This entry covers 10 days.
It started on the 12th, when I was so excited to leave on vacation to Berlin. However, a gloomy piece of news dampened my sunny disposition. My beloved Terry Pratchett left us for good.
Suddenly this planet is not so jolly any more. I wept and sobbed until late in the evening. I promised myself my first meal in Berlin shall be sushi, in his memory, as he loved this dish so much.
The next day I left with my bestie to the airport, where we parted for a while, as she wanted to eat and I wanted to smoke. You shall see that smoking is a leitmotif of this entry.
It was fun that we started dialoguing on FB, so people were confused: “why do you speak here, aren’t you together?!”
We looked like idiots, not that we’re not used to it.
Moving on, we traveled to Berlin. Yes, the first meal was sushi, honoring my beloved departed Sir Terry.
The trip was a complete success in every aspect. This time, my feet weren’t swelling like balloons, the weather was welcoming and everything was great: food, shopping, walks…
In one of the days we visited Charlottenburg, a castle where Sophie Charlotte lived a short but full life.
She collected china and fascinating people like Leibnitz or Corelli. She convinced her husband to support an Academy of Science. She played the
harpsichord and she held music in high regard. I’m sorry I didn’t write down her quote on music, which reminded me of the lyrics of a Marilyn song: “Men grow cold as girls grow old and we all lose our charms in the end.”, though it was about the power of music. I’m trying to approximate from memory: “lovers grow cold, friends become lukewarm, but music never lets you down.”
Both me and my friend shook our heads vigorously in approval of this statement.
Moving on, we lived in a rented apartment that allowed smoking inside, quite a rare gem these days. Well, surprise, surprise! I didn’t like it at all! I’m not used to the lingering smell of cigarettes inside anymore. I stopped smoking in my house since 2012, when I was on holiday in Stockholm, visiting friends and nobody is smoking inside there. Coming back home, I brought the good practice along, mostly because my beloved ALF was slightly asthmatic and I wanted to protect him. Though he’s gone, the habit stayed. Anyway, Joop can’t stand the smoke, she runs from the kitchen the moment I light a cigarette.
So now, though I’m a chain smoker, I HATE houses that stink with burned tobacco.
You’ll see I’m getting somewhere with this smoking thing.
Getting back to our trip, the apotheosis of the holiday was a mesmerizing Sting & Paul Simon concert. We sang our hearts out, we charged from Sting’s positive energy that radiates wide enough to cover the O2 Hall and we were happy as kids on Christmas morning.
OK, so we got back in Bucharest, only to attend two more concerts. One at my favorite concert hall in town – Ateneul Român, the other in a very unconventional space – a villa where there’s an art gallery, a minute concert hall and a space to enjoy delicious food. There I met a very special lady. At first, I thought she’s a Chef, but she started telling me about her projects and her foundation that preserves local traditions and values. I was wondering while talking to her how many special people are in this country that are trying to save our treasures of the past?! They have my entire veneration.
Oh, getting back to the leitmotif, it was interesting that in this location, though there were ash trays on the tables, nobody lit a cigarette until the host lighted one. After that, at least half of the audience started smoking. But in moderation, though the wine was pouring generously.
And we arrive on this Saturday when a friend of mine posted an article about banning smoking in bars. Bars, pubs, clubs, restaurants, whatever. The law that is applied already in US since the 90s and in Europe since the 00s. The reason my friend posted the article wasn’t the actual content, but just one thought: “guys, we have more important things to fix in this country, this shouldn’t be top priority.”
I read the article because, as a smoker, I’m curious to find some solid evidence supporting smoking, because until now I couldn’t find valid reasons. I WANT to support smoking, but I can’t find the right arguments to support it.
Anyway, when my friend posted the article, he was flooded with comments. I’ve never seen such a demented debate, even during elections or any other local subject. To my surprise, the argument continued for almost two days, from reasonable pros and cons to personal abuse, invectives, accuses, offenses, and curses. I couldn’t believe my eyes people would spend such an amount of time and energy for such a trivial matter. I mean, for Christ sake, I haven’t seen such a war when animals or people were killed or abused, when flagrant illegalities were committed… Such anger, such hate…
You know what’s funny? The smokers were the balanced ones and the non smokers were aggressive! So smoking keeps you calm and level headed after all! OK, I’m joking, kids, don’t smoke.
Anyway, I’m done with the smoking trip. Getting back to my experiences, I bought a book I love. I heard about this character years ago, but now I’m reading the story and it’s amazing. It goes like this: a homeless recovering drug addict gets saved by a CAT. A ginger wise Tom that saves his life every day since the day they met.
I highly recommend this inspirational story, it warmed my heart beyond words.
Especially as I’m a firm believer in being saved by animals, especially a ginger Tom.
