Sunday, September 24, 2006
Everything counts in large amounts
Seaweed's mom died a few weeks ago, and I'm still struck both for her death and for my beloved brave Seaweed's infinite pain. Some other people left their suffering bodies too. It's been a tough moment for many of us, both here and there, out in the blog world.
Coming to me, my life's still quite "fluid", it doesn't seem to condensate in a satisfactory form yet, and therefore my body's starting a rebellion, or so it seems. I'll know something more about it in a few weeks, after some hospital routine and a large amount of white hair.
All this have had me deeply thinking. Much more than I expected too. About life, death, love, karma and all the rest. You know, all the things we young women in our thirties usually think while waiting for our turn at the hairdresser.
I 've come to think that facts are not so important, in the end... I mean, it doesn't really matter what I'm doing, who I'm seeing or whatever else I may think of writing now. What difference could it make if we're crying because of a harsh word or an evil behaviour? If we're laughing for a funny movie or for some crazy thing our pet did? The only thing that counts is whether we're laughing or crying, how we feel and how we're struggling to become better people.
What counts is how much we're loving each other. How much we're loving ourselves.
Anyway, my mind's not clear enough to really talk about anything. I just wanted to say hi to everyone out there, to thank those who showed even the faintest interest in where the hell I had gone... even without having to cash any debt from me!
I'll be back soon, or I'll try to. In the meanwhile, have fun and do nothing that I wouldn't do.. or wouldn't write of!
Title from: Everything counts - Depeche Mode
Friday, August 25, 2006
I'm black and blue all over
Would someone tell me how on earth Cole Porter could have written such a song as I love Paris????
One week in Paris and it rained every day. I'm not talking about that light and somehow lovely rain that cools the air on summer afternoons. Not at all. I'm rather talking about Noah and his ark. Animal couples, take just your wife and come on board. Yeah, that's it. And don't try to fool me about "singing in the rain". Every drop was large enough to choke me.
The city was stinky and the people were unbearable. Stiff and snobbish. They looked at us as if we were lice, to say the least. Not to talk about road or touristic signs... it was as their only goal was for you to be completely lost. I don't know, but last time I checked, road signs were meant to make you FIND places..Good Lord!
Another nice thing about the Ville Lumière is that if you're handicapped (temporarily or not) or if you have a baby and you're not able to carry him/her on your back "à l'Africaine" (I saw lots of women carrying babies that way and they're amazing, but come on!! It should be a choice, not a "that's the only way" thing) you're done. No tapis-roulant (moving walkway, they provided Europe the word, you see? THE WORD. But no trace of the THING), no elevators in most shops, nothing. Just stairs and stairs and stairs everywhere. And tiny doors. And bumpy sidewalks.
Now I'm home. And I miss that stinky place so much. I miss the holidays and that's obvious. But there's something else too. Something subtler than the rational things I just pointed out.
First of all I miss the "not Parisiennes" people. All those different colours and faces and styles and cultures. I miss the baker's shops, les boulangeriès, with their luxury windows, the beautiful and delicious gateaux, tartes, flan, petit patissèrie... all those sweet jewels aligned like tiny dancers ready to pirouette up to your mouth... Jeez, it was heaven! I gained some 4 pounds or so and I'm happy as a king!
(the photograph has been taken in the Jewish Quarter, one of the nicest I've seen)
I miss the cozy apartment we rented. It was so bohemienne it made me crave for romance every moment of the day... actually before leaving Italy Frook gave me a book that reminded me of Goldfish quite a lot. I usually say he's like a shark: even if he lives miles away he smells the blood and right when I'm weak he makes a phone call, or sends me a message about "the good old times". It happened when Mr.Charmes left, when I stopped seeing Thomas, when I lately lost my job. This time made no difference. I read the book thinking sweetly about him and - without knowing anything about where I was or so - he called me and was so lovely that I had to remind myself of the reasons why we broke up not to flirt over the phone.
I miss the comfort of a quiet vacation. I slept as an angel, prepared delicious meals and read a lot. A real holiday.
I miss my French. It's nothing more than a vague recollection from school, but as I love foreign languages so much I felt thrilled by chatting with people.. First day I hardly got to buy something to eat, the last days I went sightseeing all alone and had an almost decent conversation with a bookseller in a tiny comic-strip shop in Montmartre. He even laughed at my jokes. In French! And he laughed WITH me, not AT me!! Wow!
