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!

 

Waiting for my memoir

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The journey of fear

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Broken mirrors

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Icarus, but with reason

Recently, I participated in a graduation project. The students, a girl and a young man, were filming a short movie. The girl is the director and this is her dream, to make movies. The young man is the camera man and he is obviously passionate about that. Dream big they say. And these kids do. I saw it on their faces.

I saw the passion and the unlimited possibilities they can dream of. They see no obstacle, they just believe it can happen. You see how their faces have no trace of worry. No dark circles around their eyes. Their eyes don’t have that shadow of sadness and despair. They are just young adults dreaming of a great future. And this is exactly what they should be. Young and careless. For now. This is the age to be free and daring, to throw yourself at life without fear, without doubt. Don’t let anybody cut your wings.

I want to see this on my children’s faces. I want to see them worry only about the small things that make their universe. Like where to position the lights so they can get the best shot for their movie. I want to see their eyes clear and joyful.

Too many adults put their burdens on their children. They cage them when their young, they teach them to speak only when is their turn, to be docile, to stop daring or keep their heads high. They cut all their excitement and drowns them in limitations.

They’ll go into this world with fear of rejection, of being misunderstood or of being too… themselves. Don’t do this. Give them power, give them strength, give them peace to take care of their own wings. They have time to be adults, they have time to worry about everything bad in this world. Don’t add to it. Don’t break them when they are not yet strong enough to recover.

Send them out there as champions, as whole beings, don’t scatter them to pieces. Build confidence in them.

See, I couldn’t stop staring at the girl. First of all she was very beautiful. What really impressed me is that she had a lot of common sense, decency and was doing her best to praise everybody. Probably she is spoiled at home, or she’s daddy’s little princess but who cares. As long as she’s out here in this world trying to be the best version of herself and so humble and decent, it can only prove that her parents did a great job and she found the essence in what was given to her.

Most of us think that other people are successful because they’re born with a silver spoon, but I believe that your fundament as a person is your family and how you’re brought up. If there are values imprinted into your mindset you’re a winner. Is not about what you’re given, is about what you do with what you’re given.

If you’re given peace, you’ll never start a war. If you are given oppression then you’ll not know anything else.

Most of us are broken. Since childhood. We grow up faulty. We grow up hiding, deceiving, manipulating because we’re full of insecurities. We don’t grow up with self-esteem, we just feel that we’re never enough. We grow up looking for the same thing that broke us, because that’s what we know best. We don’t really better ourselves, even though we try. And if we do, if we become the best version of ourselves, there’s still something that will bring the darkness back. Be it vices, habits, failed relationships, failed professions, unusual desires, we’ll have a constant reminder that we’ll never be good enough. And that only side will drag us down more than anything else. We are self-destructive anyway.

See, I’m not being drastic here. If you sit and think about it a little bit, it makes sense. I’m not saying we’re not great people, I’m just saying we have our weaknesses, our demons. That won’t make us any less human than others. Nobody can see our fractures, nobody can sense all these storms we keep inside, but we do. We know everything so well, written in our bones and we can choose to bury it, to deny it, to ignore it but denial is not the way.

A lot of adults are acting like children these days. Immature and lost just because, probably, when they were supposed to worry about childish things they were forced to be adults. And they grew tired. They learned to worry about everything. And later on, when they’re alone they learn to let go, to bring back that childish selfishness. They learn to forget and to remember themselves. And yeah, you might think they act irresponsible, but for themselves is that well-deserved break they never had, that dreamy way of living. And they change a lot, they play, they get spoiled and careless.

I’m escaping, between the lines, in bold characters.

I was just so impressed with this feeling of calmness that these kids portrayed and I liked it. I liked it a lot. I would love to look at my children’s faces and see the same. One day… But in the same time, I have a feeling that history will repeat itself.

I’m not being superstitious, I don’t want to be. Who knows what awaits. It might turn out just fine. But then again, I was brought up to think of the worst first. My take off is almost always hijacked. But still I departed. We all do. The destination is the same.

It’s all love and 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!