I always hated feminism. Actually, I posted about it before. In the sense that I don’t want to be treated like a buddy, I want to be treated like a lady. I usually have it my way.
However, this post is about women who got smart and women who didn’t. It goes like this.
First scenario: three years ago, a woman in her late 40s came to a fitness guru begging for help to save her marriage.
She claimed her husband was calling her fat and he wasn’t attracted to her anymore. So she started to work out and diet. She didn’t give up, she persevered, fighting to keep her husband. Now she is Jennifer Anniston fit.
Also she divorced the idiot who was offending her, she has a young lover and she is blissfully serene and head over heels in love.
You go, girl!
Second scenario: a woman abandoned by her husband 10 years ago. Divorced, confused, she reached out for help. She started therapy. Ten years went flying by. TEN. She’s single. She didn’t have at least one flirt or one date. She couldn’t jump back in the pool. Her therapist, may her license be removed, is preaching her the following imbecile line: “God left man and woman like two halves. We are not supposed to live alone, but to find our halves to be complete.”
Also, she says that “the children need a male figure in their lives.”
So the poor woman, who seems perfectly balanced, feels an absolute wreck and a failure for being single.
So, dear imbecile therapist, NO. People should feel comfortable by themselves to be comfortable enough to look for a partner. If God intended us to be mere halves, we wouldn’t be able to function independently. Also, I believe your fucking halves might be two men or two women, not a man and a woman, you fuckin’ cave… person!
And the male figure for the children… I assume their natural father is alive and well, why the fuck should she point to the plumber and explain to her kids: “look, this is a male. Repeat after me: M-A-L-E. Get it?”
Look good for yourselves, not for a partner.
Stay single if you’re comfortable with your choice.
A few months ago, while I was with my best friend on Easter holiday, she told me in a worried voice: “I don’t know why you gave up on yourself”.
I pondered for a long time on that phrase. I realised that I became a mixture of self-loathing, narcissism, procrastination, over all exhaustion…
And I hit rock bottom. I was feeling physically ill, my feet and legs were swollen like balloons, my precious shoes didn’t fit anymore.
Surprisingly, this was the tipping point. Breaking off with my shoes was unacceptable.
So it stops here. I started swimming and having regular massages. I already feel better and willing to fight my demons.
I need to like myself again. The battle began.
This is a truly bitchy post. So stop reading right now and move on to another blog.
I have very strong opinions about people who reproduce only because “it’s time”, peer pressure, archaic family model, to strengthen the bond with their partner (newsflash: studies show that a new born is the most common reason couples grow apart or break), to pass the financial crisis by being in maternity leave so they have a safe income and cannot be fired etc.
Unfortunately, most people reproduce for these reasons and we are way too many on this planet already.
In the meantime, I have the highest respect for the people that decide to adopt an animal and treat HIM or HER like a member of the family, an offspring.
Because they understand from the beginning they are in for grief.
First, they are babies. They ruin things, they pee and poop everywhere, they chew shoes, they cry when left alone, they cry when they are hungry or just demanding for attention.
Fast, too fast, they become adults. They understand wrong for right, they become the loyal companion, the best friend, support in time of sorrow, partner in time of joy. They comfort you, the cuddle next to you, they lick you, love you with their huge hearts and generally offer you more than you can ever offer them.
And they grow old. They become grumpy, sick, they need help, assistance, treatment, time. Suddenly, they are your dear grandparents.
And way too soon you have to let go. You’re helpless, no matter what. So helpless that you’re angry. No matter how much you prepare for this moment, it hurts excruciatingly. It’s your baby. If you’re lucky, you spent a decade or two with this loving angel. Sometimes unfairly less.
Now this is what I call brave. To see your children die and your heart ripped out of your chest.
When the fuck did we lose our femininity?
When the fuck did women become men with more or less boobs, marching like soldiers, with fit, toned, non-sexual bodies?
I see girls on the street. They look good, beautiful features, long silky hair, great bods. Yet… no appeal, no sensuality.
I blame it on the Americans and the WWII, when women started building weapons and when their husbands returned from war, they refused to quit jobs and return to the kitchen.
I don’t blame the suffragettes, they were a joke.
I also blame men for becoming weak and helpless, basically because their mothers raised them poorly. They grew up believing they deserve everything. They keep looking for overprotective mothers in their lives, so they stay helpless babies.
So women grew balls. Their wasp waists thickened, their shoulders broadened to carry feeble men and spoiled children.
Oh, I don’t encourage vulgarity, but femininity. That fragile creature, with a kitten purring voice that swings her hips, plays with a lock of her hair, smiles sweetly, rocks an evening gown and walks gracefully in high heels.
Please, women, reclaim your right to be sex kittens!