And at least, this is me. The huge ball in the pic is Le Gèode, a cinema at the Science Village, with a screen 1.000 square mt wide. I miss myself as you see me in the pic. A part of a larger world. In the shadow, maybe, but present and real.
So, in the end, it wasn't love at first sight between me and Paris.. I'd say it was much a kind of s/m relationship.. but who cares? I'm not used to easy things...
Title from: It's good to be in love - Frou Frou
Oh, if you're asking, the title refers to my tights. My suitcase has been broken to pieces and, besides buying a brand new one in the most expensive town of the world, at the arrival I had to carry the old one like a sleeping baby, picking it into my arms up the winding staircase to the third floor, to our flat. Obviously it almost fell thousands of time and so my tights look like a map of the earth seen from the moon. Sexier than ever.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
So, I am leaving
To relax, recover, have fun.
To eat a lot of wonderful food and buy some more books about food and visit dozens of shops where I will finally buy the amazing macarons of the picture.
To give myself a present for once.
To stop craving for sex.
title from: Cry - Sarah Jane Morris
Friday, August 04, 2006
Like a prayer
And life has a funny way of helping you out when you think everything's gone wrong and everything goes up in your face...
So my job contract hasn't been renewed and I'm home, trying to collect the strenght to start again with a new job, wherever it may be. How to find a new one, what to do...I still don't know. The only thing I know for sure is that I'll be happier and healthier with none of the Addams on sight. And I perfectly know that I deserve something better, something that really suits me..
Still I'm worried for my future
Still I'm tired, after this year of struggling within.
Still I pray harder and harder for some real chance to come.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Sick and tired
I know you're worried for me and Kee, for our jobs that seem to fly away with the wind just when we start to rely on them... and I know that this sometimes keeps you awake at night.
I know all about you. And I've always silently understood, as I've always been the Sensible One. Never complaining, never arguing. I've always loved you. Much more so, when you didn't even look down at me.
I know you've understood so so many of the mistakes you've made, and you really want to make things up for us all.
So why on earth do you keep on answering the phone with that gloomy voice, as if you were going to exhale your last breath?
Why do you always wait for me to call you, instead of calling me sometimes?
Why can't you listen to the sound of your voice and realize how much you hurt us with that anguish? Why can't you see how hard we had to fight against your pain, before it became *our* pain? Why, oh Lord, why does your personal blues have to be deeper and harder than any other's? Can't you see where this all has taken us?
Why can't you ONCE IN A WHILE put your sadness aside and just take a look at your children?
Share your beauty and love with us while you're still here on this earth, don't make us longer for a smile. You know how it feels when death takes away your chance of being a daughter anymore. And you know that until you know what it feels being a daughter - and stop being a child - you're not ready to be a mom.. And I wanna be a darn good mom.. sooner or later..
I know me and Kee are both in our thirties, and maybe you think we don't need you anymore but we do, we haven't ever had you when we were kids. Too many silent mornings, too many relatives to play with, so you could rest in the shadow of those endless afternoons.
You're our mom. Yours is the only job one cannot retire from.
I wish this could be enough for you to start, at least.
Friday, July 14, 2006
They gathered for the feast
This is my third new opening since I've worked for the Addams and it's the second opening this year. Last one was in March, in a village not too far from here.
I had heard this time would have been harder and much more tiresome - apart from the distance - because of the many many things that hadn't worked out well in the previous months. Problems regarding almost everything, from the goods to the building, from the shop assistants' uniforms to the stands and racks, from licenses and authorizations to software bugs.
So, when we got there we had no surprise in finding all the guys in a daze.
In addition, the air conditioning system was out of order. Considering that the temperature outside was about 34° C, no wind with 400% humidity and that the store has huge windows (=let the sunshine in...) imagine how "cool" we all looked.. At 7 AM, me and Frook looked fine: we had nice dresses, nice high-heeled shoes, nice hairdos and so on. At 9 AM we had started looking a bit less shining. At 1 PM, our makeup melting, we looked like homeless raccoons. At 4 PM, hungry, tired, sweating copiously, dishevelled, totally worn down, we were ready to star in an episode of Lost.
The store opened at noon, after the usual speech from Gomez Addams (K.o.M's dad, a man compared to whom Mr.Magoo is a lovely handsome easygoing lad. A man who makes Uncle Scrooge look like the most selfless and generous benefactor in the universe) following which I learned it's better to wear a look of intense admiration and interest. If tears of emotion come, it's even better, but it's not essential.
