Ella's off on one

Crystal Maze

2011-11-30T22:28:00.004Z

Hello.

My name is Ella and I am clinically depressed.

Last night I was comparing being depressed with being in a Crystal Maze. The sort of maze made up of mirrors. Where you can see no way out and repeatedly hit dead-ends until your brain jumps to the conclusion that there is no way out (which is a fallacy in itself, because you entered the maze somehow, therefore the entry, if nothing else, can serve as an exit also, but your brain is too dysfunctional to process that).

I have been told by medics that my symptoms are 'textbook depression', which is in a way a relief, after all they are not naming my oh-so-strange condition after me (now wouldn't that be worrying), however very few people understand.

And yes, I am still fighting the shame and the stigma associated with mental illness. It is all part of being in the maze of mirrors, part of the hellish experience, seeing yourself from every angle, facing your most guarded fears. Being in the crystal maze makes you forget who the true you is, also. It is so tempting to smash all the reflections of you, including yourself, the true you. But that is another story.

They say there is a silver lining in everything, and all I can see as a positive at the moment, is the true friends, the real people who matter the most and for whom I matter the most.

If someone loves you and accepts you when going through something like this, they will do so for the rest of their lives. And that is a blessing, discovering the real souls who matter.

So, as I said - my name is Ella and I am clinically depressed. Welcome to my hell.

Broken

2011-11-23T21:15:00.003Z

you are broken and we will fix you
you told me

Shine On, You Crazy Diamond
they sang

can you see the light at the end of the tunnel? is it there?
she asked

No.

the free fall is over, at last
the dried sea bottom felt like melted tarmac, in my dream
with the impending destructive wave waiting at the horizon

there is no light in my darkest hour
no reason
and no scope
the tunnel collapsed
and the diamond has been crushed

i am broken and nobody can fix me

Hello

2011-10-17T20:03:00.003+01:00

Hello, Prozac, my old friend.
Hello black blanket over the head feeling too.
Hello bottom of the well.
Hello lapses of reason, and hello to you too, cotton wool replacing my brain.
Hello illness, hello hopeless, hello sleepless, hello hell

Gate crashing life

2011-09-20T20:26:00.004+01:00

and what can you do, when you realise that you are gate crashing life
and you are not wanted nor loved
and you overstayed your non-welcome:
hit the bottle, hit the pills, hit a tree?
you want to be something, you want to be someone, or you want to be no more
and life keeps you
with contempt
and life reminds you
of the error you are
some mistakes are irreversible
some dreams are hopeless
some lives are pointless

Rainbow

2011-09-20T18:05:00.003+01:00

And so a rainbow can be a promise from heaven

and a kiss from Above

a stairway to the angels

or a peace offering

A sign of Hope

...or simply an optical phenomenon at an agle of 42 degrees from the direction opposite the Sun

Tree of Blessings

2011-09-10T10:22:00.003+01:00

I have decided to make a Tree of Blessings.
And will have a think about what blessings in my life I could add to it,
Counting my blessings is something I often forget.

And yes, I would

2011-08-29T18:48:00.003+01:00

...and yes, I would bring you a rainbow, and I would kiss you on the Moon, and I would catch you a cloud, and write a Haiku, I would die two deaths, and I would sell my soul for you

...but I can't see you tonight, because I am working.
Sorry.

No title

2011-08-19T00:04:00.003+01:00

I got home from work to find a small parcel left outside my front door.
It was a magazine.
In a plastic bag.
The cover had a picture of tinsel and gold baubles. And I could see the letters 'stmas'.
My stomach dropped.
My heart sank.
My knees turned into jelly.
I picked the plastic bag, and with great care, using two fingers, I extracted the magazine. Careful, just as to avoid catching some dreadful bug from it.
Yes, it was one of those ordering books that some poor old sales person leaves with you hoping that you will place an order, sign a cheque and return. One of those books that have all the stuff you didn't know you didn't need.
But this one is about 'Christmas'.
My stomach dropped. My heart sank. My knees.... yeah, you got it. All that jazz.
I mean, I don't want to sound rude, inconsiderate, or monstruous in any way, shape or form,
BUT
We are half-way through August, for chrissake!
I am still wearing my summer wardrobe, still planning to take annual leave, we are not over the Bank Holiday, schools are not open yet, and you plant a CHRISTMAS brochure on my doorstep?!
What is wrong with you people????

Quote of the Day

2011-08-06T00:29:00.000+01:00

Don't take life too seriously, no one ever gets out alive.

Epic Fail

2011-07-04T00:57:00.001+01:00

I wish I could forget you.... on the count of 3, just like that, 1, 2, 3....
....Nah... It didn't work.

Above the Clouds

2011-06-19T01:51:00.002+01:00

As I am typing this, I am above the clouds, somewhere up in the sky, yes above the whole world, but my soul is in the darkest pit. I fly alone, my friend. I am on a tiny plane, it looks very much like a toy aircraft, taking me away from Home back home. The plane is half full (or half empty, depending on how you feel), and I can no longer hear my mother tongue being spoken, as the rest of the passengers are French.
And yes, from here I can see the clouds, but I am yet to find the 9th, I have left my Home yet again, with all its love and tears. Do you remember, mon ami, about our conversation regarding making important decisions? Well, I have just made another life-changing decision, I have chosen AGAIN, to select one slice of this Multiverse, and return to my exile. I sat again (in a real deja-vu situation) in Departures lounge, with the fatidic can of coke and fighting the urge to break into a run, again, through the one way system and leave the airport and be back Home for good. I recall a few years ago, when my whole life was falling apart just like now, I sat in the same place, and I had to squeeze the can of coke really hard to stop myself from making that decision. A life changing decision, that is. That was.
However you were right, my friend, once I have left Home I will never have a true home to return to. You probably know the feeling of being stuck in between worlds like this, an eternal traveller, your life and dreams in a suitcase. I wanted to ask you, and I want to ask you right now, from here above the clouds, PLEASE GIVE ME A GOOD REASON TO RETURN but I know deep down you would struggle to come up with a response.
And how will I know, from this slice of the Multiverse, what life would have been, being in a completely different slice.
I fly alone, mon ami, my suitcase and passport and packet of tissues at the ready, because I always cry when I leave my brother behind, in his own Multiverse so different and far away from mine, so I can rise above the clouds, towards a place where maybe one day, one sunny day, I shall find hope.
From above the tear-stained clouds,
With love.

Quick question

2011-06-09T23:46:00.002+01:00

And what can I do, when I am not allowed to love you, because you are not mine to love?....

My life in cardboard boxes

2011-06-08T21:02:00.004+01:00

So I am moving house. Again. I only had to move about four times in the past three years. Not funny. Not good. So I have to put all my life in cardboard boxes, yes again, and move.
So far I have moved countries, then towns, now counties.
As I am typing this, half of my life is already packed, filled boxes already stacked up in one corner of the living room, and the rest of my flat looks, oh well, a bit like a bombsite.
I wonder if I will ever find a permanent place that I can call Home. With no flattened cardboard boxes lurching in the cupboard under the stairs ('ready for next time') and no nagging feeling that everything is unstable and temporary. But that perhaps, is in another life... happy days.

