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!

Fatalistic or not…

There’s this thing… a lot lately. They started asking again. “When will you get married… time is passing… you’re already 31..”…. Family as usual. I wouldn’t say I didn’t expect it, I would just say that I didn’t want to hear it anymore. I feel the pressure of it more now.

But I don’t think it’s that easy. As they pictured it to be. In my opinion is not. They say “Find someone and settle down and give me some grandchildren or some nieces/nephews.” But is it really that easy?

Because I don’t see myself ready. I don’t see myself able to take care of anybody else right now. And God knows I love children to pieces and being around them really makes me happy but the problem is with me. I’m afraid of failure, I’m afraid of being bad as a mother, as an example to my children. I’m afraid of  what we are all afraid of. But I’m afraid with practice. If that makes any sense, It’s just that I’ve been digging into myself for way too long to ignore what kind of issues I have.

And you know what just crossed my mind. That it will be actually the best thing to do. To have children. And you know what the first thing that reasoned this idea was? That if you have children, you’ll never be alone. And if you’re not loved, they will always love you. You will have somebody to hug everyday. You will have somebody who will hold your hand and call you mommy for a few sweet years. And you will have someone to be proud of years after.

And then it hit me. Isn’t this the biggest sign of selfishness? Yes they will give me all that, but what will I give in exchange because God knows I’ m not one of His best ones. What if I’m not able to give my children what they need and they’ll turn out just like me. What if they’ll be broken and damaged and they’ll not know what to do with their life? How am I going to solve that. Because that’s a risk I can’t take. I can’t be responsible of damaging innocent people. God knows I’ve done anything bad in my life but not yet this. And I don’t want to.

And you’ll tell that nobody was born ready or knowing how to parent and yeah I’ll buy that. But this is a full time, bullshit! It’s a lifetime commitment and I want at least to feel like I’m ready for it. I don’t need much, I just want to feel, inside me, that I’m ready to handle a life that has been given in my care. I want to feel that I can guard that life for the life of me.

It’s weird how a childhood dream will become your worst nightmare. I wish you could see me when I was 18. I would tell you loud and clear that by the time I was 26 I would be married and have kids and that will be the first thing I’d talk about. And you know what else I would state loud and clear? I would say without any doubt that you have to have children while you’re young because you’ll be more willing to play with them, to level with them, to understand them. Back in the days being 30 meant being already old. And I’ll be damned if I feel that now.

I always felt that young parents, like my mom, can understand better their children, especially when they are teenagers. But then, my family is not an example for almost anything.

And this was long time back. And now, to be honest, I don’t want to get married just because I have to and time it’s passing and I don’t want to have children just to care for me when I’m old.

I still hope..

Yeah… I do. And somehow I feel it’s not too late and yet I get this feeling that the timer was set and the clock started ticking. And it’s not safe anymore. I pray I won’t rush, I pray I won’t make any mistakes because if there’s one thing I never accepted in my whole existence… divorce. I think I can accept murder before divorce. Because I believe in people being above themselves and sort shit out. Then again, I would always advise somebody to get a divorce if things get messy but I will never accept it for me. Because then I would be a failure to my family like my mom was and I was always taught that I should never repeat the same mistakes.

And you know the irony of it? The best thing my mom ever did was to get a divorce from that monster. And if there’s one thing that I blame my mom for, is that she never told anybody the horrors that she’s been through. I wish I would’ve known earlier.

But I don’t want it for myself, because I always thought that people who love each other can sort their issues. And I always say don’t put kids through your grown ups ugly matters and also don’t stay together for your children and in the same time let them see two people acting like strangers or even worse two people who just fight and hurt each other. This is not what children should witness.

In the same time don’t force your children to take sides or judge. It’s not on them to take any side or any decisions.

And now, as I discovered the enormous selfish treasure, I can’t stop thinking of two warm hands on my face and a cheeky face next to mine saying “mommy”. Maybe that’s the answer of getting your unconditional love but it’s never fair to deprive children of what they need. And that is, first of all, a family. So if I can’t assure that to them then I hope I’ll end up alone and without any blood on my hands. And if I do get blessed with the greatest love of all I hope I earn it.

We underestimate the gift of children and the love they bring. Well, I hope we don’t. I hope we keep it sacred in our lives and never let it go to waste.

It’s all peace and night writing shenanigans. Peace!

 

Writing out loud

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

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

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

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

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

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

How do you know your purpose?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Should I let somebody else read it?

Not yet.

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

I wish I wasn’t right

I couldn’t actually write lately. I was empty. Like when you’re not really having anything much happening in your life. All cool. Maybe just too bored because of a sprained ankle and mad at the incapacity of moving around.

Today it just hit me. And it’s not the first time. I asked myself what do I need from a man and why I couldn’t find someone to stay. Looking back I’m finding a sort of pattern. Or maybe a clear one. Most of them did not have a pair to tell me, and themselves, what’s going on.