After that, the customers all fought their way to the buffet, behaving as in a story from the Bible. No, not like Moses and his friends towards the promised land, a bit more like the grasshoppers of the Egyptian plague.
After less than 20 mins the tables were empty. You could hear a sound as if the wind was blowing through the desert... woooooooooooohhhhhhhhh... Impressive, uh?
I always get quite astonished about people's behaviour when it comes to free food or gadgets.
Besides, the Addams usually buy some thousands of small plants to be given as a gift to the customers. Some girls in pretty uniforms stand beside a green table and give the flowers to the ladies. Or so it should be if people didn't act like they were mental... Yesterday I saw two men in their late forties (beer belly, almost bald head and stuff) fiercely arguing about who was the first in line to get a tiny petunia. One of them was almost shouting that his wife was pregnant and she would have died if he hadn't taken her the plant.. Folks, I'm talking about a small, tiny, 50 cent of Euro petunia. My gosh..
The 3 little pigs (my boss, the Second Son and the K.o.M) were frantic and tired, and I reckon they really were emotional about all the circus. You know, all the talks about "we're a family, we're the largest store chain in the region still we're so modest and human - yeah, you bet - and our clerks are all happy and smiling - yeah, you bet n.2 - and we're growing a halo 'cause - light a candle and pray - we're SAINTS!"
I know that after The Company Ravishing Annual Party nothing can surprise you anymore, but believe me, it was a science fiction-horror movie. I didn't even have to pay a ticket to see it!!
Ok, I lost some 6 pounds from the sweating and fasting, got so tired that I fell asleep at 7 PM with my face buried in the dinner plate and slept so badly I'm aching all over. But isn't it a small price to pay for such a show?
Title from: Hotel California - The Eagles
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Scorpio(n)s are pretty cool
Bee - hi, hon
me - hi. what's up?
Bee - the silly crap is here
me - who???
Bee - Charmes' girlfriend. She's in the restaurant right now
me - f*ck
Bee - yeah. She's really a worthless crap.. I asked her where mr.Charmes was..
me - yeah, and she told you he's at work, I guess... that bitch.. I cannot even stand her saying his name, not to mention knowing what he does, where and when...
Bee - right..
me - but why on earth did you have to ask her, good lord!!
Bee - I don't know... I thought it was natural, I mean, she could have find it strange if I didn't ask anything...
me - oh, c'mon....
Bee- ... I don't know why you're getting so upset (SHE DOESN'T KNOW, MY GOD!!!!) She's such a meaningless puppet, the more I look at her and the more I recall his face when he talks to you... well.. he's scared to death, but he belongs to you, hon. (... this is the difference between a gossipy friend and a simple gossiper... the friend dresses the wounds SHE inflicts)
me - yeah, he belongs to me but in this life he's sharing his bed with her. Let's wait for next incarnation, maybe... Anyway, you're kind to say so, ok, but for the future... instead of comforting me AFTER a mess, would you mind AVOIDING the whole "mess creation" stuff?
Bee - ..... I couldn't help but calling you.. I was so upset!
me - (SHE was upset, uh?) ok, ok, never mind. See you tonite, then.
Bee - You ok?
me - yeah, I'm fine. It was just a moment, but I'm far beyond these things. I mean, how many times do we have to repeat this mantra? "what's written for me will be mine, what is not for me wouldn't make me happy anyway". So, I'll live my life peacefully and good things will come. The right things will come. It's just a matter of time. And patience.
Bee - There you go, girl! See you later, then.
me - Oh, Bee... just one thing left
Bee - what?
me - poison her food or I'll kill you bare handed
Title from: What's your sign? - Des'ree
Monday, June 19, 2006
Teacher, there are things...
The night before the test had been spent on restless thoughts and worries, thanks to a harsh discussion I'd had and to some hours of non-stop crying, and the following morning I was tired beyond imagination.
The exam started with British precision at 9.00 am, and went on until lunch break, at 1.00 pm.
During this time I succeded in:
1) falling asleep with my head on the desk. The girl who was sitting next to me thought I was "very relaxed".. God help
2) writing one of the best compositions of my life, which oozed with irony and wit in every word. And my only thought was "it would fit the blog perfectly... will they let me have a copy?.."
3) deciding I'm too old to take any exam. I even failed the blood tests, what the heck did I want to do there????
After lunch, there was another 80 (yeah, EIGHTY) questions about grammar and use of English. At the end of the test I was so weary I could hardly think straight. Nonetheless I seemed to be able of thinking in some way, as my mind went on producing nightmarish pictures of me being laughed at by all the teachers and the students in the school.
