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!

Advertisements

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!

 

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!

Let’s not call it a book review

See, I don’t really read motivational books. Or raising self-esteem books. Or personality books. Self-help, money making, career ascending and so on. Not because I’m too good for that, but because I don’t believe in an international recipe for… basically anything.

And the second thing I don’t like it’s the tone of these books. It sounds like it’s enlightened and shit. And I don’t think it’s the case.

First of all, nobody found the key to a perfect life, or succes or to becoming a money making machine  by reading a motivational book. But through hard word and perseverence and so on. We all know the drill.

Recently, I read a book about how many fucks to give, basically. The subtle art of giving them. Ok, I guess we all know by now the name of the book.

The subtle art of not giving a f*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living the Good Life by Mark Manson. Why I bought it? Because it’s orange as fuck and it has a catchy title. Perfect marketing right there. And also because I was interested on learning how to give less fucks. In time I taught myself how to reduce the amount of fucks I give, but then again, you know, it doesn’t kill to know more, to learn more.

I started reading it. Catchy intro, basically something you need to hear. A few good examples also. Some do’s and don’ts. Good lecture. For a while. See, this is what I don’t enjoy when it comes to a book, no matter what genre. The stalling. It starts so good and then it stalls.

Examples become a bit irrelevant, words become a bit too twisted and boom there you are. You are about to not give a fuck about this book. And to be honest the book is a bit too american-ish for my taste.

Anyway, I am not here to claim that I’m better at anything, I’m just sharing some impressions. If I would write a book of this keen I will just base it solely on my experience and make it clear that it’s my personal shit and I learned so and so from it. If other people relate to it, even better. If they learn something, great! But I don’t expect everybody to feel the same about it. Anyway, I’m drifting away.

That’s why these books seem a little herd-ish. I mean, we should be able to learn how to help/motivate/improve ourselves by experiencing practical things. Theory works for a while it’s true, at least to give us an impulse, but practice is the base of everything.

I think less ignorance will also help a lot. And to be honest, no, it’s not trendy to be a sheep. Be you. Be your own damn self. Some things might work for you or they might not. You may feel strong today and weak as fuck tomorrow. It’s ok. Don’t stress about it. Move on. I think we all have the ability to give less fucks if we put our mind into it.

And so, I resumed the book. Basically this is the idea but it’s more elaborated in term of what and when to give a shining fuck. It’s a good read, I’m not trying here to undermine it. I just share what I felt.

I am not a hater or anything, I recommend self-improvment and especially reading. Not matter if it’s motivational books or other kind. Reading is always good. It stimulates, it keeps you alert, it keeps you open minded.

I admit I read some really cheesy and tearful motivational books at some point in my life. They helped, to be honest. They made me feel better, I admit, because they were about people drowning in more shit than I did, or about how kindness can change somebody’s life. Ok ok, it was just one book, I admit: “Chicken Soup for the Soul”, another international best seller. I can’t review it. I will look like a villain.

So, yeah, I’m just here, behind my screen, a blogger/writer wannabe, talking about a bestseller. But then again, it’s my cybercorner.

It’s all love and daytime smartass writing shenanigans. Peace!

You heard what from who?

Don’t chicken out on anything. If you want to do it, because you want to do it, then do it. God I wish I could explain people that this is my only religion. Freedom of speech, of self, of soul.

I hate it so much when I find myself analyzing what I’m doing just because it doesn’t follow the norm. The hell with your norms, with your life rules and regulations. You live by them, if you think they’re so great! Don’t shove it down people’s throaths. Live by them and let others live by theirs.

Your freedom ends when you interfere with other people’s freedom. Simple as that. But how many nauseating judgemental looks you see nowdays? This is the most disgusting thing to me. Snakes looking. Venom spitting. And you continue doing what you do best, being your own damn glorious self and then they start hissing.

God, it’s Dante’s Inferno. And even family, friends or close people, you know, they’ll start some wierd behaviour when they feel you are too… yourself, or you are doing something they never had the courage to do. It’s like they want to bring you back to an invisible (or too obvious) sheep herd.

I have a very simple solution. Why don’t you guys worry about what’s in your backyards and let me worry about what’s in mine. I don’t know how exactly the saying goes, but i’ll adapt. I can do whatever I like.

And I hear close friends saying “oh you don’t know what people say about you” and my only thought is “Why do they feel comfortable to say it around you” or “why don’t you shut them up if you love me so much” or “why don’t you all go to hell if you want me to put it this way”. Anyway, just a few examples of what’s going through my mind. Why you splash me with words of glorious friendship if you let other people swipe the floor with me.

And then there are those people: “oh, she likes that guy” / “oh she’s loyal to the wrong people” / “oh she’s clubbing too much” / “oh she spends too much” / “oh the dress too short” / “oh she has too much fun” / “oh oh oh”. First of all stop ventilating, fans. Second, why don’t you mind your petty lives. Just for one second stop looking at other people’s lives and focus on your boring ones. I’m living the way I want to, I love who and the way I want to and I am loyal to the people I want to. None of your goddamn business.