Decisions

2011-06-08T18:49:00.003+01:00

Yes, mon ami, we all make decisions, even breathing can sometimes be a tough life-changing decision.
Somewhere in a corner of a multiverse once upon a time I was not to make any decisions and others ruled my fate, and that corner of that multiverse was very cruel indeed.
Remember what I was telling you about the ultimate expression of free will and the final (albeit drastic and irreversible) decision a human can make? It will be my last laugh, and it will echo across for ages.

From the Multiverse, with Love.

Nature abhors a vacuum

2011-05-23T18:51:00.003+01:00

They say Nature abhors a vacuum - and also that the Entropy is constantly increasing (wasn't this the reason Boltzmann took his life - the true reason, not his bipolar? I can't remember)
So anyway, Nature abhors a vacuum - that means, no empty spaces.
What is my soul filled with then?
Come on, Boltzmann - from your grave, I dare you, answer me. Did you die for nothing?!

Today's specials

2011-05-15T12:19:00.002+01:00

And today's special feelings are:
- depressed
- repressed
- isolated
- unloved

Thank you, come again...

An Evening in the Village

2011-05-13T22:47:00.003+01:00

Tonight I was not an alien.
Tonight I have felt great, actually.

Tonight I am able to dream of nice things. Thanks to you, mon ami.

From The Village,
With love.

Playing Jenga on Maslow's pyramid

2011-05-04T11:21:00.002+01:00

I gave up on the idea of me ever being happy.
Let's look at Maslow and his pyramid of needs.
Every time I try to climb that pyramid, someone or something decides to play Jenga with it.

From the 'village'

2011-05-03T20:49:00.005+01:00

It is so fortunate that someone can bring a smile on your face even if you have an extremely bad day.

From the village, with thanks

Thought of the day

2011-05-01T22:13:00.004+01:00

There are so many things I wish I could say or do or have, but social constraints make it impossible. It is so frustrating sometimes, not being able to externalise emotions. I often wonder if I could have had more in life - if only I could have said or asked.

and I am

2011-04-29T21:24:00.003+01:00

and I am cold, and I am blue, and I am loving and I am true
and I want to die and I want to live
and I want to be

Partial death

2011-04-15T21:50:00.000+01:00

This weekend, a part of my soul will die.

Thought of the day

2011-04-08T20:02:00.001+01:00

When you feel like a failure, like you can't do anything right and that everyone is better than you, remember that once upon a time you were the fastest sperm.

Random puzzle

2011-04-03T00:55:00.000+01:00

Random

2011-01-29T20:08:00.000Z

I want to fall in love.....
and not get hurt

Memories

2011-01-28T01:31:00.004Z

Ok so today I had a fabulous surprise, getting in touch with somebody from my long-forgotten (or repressed) childhood.
Hail, wonders of the internet and social networking sites.
For a moment I was back there, in that space and time, memories rushing in, images, colours, smells and tastes, a whirlwind of feelings, a vortex.
Last time I visited the places of my childhood was about a year ago, when I was on a trip to my home country. A night of 'Whilst you are here, pick your soul up and take it back with you'. It never wanted to leave there. My soul is still roaming the streets of my childhood, in a sort of a parallel universe that only memories can give birth to, where there is an eternal hot summer afternoon, smelling of dust, and youth, and grazed knees, vanilla ice-cream and linden trees in blossom.
So yes, my new old friend, the one who took me there again tonight, my soul is still there, and I beg you, if you see it please look after it.

Revelations

2011-01-22T04:40:00.003Z

First revelation: Money can buy everything. Including happiness.
Second revelation: You can't develop into a screwed up individual with an inferiority complex and a morbid tendency to depression, unless you had a screwed up childhood full of abuse.
Third revelation: Some people were born to be loved. Some people were just born.
Fourth revelation: Beautiful, good looking people are better liked and more successful.
Fifth revelation: Sometimes God has a sick and twisted sense of humour.
Sixth revelation: I will need to elaborate.....

The Bench of Answers

2010-11-26T02:25:00.004Z

During my youth, I used to go for nice walks into a lovely little park in our neighbourhood. This park was like an oasis in the middle of a bustling capital. And often on my own, or accompanied by the friends of my childhood or by my sister, we used to walk our worries in this park. When we were upset, or we had a dilemma or any issue that needed sound counsel or a solution, our steps were heading towards this park.
Anyway, the strangest thing was, every time we used to stop and take a seat on one of the benches in this park, someone would appear within minutes, and they would ask to sit next to us, engage in polite conversation with us, and within this conversation they would give answers or insight to our problems. These people were sometimes frail old pensioners, or young mothers with babies in the pushchair, or even couples out on a stroll. As soon as the 'answer' was delivered, they would get up, say good-bye and leave.
I used to call this odd experience 'The Bench of Answers' - for obvious reasons - and what a fantastic experience that used to be!
And how I wish I could have now the worries of my youth, instead of today's.

Dear Readers xx

2010-11-23T19:25:00.005Z

I have discovered, looking at my blog traffic stats, that I have quite a few readers, and the audience stretches even across the pond. Yay, me. It kinda makes me think, sh*t, I should come up with something clever now. You might not want to hold your breath, my dear readers - one can't, and won't, be clever all the time lol.
I can't really say much these days (other than my usual rants). I could say that I am slipping down that damn well again - so who knows, you might want to watch out for more additions to the 'Down the Well' chapter. Life is pants at the moment, and I mean big, granny-style pants, and the winter with its S.A.D. doesn't help in the slightest, nor does the approaching dreaded thing called Xmas.
I have watched last night the film called 'The Mist', another good Stephen King movie containing a very apt social radiography. The film helped me discover Dead Can Dance and also made me think not to hurry that much in ending the whole thing, as help can be closer than you imagine (if you have seen the movie, you will know what I mean). ...But perhaps that is a different kind of blurb to be elaborated (maybe) in a different chapter.
In the meantime, I salute you, my dear Readers - and thank you for your time xx

School-run traffic

2010-11-18T21:59:00.003Z

Every single morning, on my way home from work, I seem to play a deadly game - dodging crazed drivers.
And yes, I am talking about Them, the mums turned into fierce machines, in their 4x4s, in their people carriers, thinking that they have their own personal version of Highway Code written especially for them, exempt of rules, laws and courtesy, Them who think they own the road and they could push you in a ditch without batting an eye-lid and without a consequence....
They cut in front of you, they pull out in front of you, they stop in the middle of the road and block the traffic so their sprogs can jump out, they follow you closely, tailgating, they don't indicate when they turn, they don't give way, they drive like lunatics, they are impatient, rude, horrendous, hormonal, dangerous!