The last part of the test, on Thursday, was about listening and speaking (things we all should be supposed to do exactly in THAT order). The speaking test was scheduled in the afternoon, so before going to school I took a break in a local cafeteria with Bee and her daughter.. and it took me a breathless run to be back there on time.
The girl who had been designed to be my partner was already waiting for me in the hall. I was a bit nervous and therefore a bit more silent than usual, so when I got in the room I just said "Ciao"
(I want to make this point very clear: I'm Italian, all the students there were Italian, the test was made for "English Second Language Students". Me and that girl, we were ALONE in the room. Clear? ok. fine.)
She couldn't say anything nearly as trivial as "ciao", of course. She couldn't just nod and smile silently meaning "hi, I'm nervous too, let's just hope we can go through it". Not at all. She spoke, lightspeed, almost without breathing. What I say, spoke. She erupted as a volcano, she exploded like a rocket. "ohmypartnerfinallyhasarrived!!!!!!Iwasalittlebitworriedyousee!!!excusemeifIspeakEnglishrightfromthestartbutifIstartspeakingItalianthanit'sover!!!!!!"
ok. If this was meant to frighten me to death, guys, that's exactly what was happening.
A second later I was sitting in front of three-women-three, pale as ghosts, who asked us the typical questions you expect to hear in a test like that. You know, things like "what is the decision you've made that you can say has changed your life?" or "do you think God exists? if so, why am I here and not on a tropical beach?"
After 15 minutes of this wonderfully enjoyable repertoire, I was allowed to leave. What a pity... time goes by so fast when you're having fun with friends, uh?
Now. The exam is over, I won't have the results until September. A whole summer during which I'll spread my awful English around the web, until The Judgment comes.
Watch out, you people out there. It could be infectious!
Today's title: One more try - George Michael
Monday, June 12, 2006
You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm...
Wednesday I'm taking my English exam. I'm afraid I won't make it, as I haven't studied that much and I can't seem to concentrate (see above).
Lots of people have come and gone in the last two weeks. Some of them made me smile, some of them had me so mad I could have killed them. Some of them have let me down very badly. Some have pleasantly surprised me.
Me, I've deserved kisses and slaps on the face just like everybody else.
So the following is not exactly a complaint, nor a blame; I simply think people do what they do. Most of the times they hurt you because they're hurt.
But sometimes it's more than one can bear. So no criticism. Just a matter-of-factly way to describe how life's going here..
5) Thomas has proved himself to be very disrespectful, to say the least, and with a tendency to make up stories in his own brain, regardlessly of the most elementary truth, that borders on insanity. He's a guru in making up fights, act as a drama queen, insult you in both subtle and direct ways and then play the part of the tiny blossom who's been hurt by the cruel and chilly witch from the North (me, in this case). Unbearable. Much more so because I've been so silly to let him behave like this for months before deciding I'd had enough.
4) The sweatshirt man seems to be gone for a while. He's a good guy but really needs a shrink. The more people get closer, the more he treats them like crap for his rage and fear of being left alone. And when obviously most of the people leave, he gets angrier and sadder because "what did I tell you? nodoby loves me..." A shrink. Now. Please. We could arrange a group discount for him, Thomas and...
3) Mr.Charmes is spiting in the face of God. Just hope God's looking somewhere else. Or has a huge handkerchief and a very bad memory.
2) Bee has come back. I still don't know how I feel about seeing her again. I've missed her so much, as she says she's missed me, but I'm having some trouble in forgiving her. She's too easy on some things, and I'm not so good in letting go. We'll see what happens.
1) My American friend's friend must be completely nuts. After scaring the sh** out of me with that email about testaments and stuff, he's decided to "stop messing with xxx's life" and disappeared. Simple as this. Now I still don't have any news about anything, and I can't do anything.
If I gave credit to anyone of the above mentioned crazy people, I'd be locked in a room with padded walls. To avoid this, I'm baking tons of pizza, planting begonias and basil on my terrace and taking care of my home. Tonight I'll be at a friend's house to watch the football game on tv. I'll take an apple crumb and the best of my smiles. You won't be able to tell which one of the two is the sweetest...
Title from: Des'ree - You gotta be
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Let me out of this cheap B movie
If you've never seen anyone of the Beckett's plays you may find it difficult to figure out how I spent the last couple of days.
