jus can’t give myself a high-five for a job well done.

I spend my time searching for that start, for that moment where I am confident enough to start. And then all I get is delay. And time is passing, and time is a wizard. And that thought that you’ll have to go through an existence with accomplishing your purpose is not really friendly.

How do you know your purpose?

I ask myself quite often. What is there for me? And sometimes I let my imagination free. I follow my imagination like a spectator. And you know what I notice? Even my imagination has boundaries. Set by society, by myself, by my sins, by what they say it’s a sin. Am I religious? Not quite. I’m spiritual let’s say. I might have faith. Yet to discover.

I think I was born loud. Good lungs. Usually people who change the world have soft voices. Calm and calculated. Stern yet sunny and soothing. But there’s a lucky start-up on my skies. And that star saved me from so many troubles. That star guided me to me. That’s the star where my grandmother lives now.

Again, back to purpose. I always like these dreamy activities, loose and not too sharp. And in the same time I loved geometry and space and finding hidden diagonals. I always loved to write and I participated in numerous competitions. I just did one mistake, I didn’t let my imagination run free. That’s why now it’s distorted by all these factors.

I said to myself that I’m a realist because this is what life had showed me. That day dreaming is for those who can afford it and if you lose yourself too much in it you might as well lose everything around you. There’s only one good thing about it. When you’re down you have an escape. You have that vivid corner of your mind where everything seems possible and you actually start to believe that it can be a future projection.

But then you have to be original. And you look for inspiration. Obviously you don’t look for it inside you, at first. We are copy cats. We look around first. Small steps and we manage to what we think others are doing better than us. But we’ll always be copy cats and that’s not the scope.

where’s that spark though? Why everything seems so unworthy of seeing daylight? Why nothing is ever good enough?

Ok I’m very rhetorical in this post. But I’m just wondering, what am I actually good for. What’s that secret talent or gift or call it whatever you want. I mean I know a few things I can do but what’s my greatest one. Or maybe is nothing and I’m just meant to be mediocre.

Imagine if one day tables turn and I’ll read these words from the winners perspective and I’ll be a cocky little bastard looking back and saying “you know, I always had this feeling that I’ll make it…” And then, in my cockiness I’ll be content. But then you have to be cocky sometimes, too.

Humbleness just humbles you more. You need to have that dose of audacity that makes you jump when there’s nothing under your feet.

I mean what can be better than doing what you love, what you’re really good at?

Again, as I said it before I’m a person who believes in destiny. Let’s say I’ve been shown that there’s a certain way things happen and sometimes I have no control of it. Let’s just say that when I believed there’s no escape, there was and it made my mind expand. And my mind absorbed this idea of new solutions like a sponge. And if you ask me, everything is possible. Except chasing away that demon that pokes my head with crazy thoughts.

I said to myself, what’s the best way to write a book. Use your own life as a source of inspiration. I mean, there it is, you have the setting, the characters, the situations. Will it be interesting? Well usually people get pretty caught up in the course of events. Will it be a good idea? Hell no! You have to be ready to accept outside criticism wich is probably going to hurt your feelings even more than you thought. Then you’ll be so vulnerable and walk around like an open book. And I don’t mind that but let’s just say i learned from early ages that you can’t really get fully accepted. Another idea gone to waste I guess. I’ll just have to publish it post-mortem.

But then it’s so discouraging when you have to write pure fiction. I feel my mind doesn’t help me anymore. I am writing purely to practice now and I know it will end, I’ll stop for now and who knows when I’ll start again.

I need to persevere. My posts get longer and longer with time. I had an average of 600 words per post when I started writing and now I can easily go 1000 in 10 minutes. The more you try to find your kickstart the more discouraging it gets. I mean look at J K Rowling. How can you ever beat that. Ok, I’m not stopping there but any other writer sounds better than you’ll ever do.

Should I let somebody else read it?

Not yet.

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

Change background

I just looked at my coffee and I realized I like colour black and especially dark colours. Not in something specific, but in general. This blog changed to black.

I realized that when I didn’t get enough sleep my brain is bombarding me with thoughts of various kinds. The statement above is one of them. They just come and go with the speed of light not allowing me to focus. Instead of “focus” I just wrote “fall asleep”. Probably this is what I need right now.

I am also very irascible when I’m tired but on a different not I tend to be more productive when I’m in this state. When I’m well rested I tend to take everything too lightly, too superficial, I feel that I have time for everything, I procrastinate and then I realized that the only thing I did was to waste an entire day.

