Why would I rather watch M.A.S.H. than Seinfeld?

 

Let’s take it from the top.

It seems there are 4 types of stories:

extraordinary stories about extraordinary people

extraordinary stories about ordinary people

ordinary stories about extraordinary people

ordinary stories about ordinary people

The last one is hardest to make interesting. From this point of view, Seinfeld is amazing. It’s a story about NOTHING with ordinary people. OK, I admit it’s indisputable value.

However, MASH is about extraordinary people in extraordinary circumstances, trying to stay sane in the midsts of chaos. The humor is different and the heroes are inspirational. Heroes in the original sense of the word. They survive the horror with pranks, sex and alcohol. They don’t become mean and selfish, but continue to save lives, to recognize good from evil and so on.

Yesterday a friend of mine told me I have the uncanny ability to identify the “good” in people and an equal disability to distinguish mean and ugly. Well, this pleases me immensely.

During the weekend I attended a seminar on discrimination. At one point, the speaker mentioned fairy tales, where the princess patiently waits for her prince to save her and this is not healthy for the little girls.

First of all, I wrote on this subject long ago. Second, I disagree. At least as a child, she should believe there’s a prince somewhere. She has an entire life of disappointments afterward.

Even at this age, I do believe in heroes. No, not in the Prince Charming that comes to my rescue. This is bullshit. But I believe in Superman and Hawkeye Pierce. I believe in people with minor flaws and major qualities, people who can make a difference, extraordinary people with extraordinary stories.

For me, my superheroes are my beloved ladies who have infinite resources of strength and beauty to save animals. I recharge from their shining light and I feel better about myself just because i’m allowed in their presence.

I admire the artists I know, because I’m rich and filled with joy to listen to their music or watch their works of art. Most of them are narcissistic selfish creatures, but I don’ give a fuck. I love them as artists, they are so much more necessary to this species than some mediocre decent people.

So there you go: I’m surrounded by Seinfeld characters every day: mean, petty, stupid. So I need the sanctuary of heroes. That’s why I prefer M.A.S.H. 

balance

Last weekend was my kind of spiritual time. It was Orthodox Easter and I celebrated Lord’s Resurrection my way.

First of all, I was surrounded by people that make me feel good. I had talks about spirit, soul, afterlife, reincarnation, guardian angels, spiritual influencers and spiritual guidance, patriotism, respect for history, inheritance, humanity, environment.

Beliefs I support, practices I cherish. No, I’m not going completely mad, but there are a lot of things beyond our immediate reach that I praise.

Second, I don’t feast. In any way. I ate well, drank good wine and had wonderful love making. I saw God so many times. Yes, i’m a sinner, get over it.

Third, I communed with nature. I walked miles and miles, I admired the beauty of trees, sky, water, Earth. I thanked it, I cherished it. I inhaled deep and held my breath. I price good air like a good orgasm. Equally valuable.

I almost never pray to God by asking for things, I almost always thank him. This wonderful spring, I thank him for the beautiful people that enrich me with every talk we have, every new thing I learn from them.

I thank Him for granting me time to watch in peace the Spring coming to life: the cherry trees blossoming, the magnolia blooming, the forsythia, and now the all might lilac spreads it’s magnificent shades of purple and nonpareil scent.

I imbibe in spring scents, spring sky that changes 6 times per day from gloomy to sparkling blue, my chestnut tree that looks different every day, sunrises and sunsets, the beauty of life.

And finally, a lesson in humility: you have Johnny Depp, a Hollywood star that has everything. He’s able to savor like a pure child the company of his idol – Keith Richards.

Watch the way he looks at Keith, like a kid opening Christmas presents and be the same: don’t take anything for granted, be grateful for everything life brings your way. Be happy, be content, be balanced.

Tragedy means loss of a loved one or an incurable disease. Whatever else happens it’s experience. Not tragedy. Stop waiting, start living.

 

something new… for now

My first Mac. Never thought I’ll use one. I am a fervent PC believer.

But… as so many times before, “never say never”.

Again a year when I shouldn’t plan ahead, as life surprises me terribly.

For example, I swore I shall not return in London until the Olympics are over. Well… in June I’m going.

I thought that as long as recession is still so strong, I shall not travel. Well, besides London, I’m already planning two other trips abroad.

I’m writing this text not because I have anything interesting to say, but to get accommodated with my new toy.

Kind of Lorem Ipsum or Brown Fox Jumps whatever.

OK, I’m rambling. Let’s find a topic.

Like, for example, what is a fulfilled woman?

Is it that complete perfect creature that exists only in Hollywood movies? A mother, a daughter, a wife, a successful career woman? Does she exist or is it just a figment of some sick imagination meant to ruin our self esteem, like the photoshopped airbrushed superwomen in fashion magazines?

A friend of mine was whining the other day: “I want a man to protect me, to support me, I’m tired of doing things on my own and saving myself”.

I answered without missing a beat: “Oh, yeah? Name ONE! One couple, where the woman is feeble and helpless, with a strong male figure beside her!”

She couldn’t.