Mr.Charmes provided most of the script, with his behaviour which is one step – to say the least - into madness. Me, in spite of my efforts to behavive like a perfect ascetic, I'm completely overwhelmed by my feelings for him and I act more like a passionate geisha than like Siddharta. Great, uh?
Honestly, I'm trying hard to get a grip on myself and on my life, trying to eat regularly, do the common housekeeping chores, wake up everyday and simply go to work, without callin in sick or swearing all my way through the office.
When somone's most difficult task is "to have a normal life", if a justice existed things should simply align themselves to that, and proceed NORMALLY. I mean, I don't expect a better job, nor to win the lottery; I don't expect Mr.Charmes to be sensible and polite nor Thomas to be sane. None of these impossible things is on my list. I'd simply like things to go their way as smoothly as they can.
Yesterday morning I started my wonderful Monday with an email that started like this
"good morning. it is with great sorrow that i write to you this e-mail. you do not know me, but i am xx, close friend of yyy (a guy from the US navy I met a few years ago, and whom I still write to). He would always keep an envelope with me sealed when on deployment, never to be opened unless something unfortunate were to happen. well, don't know how or what to say about this but the envelope is opened. the following is left for you and I quote:.. "
ok guy. If this is a joke it's the worst joke ever. If it's not a joke, you're a complete asshole, contacting me like this, scaring the shit out of me, letting me think that he’s dead somewhere… when you still don't know what the heck has happened to him!
Yep, the following mail said something like “I haven’t heard from him nor from anyone else, but he was due to be back and he’s not” Is that enough for you to unseal envelopes, send emails over the ocean and so on?
Anyway, I still don't know much more about this story, but it really strucks me. Talk about starting my day with a smile…
After eight hour's work the only thing I wanted to do (apart from having Alzheimer and forget the US navy, Mr.Charmes and his bloody girlfriend, my job contract expiring in a month and so on) was to get back home, cook some healthy food, invite some friends for dinner and eventually chill out on the sofa with my cross stich on my knees and stuff.
But the curtains weren’t due to fall yet.
When I got home I firstly didn't understand what I saw.. I mean, my apartment floor is usually almost white while yesterday it looked like a cow's back. Well, call me a bloody racist but when it comes to my ex tidy and clean floor IT DAMN MATTERS IF IT'S BLACK OR WHITE.. After a few moments' shock, I realized what had happened. One of my cat was running around, tarred and feathered like a bad guy in a western movie.
What happened, you ask? Discarding the hypothesis that those furry monsters were rehearsing a short version of The good the cat and the ugly, the only possible explanation is the following: my landlord had tarred a small terrace close to my terrace without giving me a single word of advice, while some poor little bird killed by the cats had provided the feathers.
Do anyone of you out there know what is the only way to clean a tarred floor (and a tarred cat)? Yep, right. Oil is the only remedy.
Try to picture yourself, after a hard day, on your knees, rubbing the floor with seed oil. How's your mood? Now picture yourself - or what's left of it - trying to have a wild cat rubbed with seed oil and then washed with soap and rinsed. I think this is what happened to Kubrick before shooting A Clockwork Orange. Things like these leave a hard mark on your mind, kids.
When my closest friends ask me how I'm doing, I simply tell them they owe me 6.50 euros for the answer. This life's a movie and that’s the ticket price.
Almodovar should give me a call.
Title from: Headlong- The Queen
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
..it's all right, I'm just weary to my bones
My head is numb. Better, it's full of crazy bees that fly frantically and buzz loudly. I still am unable to break free from the pain that Mr.Charmes' loss has caused me. I could write tons about the reasons why I feel the way I do, but I don't want to overanalyse, not now.
It's late at night and my whole day has been a fight , I'm tired and weary and I'm losing hope to feel any different.
Lord, it can't go on like this forever.. good things don't last forever, and so should bad things... easy to say, hard to believe..
The house is silent, the cats are quietly resting, my room is tidier than I remembered. It's time to stop this struggle within and breathe. So I sit down facing the white wall and trying to let the thoughts go by. They're sticky and toxic, and they're killing me. Slowly.
Meditation is over. So is my excruciating pain.
The ashes are still hot but there are no more flames. Hope it lasts until tomorrow.
I open the book on my bedside table. One sentence above the others captures my eyes.
Don't love anything so much that you become its slave.
I close the book. Last thing I put my eyes on before turning off the lights is the enso hangin on the wall.
It's been a good day, in the end.
title from: American Tune - Simon&Garfunkel
Sunday, May 14, 2006
Sunday Bloody Sunday
There's something wrong with the skin on my back. It's been 2 months now that it's been covered with red spots, something vaguely resembling herpes that has bothered me beyond imagination.
