Word omelet

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

But writing is about being in the mood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

Not for too long, though.

“Kiss me” I hear all of a sudden.

And I’m not waiting for another moment…

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

*

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

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

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

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

Anyway, dilemmas, dilemmas.

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

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

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

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

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The doers, not the sharers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait for it

I just look at myself sometimes and I want to slap my face and scream from the bottom of my lungs “WHAT DO YOU WAAAAANT”.

Nothing makes you happy. Nothing. When it’s like this, you want it like that. When it’s like that you want it like this. You get what you want and then you don’t want it anymore. You have issues! Big ones!!! How can you ever be happy like this?

And stop thinking. Stop f#cking thinking because it will be the end of you. Why can’t you be normal? Why can’t you stop seeking fantasies and be goddamn normal?

And then I’m like “Nah! Just do your thing gurl! Be a freaking unicorn if you have to!”

End of the story. Good night!

It’s all love and experimental shenanigans. Peace!

Waiting for my memoir

EXPERIMENT! I just recorded this post and you can listen it here (so sorry for my voice):

 

If it’s not your thing, read it below.

Ok, I’m there. I’m bored to death. I’m going out of my mind, inside of my mind. I’m suffocating inside myself. I don’t know what could possibly keep me satisfied. I don’t know what will please me more. When I have something, I want something else, when I have what I think I want, I don’t want it anymore. And what I want the most, I always lose. Maybe I shouldn’t want it in the first place. But why? Anyway, to sum it up I’m a happy person but I’m terribly bored and this boredom makes me unhappy, but not unhappy in the sad way. Does it make any sense?!

Happiness is not, in my opinion, the lack of sadness. It’s that state of mind that everything is fine, it’s going to be fine and there are great things coming your way and you manage to keep your head up. Happiness doesn’t really take much. It can be anything. Sadness requires a specific reason. At least this is how I see it. Happiness lays in the simplest and most insignificant things sometimes. This doesn’t mean we don’t have other needs that require more complexity. And some needs should require a different level of satisfaction. And then, there’s your problem. It’s all about your unique requirements, about what can match the level of your expectation and imagination. If that makes any sense… again.

Back to being bored. I am afraid when I feel like this because changes are coming. And who the hell isn’t afraid of change. And I know it’s the cure for boredom but I’m not always ready for change. Even though whenever happened, I raised up to it in no time. I’m always ready. Then I behave as it was always my natural habitat. The power of adapting to anything it’s unbelievable sometimes. But I don’t like changes and even when I feel bored I stop myself from seeking entertainment. I tamed myself a lot in time.

What I’m saying is that I like stability. I love safety and everything straightforward. But I have moments when chaos is my only nature. I just unleash all that has been tamed and I just let the beast out.

See, I wasn’t made for routine. I wasn’t made to be leashed and caged. I should be dancing, I should be flying, I should be an entertainer, I should be a totally different thing from what I’ve always been.

I’ve always survived from a day to another. I always left my dreams aside to reach that safety level I was talking about earlier. I said to myself that the things I love the most are not serious enough for the future. Because my wings have always been closed. I’ve never opened them as much as I should, so I never flew. I was just half there. When I was young my thoughts were too old. My worries were those of an adult. I always struggled with my thoughts. Way too early.

I wish somebody had taken these thoughts away from me at that time. Just somebody to say “you’re just a kid, these thoughts don’t belong to you, these problems are not yours to solve and most of all, you’re not too blame”. I don’t want return to childhood traumas but, man, how they ruin you when you grow up.

Not the real situation, but the impact it had on your mind and what kind of reactions it triggered in your mind. Because you grow up wrecked, fearful, with no self-esteem. And then you spend a long time re-building or building from scratch a new persona, without all the damages, but what we don’t know, is that they are our foundation.

It can work though. You can keep it going. I know some people will say “who? you? no way” but I can tell you “yeah, me”. I seem a cocky motherf#cker but it’s a long way to explain what I am. I am happy I managed to leave that impression though. Not that I’ve been a mole before but inside my head I was always way lower than others. I’m happy with any progress though.

And I fought, I kept on going. Even when I said I can’t, I just kept on going. And I said so many times I can’t. I said so many times I don’t want to. I guess I never really meant it. I guess I’m waiting to see myself succeeding like my own fan. I just want to be happy for myself one day.

Don’t get me wrong, I had my moments, my precious moments and I know very well who I am and what I did. It will be stupid of me to say I don’t. I shined and I conquered a lot of situations. I had my glory. And I had tons of luck. Tons.

I just realised that my priorities have changed and I think of myself more than ever. It’s like I want to preserve the last sparkle of that childish enthusiasm. I want to preserve that drive that makes me dream and hope that not everything is ruined and it’s never too late to try to have what I always wanted.