I am worth more than some pebbles

2010-10-20T09:24:00.003+01:00

Many many years ago, when I was just a very little girl, I remember I was out playing with a friend of mine, on a glorious summer afternoon. We got some pebbles from somewhere, and God knows what game we were playing, however we had a number of pebbles each. My friend, bless her, single child and therefore with a slight egocentric streak, demanded I gave her my pebbles too. But they were mine!! And it happened that my father was walking home and he went past us, so I ran to him and told him, through tears, about my endangered pebbles. My father (God bless his soul and rest him in peace) looked at me and told me: 'Then give them to her, if she wants them that badly. You are worth more than some pebbles'. Which I did, wholeheartedly, because I felt superiour in my kindness. I know it sounds daft, but that memory has been following me throughout my life, and although the pebbles of my childhood later turned into more valuable things, I have always remembered my father's advice.
The reason this memory came back to me again, is that recently I won an award at work, and part of the prize was a modest amount of money. However, some people would never ever grow up and they still demand other's pebbles, so they are causing a lot of grief at the moment, and it sickens me to see them like this.
So this morning I have remembered what my good and wise father said once to me: 'I am worth more than some pebbles'.
Thank you father - and I hope you are proud of me.

It is elementary...

2010-10-16T09:59:00.002+01:00

Please repeat after me:
Budapest is the capital of Hungary.
Bucharest is the capital of Romania.

Never EVER get these two mixed up.

KPIs

2010-10-11T03:12:00.005+01:00

If you are a working individual, you probably heard of KPIs. Everything in this world these days revolves around KPIs. Key Performance Indicators this, Key Performance Indicators that. Meet your KPIs and you are fine (you have your job for another day - or two). Fail your KPIs and there is trouble.
Anyway, I was thinking the other day, do Gods have also KPIs? And what about the angels; or the demons? I mean, just imagine, being a God, and having strict KPIs regarding miracles for example. An apparition there, minimum 95% visibility, minim 90% credibility. Followers rising between 85% on a poor month and up to 99% during good months. Or for angels - rate of souls saved, accidents avoided, clinical deaths returned to life: semestrial forecast within 95% and 97% to meet the KPI. If KPI is not met, then obviously the angel falls. So here's the demons' department: how many souls led to perdition? How many poor sinners boiling in the eternal fires of Hell? Well, if you are a demon worth its salt, better keep the figures up (minim 95% that is).
Why don't we have KPIs for how many smiles we should offer to random people in a day?

Post Scriptum: Talking of performance indicators - if the sunshine in this country would have KPIs to meet, it failed already.

So long, farewell, au revoir, auf wiedersehen, goodbye

2010-08-31T03:09:00.003+01:00

Dear Joe Blogg,
Time has come for you and I to part company. I have shed my numbers and my fiercely-looking weapons and I have become one like you.
Well, not really quite like you. I hope not, anyway.
I will try not to interfere with you anymore. But I confess, I will try and observe you, quietly, as you will carry on doing what you do best.
I will try and steer off your path. I don't want to give you reasons and opportunity to rob me, mug me, hit me.
We will not stay friends. We live on different planets culturally speaking.
Please do not try to sell me pot. Do not embarrass me. I may pretend I am blind, but I am not stupid.
Please do not try to chat me up. Let's face it - I am well out of your league.
Please make the effort and clean your house every now and then. And crack a book open once in a while. Go and get a job - you might strike lucky one day and live better off your wages than off the benefits. And no, you are not too ill to work. You are just plain lazy, so please come up with a different excuse.
I leave you now... in peace - for how long can you keep this peace, that is?? But that is no longer my problem.
So here.... I am singing to you: So long, farewell, au revoir, auf wiedersehen, goodbye

Angel

2010-05-12T14:51:00.002+01:00

Last night I dreamt about finding a white feather.
Could have been an angel kissing me during my sleep?
But I know the real truth... the angel had no arms, remember?

Doctors and Nurses

2010-04-26T11:52:00.003+01:00

Do you remember, when we were kids - we used to play 'doctors and nurses'?
And despite our young age, we naturally managed to introduce the faintest shade of naughtiness in our otherwise innocent game.
But now, when I am older and wiser (as the saying goes...), I am wondering. If the 'doctors' always went to give a more or less thorough examination (wink, wink), then why were they doing so to the nurses?! Usually doctors examine patients. Philosophically speaking, if a nurse is being examined by a doctor (ahem), then she would become a patient - for the sake of the argument.
So why wasn't the game called 'doctors and patients'??

PS: On a different note, it happens that I work with both - doctors AND nurses. And I like to play games too. So damn, I am in the wrong job then! I should train to become at least a nurse.

Reunion

2010-03-26T01:13:00.001Z

Joe Blogg, you abominable, despicable creature! I missed you, I am ashamed to say it.
But here I am, ready to make your life hell again. Be afraid, be very afraid.

Encounter

2010-03-14T07:18:00.003Z

Well, well, well. So we finally met. Ok, there's a question for you: is the prophecy coming true then?
Are you going to fill the abyss, vanquish my Shadow, superglue the shreds of my heart and all that impossible stuff?
Daring, you.
But thank you for trying, anyway xx

Home

2010-03-13T01:57:00.002Z

Funny concept, home.
What is home for some is hell for others.
Where is home, anyway? They say, 'home is where your heart is'. So ok, is home inside my ribcage? I don't think so...
I think home is a place in your head. Or in your imagination, let's just say. The place that has nothing to do with time/space reality.
Home is a nice little thought, kept alongside Santa Claus, Tooth Fairy, Perfect Relationship, Ideal Job, Beautiful Life, Endless Love and the like.

Shh

2010-02-24T10:02:00.002Z

Shh... did you hear that?? Oops, that was my heart, breaking.

Just be careful, when you tread on it once more... Don't do it in bare feet, the shards might hurt you.