Am I writing this because it bothers me? Not because it bothers me, it disgusts me, it’s like when you drink too much and it’s better to vomit. I vomit here whatever you blabbed and turned my stomach upside down.

I hate living with the thought that I am not following I don’t know what human code I’m not aware of. Just avoid me when it comes to life guidelines. I have my own. As long as I am happy I’ll not change them. And stop being accountants or supervisors in people’s lives. We are all different, with different needs and expectations. And mines are just mine.

Anyway, I’ll stop before I become petty. I leave this to others.

I am writing this because it happened recently to have some second thoughts on some things, and it made me realize that some of this bullshit actually reached to me and it made my heart and my mind wonder. It made me feel that I have to consider if what I do will cause gossip or not. And that is sad because it didn’t bother me that much before.

But again, my choices are my choices and even though I like my stuff private, some people made it a very open subject and now there’s an elephant in the room. Motherefffffer!

Anyway now that I feel better, thank you all looking for some excitement here, for being so curious about my whereabouts and roundabouts and mind your own damn business, please. But by any means, pass by, and bring some traffic to my page.

I don’t bother with these hoes, don’t let these hoes bother me!

P.S. articolul asta vizeaza strictnisteoamenicucarelucrez, dar ei nu stiu asta si sper sa nu se apuce sa traduca.

It’s always love and late night writing shenanigans!

Read the footnotes

“The things she’s seen. The places she’s been. The people she’s met. She’s filthy rich. There’s nothing material you can give that will satisfy her more than moments. Give her joy and give her your time and she’ll never want anything else. She’s what you see, she’s just like that. Existing without any tricks. Ah there’s one trick. She has too much to give.

She likes long rides and black coffee. She likes unplanned things and late nights. She likes to talk and dance. She is warm and brave. She’s a brave girl and she learns fast. She learns from everything and everybody. She loves her time alone but she never refuses good company. If she makes mistakes she’s sorry. If she goes too far she’ll drag you with her.

She has a vicious side, it’s true but she turns it into something natural. She’ll tell you to go for it if you want it. That’s her answer to everything.

What does she want? Haha, many things but she settles for whatever you like.

She can piss you of with her presence sometimes, or with exuberant good mood. But her heart is in the right place. She can be a pain in the ass but you’ll get used to it.

She likes to lay and do nothing for a long time and sometimes she finds no peace in anything. She’s moody but everything turns into a good vibe most of the times. Some people try to make her strong and even though she is grateful to those people, she’s not afraid of her soft side. She’ll show you, even if you don’t ask for it. Stubborn as fuck sometimes and she’ll go under your skin to get things done. Sneaky sometimes, but always with good humor.

She’s loyal to people and if you’ve ever been good to her she’ll never turn against you. Even if you hurt her. She’ll defend what she cares about. She’ll always find good in everything. She looks up to some people. Especially people who showed her a different dimension of things. Mentors, stronger personalities or just different characters. She’ll always be fond of these people.

She’s silly sometimes and makes stupid mistakes and even though she’s ashamed to admit them, give her some time. She’ll come back and she’ll joke about them because she doesn’t want to take mistakes seriously.

Always give her time to come to her senses. She can understand everything. She has an excuse for everybody, not only for herself. She walks straight and laughs loud, she exaggerates and she burns but this is who she is. And if you don’t want to change don’t try to change her either.

She’s an asset when she’s motivated and she hates routine. She want to get involved and to have a word to say, but she’ll obey if required. She can be disciplined. She needs to be disciplined sometimes (ambiguous).

She is the life of the party and in the middle of things. It might be tiring sometimes. But sometimes she’s lazy as fuck. She can easily fall into a comfort zone. You need to be somebody very special to get her out of her bed after a long day when all she wants is to rest.

She gets excited easily but she’ll forget about it fast if it’s not something that she really wants. She can put a lot of effort for the greater good but she needs recognition. She has after all an ego and a fetish for herself. Just like everybody else. (Yes she can twist it up just like that).

Everything depends on either she wants it or not. You’ll see the difference in the results. You’ll know when she’s motivated and when she did it because she had to. If she did you wrong she’ll fix it, she’ll try at least. Give her the chance, she never meant it in the first place.

She’ll forgive everything and you’ll hear the weirdest excuses for people who don’t even deserve a glass of water. But she’ll not defend somebody who’s mean on purpose, or at least without a reason.

She’ll fill people’s heads with romance and bullshit and she’s this silly believer that the world is not on the verge of destruction. At least, not while she’s alive.

She came a long way and she has a long way to go. You’re not the only one who thinks there’s a greater purpose for their existence. When she wishes and when she hopes for others she does it with all her heart. If only she could do this for herself.

She’ll give you a fair battle because she knows there are no shortcuts or cheats. Even though patience is not her strongest asset. But at least you can shake hands with her at the end. It was a good game, no doubt about it. It will be remembered. She will be remembered.

Give her the benefit of doubt as she gives it to others. She deserves it.

She will never really give up, so don’t push her to do it. Some people know she’ll never be herself again around them if they pull the wrong string. Not that she’ll not forgive. She will. But it will never be the same again because she can’t pretend.

Give her herself and that’s all you need. Ah! and food.”

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