Memento doar

Suntem găunoşi pe dinăuntru si nu de răutate. De durere. Că sapă. Sapă.

Si pe urma vin ăia cărora nu prea le e cunoscut sentimentul si zic “păi bine bă, ce înseamnă asta?” Păi ce să însemne? Dacă tu habar nu ai, vezi-ți de fericirea ta. Dacă nu poți să ințelegi că sunt lucruri care totuşi se intamplă altora fără vina lor, atunci stai in bula ta de fericire si lasa-i p-ăştia cu trauma să se vaite. Ca na, aşa se vede de din afară, că se vaită.

Sunt lucruri care se întâmplă, uneori înainte chiar să fi apucat să ne pierdem inocența. Aşa, abia iesiți din carapace, pac! Ne loveşte ceva atât de tare că ne schimbă viața iar lumea din jur nu stie decât sa zica “lasa bă că nu e dracu’ atât de negru!”

Da io te-ntreb “bă, da’ daca e?”

Cateodată parcă te loveşte păcatul original. Păcatul strămoşilor. Ai acolo 11 ani si na, trebuie să fii tu iedul ispăşitor.

Scriu chestia asta pentru că vad oameni care chiar nu au capacitatea de a se vizualiza câtuşi de puțin situația cuiva. Câtuşi de puțin. Chiar atât de stramtă si rigidă sa fie mintea unor oameni? Să se uite la cineva si să vadă prin el? Chiar nu există simțul ăsta de a ințelege. De a simpatiza. De a-ți tine gura măcar?

Mă uit la unii care zic “dar cum poate cutărescu sa fie asa? Eu nu sunt asta! N-am mai vazut aşa ceva!” Atunci baga capul inapoi in nisip dacă acest “cutărescu” nu e criminal, pedofil sau Firea. Lăsând zeflemeaua, încearcă să strici nițel acolo in matrix si să ințelegi că se poate, că nu toată lumea e la fel, ca nu toți reacționăm/gândim/suntem la fel. Mi se pare aşa, o involuție, ca in ziua de astăzi, să te comporți ca un neştiutor sau un atotştiutor, după caz. Să ştii tu ce simt sau nu pot simți alții, ce gândesc, ce nu gândesc sau cum acționează.

Porcării, mon cher. Dacă nu putem să vedem un pic mai in profunzime, atunci ce putem? Superficiali putem fi toți, că e usor, de actualitate şi degeaba. Hai să investim puțin, hai să vedem şi dincolo de zâmbetele astea blegi de pe fața noastră. Hai să mai intrebăm şi noi din când in când “Bă, eşti şi tu fericit? Ai şi tu câteva motive bune să te trezeşti dimineața? Unul măcar?”. Ceva de genul. Hai să nu ne mai lăudăm că suntem de fier si nu discutăm sentimentalisme d-astea “dă femei”. Mama lor de femei, că mereu strică.

Ne inecăm, ne sinucidem (cum de curând Kate Spade şi Anthony Bourdain) şi nimeni nu ştie ce e cu noi şi ce ne-a împins la o asemenea faptă. Iți trebuie curaj sa iți iei tu viața. Să stai acolo in momentul ăla si să mergi mai departe. Atât de tare sa iți doreşti să scapi de chin. Atât de tare te doare, te bântuie, atât de mult iți doreşti să scapi. Numai gandeşte-te că tu in sinea ta nu vezi o altă soluție. Că ai ajuns la capătul tuturor puterilor si deşi ai luptat o viață întreagă, ajungi acolo, in momentul ăla, în care laşi tot hăul din tine să se caşte.