The Importance of being Goth

2010-01-30T02:53:00.002Z

As you probably know, about 6 months ago I came out. As a Goth. Yeah, so far I have been in denial, a closet-Goth as they say. Anyway, 6 months have passed and now I am the proud owner of a new wardrobe (any excuses, after all) and a new social 'label' attached to my good self.
There are certain advantages and (of course) disadvantages of being a Goth these days. In no particular order:
1. You don't need to worry about (fake) tan anymore. If my legs are whiter than an aspirin tablet, as they haven't seen sunshine for about 2 years (well, i DO live in the UK, after all?!) - so what? White is cool, pale is the word for a Goth. And no more orangey fake tan either: woohoo!
1. a) You don't need to spend any more money on blushers.
1. b) You will start ditching your old make-up paraphernalia and acquire monochrome products, to include, of course, ghostly-white powder, black eye-shadow and eye-liner (wholesale, as you go through one eye-liner every session), black lipstick and black nail-polish. Can be quite expensive to buy everything in one go, but you've got to look the part!
2. Blame pretty much everything on the Goth-ness: after a rather rough night, your friend is telling you 'OMG, you really look like Death!' - well, D'OH! Or your make-up is smudged: of course, this is part of the melodramatic look that's part of being a Goth... etc etc etc.
3. Your tights are laddered - forget about being paranoid and dashing to the nearest shop to buy a new pair; if your jeans are torn, your Doc Martens are dusty, nail varnish chipped - worry not: looking scruffy can be classed as Goth chic...
4. Colour coordination hysteria is a thing of the past. Black and all its shades will never clash with each other.
5. Getting ready to go out can take less time and effort: what to wear?? Well, just open the damn wardrobe and something (black) will fall on you. Do not give it a second thought - as a Goth, you have the guts and the style to carry everything off. You would look stunning even in a (black) potato sack.
5. a) Locating a certain garment in your (black) wardrobe can sometimes be tricky. Finding a needle in the haystack = finding a top in a Goth's wardrobe. Go instead for tip mentioned at point number 5.
6. Unless you opt for the Lolita look, forget about killer shoes (ie, shoes that kill you). Vote goes to: Big boots, 'kick-ass' boots, Doc Martens - stay comfy, stay cool.
6. a) Knee-length Doc Marten boots (I am a proud owner) will take ages to lace up. Not a good idea to wear them on quick 'dates', when you have to take them off and put them back on in a hurry. Some guys will also find this 'hold on, only 10 eyelets to go' business rather off-putting.
6. b) You can now give the saying 'Goths do it in Doc Martens' a new twist :-)
7. No need to act all nicey-nice if you don't feel like it. If you want to be a moody cow, get on with it. Goths are by definition a species apart and lesser beings will never-ever understand them and their intricate drama.
8. You get used to people staring at you wherever you go. Offer them the oportunity to take a picture, challenge them to see if you will indeed appear in the photo, they will leave you alone.
8. a) You can easily fob off pretty much any sales-rep; with a cheeky answer, you will frighten the socks off him/her. (I was in town the other day, and a rep with a badge and a clipboard stopped me to ask if I buy stuff online. I said to her sternly, whilst looking fixedly in her eyes: 'I only use the power of the internet for my devil-worshipping purposes'. She mumbled something and let me pass. Succes.)
8. b) If you go into 'posh' shops or restaurants, don't expect a good service. A snotty waiter or a Barbie-brained shop assistant will unwittingly dread that you lower the tone of the venue. However, fair-play to those who treat you with respect and consideration (no gory cheeky answers to them).
9. Hair styles 'accidents' - cut, colour, or anything else that went wrong in the process. Thank Goth, everything goes (ha ha, geddit?).
10. On a very dark note: you are always ready to attend a funeral!

The Invisible Man

2010-01-15T06:16:00.003Z

I was driving today to work - and I was a bit late, therefore in a slight hurry (festina lente)... not much traffic, thank God. However, this traffic light, right, at a zebra crossing, right, suddenly turns red. All the cars grudgingly stopped, neatly, waiting for the pedestrian(s) to cross. What pedestrian(s)?! Nobody there! Well, it should have been someone, as the light won't turn red unless some damn cheeky pedestrian presses the button (when they have the audacity to want to cross the road).
But there was nobody there!
And I was thinking, you know (yes, it did hurt a bit in the process) - perhaps it was the Invisible Man who pressed the button. But why, me keeps wondering, why the f*** did the Invisible Man cross the road?!?!

The bottom of the well

2009-12-22T02:02:00.002Z

You said this will end. You said I don't mean anything to you.
I'm lying on the bottom of the well, scraping away with my frozen fingers, it can't get lower than this. Will you love me in my death??

Xmas 2009

2009-12-15T03:53:00.003Z

So there is that time of the year again when people simply go mad.
Apparently it used to be called Christmas. Now it is called Xmas, or maybe even Commercemas. There is nothing Christian about Xmas anymore, is it?
Everybody gets stressed - I need to write and send the cards, I must find a present for grandma, I need to get the turkey etc etc.
It is simply depressing, this whole affair, you know. In every single shop you squeeze into you can hear christmassy music blaring, there are interminable queues everywhere, and the decorations some properties are adorned with easily fall into the realm of distasteful. (Joe Blogg has got the most decorations on his house, by the way - blow up Santa, fairy lights, sleigh with 4 reindeer, and a snowman....)
I want to ban Xmas. It is a disaster. It is soul destroying. It is blasphemy.
I decided to work this Xmas. And when I don't work, will sleep. Xmas will not happen for me. Perhaps next year it will be officially extinct, how many sleeps till then, ho ho bloody ho!!

Random

2009-12-03T02:20:00.002Z

It's been a year now, and I am still on that damned down-spiral. Empty, hollow, words do not matter anymore. And it is black, and it is no future, and it is lonely.
Nobody says sorry, nobody cares.
I miss my cloud of oblivion, remembering is not good.
And I miss the nights when sleep shadowed the sorrow.
What would you do if you were to have a magic wand, you've asked me. I would make everything disappear.

November night blessing

2009-11-03T01:51:00.003Z

May the Full Moon light your sleep. May the rain nourish your dreams. May the cold keep your anger in check. May the night fill the hollow of your soul.
Tonight it feels like being dead. Count your blessings - you are still alive.

Never

2009-11-03T01:48:00.003Z

I will never find my way home. Because I do not have a home.
I will never enjoy life. Because I feel I am already half-dead.
I have never liked the concept of 'never'. Until now.

Driving

2009-07-29T11:50:00.002+01:00

I was talking to a friend of mine the other day, observing that since I have passed my test, my driving got significantly worse. As a learner I always tried to drive 'by the book'. As soon as my pink licence arrived in the post though, perfection went. So I was saying, perhaps now I know I don't need to impress anyone (ie, the examiner). I now take driving for granted.
So it is a bit like getting married, I suppose.

Blessing in disguise

2009-07-20T08:55:00.003+01:00

You are not worth my tears. I simply refuse to let you throw me back into the abyss, just because you want to. My tears are way too precious, even for you. In this game I never knew the rules and I have never been sure who was the hunter and who was the hunted. The game is over, that is all I know, and I will not show you that I can cry for you.
Will think of this as a blessing in disguise. Now walk in peace.

I am still on the good side

2009-07-05T04:27:00.002+01:00

Did I tell you that I have the dead working for me? And even so, I am still on the good side.
You said that I will meet the Devil at some point; you know what, I already have.

Secrets

2009-07-03T11:04:00.001+01:00

Shhhhh. Do you know how many dark secrets I am hiding??

Who is going to have the last laugh?

Don't take the bubblewrap off me

2009-07-01T13:39:00.003+01:00

Don't take the bubblewrap layers off me, please. Let me live forever inside this cocoon, like an eternal chrysalis dreaming of becoming a butterfly. I need the comforting shield, my soul needs its crutches.
I need oblivion, I need the hiding place with no pain. Don't even dream of hurting me.
Let me sleep dreaming of hope and happiness, I am in such a nice place in between worlds. I cherish every grain of stagnant time, my bubblewrap distorts reality and it is sooooooo good.

The valley of the happy pill

2009-06-30T04:37:00.003+01:00

I am happy in the valley of the happy pill, please come and join me.
Whirlwind. The valley is green, and yes the grass is greener in my valley.
I am going to devour you, what perfect feast you make. I am going to absorb the last of your breaths, your last wish, your last smile. I am going to leave you, a discarded shell, with broken dreams. I will not weep for you, for I will bring your death. My valley will not be interested in your very last sigh, whether it is pleasure or pain, and nobody, nobody will hear you cry for help. Please come and join me, I am alone on my valley, become my feast tonight. I need a little bit more than just the happiness of my happy pill.

