Lonely are those with no memories

After being bored out of my mind and utterly unimpressed with any fucking thing, here I am in a totally unimpressive club. At least I have good company. But all this while it felt like something is about to happen. That little rush was inside me and just at the point of making peace with the fact that nothing will happen and I’ll have to go to sleep as disappointed as I was the entire time, there he comes.

I see him walking through the crowd and our eyes lock and I don’t let go until he’s next to me. I let him make a few steps and then I turn to see if he turns. I said to myself “if he turns godammit that’s it” and guess what? I turn and he turns and we both smile knowingly. Of course I turn around and pretend it meant nothing to me but the countdown has started. When will he come and talk to me? Of course this kind of moments seem an eternity but I didn’t have to wait long.

Here he is saying “Hi” and so damned close to my face. He doesn’t say much he just grabs my hand and guides me a bit further away from my entourage. A lil shy there mister? The he asks for my name, his eyes locked in mine. And he just doesn’t let go. I do because I don’t usually like to stare this long at people. Haha

He likes my name and my eyes. Thanks, I got them both from my momma. He likes my dress. “Thanks” I say. I’m a bit too formal for the club though. The music is so loud and I’m 70% deaf so we have a prety awkward conversation with me asking 10 times to repeat what he said. He comes closer and he hugs me, eyes deep in mine, and then our lips lock. Soft. He tells me he’s an army man. “So young” it’s the first thing that runs through my mind. And so gentle. His eyes make his most noticeable feature but he has a pleasant face with a greek nose. It’s something about him that I really like, even though I expect every moment to be disappointed. I can switch in a moment from liking somebody.

My people left and there we are, locking eyes and kissing. He’s asking me what I want to do, if I’m gonna go to my place. I tell him “we’ll see later, let’s just go out of the club”. He holds my hand and we’re out. We walk around a little bit and looks at me expectantly. I pretend I have no clue what’s happening. He’s asking me if I want to have a drink in his room. In my mind it’s the usual “yeah, here we go that’s the cliché”. But I don’t want the night to end and I like his company, and I can always leave if I don’t like it anymore. And heck, I’m far from home.

We go to his hotel and he never lets go of my hand. We reach and of course he starts tidying up. Men! Just leaving everything upside down. Even army men make no exception when they’re on holiday. He pours a drink while I admire the beautiful view. It’s a really beautiful view of a very decadent city.

He takes my hand again and he asks me if i like to dance. Well, of course. Next thing I know he plays a Latino song and tells me to remove my shoes. He then places one of my hands on his shoulder and then takes the other one and we start swaying around the room. Oh the man can dance! I giggle like a school girl. He takes the lead perfectly, he sways and swirls and turns me around like a pro. I absolutely love it. I don’t think I’ve been living a more delicious moment in my life.

We keep on doing this for at least half an hour, laughing and staring into each other’s eyes. And then we kiss…

We saw each other one more time before he flew, to a whole other part of the world but closer to my world. And today he told me he never met someone like me before.

You know what, I heard that a lot lately. And it’s the first time I can truly say it back.

Life is a collection of memories. Of course you have categories and types but you always have that corner of best memories. The ones you go through sometimes with warmth and a little melancholy but with absolute gratitude and fulfillment that they happened in your life.

It’s all love and writing shenanigans. Peace!

The muse comes, but mostly goes

Sometimes I look at couple’s pictures and I try to find that sparkle, that something that keeps them together. That privacy that only people who are accomplices in love have it. Yeah I spend some time looking at their pictures, because that’s the only thing I have, especially when they are not people I know directly. Or sometimes it’s somebody I like and I didn’t know he/she had a partner and then try to see if they match their levels of reciprocating. Of course pictures are not reality. I know people who never posted pictures of them together and when you see them in real life they are the happiest.

But I realized that I like to make scenarios in my head. I mean if I like the person I want their partner to love them crazy, because in my opinion they deserve it. If I have a feeling that their partner is cold I’m like “Hey, you need to shower my friend with love, you ungrateful potato”.

But yeah, this is one of my unusual hobboies. Weird yeah. I’m weird, is not news. I just want people to be loved as I think they deserve. And anyway is not that I’m the only one who loves scenarios. Everybody does. Especially when they are not in them and they can gossip about it.