As I was going through a slightly stressful period (so to speak...) I thought I only needed some rest and some - try to guess.. - peace. I thought my body was asking for attention and my liver was tired. And I still think this could be one of the possible explanations.
During the sesshin I felt really better - and this event kind of confirmed my theory - but once I got home my back turned into the same pizza it was before..
Now, unless Mel Brooks was planning to shoot Spaceballs 2 and asked me to star as Pizza the Hut, I needed to put and end to this.
Last week I made my decision and went to see my doctor. Thruthfully speaking I don't put much trust in "conventional" medicine, but anyway..
As I expected, the doctor had no idea of what to say, I think he was just trying to guess between some hormonal disease (which I'm sure it's wrong), a virus from the aliens or a thyroid disfunction (which could be possible at last as almost every woman in my family has suffered from it..).
He ordered me to do blood tests for some 5 zillion euros.
Needless to say, if I had the money to pay for those tests I'd be on a holiday in Mauritius and I would have silk instead of skin on my back.
Anyway, I thought I could have killed two birds with one stone if I had gone to give blood to a hospital. Firstly I would have done something I've longed to do for many years but haven't been allowed as I was too thin. Secondly, as they always make some blood test before accepting you as a donor, I could have saved some money, then go to a laboratory to have the rest of my tests done.
This morning I woke up at the crack of dawn - even if it's Sunday - and went to the medical center.
I felt great. I was going to do something useful for me and for the others. Wow. Not even 9 o'clock and I was going to do the first good action of the day.
They had me waiting for some 20 minutes, then asked me to fill a questionary, then called me for a quick visit before the donation.
The doctor was tall and kind. My blood pressure was ok. My questionary was ok. My weight was borderline (half a kilo less and it would have been too little). My hemoglobin was (and is) outrageously low..
doctor - well, I can't take any blood from you, unless you come back with a hemoglobin of at least 12. Yours is 10, if you give blood you may have troubles in reforming all your blood cells.
me - ok, then.. maybe I can come back some other time, I'll try to "recover" in the meanwhile...
doctor - yes, of course. One thing left: ask your doctor to order you some tests. You might need a check up.
me - yeah, right. Why haven't I thought about it myself...
Today's title from: Sunday Bloody Sunday - U2
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Peace of heart is what I'm wishing myself.
Piece of cake is what I'd like to share with you all.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Seek and destroy
As at the moment I'm still at work and I'm not able to actually do anything, best thing I can do is write a short list of
do's and dont's for when you're really really pissed off:
1) Picture yourself as the incredible Hulk and imagine crashing the moron's skull on a wall and smashing it like a walnut (repeat at libitum until you calm down or actually turn green)
2) Write something down. Draw. Let your rage become an object, something out of you, something you can look at. Don't let it become "yourself"
3) Be truth to your feelings. Don't try to sort the mess out immediately if the only thing you want to do is killing someone. Wait for the slaughtering craving to pass. If it doesn't pass, consider buying lots of books. It'll be very boring, in jail...
4) Always try to find an explanation for what has happened, try to understand why people behave like they do. Maybe you've started the process, even without noticing. But don't lie to yourself, don't justify everybody: a filthy bastard is a filthy bastard, no matter how hard you analyse it.
5) If you can, don't lower your "attitude level" to match anyone else's. I.E. don't swear like a sailor just because the person you're having a fight with does.
6) Don't say things you don't think just because you're hurt. They really can kill. And are hardly forgiven if ever forgotten.
7) Allow yourself the chance to really vent about your rage. Scream, smash something (your mommy's crystal glasses are never a good item for this purpose..), run. Let your body detoxicate from anger.
8) When you feel the time has come, relax the best way that you can. Yoga, chocolate, shopping, meditation, prayers, flattering friends.. choose what really fits you and don't spare yourself anything good.
But, thinking it over, if Hulk's not the answer, maybe Kenshiro is...
His rotten head is due to explode in 10 seconds from now...9...8....7....
Today's title from: Seek and Destroy - Metallica
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Sex and zen
Not that anybody cared (apart this witty friend at the Hamster's cage, maybe) but.. well, this in the picture is more or less what I've been doing during the last weeks.
Besides destroying what was left of my dignity making love to the most unfitting man in the world. Who, much to my disgrace, fits me like a glove when in bed.
Well, to cut it short, I badly need a real vacation from this world.