Monday, August 25, 2014

A special Top 10

If you are not familiar with @thelistserve project, shortly put, this is an email lottery, and once you get registered, you have a daily chance to win and write an email to a growing list of subscribers.

Couple of weeks ago, after a long time of waiting, my turn came and here I was...ready to write to so many strangers. If you think it is easy, well, it's not.
Anyway, in my email, among other things, I asked those who would end up reading my lines to let me know what book they would take with them if they were going to live on Mars.

The replies I received from people all over the world were overwhelming. Besides the warm kudos and the sudden and genuine interest for my country and its history or culture, the "listservians" literary choices stunned me in a positive way.
They covered almost all literary genres and authors from all continents. I wish I could nominate all the recommended books, but I promised a top 10. For those unique picks, let me assure you, they will find their place on my Facebook page dedicated to books. Because some of those titles deserve to be known!

So...without wasting too much time, I present you below the Top 10 treasures picked by lovely people belonging to @thelisterve community.

1. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams (totally makes sense!)
2. One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez (as expected, right? happy heart!)
3. Catch-22 - Joseph Heller (American satire at its best!)
4. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen (I see men smirk. Don't!)
5. A Tale of Two Cities - Charles Dickens (I didn't see this coming! Honestly!)
6. The Lord of the Rings - J.R.R. Tolkien (sorry Martin, you didn't make it to the top, but we love you!)
7. Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie (personally, not my favorite, but totally worthy of this top.)
8. Anna Kareninna - Leo Tolstoy (wow...the biggest surprise of!)
9. Harry Potter series - J.K. Rowling (we are all children afterall in need of fairy lands, no? so be kind!)
10. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte ( I almost clapped, when counting the votes. I am a hopeless romantic, ok? Ok.)

Comments? Agree? Disagree? Drop a line. We live in a free world. :)

Monday, August 11, 2014

Forbidden fruit?

I have said it many times: I don't understand women who are attracted by married men.

I mean, ok...there is a chance of 0.000000000000000000001% when super-chemistry occurs and you indulge yourself in the "I have met my soul-mate" unrealistic story. But even then, you get involved... one night, two nights and then you back off, hide the experience in the beautiful memories pocket and move on.

What I don't get is the woman who actively  pursues the married man. Suppose such type of females has hunter or predator characteristics. If so, why would you go for such a lame prey? Without being disrespectful to you, guys, a married man is already caught, tamed and settled. He has already been devoured. At least in parts.

Why would you be the second in line? Why? Why reaching for crumbles? Not mentioning that these are chewed crumbles, impregnated with another woman's saliva.

Why would you stupidly hope he will leave your wife for you? Huh?

I am giving you a practical example. Let's imagine for the exercise sake. A man is using a laundromat, which is right next to the shop where his favorite beer is sold. Tell him that a new laundromat on the other side of the city is open. A cheaper, more colorful, faster one. He might try going there out of curiosity a few times, but, in the end, he will give up and uses his close to home well-known place.

If for such a simple thing, he will not change his habit, why do you expect from a married man to totally screw his personal life?

To me, being around married guys is the best place possible. I am comfortable and behave naturally, because married men, no matter how handsome or brilliant they are, do not tickle in me the urgency to prove myself as a woman.

They are cool, they are my bros. 

Saturday, February 1, 2014

Poisonous People

I have never believed in the motivational mumbo jumbo and in stuff like be positive and you will get positive. Nope.
But I do believe in evil. And darkness. And bad, poisonous people. Do whatever you can, to stay away from them!
I know they are not always easily to spot. Sometimes they steal 4-5 years of your life before you could do anything in this regard.

Listen to your instincts. Don't push at the back of your thoughts the unpleasant tingling that warns you from time to time.

Do they seem too good to be true? It won't last. The first mistake they will make will be a big one. And you will tend to say..."Everybody makes mistakes. It won't happen again". It will. And they will force you to find excuses for the mud they spit on you.

If two of your other friends raised at least one time their eyebrows about a situation you and the bad people were in, you have a "winner".