Who are you

2009-06-27T17:21:00.004+01:00

Are you dream or real? Angel or demon? Good or evil? Who are you, what are you, why are you??
What is the lesson I must learn from you?
Are you bringing yet more tears? More suffering? Let me be. Why come and spoil the micro-paradise I have managed to build?

Once upon a time I said I have no heart.
Wish I weren't lying.

Today I have saved your life

2009-06-20T02:32:00.004+01:00

Today I have saved your life. I was there, able to give you more life to live. Perhaps you will curse me years to come for keeping you around. I am sorry.

Perhaps one day you will do the same for me. Save my life, make me live, or even bring me back from the dead. Pretend to be my guardian angel for a while. Convince me that life is worth living and that someone actually gives a damn whether I live or die.

And they lived happily ever after

2009-06-06T01:36:00.004+01:00

You know, you don't need to watch soaps on TV - just turn up at a wedding in my town, any wedding. You will see more fights and more drama than on the telly.
Joe Blogg got married the other week? I have been invited to the wedding. Well, not the kind of nice invitation you receive with RSVP and all that... The invitation came from the distressed security guy from the venue, you know, weddings in my town tend to get like that.
The bride was a typical Mrs Blogg.... - feel free to fill in the blanks. And for some reason, she was wearing the white-and-blue lacy garter on her arm (as we can only assume a tiny garter could not possibly stretch around her thigh). Feisty, she was. And pissed as my nan's mattress.
Could someone from Joe Blogg's clan ever witnessed a decent and happy wedding, for example, without ex-partners turning up to the reception and causing havoc, hence the (heavily intoxicated) bridal party beating the sh*t out of the intruders, stilettoes turned into killing machines, hair and extensions pulled out with rage, false eyelashes on the floor, blood and bruises, tank-tops torn.... Cat-fight!!!! Oh-my-god, oh-my-god, never seen a riot before, I have seen one that night though.
The new Mrs Blogg, in her sweaty gown and with her tiara askew and a broken acrylic finger nail (collateral...), puffing neurotically from a Benson&Hedges, confessed to whoever had time to listen, that she would be quite happy to spend the night in a cell, in her wedding dress, as she would gladly punch that b*tch's f**king face in, for f**king turning up like that, and for calling my daughter a f**king sl*g, that is not f**king on, it is my f**king wedding, etc etc etc etc.
Mr Blogg was spaced out, with an idiotic smile on his face. Amazing he could stand up, really, being so intoxicated. Or perhaps he was just musing? Thinking of his happy future with his new Mrs Blogg?
I would like to say 'and they lived happily ever after'. Happily - I doubt it. Ever after - conceptually, yes; the name of Blogg will exist until the end of time, it will shape itself in new characters each time, different towns.
Bless.

Demons

2009-05-17T06:03:00.003+01:00

It is hard fighting demons. Especially demons that old.
Demons you grew up with, they have lived in your shadow for a long, long time. And sometimes you forget about them, or at least you try to. But every now and then, damn bastards keep popping up in your life, wiping your smile off in an instant and sucking all the joy from your heart.
I hate my demons.
One day, perhaps one day, I will have plucked the courage to face them properly.

A story

2009-05-07T12:10:00.003+01:00

In a non-descript time-space continuum, there was this girl. And one day, this girl came across her fairy godmother/magic goldfish/lucky leprechaun (it doesn't really matter which one). And the fairy godmother/magic goldfish/lucky leprechaun said to her: 'Little girl, this is your lucky day. I can grant you one wish today, make a wish, any wish!'. So the girl thought about it, and as she was a very kind soul and on that particular day she felt rather generous, she said: 'I wish I could heal people. I wish that just by a simple touch, all illnesses and diseases would be cured instantly. I want to be able to help everybody, and bring happiness into their lives'. So the fairy godmother/magic goldfish/lucky leprechaun granted her wish. The girl became a miracle healer, and soon the word went round, and people from all corners of the world were coming to see the girl, and be healed by her miraculous touch. Mighty kings and sheikhs offered the girl treasures and titles in exchange of her healing hands, but the girl declined, politely, every time, as she was happy as she was, just herself and her gift, as she enjoyed being able to heal people. One day a dark prince tried to kidnap her, so he could keep her in his faraway castle just for himself, but she managed to escape. Soon she had to employ people to guard her.
She was not able to sleep or eat anymore, as people were queueing constantly, day and night, waiting to have their ailments cured by her. She started travelling the world, in order to reach the really poor and ill who could not afford coming to see her in her home. On her journey she changed many lives and brought happiness to millions of people. She could have felt happy, had she not been so exhausted, hungry and bruised all over her body. Because she was touched by so many people, her whole skin became a bleeding wound.
One day she died, from her wounds. Because although she could heal everybody else, she could not use her gift on herself.
Upon her death, the fairy godmother/magic goldfish/lucky leprechaun smiled a thin smile.

What is the moral of this story?

Good night, everybody

2009-04-26T23:32:00.002+01:00

Good night, everybody. The witching hour will come soon, better be asleep when it does, so you don't hear anything.
Sleep, sleep a death-like sleep; in your own worlds, in your own dreams. Asleep, you will not know who is looking over you. Good night, with your love and hate, with your tears and your smiles, good night, with your hopes and fears. Good night, as for some of you, tomorrow will never happen. Good night, as for some of you, unfortunately tomorrow will happen.
Sleep tight... And may your nightmares never come true

Miss Blogg

2009-04-18T14:24:00.003+01:00

I have written about our friend Joe Blogg. But let me tell you, his sister, Miss Blogg, is equally a colourful character.
I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Blogg last night, in town.
Feisty creature, she is.
Single mum, dodgy boyfriend, got herself into trouble for him.
She is pretty - what I like to call a 'slum rose'. Pity, all that crying got her face into a mascara-and-snot mess. Good job she's got tissues. Shame, she's got issues also.
All the mental problems you can think of, hatred for all men, fighting like a maddened lioness...
How much pain and frustration, and all that weakness to conceal.
If she weren't drunk, I would have tried to reason with her and give her a tip: she is not, really, she is not at war with the whole world. And some people are good souls, and not everybody wants to hurt her. She has to be at peace with herself first and accept herself for what she is, and then she will see the world in a different light. And who knows, perhaps life will seem a bit better.
Miss Blogg is just an unfortunate product of a dysfunctional society; however, she is now old enough to know better and take life in her own hands.
We are all different, I agree; and we all cope in our own way with the problems we come across. It is just that some are simply beyond any hope. It is such a shame.
I felt so sorry for Miss Blogg last night.

World, here I am

2009-04-16T18:35:00.004+01:00

World, here I am!

Are you ready??

What comes around, goes around

2009-04-16T18:22:00.003+01:00

Chapter finished. Story ended. And you, YOU are just a dream - a very bad dream indeed. Only a memory making me shiver. But you, and your darkness, are now gone.
One day, the abyss will clutch you also, are you aware of this? The abyss will be there, waiting for you. Because what comes around, goes around, even for you, the perfectly evil creature.
You will not know what to do and what to grab hold of, and nobody will be there to catch you when you fall, I feel so sorry for you.

Magic

2009-03-29T14:11:00.003+01:00

Magic doesn't always give you what you ask for. And it doesn't bring you what you want.