There are a lot of people living other people’s lives because theirs is boring as fuck. I know a few and I directly talk about them. Haha, I wish I could name them. Oh! how much fun we’ll have!

It’s human nature, we want to see what’s happening in the neighbour’s backyard. If something exciting happens we feel alive. Boom! Time to live a bit! That’s why we like movies, books and gossip. It teleports us in parallel universes where exciting things happen. Not only exciting! Outrageous, shameless, on a level we can’t afford to reach.

Routine is a monster. We want scandal! If there’s none, we’ll make some! Scandal! Scandal! Or simple thrill.

Yeah we all have our buttons, our weirdness, our little turn-ons. We are stalkers, creeps, surveillance cameras, etc. We just don’t like to admit it.

Or we are just a few in this elite circle of weirdos. Mybe it’s just me. Maybe people are normal. Though I doubt it. Strongly, fiercly doubt it.

Rarely I get the chance to write about things I feel inspired about (I don’t know how to properly describe them). Those things that are really smart and witty, and light up like an idea bulb in your head.

Those are coming to me at the wrong time. Always! At the worst time! For example: in the shower (most of them, and by the time I’m out they’re gone), when I’m driving, in the gym, when I have a task to do (especially then), even during sex sometimes (that’s the worst).

So yeah, inspiration comes at the wrong moments and it’s long gone by the time you are ready to lay the words down. The paradox! And you know what’s the irony? That even the words that your brain masters at that time are of a rare quality. It’s like you’re a sensei of words, they make so much sense and are so fucking artistic and meaningful that you just have to stop for a minute and kiss your own forehead with the utmost pride.

And then, on the other side – the dark side, the sad side – when you actually prepare and sit down to write something, it’s not freakin working. It’s like your brain becomes all of a sudden retarded. It’s like when somebody asks you what’s your favourite something of all time and your brain is opening all the files at once or it just can’t find anything. Blank! And you’re just there like an idiot, mouth open. Brain.exe has stopped. You need to reboot the entire system.

So yeah, basically when you want to do something purposely it just doesn’t work. It’s always the case.

Oh, and we also live in an era of distraction. I want to write and next thing you know I’m deep on some thoughts about how I will help ONGs in Africa or I’m deep in videos of cats doing stupid shit. Or no shit. They are amazing. I love them. See, it’s that easy.

Anyway, it’s very easy to stop writing as well. I was trying to keep a constant pace and once I fell into the trap of “I’ll do it tomorrow” it’s “Hasta la vista baby!” and almost never “I’ll be back”! Please read in Arnold’s voice. Thank you!

All this being said I will go lurk on social media for a while.

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

Chidi-ching-ching

I realized I’m not a very ambitious person. It didn’t take me long. I know this for a while because I feel the lack of it. Easy as it sounds.

I have no hunger for money even though I like nice things. Now that’s where the tricky part is. I do like comfort but I don’t like money in particular. I kinda hate it because it fuckin makes the world go round. I hate it because it causes poverty and war. I hate it because a bunch of hungry, selfish monsters rule the world. I hate it because it changes people. I hate it because it makes people discriminate other people. I hate it because it doesn’t buy things that are more important than material possessions.

My goal until now, was not to make money. My goal so far, was to enjoy my life. And you know what? I fuckin did mate. I have so many splendid memories and you know what? They’re fuckin free. Priceless. We should trade memories on the stock market because a lot of rich people don’t have them and they’ll pay good money for them.

And again, I just fell into the trap of selling. I just said we should trade memories which involves selling and buying and here I am in the money territory because they do fuckin make the world go round.

I don’t want to admit this. Buuuuut we can’t live without it after all. But we can choose what kind of life we want to live. Some things are meant to be done at a certain age. You all know what I’m talking about. Life is meant to be lived in some ways some times. Not always, but I’m just talking about the impact of some experiences. The intensity of them. You can’t do drugs at 70, makes no sense. OK bad example hahahaha it was just trying to make you get the point.

Moving on.

So, I was saying I am not an ambitious person. I love life and I love traveling and thank God I’ve been blessed and I’ve seen soooo many places. I left Romania when I was 21 and I never looked back. I didn’t make money anywhere else I lived and worked. Not in the UK, not in Greece and goddammit not in Dubai. I can file for bankruptcy anytime now. Ahahaha I’m watching too many Wall Street related documentaries recently.