Check your health and your energy levels regularly . If you register signs of deterioration in any of these, you definitely have evil people in your life. Who are very close to your heart and to your soul. The more you give to them, the more they take from you, without giving back anything to you. Except small portions of poison.

Will you lift their spirits up, but they never do this in return for you? Bingo.

Do you feel sad, without an apparent reason? It's your defense mechanism yelling at you to look around.

Do you feel like crying, again without a proper reason? It's your brain struggling to get into the "fight and run" mode, so you can save yourself from the irreparable damage.

Listen to their laugh. If it always stops at the throat level, an alarm flag should slap your face. This is maybe the most subtle sign that you have in your life a walking killing machine that eats you up.

Ultimately, take a step back once in a while and be honest to yourself. Do those people you love and care for... really deserve your love and care? Analyze the facts. Listen to your guts.

Do not ignore the tiniest, smallest doubt. It might save you from years of sorrow and illness.


Thursday, January 30, 2014

Nightmares, problems, struggles or challenges?

This last year has been a nightmare on a personal level. And I am not an easy user of the heavily burdened words.
This last year I have gone to hell on a daily basis. Up and down, up and down. In a merry-go-round move like, only the merry wasn't merry at all.
This last year I have taken finally some critical decisions on all levels. The multi-layered crisis imposed me to do so.
This last year I have been beyond repair. Crowded from all points of view with no escape whatsoever. At first sight.

The purulent abscess exploded in August. By October my entire being was a pulsating bleeding flesh.

This is when I stopped all my internal engines from grinding, roaring, hushing, sweeping, screaming and I froze myself in time.
This is when I talked to myself. A long, raw and merciless conversation, in which I slapped every centimeter of me giving a shit (pardon the French) about the constant whining.
This is when I also decided that, in spite of my hideous wounds and the emaciated soul, I had to love and respect myself more.

I had hit the bottom. We humans like to stay in the warm, black mud of our personal misery. Pigs are way cleaner than us. They actually run as far as possible from their fecal matters. We don't. Most of the time.

And this is how I forced myself to look up to see some light. Nothing.
And this is how I didn't give up and I looked again. And stared. And it was hurting.
And this is how after a couple of months there it was. High up in the darkness, a needle of a ray. Teasing.
And this is how the nightmare turned into a problem.
And this is how I found solutions. Some good, some bad.
And this is how problems turned into struggles. Sweating days.
And this is how I discovered I was still strong and able to face them.
And this is how struggles turned into challenges.
And this is how I came to love my challenges.

Because challenges are for ambitious people. Because challenges are for the strong ones. Because challenges are for cool people.

And I am one of them now.  

Monday, December 9, 2013

And thus we continue...

Dear readers,

Those who subscribed for my stories or check from time to time to see if something new popped up need to know that old stories were moved or are in the process to be moved on the following personal blog: stories are on their way. Soon. :)

Thank you for those who during these last years cared to read, like, share and comment. Your words are kept in my drafts and highly appreciated.

Myworldofsmallbigthings will continue as well, but with more life, real situations.

Let's stay in touch and as always....

Keep reading!


Friday, August 16, 2013

Pages from an unwritten novel


"Everything began with a sleazy, clicheic 69 tweet." This is how this letter was supposed to start. I felt the need to let the entire world know what is happening behind the scenes.

I thought that if I put on paper all the evilness, the beauty, the challenges, the roads I travelled for several years, it would help me somehow go through the ordeal. Because the ordeal didn't stop when it was supposed to stop. No, ladies and gentlemen. The ordeal went on even with uninvited guests. Guests lacking minimum of decency. Guests driven by such malice, alienation and lack of respect, that everybody involved froze in place speechless and baffled.

But lets not digress. As you can suspect, what we thought it was miraculous and divinely brought to our paths vanished from my heart. And I think... out of the entire story, this is what hurts most. Stealing from me all the moments we shared. Influenced or not, on purpose or not, it doesn't even matter anymore. The wounds are so deep and so "unhealable", that only hatred can do real justice. But hatred is such a big and useless word. Rationality, cold blood and determination sound better. More to the point.