Şi ai de toate. Sau aşa pare din afară. Că uite aşa pare din afară. Dar tu în tine, în fortareața ta esti părăsit, eşti rupt şi putrezit. Viu dar fără viață. Imaginează-ți că deşi ți se rupe sufletul când te gandeşti la familie şi prieteni, când te gandeşti la copii şi la o viață întreagă construită din puțin, ai totuşi tăria să opreşti firul vieții. Unii zic că e laşitate. Că nu stai să înduri mai departe ce ți-e dat. Eu nu zic nimic. Eu nu mă gândesc decât la cât de puternic trebuie să fie veninul ăla ce ți-a intrat în sistem. Pe zi ce trece să te intunece mai tare.

Si voi aştia care nu intelegeți depresia si ce efecte are ea, macar nu comentați. Scuipați in sân şi valea mai departe.

Ştiu că e cam macabru subiectul, dar cred că sunt gânduri care la un moment dat trec prin mintea noastră. Sau nu. Poate mă preocup eu aşa.

Oricum, scriu asta intr-un avion cu 20 de pasageri, am ceva timp la dispoziție, scaunele de langa mine libere şi cumva subiectul ăsta mi-a trecut prin cap… ca un glonț.

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!

Let’s debate

I read an article a while ago and I badly wanted to coment on it.

You can read it here.

The article starts with a beautiful “By no means am I being sexist or offending women” which let’s be honest, actually means that you have something to say that women won’t like. From here, the logical deduction that a dude wrote the piece. And there is no name of this dude who writes on a “sensational” type of site “UAE viral”.

Why no cojones, bro? Just say your name at the end of the article like a proper journalist. Be responsible of what you write. Assume your opinions. This is the way it should be.

Moving on, this is the first thing I noticed about this article, the anonymous non-sexist, non-misogynistic writer.

“Anyone who has traveled around will realize that some, if not most, women in the UAE start to get a bigger ego and act more stuck up with guys compared to women living in other countries. I would advise the women reading this to take this article with a grain of salt before bombarding the comment section.”

Even though I tend to partially agree with him in the first part of the paragraph, what punches my temper is his advice on how to read the article and the all knowing attitude. My friend, again, you obviously wrote this article to stir shit up. Don’t go all shy now! And we all now how Internet works: more clicks, more comments, more likes means more business and more money. You’re on a website that promotes viral things.

I said I would partially agree with the first part of the paragraph. I live here for almost seven years. For some it may seem a lot, for some I may seem a newbie. But given the fact that this country is 46 years old, I guess it’s quite enough to form an opinion.

So, as a woman, I can tell you that this “princessy” endemic among women is quite a trend. It’s true that men here are a bit too oriented to the material side of this subject and they have this certainty that money buys everything, so to be sure that they won’t miss, they spoil the women they want by their side. Or for the night!

This is the true ego. The fear of rejection. Try taking her for a walk and do your best to make her go home with you at the end of the night. Ah, yeah, money work faster and don’t require brain cells. Yey, the recipe to success.

And I think it’s wrong. If a woman will expect only this from a man, if the only purpose is to get his money, that’s fucked up.

Now, you tell me. If women will be either showered with presents or approached by men in the club or whistled at by the beach, or followed in the mall, what will they become? A bit stuck up, wouldn’t they? See the order. Who does all that? A desperate bunch of men who think we’ll stop and declare them endless love when they come up with these childish rituals of mating. And now I ask you: If a woman looks at you and smiles and tries to give you attention, what would you become? A bit stuck up, wouldn’t you?

In a country that’s made of almost 80% minorities, where you can find almost all nationalities and all type of customs, where we all try to find a way to co-exist by being politically correct and to accept everything and everybody as it is, I think sometimes there’s a clash when it comes to certain situations.

“Emirati women have a naturally high ego due to the fact that they are the superior ‘local’ race. Expat men have little to no chance of comfortably flirting with an Emirati woman. Be a little bit too pushy and you just may end up in jail. Even the government doesn’t welcome the approach, by not even allowing UAE women’s children to gain automatic citizenship. Only Emirati men will have the courage, financial capability and favor with the law to confidently approach Emirati women.”