God help me, I say. Because who knows what I’ll start. And by the way, is there anybody willing to write my memoir? Seriously, you’ll be entertained. Everybody will. I just hope I’ll be able to tell my story without thinking how others will judge me. I wish I’ll be able to talk about the darkest moments without shame. After all it has to be authentic.

As usual it’s all love and evening writing shenanigans. Peace!

The journey of fear

I found my old Romanian blog. From years ago… 10 or more who knows, I lost the notion of time or I never had it. But, man, I had balls. I could rant about everything like a motherf#cker and not give a damn. I was poring my heart out til the last drop. It was liberating. And I was never thinking about who reads my blog, or if I did, apparently didn’t give a rat’s ass. Now I care and that’s so bad for my writing.

I guess it’s happening. We become scardy cats (to avoid using the p word) when we grow up.

Did you see kids? They have no fear. Oh water! I’ll go. Oh Fire! I’ll go. Oh snake! I’ll touch. Oh electricity! Bring it on. They just go for anything because fear is a notion that’s not yet known or implanted into their system. They don’t know it so they just go on, head first into everything.

Then, teenagers. They know fear but they are rebels. And being a rebel counts more than being afraid. So they do things out of rebellion and then, if nothing wrong happens they feel invincible. And it teaches them that if they dare they might as well succeed. There is actually no other option in young minds except success because they don’t know yet how to rationalize or be defensive. And it’s not such a bad thing. Lots of them turn fearless leaders.

And then, after these stages, you just become more and more afraid of.. basically.. everything. You think everything is a calamity and there you are stepping on your dreams, your impulses and sometimes your heart and just keep yourself on the safest side.

This is what we’re taught, right? Don’t quit that job that gives you a good income. Don’t break up with that person you’ve been since highschool. Don’t take any kind of risks.

But… what if I’m unhappy with all the above. What if I want something else, something new. And then your brain goes like “Nonsense! Shut your heart and let me be in control. Don’t let emotions control you!”. And you do it, you get stuck there forever, knowing damn right that you can be somewhere else with somebody else in the middle of adventure and yet you just go for the same routine. We tame ourselves to the extreme. Who knows what life will bring if we just make that one move, that one step…

And sometimes we build fear by comparing ourselves to others. This is the fear of not fitting in. We look at others and we decide that we want to be like them in certain situations because we believe they hold some unknown recipe to success, forgetting that we might have our own way of doing things right just by being ourselves. I could never be too ladylike for example, and many times I heard that I act like a man. But hey, I don’t mind it. And if I don’t, who the hell cares. I’m too loud, or I jump too much, or I make faces, or I climb trees. So what? I curse and I say nasty jokes in front of everyone. Sometimes I probably look moe like a man than a woman but it never bothered me that much to change it.

And then people will tell you “Oh but men like women who are.. you know… frail and delicate, and they behave like ladies”. Meh! None of my boyfriends ever complained. So there you go! It depends on what you want to see. And men anyway they have a tendency to say something and do the opposite, so let’s move on.

This is one above of the examples, and it’s a true story. I heard so many people complaining that I’m too rough or too careless about the above mentioned feminine traits. Ah, well, too late now! By the way I’m also very sensitive in the same time. I can cry immediately and effortlessly. I’m many things, not just one. A lot of people lose the bigger picture and focus on some details only. An it’s fine again, because these people are the ones that follow their role-models, or whatever society rules, burying their own selves under masks and layers of deceit.

It just bothers me that we lose that sincerity of feelings and emotions that guides all our actions when we are young. The more we grow the more complex is every decision we make. We have a reason, or more, behind everything, and sometimes it’s not a pleasant one. We are fake. We start with us, we practice on others. We’re not genuine anymore. Genuine. This is what I was looking for.

I hate situations that force me to be somebody else. I know in life we have to make some compromises but I want to think of them as “some”. I don’t want to become somebody else. And I think that my own personality will do just fine in a very wide range of situations. I don’t know if it’s strong, but it didn’t actually left me until now so…

Moving on. I’m not saying to keep being rude if you are a rude person by nature. This will be the misunderstanding, I feel. I just think that if you are smart enough you know how to correct your flaws without erasing your entire hard drive. If you get what I mean. I don’t believe in “It’s me, take it or leave it” but I also don’t believe in “I need to act more like that” (when “that” means copy paste) and I also don’t believe in “People say/think/want you to be…”.

And all of a sudden we are a world of easily offended people and our egos hurt the most, and we have to be politically correct because who knows what sensitive string we might touch. This is also a form of fear, of constraint, of limiting the free speech, own opinions and originality. We are in boxes. We have walls. We see the ceiling and we can’t fly. Because “who knows what might be out there, better stay here where we are safe”.