Therefore, the story that needed to be told is dead. Too many words were spoken on all sides. Good ones, but mostly bad ones. Unimaginable ones. Broken, raw ones. One thing is when somebody makes himself a life without you, giving up on you with the easiness you click the Block button on Twitter, but another thing is when somebody is using you shamelessly to put order in his life, in the process allowing the above mentioned guests to behave as if the world had turned into a place without laws and where anarchy prevailed.

I am robbed. Mercilessly. Walking Dead like inner life. No wonder a fly is buzzing me, as if I dont exist. And I dont have palms to slap it. A stone instead of a soul. Now that we know the robbers, what exactly can we do? Society is not on their sides. So the right and correct solutions will be searched for. Because the world is unbalanced.

They say people change. Or maybe not. Maybe they were like this all this time. Merely faking everything, because I was at hand, offering support even when I was sleeping.

The feeling we call love, the longing, the desperation provoked by absence is still there nevertheless. And most probably will always be. But when somebody dies, then its over. You cannot talk to a dead person, right?

I kept the part of the deal we had until the very last second. Now it is time to take care of liabilities and damages. Because too many provisions of the contract were violated. Not even millionaires would get away with so many mistakes, errors and damages done with a clear purpose in mind: you die, because I don't care, while I live happily ever after. Thank you. You were such a lady. But its time to focus on my wellbeing. Oh...and yes. Thank you. Because I know you will keep your mouth shut, while I dance. I am smiling. You see? I am cool. You are cool. are not? Ahhh, you are in pain? So what...?  

The story goes on. It is being written right now. But not with love and admiration. Not with a smile, a tear and a joke. Because he doesn't deserve. I don't deserve. The guests don't deserve. At all. Eventually we all failed to be human. Broken toys thrown in a greyish attic, where there is no light, no warmth, no air. The story is being written with dripping blood right now.

Life will settle things on its own. And I despise life for letting such a crime happen. Life is just a cheap brothel. And we circle around inside it, wearing too much make-up. We have the audacity to believe that, if we shove in front of the audience our sad face with a black trace of the smudged mascara, they will feel pity and they will save us all from the misery. Delusional. We deserve to be here.

Because we chose, step by step, to stay in it.

But then again... until we meet, stay tuned. And alert. It is over when I say it is over. Because...loyalty is gone now. We are on our own. I paid my price. With interest and all. Time for others to pay, too. I will even put a good word with the bank. Why struggling to reimburse big hunches of sorrow over a short period of time under such a pressure? Dont worry. I will arrange lifetime small and intense instalments for you.



Wednesday, May 15, 2013

What do you see?

"What do you see?"
"A woman in a grey coat, carrying a heavy laptop and a dog in leash. She is walking fast. Her eyes are pinning the asphalt."
"You are wrong. You see a woman who loves her work and her pet. You see a perfectionist. Somebody with ambition. A little bit unhappy, but a fighter."

"What do you see now?"
"We are passing by an ugly house, where there are no flowers and just an old, ugly tree is hanging there in the front yard."
"You are wrong. You see an old house. A melancholic one. Deserted, yes, but still standing. She finds comfort in her lifetime buddy, the only one who has never left her. The one who is telling her every spring: come, come, dear friend, we might be old, but look at my foliage. It's here, only for you."

"And what about now? What do you see?"
"I see a teenager, smoking on a bench. He has empty eyes and he is dressed all in black. Oh, and near him a dirty notebook."
"You are wrong. He is a young boy, lost in thoughts. He has just hurt his girlfriend and he is scared. He doesn't know how to ask for forgiveness. The notebook is his only comfort now. It is his journal. There you will find all the poems he wrote for her every night. He has never had the courage to show them to his sweetheart."

"I smell fresh coffee. So what do you see inside the coffee-shop?"
"A bunch of strangers, drinking and eating."
"You are wrong. You see people enjoying themselves, people leaving the comfort of their houses, friends chatting, and loners who smile when they receive the steaming cups with creamy hearts beautifully drawn."

"Okay. I give up. I need to ask you. How come you see all these things?"
"I lost my sight two years ago, but my heart still can see."