I made money to live. I borrowed money and so on. I bought a car and I moved alone. These are my biggest accomplishments. Oh and of course visiting almost 20 countries. 1 more and I’m there. Oh God this the thing I like to do the most. Except packing and unpacking. Yuck! Sucks balls!

Oh I also don’t like branded stuff. Thank God, otherwise I would be very skinny. (I won’t eat in order to buy Louboutins. But I have a feeling I won’t give up on food for Louboutins). Ahahahah please this is a pamphlet, treat it accordingly

Anyway yeah I didn’t have grand financial accomplishments and my family thinks I’m a failiure mostly. You know, I can’t even keep a man and I’m not making good money on top of that. I also wasn’t able to catch a sheik in my net.

Again, family, take it easy! I was only talking about granpa. Gee I’m on a roll. A sushi roll.

Again going back. Damn you ADHD! Mixed with a bit of Tourette.

Going back Gabi, you can do it. Focus!

Do you guys read this with a funny voice inside your heads? This is how it’s supposed to be done. And role playing.

So yeah, I was just thinking that yeah I lived my life, I have great memories, bla bla, I am not such a bad person so maybe it’s time to, you know, swim a bit with the sharks, take a few risks.

And definitely I want to travel more so I need more money. And living along is expensive too, and having a car is expensive and breathing is expensive as well in Dubai. But worth it if you ask me.

Anyway, just wanted to share this. And I’m ending abruptly because I actually forgot my train of thoughts.

It’s all love and evening shenanigans. Peace!

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!

Victory in a trap

I get it man! I get it! I always get what I what with one condition. I can’t keep it! That’s the damn thing about this wicked life I call my own. It doesn’t make any sense, I know, but it does for me.

You see, I sometimes made it happen, I push for it or I get it just like that, out of thin air when I least expected it. But I always get what I want. When I don’t want it that badly, it always stays. When I want it the most, it never does. When I want it the most, it hurts me.

Then what’s there for me? I mean if I can’t have it because I want it, then what’s the solution. What can I have?

I don’t know about what I deserve, I’m not fooling myself that I deserve the best. I have my demons, made my mistakes. Made some terrible ones. I don’t even seek for forgiveness. This is how much I started to assume them. I just want things to be easy. Ok easiER. No that’s not the word, I don’t even believe in easy. Nothing in easy. Maybe you get lucky but it’s never easy. It’s always so goddamn nerve-wrecking. Anyway I don’t want it easier, I want it transparent.

It’s ridiculous how much we lack responsibility and honesty in our bones. I have a very short temper and I’m just like that, a bull in the middle of the arena or on the green fields. Doesn’t matter wich, I’m just a bull. Thick legs, always on the ground, freaking big horns, and ready for anything. I know there’s the sky above me and the ground beneath my feet. I know what I am and I do it my way. I can always become infatuated over a small thing but it’s ok. I think I somehow manged to control it over time. And I think the charm is lost.

I mean I love spontaneity because it’s so entertaining. It works for me. And it brought a lot of great things my way.

Leaving analogies behind, is not that I’m a very transparent person myself, but I’m true to myself at least. I don’t facbricate another person when I look in the mirror, I don’t fabricate it outside neither. I mean what’s the worst that can happen. You’ll never be able to please everybody. And who ever does that? No-freakin’-body.

And I always get the opposite. Anyway, the irony.

I always end up in a rant, with my feelings, the world, the universe. Each and every single one of us it’s an universe by default. If you could only disect a person to see the ideas, the feelings, the emotions. The colours…

Drafts from when I finally conquered you B.

P. S. Did you notice how much ADHD is in this text?

It’s not all love today, but the usual evening writing 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!

Ze guts

I didn’t write in a while. I got busy. I got lazy. I didn’t feel much lately… so kind of a dried well in here. Kind of a dry season for feelings. Heart in the chest waiting for thrill.

I was thinking… I think I’m pretty weird. I mean I feel that people feel the same. And I’m pretty socially awkward.

Sometimes I say the stupidest things man. I don’t even know where they come from. Many a times I just force myself to say nothing. I don’t remember being like this. I was… different. We all were, I guess. One way or another. And I remember I had more balls when I was younger. Is it true you get softer with age? But I was able to say things as they were and I was easily falling for that “I bet you can’t do it” that life throws your way. I just increased the font to 16 because I can’t see properly anymore. I have back aches and I care about what people say.