Magic brings you what you need.

You can pray, and ask, and even throw tantrums. You will only receive what you are meant to receive. And in a mysterious way, everything works out in the end.

You loved me

2009-03-10T18:21:00.000Z

You loved me last night. In my dream.

Dad

2009-03-02T18:35:00.003Z

Dad, life carries on, do you know that?
Nineteen years ago on this day you were dying.
Nineteen years seem a lifetime, and now there is only dust left behind you.
For a while I kept dreaming that you would be back - but after a while I realised that is just a silly dream. But you know, Dad, you are not missing much. There isn't, really, much to this life worth coming back to.

Wishing Well

2009-02-26T21:51:00.002Z

The darkest of the spells can't bring you back,

I wish I could forget
I wish I could make you disappear
like a dream
or a thought

I wish I could have my heart back

I wish you are happy... wherever you are

Dear blog

2009-02-14T22:18:00.000Z

Dear blog,

Today I had the most fabulous day I've had in AGES.

Newsflash

2009-02-10T18:34:00.002Z

Sorry I have to break the news to you, but you are only human.
Humans are, by definition, imperfect.
Ergo, you are not perfect.

Someone, a long time ago, told me that 'people who have very little to give, offer even less'.
Oh, how true.

Full Moon

2009-02-09T19:24:00.000Z

So it's full moon tonight. Magic, so they say.

Relapse

2009-02-06T22:30:00.003Z

I'm slipping down that spiral again, relapse.... relapse.... and why do I get the feeling that nobody will be there to catch me
I'm falling down the dreaded abyss and I'm struggling to grab hold of something, anything, to stop the fall, my fingers are numb

The Magic Locket

2009-02-03T21:02:00.001Z

Myrtle leaf
and Ash Leaves
Lemon Verbena
with a couple of Cloves
and Witch Hazel... to mend a broken heart

My Magic Locket, bless my thoughts.

Daymares

2009-01-29T22:33:00.002Z

There are days when you wake up and you are glad that the nightmare is over.
There are days when you wake up and wish you were still dreaming.

Shadow III

2009-01-29T18:34:00.003Z

You can only push me that far. I can only but try to rise above it, every time you decide to be what you really are. I can count to a million, thank gawd, and take deep breaths. My bubblewrap can make me nice but only up to a point, you know that? Do you REALLY know that?
Being good, to me is merely a conscious effort. Note, 'effort'. And guess what, my dear Shadow can't wait to pounce on you. Be afraid, be very afraid.
And please, don't make me show you my true side.

Shadow II

2009-01-27T18:24:00.001Z

My Shadow awakens, slowly
The senses are muted, but another sense is coming to life, ethereal
I am what I am and know what I know
My Shadow, I welcome you

My Shadow

2009-01-24T14:53:00.003Z

My Shadow, my secret self, I am scared of you.
The Devil came to me in my sleep, trying to awaken my Shadow - how long until I give in?

I love you all

2009-01-20T21:55:00.004Z

Why am I getting the feeling that various episodes in my life were solely for the purpose of meeting certain people who would change my life somehow? May be a smile when needed, or a tear, or a word, a letter, a thought, a lesson, an afternoon, a year or a decade... all of you, fabulous people who appeared in my life....

This is for you,
all of you
who touched my life
in your fabulous
and unique
way:

I love you all!!!

The History Repeats Itself

2009-01-19T18:45:00.004Z

The history repeats itself, in a funny way. Chasing itself in circles, like a mad dog.
How many chances does one get? How many rehearsals, how many tries?
Everytime a slightly different scenario, a slightly altered attitude... and still the same situation, how many times will I have to live this so I eventually get it right?

Bubblewrap

2009-01-17T13:39:00.004Z

I am floating away in a haze, covered in bubblewrap, emotions bounce off without leaving even the smallest dent.
Oblivion, my soul is vacated.
A tiny part at the back of my brain is trying to make sense out of everything, but this is just impossible, as I am floating in surreal, in unreal, in non-real. But who cares?
My voice is not mine anymore, my thoughts have long gone to be thought by someone else instead. Choice is a strange word.
Emotional armour of bubblewrap, layers and layers of it, surrounding me like a cocoon, spacing me out of the world, of all pain and real feelings. This is not happiness, this is just numbness. Aware of the heart labouring inside my ribcage, but faintly reminiscing of love and longing and hurt and hope, as if remembering a book about somebody else.
The bubblewrap gets thicker and thicker and shuts all senses, wiping off chunks of my life, still a tortured soul but fine with the idea.

Xmas

2008-12-06T12:32:00.003Z

....Does anyone remember what Christmas is really all about?.... and when and how it turned into Xmas??

Emotional prostitution

2008-12-04T18:19:00.004Z

You know, I was thinking, counselling could be just as well a very refined form of prostitution. Emotional prostitution, that is.
You pay a complete stranger to make you feel good, you tell them things you don't discuss with your friends and family; you pay them to validate your feelings and to give you the impression that you are the most important being in the whole world... Until next week.

At Eternity's Gate

2008-12-03T22:58:00.004Z

Vincent van Gogh, At Eternity's Gate

1890, Oil on canvas

The Verdict

2008-12-02T19:37:00.002Z

The Verdict has been announced. That's it. The mask is now off.
I feel relieved in a strange way. At least I don't have to pretend anymore. At least I have an excuse to be what I am. Because of The Verdict.
You can affix any tags you want on me, I don't care anymore.
Be with me or don't be at all. See if I care.
I have The Verdict on my side.

One, two, three... Ta-dah

2008-11-30T04:38:00.003Z

If I shout loud enough, will you hear me?
...Will you acknowledge my existence? Will you realise that I am?

My mask is slipping away slowly... or is it time for it to come off anyway?
Brace yourself, you will be amazed.
Prepare yourself to see what's behind it.
Ready? One, two, three... Ta-daaah.... Haha, fooled ya
You are not ready yet to see. You are not ready yet to hear me. And I will just stop shouting.

One breath away from madness

2008-11-29T03:49:00.004Z

It's dreadful when you reach that point when you know, you just know something in your brain is going to go 'click' and then everything will stop working.
Being one breath away from madness.

You Have Been Silent

2008-11-27T21:27:00.003Z

I hear you say, You Have Been Silent.
Forgive me, you soul out there.
I forgot, for a while, that I am not alone.
Sit on my couch and tell me everything...
Where do you want me to start!?!
Digging up skeletons, having a good look at them and dust them isn't easy, isn't easy to admit you have any skeletons to dig up in the first place.
Let's have a chat... I don't know you, but I will do my very best to understand you as if I've known you for a lifetime. Before you were born, actually. I will discover all your hidden thoughts, all your demons. And together we will vanquish them all.
And yes, you do need a helping hand, because You Have Been Silent all along, all along. You have not said anything to anyone, until all your demons got the best of you and you just decided you can't carry on.
But what's the point in carrying on? The Sun will still rise tomorrow.
Sometimes everybody hurts... do you know the song?
I sometimes wish the Sun will not rise tomorrow... not for me, anyway. Let's just ignore each other, shall we?
I will Not Be Silent. I will do the talking, I will dig up all those damn skeletons.
I will disappoint you... You will fall asleep if I start talking.
I must not be silent.
I thought to start with that my bubble was safe and comfy.
The bubble is feeding on me, do you know that feeling?
I tell you everything, just love me, ok?
Or at least pretend you do... for an hour or so.