I read this morning because I couldn’t sleep and even though reading helps me sleep, whenever I closed my eyes, my brain got triggered. It’s like it doesn’t want me to sleep. So many thoughts tangled in my lobes that I just had to open my eyes and get some distraction.

I don’t know if I’m haunting myself or my hidden unconscious emotions start a battle of wits in my head. It’s not an easy to handle situation.

This led me to an idea that was persistent since morning.

See, when people come from a normal background…. Ok now I’ll tell you what a normal background means to me: A family with both parents, decent lifestyle, functional household, education and affection, healthy relation with the family (not exceptional, just normal), living your childhood as a child, your teenagehood as a teenager, not too spoiled but growing in a caring environment, etc. Of course it can be perfect, but I thought about that too. There’ll be fights but not important. They’ll be about some grades in school or your brother/sister who got themselves in trouble, maybe some conjugal misunderstanding that your parents will hide from you anyway. Small tension but nothing unusual. Something that won’t leave a print on your emotions forever. Children are very susceptible to everything.

Even half of the above mentioned will count as a healthy development for a decent human.

Ok so, when people come from a normal background tend to be more peaceful, stable and kind. I saw it in the people I met a long time. I am not saying they are privileged, I am saying they have a strong foundation to they personality, where they have everything sorted after a great example received during early age. They are more confident because they were allowed to develop their traits without major changes or impacts in their life. Their character is stronger because it was not weakened by other circumstances. I don’t know if this is true completely, it’s something I just noticed in people with similar backgrounds. They just seem more normal and they are usually good people who you can count on on a very profound level. Unanimously labeled as such, they will less likely to become the opposite in time.

I was specifically mentioning early ages because the foundation is where everybody starts from, therefore is the most important. This prepares you for your life, later. You will likely be able to solve your problems in a more rational way, with more strength and determination. Even your commitment will look different given the fact that you were given positive examples when young.

Of course you’ll develop anguishes, prejudices, complexes, even depression episodes (it can affect everybody) etc but the way you handle them is different than a person with an abnormal background.

Now my version of an abnormal background: most likely divorced or single parent, troubled household, fights / sometimes violence, traumas, insufficiency (mostly material),  blame and induced guilt, living ahead of your aged, being troubled with other dilemmas than the “normal” ones, felling a high level of responsibility for others.

Note that I did not include education here because even if most of the above cases will lack the education part there are also very well-educated individuals that can fit in this category. Which sometimes can lead to serious cases of depression. The more you know the more you want to know, the more you dig into the depths of your traumas and brain dissections.

So, these individuals are the uneasy ones, the ones with lots of insecurities even though sometimes they act like thugs. This is their way of getting things done. Usually they develop all sorts of psychological traps. They can control their emotions but they’re usually very sensitive because it was imprinted within their emotions since childhood. The guilt is more frequent. Guilt not conscience. It’s easier for them to want to be lonely because they can’t make mistakes. They socially interact but they’re spilt inside. They follow social norms and standards. Most likely they teach themselves how to normally behave than being raised like that. They always want to please, they want to do their best because they were blamed that everything went wrong because of them. They feel that they don’t belong, most of the times and it’s very hard to please them or tame them. It’s double the job to deal with them.

A lot of them become successful but a lot of them became the… villain. Studies showed that penitentiaries are usually full with a high number people from the second category. Leave aside the natural-born killers and psychopaths. This is not an excuse, but on a psychological level it makes a difference. troubled people, unable to socially fit or feeling rejected can become predators.

I’m not saying they can’t surpass this, but it’s a lot of work. Constant, monumental. Your self-control level has to be steel. You need to analyze every step of your thinking and acting process, and sometimes despite your efforts you fail the scope.

Some might say, let people be what they are. But tell me who wants to be troubled and restless. This is not society’s voice integrally, it’s the voice from within that want to better you. This is how you become better, with self-will. You have to keep maximum security surveillance in your headquarters. And you’ll not succeed from the first attempts, you’ll fail so many times, you’ll snap, you will blow your cover and every restart will be more difficult and you’ll want to stop and say “fuck it” but that inner voice tells you that you’re in charge and you’re the only one that can understand and act accordingly. And so, you are one more step closer to your personal success. Maybe right after a big breakdown.

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

P.S. I need spellcheck, i messed this post up. Maybe i’ll nap a little bit. I can’t even read what I wrote now. Oh, good Lord, be praised for giving us THE COFFEE!

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. 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!