I continued in a righteous rage: “can’t you see? We are here to shelter them. To drag some loser that weighs us down. Even when they seem strong and independent, they become needy sooner or later. Rather sooner than later. You can depend on a man for only ONE sure thing: to let you down sooner or later. Oh, and by the way, no matter WHAT happened, he’s a cheat, a drunk, a loser… it’s YOUR FAULT. You didn’t understand him, YOU didn’t support him (enough).”

And if ANYONE intents to contradict me, PISS THE FUCK OFF. You’re in denial. Yes, wether there’s a man beside you, YOU’re carrying him, it’s NOT the other way around. One way or another, he’s depending on you and at some point, he’s too lazy to move on. 

Or maybe it’s just me.

i remember you

There’s a cool magazine that asks male public figures to tell tales about lost loves. The chapter is entitled “it wasn’t meant to be”. Most of them have stories about puppy love, innocent flirtations of childhood, others use the opportunity to trash former lovers.

Never mind. I was discussing this with a friend. A female friend. We both agreed that if the shoe was on the other foot, we couldn’t cope. I mean… I wouldn’t expose myself like this. And I have no idea what to write on this subject. Probably after all I don’t have what it takes to be a writer, as some or most writers base their stories on personal experience or experiences of people close of them. 

I don’t know what to say on the subject. First of all, I have a very poor memory of childhood loves. Second, they were too many to collect or recollect. I used to fall in love every week. Some were boys my age, some were movie actors… Who can remember? Nothing important, as most of them weren’t shared. That’s why I used to move on very fast. And not care too much. Maybe I blocked some memories, maybe there weren’t any memories to have. No idea.

As for more recent affairs or relationship… what is there to write? They are no better than other’s. Every story is a cliché. Boy meets girl. They are together for a while. Might be a night, might be 15 years. They fall out of love, IF there was any love to be lost. One of them cheats. Or just leaves. Usually cheats. That’s it.

I was thinking that I am one of the few people who didn’t like the movie/ book Love Story. Of course, I can quote from it: “What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died? That she was beautiful and brilliant? That she loved Mozart and Bach, the Beatles, and me?” / “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

But it didn’t impress me much. On the other hand, I saw probably 20 times or more A Little Romance. An obscure movie almost 10 years later. I don’t remember any quote, but I fell in love forever with Diane Lane. I already loved Laurence Olivier. I dreamed of a love like that. I still dream of it. I’m a naïve teenager, not a smart ass student.

Yup, probably this is what I would write: I didn’t like Love Story, I loved A Little Romance. And the sarcastic question: “What if Romeo and Juliet lived?”

There’s no happy end in a love story. It just ends.

righteous rage and misplaced peace

Lately I saw two divergent trends of mindset: people who are righteously enraged by all sorts of injustice and people who are shut tight in a pink bubble of serenity borderline stupidity.

It’s very hard to keep a balance, but I prefer rage. It’s alive. The only thing is to keep a balance, not to drain yourself uselessly with fake causes. The old saying “choose your battles”.

Otherwise you risk to be consumed by rage and that’s not the point. The point is to be able to DO something, to CHANGE something. (sorry, I’m quoting from a Honda ad).

Try not to get sucked in every lost cause, every ad placed on social networks or every hysterical news piece. Help whether you really can, don’t become just another bearing in a mechanism that serves others. Don’t become a stressed and neurotic puppet, victim of system manipulation, stay alert and wise.

On the other hand, we have the so called serene ones: people prone to be seduced by religious and exoteric bullshit, cheap philosophy about the energies of the Universe that would collude to bring good luck, potency, beauty, a smaller nose or bigger tits.

It’s obvious up to a point that a sunny attitude makes you more likeable. But be reasonable, don’t expect mountains to move just because you smile like an idiot the entire day, you post motivational quotes on FB and you send idiotic mails to a hundred of your closest friends that don’t really know who the fuck you are.

You expect miracles but don’t actually change anything major in your life, your attitude, entourage, job, or diet… whatever makes you want a change. You just believe in “positive thinking”, you don’t want to get upset by anything that happens around you – socially, environmentally, politically.

The perfect tool to be manipulated. Life goes on around you, the enraged ones go out, shout, maybe make changes, but at least they DO something, they get involved they don’t wonder “where the fuck did my life go and what have I done with it?!”

And I still don’t mind. OK, it’s your choice. Contemplate life, don’t live it. I don’t judge that maybe you’re not able to live. But STOP preaching!!! Stop explaining to me how pretty it is to stay positive. How you know for a fact that any ailment is generated by a bad attitude. How material things don’t matter (this is said usually while caressing an opulent high end bag and living in a mansion). How easy it is to live beautiful.

You know what, I’d rather be enraged, but alive. I fight for my beliefs. Sometimes I fight with a smile, but it’s still a fight. I make mistakes, I get angry, I get upset, I calm down, I’m happy. I LIVE. My way. Let me be.

ageless

Infancy, childhood, teenage, youth, adulthood, maturity… I should stop.

Age is a state of mind. Yes, the skin may be sagging, wrinkles might show, and various aches might trouble you.

Yet, as long as the spirit is untainted, you can celebrate life and everything it puts in your way.