Joe Blogg - a profile

2008-08-21T20:45:00.003+01:00

Joe Blogg, as I mentioned earlier somewhere in this blog, is quite a character. I consequently decided to create his profile, his quintessence of 'Joe Bloggness', his habitat.
Joe Blogg is uneducated. His handwriting is big and unsteady, because of the huge intellectual effort put into it. His speech is incorrect and tinted with aggressive tones.
He normally lives on a council estate, in a run-down mid-terraced house he is renting from the local council. His home is dirty and it smells. There are no carpets at all in his house, and the furniture is scarce and broken. There are remnants of anger management issues forever in his doors and walls. He owns a massive plasma TV screen and a super-duper hi-fi stereo. He watches pirate DVDs and he has an impressive collection of them. He smokes roll-ups and he often adds other 'stuff' to his smoke. He also drinks a lot. He generally lives on take-aways bought from shops run by people he despises; because Joe Blogg is also racist.
You always see him wearing a tracksuit and a baseball cap. In the summer he ditches his string-vest and flaunts his bare chest on the street. His tracksuit bottoms hang really low, so you can see his underwear. He wears cheap gold chains, the bigger the better. His knuckles are raw (you might think that's because he drags them on the floor as an aid to his walking? ha) because of all the fights he's been into. His gait and general body language would intimidate any reasonable being - he seems to always square up to somebody.
He doesn't have a job. He is not interested in working, as he is better off living off the state. He has dodgy friends and he is always in trouble.
Joe Blogg is not married, but he has several children by different teenage girls, who live on the same estate. He often manages to reinstate the peace and order in his neighbourhood with the power of his fists (see supra).
He drives a car for which he doesn't pay the road tax duty and he is not insured on. The car is usually fitted with illegal blue lights. He has a dog, the favourite breed being Pitbull or Staffordshire Bull Terrier. The dog is trained to attack (or deter) anyone who can be considered an 'enemy' (officers of the law, the tax-man, most of the town's population and including God, then?)
Joe Blogg has had a difficult childhood. His mother died young from an overdose and his alcoholic father disappeared long before Joe was born. Him and his siblings had to grow up fast - and become streetwise. Therefore, Joe Blogg doesn't have any respect for anybody and he thinks the whole world is against him (and his dog).
He thinks he belongs to a superior race that somehow got muddled up by mistake with the rest of us lot. Joe Blogg is certain that one day he will rule the world and the laws will be re-written for him, so he is always right.
Simply put, I am ashamed to admit, but Joe Blogg will always find a morbid way to fascinate me.

A different kind of road-rage

2008-08-21T20:30:00.005+01:00

They say drivers are struck by road-rage... Believe me, at least drivers don't have to put up with people travelling by bus!
I can't wait to be able to drive. I simply had enough of public transport. This morning, right, as I was still dozing on my way to work - here comes this girl. She sat right behind me, and OH MY GOD she had such an annoying ringtone on her phone, I think she kept receiving text messages every 2 minutes. Which was fine by me, obviously, I am after all a very liberal and tolerant person (ahem). But that effin' horrible ringtone drilling into my nervous system made me reconsider my pledge to keep the peace and I just wanted to make her stick the bleedin' phone..... Anyway. The messages stopped, thank goodness. Then she was chewing gum. But not like you and me would chew it, you know, silently, discreetly.... No-no, she was CHEWING it, with an open mouth, and the respective noise. Luckily she got off earlier than me, and the thought of murder has eventually left me. AARRRGHH

Joe Blogg - update

2008-08-09T04:06:00.000+01:00

Tonight was quiet on the streets.
Joe Blogg is on holiday.

Livin' the dream

2008-08-04T20:00:00.004+01:00

I seem to live in a world of mirrors and smoke and - I don't know about you, but I am seriously starting to doubt my own sanity. I sometimes find it hard to know the truth from the dream and I can't always tell what's real.
Once upon a time my mind was a blank sheet of paper and I had to learn about life and all the nice surprises it had in store for me. I had to learn about lies, about mean souls, about falsity and hypocrisy. I had to learn to suffer, to endure, I had to know about meaningless affairs and hurt egos. I now look back and ponder, what was real and what was dream?
Sometimes my dreams seem more substantial than the actual life, sometimes life seems more frightening than the most horrifying nightmares.
Living in a world of empty promises (like empty colourful shells) is often good fun, but not for long, perhaps it is my Id that's playing up, I don't know.
I was thinking last night (with horror) that probably I will never realise when I will have lost my power to reason. The rice krispies don't talk to me (yet) but when they will do, perhaps I should get really worried, not because they will be talking to me, but because I don't actually have any in the house.
Perhaps I am only a brain in a vat (just like in that example used in the Sceptic Theory) - in a lab somewhere, and a mad (haha) doctor is transmitting via numerous connectors all the information so I live a dream... the dream of being alive. And all my life, as I said, is just a fantasy, just a world of dreams (good or bad), of mirrors and illusion.
I don't think I would mind that much, after all I would get to live a dream, even in this lousy sense of the word. And that, I think, it is the nearest I can get to it.

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned

2008-07-26T09:25:00.003+01:00

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. Although your forgiveness won't make a great deal of difference.

I will never go to Heaven.

I will probably slip off the stairway halfway there.

I am a sinner. Heaven doesn't like sinners.

My temper is short, I have no patience and I am incapable of hope. I despise some people and sometimes I find it difficult to forgive. I am too much fascinated by the darkness of this world.

I find it impossible to put my trust into anything and anybody. My sarcasm hurts and I use it often to slice through people's egos.

I like to treat mankind with the same reverence they show me - none in most cases.

I am constantly suspicious of everything that seems too good. I doubt everything and look for hidden meanings and motives. (Perhaps in Heaven I would keep asking, ok so where's the catch? What's in the small print?)

That's settled, then. Forgiveness or not, Father - I will see you in Hell. I am already there, anyway. Meet you by the main fire in fifteen minutes. I will wear a white carnation on my lapel. That is just in case you can't recognise my smug face.

I am sorry, lady

2008-07-20T18:42:00.003+01:00

It is so interesting how people like to 'fit' you in a category, at a glance.
I was to a classic car show today (fabulous cars, shame about the weather) and as everywhere in places like this, there were the nice little stalls selling everything and nothing.
We turned up at the show on the Harley (as you do), therefore we were both in our (in)famous leather gear (what else?!). Anyway, as I have got this 'soft spot' for silver jewelry, I have spotted one stall selling the stuff, so I made a bee-line for it (by which time, my credit card was already whimpering in my pocket).
The lady who was in charge of the stall buttonholed me straight away, 'Hey, biker lady, look, we've got some nice things here you might like!' and she started showing me all the items adorned with skulls, skulls and bones, and all the Gothic stuff. 'Thanks, but I don't do skulls', I said to her. 'Oh, alright then (said she a tad disappointed), here's a necklace with a cross, do you do crosses then?' she said, challenging. 'No', I said flatly, 'I don't do crosses either'. To which she said, by now visibly aggravated, 'But what you DO, then?! You are a biker lady, aren't you??'
She was very disappointed. She didn't like the idea of this dark, black leather-clad 'lady biker' who doesn't DO the stuff she thought. I simply p*ssed her off, refusing to shape myself into her 'schema', her idea of female 'bikers' all round.
In the end I've bought myself a funky square ring for a fiver - no skulls, bones or crosses. I am sorry, lady.