This is again something related to customs and to the local boundaries of a country. If other countries are welcoming the mix of “locals” with other nationalities it’s again a matter of choice. We are talking here about a muslim country that was built out of sand and it became one of the most progressive places in the world.

It’s a place of freedom for all the expats to live as they wish. I did not encounter any difficulty in living here, more than any other place. And I’m talking from the experience of other 3 countries. We all have everything we need, and it’s so much to say about this topic that I’ll probably have to write another article.

My main idea is that if they don’t make our life harder in this country, why won’t we comply with their rules and traditions. Are we conquerors? Are we here to burn the land and take the women? Is it your main issue the inapproachability of Emirati women? It bothers you that in an Arabic country you can’t flirt with the local women?

“As for expat women, their boosted ego comes from the fact that their value is several multiples more than it would be living back in their home countries. The reason for this is a simple supply/demand calculation. As per official statistics, the UAE population has a shocking percentage of 69% men. Which means for every 3 women there are 7 men. This is only the general statistic. To be even more specific, in the age range of 25-54, for every 3 women there are 10 men! This ratio is the worst in the world, second only to Qatar.”

This paragraph might be the one that pissed me off the most. Read the first sentence. How do you know my value back home? How do you calculate the value of a woman back home and abroad? Please share with me. And how do you know how valuable do you think I am?

And what is that “their value is several multiplies more”? Might want to revise that.

And the second sentence. That is offensive. Are we merchandise? Are we supply. Man, what did you turn this into? See this is the main problem with men, we are seen as supply. We are not stuck up, we are considered merchandise and not all of us is.

Then we have some statistics to help out with the merchandise. Great! A very researched article. Well done! (sarcastic in case you didn’t notice)

This extremely imbalanced ratio create a higher demand for women. This results in average or below-average women being treated like queens. Women coming from abroad will get a sudden shock where they realize that as soon as they landed there are men battling for their attention. This immediately boosts the woman’s ego, and sometimes (if not most of the times) leads her to stick her nose in the air and being stuck up.”

This paragraph is a pure example of poor journalism. The tabloid kind of journalism, Gossip one. I can’t even dissect this. First of all, skipping the grammar part, we are still merchandise and that is nerve-wrecking and secondly: who are you, man? How do you know what we realize and what boosts our ego? This paragraph does not even deserve commentaries. I will pretend I didn’t read it.

“In the UAE, men are aggressively competing to please women, showering them with gifts and expensive dates, when they can get much better women with less effort from another country.  This makes women in the UAE expect to be treated better and set the standard very high.”

Much better women. Bro what are you doing here? You could have made it easier for yourself, but here you are digging your grave, instead. First of all this is offensive for Emirati women. They will read this and they’ll be like “you piece of shit do you think we’re not good enough?”.

Are you arab, by any chance? Are you local? Are you in your twenties? Are you frustrated? Some websites are banned here, it’s true, but you can use your imagination and do something about these frustrations.

What’s the universal standard for a woman? For all women? Please enlighten us.

Instead of writing about particular section of this “merchandise” that you present here, you chose to generalize everything and everybody. If I wanted to agree with you at the beginning of this “article”, because to be honest, it is true that this phenomenon is maybe more accentuated than other countries, I can’t. Because this is only a part of the story. There are people here in this country who are looking for something else, who are paying their own rent and that doesn’t make them stupid or stuck up. They just go for the guys they like not for the ones who only want to finance in “merchandise”.

And you should be familiar by now with the term “gold digger”. I guarantee that every society has it, knows it and debates it. I assure you that things are no different if we talk about them. But you chose to generalize everything and everybody. Well done!

“Unfortunately, in the UAE, a materialistic effort is often mistaken for a “better treatment”, leaving men with bad financials ‘forever lonely’.”