I spent the winter holidays with childhood friends. We had the same jokes and we laughed as wholeheartedly as ever.

I and one of the boys went through one divorce, while the other guy enjoyed two divorces. And other various disappointments. Life wasn’t easy for any of us.

Yet, just seeing each other transported us back in time, in a carefree era, when we had no other worry than money for cigarettes.

Old loves, pranks, friends, stories where bouncing around over red wine and good memories.

Yesterday, through the deep snow and harsh blizzard, I was coming home tired from work. I cut my way through the park of my childhood, filled with a new generation having fun in the snow.

I didn’t feel old, I just summoned all of my childhood friends to share the feeling of nostalgia. They answered the call with enthusiasm. Only virtually, as they are spread all over the world, but they answered.

We spent an evening back in time, maybe a quarter of century. I bet they had the same smile while writing.

In the meantime, I’m in love. He is probably the love of my life. I couldn’t have him when I was 19.

Maybe we had to learn some lessons first. Both of us. To go through love and loss several times. To age gracefully and better value what we have.

And now… I’m 19 again, walking on the street with my babe hand in hand, sharing a cake in a coffee shop and stealing a kiss or a caress.

Probably young people look at us in horror. We don’t look like teenagers but we behave like ones for sure.

Thank God I find people with whom I can be young. Or they find me?

revival

At some point, I gave up. I thought I had my share of love like some people don’t get in three lives, let alone one.

I was comfortable with aging alone, caring for friends and pets, enjoying music, books, movies and nights out. Aging gracefully.

Still caring for me – spa, food, cosmetics & shoes, cherishing every good thing life brings my way.

But as always, my destiny is not as predictable as I imagine. My path is way more spectacular than I can picture.

So I met love and I ran away from it. But finally I caved and surrendered. Because no music, friends, cat purr or fancy shoe can match holding in your arms the man you love.

I cherish even the pain of the time apart, it’s a good pain, it’s healing, it means being alive. Alive like I haven’t ever been, it seems.

I probably loved this much, I probably was loved this much, but it seems like another life, I can hardly remember.

Every act of tenderness, the voice of the loved one, the expectation of shared bliss…

It’s never too late to love, don’t bother with how long it lasts, or how it rips you apart when it’s over.

I was looking at myself in the mirror after three days of love making and enjoying each other.

Looking back was an ageless beautiful radiant woman. It was amazing. Try it, it hurts like hell but it’s all worth it.

Pura Vida

women are crazy

And this comes from a woman. Look, I had my share of love and loss. I went through some tough lessons and I HOPE I understood something.

But I really don’t get women. They carefully avoid the good guys, they pick the most noncommittal male around and try to make him get involved in a serious relationship.

They get hurt terribly, they keep fighting, they chase, they stalk, they bargain, they end up hating him terribly, complaining endlessly and wondering why didn’t it work?!

In the beginning at least, a relationship should be magic. You should be fueled solely by endorphins, seek each other’s company endlessly, post sappy messages on every social platform known to mankind to day.

After a while, it should settle into a steady boat, floating in peaceful routine, a comfortable partnership equally enjoyed by the two of them.

But when from start, everything is a fight, every concession feels like a compromise, every step feels like walking in snow up to hips against the blizzard… something is not quite right and it will not improve as time goes by and passion fades.

On the other hand, I, the old bitch, am looking for a light affair, a man who wants to feel good and definitely makes me feel wonderful, just laugh and marvelous sex and I find the only man in the world willing to settle down, exhausted by shipwrecks and storms.

I have no idea how I got sucked in a relationship, when I know I carefully chose a lover. I didn’t know how to set the boundaries. It’s completely my fault.

Can’t we sincerely post some requirements and really, really, truthfully admit firs to ourselves what are we willing to offer and what are we able to bear in a relationship?

I don’t know. Keep it simple. Identify the signs, understand them and let the fuck go!

back to life. literally.

I was silent as I had nothing left to say.

Also, I was pissed off as my breakdown generated pity and I didn’t need pity, but support.

And I found support again from my friends.

And I came back to life. I rediscovered myself.

I met spectacular people, treasures of good vibes that enriched me yet again.

My broken heart mended beyond my hopes and dreams.

I was so at peace with the fact that I’ll never love again, that I had my share for a thousands lives.

Still…

My heart is beating yet once again, my blood is rushing, I feel like I slept and now I’m wide awake and ALIVE.

When good things come, they come all at once. I was wondering why destiny rewards my good deeds with desolation and sadness.

But I had faith against all odds.

And now I’m HAPPY.

Jungle by Eldocea

random

The Hummer in front of my tiny car swerves abruptly to avoid a dog. Kudos to the driver. Not all guys with big cars have small dicks.

The lady teller from the bank is grumpy. Maybe because she has the picture of an ugly kid on her desk.

I had to reach this age to love my feet. I used to hate them. Now I discovered mani pedi and I’m fascinated with how pretty they are.

With every person that disappoints me, there’s one that impresses me.

I shouldn’t allow people to charge me with bad energy before sleep. Preferably never.

Sometimes the sense of humor is not enough, but it’s a must.

Too many people don’t deserve their pets. The owners should be trained and tested. Parents too.