I am the Foreign, the Stranger, the Alien

2008-07-17T20:04:00.006+01:00

I am an immigrant. An intruder. A visitor who doesn't leave anymore.
I will never be truly 'at home' here. This country will never be mine, and it will never fully accept me as hers.
I am the Foreign, the Stranger, the Alien.
I speak two languages. I think in two languages. I even dream in two languages. I sometimes even cry in both languages, or love in both. I am in between home-countries, somewhat in both but in fact in none.
It feels that I will never be seen as good as your average local - proving to them that you are actually better in any way, shape or form normally upsets the locals. The locals (let's take my 'mate' Joe Blogg) don't want to be upset. Not by an effing immigrant, anyway.
In one job I used to have, they were all treating me as if I was handicapped in some strange way; well, if I am not a 'local', there must be something really wrong with me. I have missed out on something.
I don't expect anything extraordinary to happen to me, good things to fall on my plate from an ultra-generous heaven. I have to work my backside off to earn and get a fraction of what I want. In a way perhaps I am handicapped, I do not have 'the background', I do not come from the same genetic pool as the 'locals'. If I want a life, then I will have to wait in the queue, the locals have priority. They make me feel that being a 'local' (i.e., born and bred) is the true passport to life here. Forget about that silly red paper thing (with a chip containing your details). It is your accent and history that counts.
They hear the foreign accent and straight away in their minds a sudden and brief process places you in a category - the category of the exotic, the category of the tree-climbers or the category of a lesser race.
The only good thing my background has brought me was an almost red-carpet admission in one of my jobs here. We want ethnic minorities, yes please! But at the end of the day, how can you say no to an idiot who comes to work for free (minority or not)?
And yes, I am an immigrant. I've got an advantage: I can understand their world, but they will never be able to understand mine. I might as well be from Mars or Planet Zorg, as far as they are concerned. Yeah, keep them guessing :-) Live long and prosper.
I am an immigrant. They might think of me as a pain in the neck, a bother, a rash, 'cause I am not going away. But I came in peace.
I am the Foreign, the Stranger, the Alien. And you know what, I am effing proud of it.

From a nobody

2008-07-17T13:11:00.003+01:00

I have smiled at you - but you were not there to see it.
I have loved you - but you turned to speak to someone else.
I have lived a lifetime for you - but you did not make room for me in your ecuation.

Will you be there when I'm gone?

Mrs Cellophane is wearing blue!

2008-07-15T19:03:00.005+01:00

I have been Mrs Cellophane recently.
People tend to forget I exist. People try and make me forget too.
Invisibility is sometimes a blessing. Sometimes it is not.
It made me upset. It made me cry. It made me angry. Nobody seemed to notice Mrs Cellophane's tears. Mrs Cellophane is invisible - or if not invisible, conveniently ignorable (just like the guy in 'Chicago').
Today I am wearing BLUE.
I became visible again. People remembered who I was.

Mrs Cellophane became me again. Or someone else, wearing blue. I was in fancy-dress, dressed up as myself!!

Another night with Joe Blogg

2008-07-13T04:17:00.005+01:00

Tonight I've bumped into Joe Blogg. And guess what, he said to me again, 'I pay your wages'. It made me laugh. I told him, can you make sure you do, 'coz I didn't get any.
Joe Blogg is a nasty piece of work. He is violent and racist. He thinks life owes him everything and he is entitled to it.
Joe Blogg insulted my colleagues (and me). Joe Blogg is an insult to human race. Joe Blogg is an abomination.
Joe Blogg will be free again soon.
Tonight I almost hated him back.

Weird week

2008-07-08T23:25:00.004+01:00

This week is weird. Really weird. I keep having the feeling that I am in a different world, with strange, surreal things happening.
On my way home today, I was surrounded by surreal people, the weirdest bunch I could have possibly imagined.

And I thought - perhaps I've died and this is actually a sick and twisted after-life and gawd, I am gonna have to put up with this for ever!!

Good job I am not God

2008-07-01T19:12:00.003+01:00

Just imagine if I were God - I would change the whole world!
For starters, I would make people good. Really good. I would banish hypocrisy, idiocy, ignorance, envy, jealousy, egotism.
Then I would also banish tears and unhappiness.
I would make it summer all year round.
I would make it so that people would still work (sorry guys) but they would get paid properly so they have enough not just to make ends meet, but to have some left so they can enjoy life.
I would cure diseases.
I would end all wars.
I would make people read at least ten good quality books in their lifetime.
I would give people common sense and make them use it.
I would disable people's option to take each other for granted.
I would let the love last longer than just a fleeting honeymoon.

And I would destroy the notion of hope - as I believe it just makes people miserable in their failures.

PS: and I would change the law of this country, so I could legally own a badger.

I am only a tiny fish

2008-06-18T18:57:00.013+01:00

Big fish eat small fish - says the proverb.

I am only a tiny fish - and the world out there is full of hungry predators.

I personally exist at the bottom of the food-chain.
The bigger fish come in different shapes and sizes - you have huge fish, not-so-huge fish, medium-sized fish and small-medium fish.
Their size - most of the time - gives you an idea of how hungry the fish are.

The bigger fish are not that keen on feeding on the little'uns (like me and you) - for what is the point, what is the 'victory' in eating something that small and insignificant?

The medium and small-medium fish I am worried about. They just itch to become big fish; to become big fish they need to eat (me and you). And they eat, eat, eat - sometimes they even eat fish their own size; yes, they eat their competition.

There is one issue though: you end up with lots and lots of big fish and not so many small fish ('cause me and you have already been eaten, remember?). So the food-chain is getting significantly smaller.
I wonder what happens when there's only one link left in that chain?

One for sorrow...

2008-06-14T04:25:00.002+01:00

I saw a magpie this morning, so I thought, great, I'm gonna have a hell of a day.
Nothing seriously bad happened - same old day at work (different pile, as the saying goes), usual 'same old' that we all have to deal with. I was tempted to buy a lottery ticket at lunchtime, but why should I spend money on something like that if I know I am not going to win anyway (and blame the poor magpie?!)
On the other hand, though, and in all fairness - I had a job to go to; I had my beloved Ipod with the best music selection to keep me company on the way to and from work; I had a home to go back to; I had friends to have a laugh with; and a good book to help me chill. And I had a big smile on my face for most of the day.
In fact, I will tell you what: I think that magpie had a mate with him, only that I haven't spotted it.

Random thought

2008-06-10T22:23:00.001+01:00

...Did this ever happen to you?
Someone really gets on your nerves and you can't stand them - and they do something nice for you; and you feel guilty?