See this is the thing, a fairly independent woman can’t be around a man who’s not… a man. I mean why would you need a whiner and a cry-baby? After all, us, women, should be the sensitive keen. Why should we spend our time with somebody more insecure than we are?

When I say man, I say MAN. I say strength, power, respect. A man who is responsible and supportive. I’m not talking sissies, running when the first problem arises. I’m talking MAN. Be freakin’ caps. Be bold. Assume yourself. Stand out of the crowd of all these bad examples.

Why would I want a man who’s more dramatic than I am? This is the reason I fell out of love with a great guy I’ve been for a year and a half. He was everything you probably wanted in a man but he had this one thing. He’ll be overly dramatic. And if he is upset he’ll not even talk or let you help. I mean that’s what women do. Usually men complain about that scenario when “Honey, what’s wrong?” gets “nothing” as an answer and still she acts like you told her she’s fat.

Now, imagine a man in that exact situation. It’s not really appealing, right? And I should not use this poor guy as an example because he is all heart and kindness. My apologies for that.

But, yeah, I mean where’s my turn? Because as a woman, by default, I have my own little scenes and moments of sort. Why are you taking it from me? Jokes aside, we don’t want no drama kings.

You need somebody to look up to. A man who will say “you know what, we’ll do this!” whenever you can’t decide what you want. And not in a dominating way, but with guidance. A man who will say whatever he wants to say to your face and not wait until the situation is favourable for him or when you’ll be over it. A man who will have the cojones to tell you what his intentions really are.

Why should you waste your time with a woos, who’s thinking that being a man equals being an asshole. You know you’ll end up despising an asshole but you’ll always remember and respect a gentleman. You’ll always remember him as that man who was brave enough to be black on white.

A while back I came across a person who, just like that, through a simple initiating conversation, made his intentions clear. From the very beginning, no time to even fantasize for a second. He deserves a statue, in a world where the majority of men don’t have what they need to come clean. He just decided to make himself understood from the first moment and I didn’t look at him with anything else but respect. He did not torment me in any way, he did not make me feel anything less than I am.

After this being said, you as a woman, know what to do. No, we are not obsessed with you guys, and we will not break down and die if you say “no” to us. We will freakin’ move on because we have better things to do. Women get easily distracted when they want to, so if they want to erase your memory don’t worry, they’ll do it. But don’t play stupid games, of coming and going and all this stupid childish bullshit.

If you want something, say it. If you don’t want it, say it! If you want half of it, say it! Men really think we’re so damn sensitive. That we suffer. Man, we give birth to your ugly faces, enduring a pain that you’ll never endure, we’re your home for 9 months, and the only thing your ungrateful asses do when they come out is to disrespect and look down at our species.

Good for nothing jerks some of you. This is how you spend your days, catching victims in your web of lies. What a shameful result to those hours of labour.

Moving on, you might say that I’m resentful. Nope. I am just looking around. Is not just me, there’s a bunch of other similar opinions. And I feel like adding around a thousand of exclamation marks and a few memes.

I wonder where are those times when men will hunt a wild animal with their bare hands. Now they’ll say there were no animals in the woods. Now they use moisturizer before they go to bed. And that’s not even a bad thing, they just don’t grow balls anymore. There. I said it.

And I’m not a feminist either. No sir, I find it exaggerated. It just bothers me that out of ten men you’ll probably not find a single one to be straight to the point. They don’t have the courage to say things when they are meant to be said, they’ll rather not answer your call than to be forced to clear things up, they’ll rather be cowards than real men.

And God forbids if somebody treats them the same way. The level of victimization will be unreachable. God forbids you hurt their shiny little manhood and return the treatment. You can’t rely on them anymore, they have issues, they’re not the pillars of a family anymore. Actually they’re the first ones to break this institution because a woman will never give up so easily. I’m talking facts, I’m talking statistics. And I’m talking new generations and this thirty-ish generation that I’m part of as well.

A generation before that, they’re still good. The forties are still good.

People say it’s just a Dubai phenomenon. I hear these stories from everywhere, not only from Dubai. Men nowadays lack commitment. They lack strength and sense of responsibility. This generation I’m talking about, lacks basic common sense attributes. They’re lost and they’re not reliable in any way. I am on this dating scene and I see it. It can’t be a matter of choice, my choice, I can’t possible chose them all the same pattern. It’s their pattern.

I believe in looking at your man with admiration. I believe in supporting them and loving them because you know they’ll do the same to you. But nowadays they just take, without giving anything in return. They’re boring, empty, they’re not worth fighting for. They have no values or morals. I believe in feeling protected and safe around a man. I feel that nowadays they only run away. From everything.

I now great men too, I know they exist. It’s not a myth. They’re just only few left. You have to go through a lot to find them.

And yeah, it’s exaggerated. Obviously. But you can’t tell me it’s not true. And if you’re a man in your thirties who is acting accordingly, please get in touch. I lost my patience and my hope.

I would love to write a lovey dovey article next time.

And I’m sure I don’t need to add a disclaimer to this because if you don’t fit the pattern you’ll not even blink to this.

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

 

Thoughts of thoughts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!