Why don’t we just have a look ourselves?…

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

Broken mirrors

It’s not the same for everybody. Whatever might trigger something inside you does not necessarily trigger something inside them.

You see, when you pressed your cheek so naturally against mine, because the place was loud and we had to talk close to each other, that meant for me. Maybe for you it was something you do when you’re attracted to somebody but for me it was such an intimate and infinite emotion. Your lips are moving and I feel the motion of your face against my cheek. And when you finish talking you squeeze my arm a bit. Sometimes, when I ask you something you just pull me closer with a steady hand. And my body flows toward you.

At some point my face is looking straight when you talk to me and we’re not cheek to cheek anymore, your face is on my face, so close to my lips, not even talking next to my ear anymore… and I would have it like that forever. You talking against my face. You and your cheek against mine, that hand around my waist. And when we’re not next to each other our eyes meet swiftly and there’s THAT look. That damn look and damn you for understanding it too.

And sometimes it’s like you’re analyzing me. Or undressing me. I guess the latter… I hope the latter. And when our lips first touched it was fire. We couldn’t even keep them together, we couldn’t even lock the kiss but we keep on trying and you just wreck my brain functions. On and on and on. I don’t even know how I’m kissing you but it’s so natural, so effortlessly. I can barely see your face, but I want to see it, so we take brief moments just to look at each other and understand what’s happenning. And it’s happening. I guess my face reads exactly what yours does.

We have to stop. We have to go back. It’s hard to go back and pretend I didn’t kiss the soul out of you. You look, I look. It’s not swift anymore, it’s intentional. And I read on your soft lips “you are in trouble” and a devilish spark plays in your eyes. Oh mister, trouble it is!

I just feel like grabbing your face and bring it close to mine and just stare at you for a moment before I kiss you. Movies in my head. Movies in yours. Pretty sure the same plot. Maybe different scene order.

And I try to find topics so I can bring your face next to mine. And you keep on answering with your face smashed in mine.

“I’ll take good care of you”… and just like that I have no knees, I have no connection to the world outside. Just like that, I am that piece of exaggerated romantic shit that I’ve always been and you got me with silly words like a pigeon trap. There’s nothing I love more than alluring gestures, intuitive hand touching, body language and word innuendos, because my brain is so alert when it comes to these things. It’s awaken by them even though it’s slowly sinking in imbecility.

God, somebody save me. God, have mercy on my soul. My mind has sinned. Still does.

And then you obviously think, because of the great talent we have of ruining things, “does he act like this with everybody”, “it’s like a game he knows too well”, “he doesn’t mean any of it”, etc. And then I’m down. The weight of these words crush me. They just cancel every single thing I said before and now there’s no way back… Can’t ignore them anymore. Stupid thoughts. Stupid, stupid thoughts.

You’re dancing behind me and I’m slowly grinding against your body. It’s intense and it helps me that I can’t see your face…because I can picture it. And I know why you’re moving away. I turn and I see your face. I was right. You’re biting your lip. Unconsciously I’m biting mine.

And then again you’re thinking “what is it different for him now” “how do I make it different”. I have to be the best, because I always do, because it’s always like this. This is what it is. And I am. I don’t always have the chance to…

And there was no chance with you. Who knows when I’ll see you again. There are galaxies between us and this mind of my own that will ruin all of this. That will question to death the authenticity of all these moments. Especially that you’ll not be around to prove me wrong. And then… then, what’s the point?

I wonder what did YOU feel? I wonder if you acknowledge my face moving when we were talking cheek to cheek. I wonder if you felt that fire, the electricity of our fingers barely touching.

Why did you do it then? Is it a routine?

How can I ever be happy like this. How can I stop ruining moments with thoughts. I ask myself.. and the only answer lays in that vanity we have, the one that whispers “he worships you” and makes you feel so powerful. And it stays. The thoughts stay and the vanity stays too. You’ll have that set of questions running on and on in your mind and then vanity will come and say “enough! I felt it, it happened, no need to doubt it!”

And you feel better about it, and about yourself. Yeah, it’s true, it happened. There it is, the light at the end of your f##king tunnel. And for a while you are back on track. It’s so twisted and so hard to describe this feeling, this insecurity that keeps on digging, like a cavity, into your self-esteem, into your mind, into your heart. Fewer thoughts you produce, the happier you are. Are these thoughts a result of your traumas? Let’s not f##king go there because I will never finish this. I have a few people to thank for that for eternity, I believe.

Anyway you’re such a dear memory to me. You will be that kind of memory that makes my heart warm at times. What kind of memory will it be for you?

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