Where are my balls man?

Is it because everybody is so damn easily offended by EVERYTHING these days? It’s like you’re on a ticking bomb. You lose people after a conversation man, because maybe you said something that didn’t tickle their ears in the right way.

I used to say everything that’s on my mind, of course in the limit of common sense, I don’t need to be rude to speak my mind, and it was so liberating.

I presented myself as I am, always. And then people happened, man. New countries with new cultures, of course, demand some caution, but that is fine, that is again common sense. It’s another thing to be offended by as much as a breath. We are too sensitive these days. We are big babies waiting to complain about almost every damn thing. There is no feeling of contentment anymore.

And then there’s the contrast. You’re used to be open, then you have to close yourself bit by bit and then the only instinct left, is to close some more.

I don’t even know how to start a conversation anymore. Or at least this is how I feel. I used to be so friendly and talkative and now I just want to go meet Friday on a deserted Island. My type of companion.
It’s hard when you have a temper too. I know is good to tame it and I did, but it’s still part of my personality. Sometimes you can just read it on my face. Apologize for that.

But still, it doesn’t feel like myself anymore. I’m becoming a damn turtle and I have less and less desire to push my head through the shell.

Is it the age? Is that what it is? Can’t be just that. It’s this disease that affects “millenials”

I mean look at your damn ancestors, fighting bare handed on bloody fields of war. Aren’t you ashamed that you get offended by not getting likes on Facebook. I mean see the difference man. This is what we’ve become. We don’t know how to take criticism anymore and it’s so necessary sometimes.

I guess we are just bored and we need to come up with various reasons to spice up our lives. But this is not the way. Being a cry baby on social media, spending the majority of your day there, and then feeling that your life is not as shiny as others picture it to be, is pure bullshit man. They say “oh social media ruined us”. Fuck no! We ruin ourselves. If we don’t let it, it will not affect us. But we love to be brainwashed, to be sheeps in the herd. We pay thousands of dollars for a company that brings little to none updates to their products. Anyway we just love to be controlled. George Orwell pictured it just fine. Look at us blaming social media for our miserable lives. But who is behind these social media channels. People. Only smarter.

Nowadays everybody wants to be a damn blogger. I would gladly be one too. These are our aspirations these days. Fuck the traditions, basically. It’s a vicious circle. And we do love to spin.

Everybody wants to be a star, to live a glamorous life and look at our examples, man. Sex tape protagonists turned role-models. Gold-diggers and fake idols.

All what women do is be more naked. Boobs out, ass out, they don’t even balance it anymore. All out!

You ain’t even bad bitches to be honest. Only a few can carry all this “new” fashion. Only few women can add personality and style to less clothes. Rest of you just basic hoes.

That’s the thing. You have to add your own. Copy-cats don’t have a long life.

You can be classy with a deep cleavage if you know how to do it. You can be sexy without being vulgar but that’s such a thin line.

Man, I’m not archaic I just look around me and I don’t like it. I’m not saying we have to go back to being our ancestors, but to be less shallow. We are shallow as fuck.

We want everything served on a damn silver plate or whatever the saying. You should know by now I’m not good at sayings.

And you know what bothers me the most? When men are whining. There’s nothing more annoying. They developed so many issues in time. Maybe because they were force to always lead and be responsible, but damn it, it’s too much. Go get a manicure dear and a Brazilian while you’re at it and let me fix the door knob. Damn it! Grow up, will ya!

Infinite ego as well. Nowadays there’s no chase, You have to chase their gluteus maximus around like they’re the shit. Where’s courting and proper dating or at least the feeling that you’ve tried. Nowadays they just jump to the next one like you never even existed. Boom! Now you see him, now you don’t ! Did I get this right?

I’m on a rant as usual. That’s what I do on my tiny cyber-universe. I grow virtual balls. Because I can’t freaking open my mouth anymore without feeling a look or two, accusing me of some thing or another.

Anyway man, this is who we are at the moment. Am I wrong? You won’t be able to tell me because you think I’ll get offended.

It’s all love and draft browsing shenanigans (that I wrote maybe two weeks back). Peace!