This is my favourite sentence and I consider it a triumphant ending to this example of journalism. If the first part may be true, the second part makes me cry. Oh, such a pity we didn’t get you from the beginning. Actually this was the issue. We pity here men with bad financials. Well, in your world of “Women are all gold diggers” you might be right, but I can show you some guys with bad financials that will put Casanova to shame. And they have something that it’s called CHARISMA and will even put a billionaire back in its place.

Something that you probably lack.

CONCLUSION: If you want to do this, be responsible. If you want to generalize everything and everybody, then bring more to the table. This is just poorly written. And even though you didn’t mean to be sexist or misogynistic, in the end you were. And my response is of course on the same note, or maybe a bit more because I’m a woman and I can do it better. You asked for it.

You also didn’t have the courage to sign the article, which makes you weak, again. You wanted to write something viral and to bring a debate in the comments. This is my debate. As you took the right to write it I took the right to answer.

P.S: If you get paid for this, I want in.

Message me here if you want to talk. I also feel that I’ll have more topics to write on from this site. Keep it coming!

It’s all love and late night debates. 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!

Baby Magic Gifts – pentru si despre bebei

O să incep acest post cu o mică amintire. Persoana despre care urmează să scriu este o bună prietenă de-a mea din facultate. Sincer, este una dintre cele mai misto persoane pe care le-am cunoscut vreodată. Pe langă faptul că este o aparitie creață, exotică si cu gropițe, este si o persoană extrem de iubibilă.

În facultate eram aproape nedespărțite și avem câțiva ani de amintiri frumoase împreună. Am admirat mereu ușurința cu care reușește să facă orice și cât de zen se menține în orice situație. Întotdeauna a avut o mare abilitate de a mă surprinde plăcut. Plus că iubesc la nebunie cum vorbește.

Acum ea este fondatoarea Baby Magic Gifts – cadouri pentru bebei… mai altfel. Nu bebeii, cadourile.

Despre ce vorbim aici? Nici mai mult nici mai puțin decât torturi personalizate din pampers. Mie mi se par super cool și extrem de potrivite pentru a sărbători un bebel. Sunt practice și foarte utile. Mămicile știu ce spun.

Prietena de care va vorbesc, Gabriela Alecsandru pe numele ei, personalizeaza aceste torturi după cerințele clienților și rezultatele sunt de-o drăgălășenie maximă. Ia uitați aici:

 

 

Căutați ceva inedit la petrecerile babyshower sau zile de naștere bebetine (cuvant inventat aici pe loc!)? Tortul de pampers va fi, garantat, vedeta petrecerii. În București livrarea se va face personal iar în celelalte zone ale tarii se va folosi curierul/poșta, cu mențiunea că produsul este fragil.

 

 

Vă întrebați de unde idea unor astfel de cadouri? Gabriela este și ea la rândul ei mămica, și, creativă cum o știu, a început să caute cadouri, așa, mai altfel, pentru petreceri și aniversări ce au că personaje principale bebeii. A găsit pe Pinterest această idee de tort din pampers și pusă a fost pe treabă. De aici, totul este istorie. Haideți să mai vedem câteva exemple:

 


Prețurile pornesc de la 100 de lei pentru un etaj, 200 pentru 2 etaje și ajung până la la 250 lei la 3 etaje cu produse basic (scutece pampers de unică folosință, scutece de finet, jucărie de plus, un accesoriu bebe, panglici, funde, puf sau hârtie colorată, ambalat, carton tort, etichetă personalizată, etc).

Tot ce trebuie să știți e că tortul va fi personalizat în funcție de cerințele dumneavoastră și veți primi poze pe tot parcursul procesului de creație. Veți fi consultați în legătură cu toate detaliile, de la etichete, culoare funde și tot ce ține de decorații și aspectul tortului comandat.

Comenzile se pot transmite printr-un mesaj privat trimis către pagina de Facebook Baby Magic Gifts sau telefonic la numărul 0721297570.

Click pentru tot felul de minunății și multă voie bună! Comandați cu încredere, nu veți fi dezamăgiți!

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!