If I had a choice, this is what I would do for the rest of my life. I might have not thought this through, but here it is. I would never, ever EVER work in an office again. I don't like human interaction all that much. Well, not when they're assholes, anyway, which is what I've been dealing with for a very long time. I want to work in a place that's relaxed, I want to work in a place with no deadlines, a place that smells nice, is relaxed and makes you feel good. Something with books, something with perfumes, something with lots and lots of tea. Something with intelligent, conversation-worthy people, whom you talk to because you want to, not because you have to. I would like to learn something new. I haven't learned something new in a very long time, and that's nobody's fault but mine. The reason why I haven't done it is a little word we like to call complacency. I've been ok with what I was doing and I when it stopped being ok, instead of moving on or trying to learn something new, I got scared, angry, frustrated, which led to me being really, really tired. And then I did my best to just stay under the radar and not think of anything else, not do more than I had to. Survival mode. That, of course, didn't work. I'm a drama queen, as well as prone to going from relatively nice and pleasant to angry bitch in less than a minute, sometimes less if I don't like your face.
Anyway, I digress. The point is, I got rid of that. Now I'm up in the air and have to will myself to learn something new, something, preferably, that I like. But first, I have to think long and hard about what it is that I do like. And what I see myself doing. So: perfumes, tea, lots of books, aromatherapy, plants, even listening to people and maybe giving advice, but that's a bit unsafe since I'm a bit off at the moment and I should probably take care of my own problems first.

What I need right now is to feel safe, pressure-free and fear-free. And that's a lot. But I might be able to pull it off. After all, I've left a lot of my bad life behind. All I can look forward to, really, is happiness and dreams come true. And as much as I want it to be a gift sent to me from heaven or waiting on my pillow when I wake up, it's not gonna happen. I have no choice. I have to start living and taking chances. So this is me, giving myself that extra (but positive) kick in the butt.

There, I said it.

Faith No More - I Started a Joke

leaving

funny thing when you leave. anywhere. not funny ha ha, just funny.

first of all, it's a huge step, this leaving from one place to another. might not sound like much, but sometimes it does take everything you've got to just get up and leave. anyway, more to the point, what I'm talking about is taking your whole life, with all of its stuff, and all of yours, putting them together and hoping they'll match, and just moving forward to a whole new place. that's it, as far as you're concerned.

then comes the funny part. case in point: when I left, I had this avalanche of love and good wishes and all the great thoughts one could ever wish for thrown my way by people I used to spend a lot of my time with. too much, even – in some cases. it's all tears and swearing we'll keep in touch and pledging that if you ever come to my city, please be sure to give me a call and we'll meet and we'll reminisce and it will all be great and fun, like you never left in the first place.

and then I got there. I got to my new place, my whole new place, with whole new people, a whole new language I don't really understand – but that's ok, I'm taking a break from the overwhelming cloud of shit people talked all around me – which, unfortunately I did understand.

and I wanted to share the good things in my life, right? because they all said they were gonna expect my letters, my emails, my calls and they were all so happy for me. and I shared.

what did I get back? with a very few notable exceptions: nothing. not a thing. not a hi, glad everything's fine, can't talk, busy, but be sure to keep in touch, tootles. not even that.

and I thought, ok, no problem, I'm not busy, but they are, I know they are, life is pretty hectic down there, after all, that is, in part, why I left. maybe they'll write later, whenever they can.

most of them never did. never said anything. never called, never wrote.

which begs the question: did they ever care? I'm inclined to say that they did, but can I ever be sure?

I'm not sad, not really, just a bit disappointed. this leaving thing sure helps you prioritize and comb through your circle of friends and find other names for some of them.

hmm. indeed.

Muse - New Born

different is good, new is better

it's so different to wake up in the morning without any fear that something might go wrong at work (or elsewhere) today, that someone's going to come to you and push that last button that will make you either burst into flames or spill blood – not your own. i'm exaggerating, of course, but the point is that freedom is sweet and even though i wasn't a firm believer in the change the place, change your luck theory, i'm starting to feel like they might be on to something with that particular one.

it's fun. oversleeping when you work from home, working in your pajamas, taking as many breaks as you want and not going out just to get away from it all or eating lunch on your keyboard while answering the phone just to talk to people who don't really care that ...well, who don't really care about anything other than themselves.

it's so refreshing not to see everyone around you running and running and having that look of exhaustion and despair firmly imprinted on their faces, all wrapped up in a good package of corporate discipline and carefully set goals which they keep checking, one by one, while not an ounce of happiness appears to make up for their accomplishments.

this is a beautiful place. i'm sure it has all i need to go back to my old self, or, even better, to a new self. a new self that loves itself. a new self that's serene, beautiful and happy, one that can heal itself, should anything happen, or just get rid of any of the old junk it's been carrying around for so many years.

i want a new body, a new soul, a new mind that's open to new things.

i want a new me.

i know that's probably not necessary and not even possible, but i really feel that in some way or another, i'm on the right track.

so here's to a new life and a brave new world!

grey hey hey

This is one depressing city. Grey, mad, sad and fucked up at the best of times. Of course, there ARE nice places, but they're doing their absolute best to tear those down, one by one, day and night (mostly night, because they're sneaky fuckers that way), and every damn day you wake up to find another ruin, another pile of debris, another gap in the universe. We're a sorry lot, that's what we are. I need color, people. I am color. Every fucking day I go to work surrounded by a bunch of lemmings in black or grey suits, wearing the same expression of resentment and resolute exhaustion. I have decided. To the best of my ability, I will soon stop being a corporate fuck. Not that I am that, entirely, because I've stopped believing a long time ago.

Ahh. And it's so good to start seeing colors.

mind-blowing shit - i want tickets to this

help?

I know I’ve talked about this before, but I really think I need some help and I don’t know how to go about it.
How do I get over my fears? I know: face them. But how do I get over the fear of facing them in the first place? I seem to be utterly incapable of even thinking about some things without triggering an intense physical reaction that numbs and paralyzes me.
What do I do?

The tear whisperer

You would think that all men are equipped with the same quantity of tears. What with all men being considered equal and such. Over the years, however, I came to the realization that yours truly, of all people, seem to have an inexhaustible source, because believe you me, I use them tears quite liberally, and I never seem to run out.

I guess most people cry when they’re sad. Some also cry when they’re deliriously happy (there’s also some sort of squealing involved in most of such cases, but I digress).

Well, no, not me.

I cry when I’m sad, I cry when I’m happy, I cry when the sun don’t shine from the right angle, I cry when I’m frustrated, I cry when I watch movies, I cry watching cartoons (some, ok?), I cry when I do nice things for other people and I realize I’m actually a wonderful person, I cry when I develop scenarios of nice things that I could do (but never actually get to the point of doing)…. Let’s just say I cry a lot.

And whoever tells you that crying ain’t contagious, doesn’t know what the fuck they’re talking about. Miss C. almost predictably gets runny-nosed and puffy-eyed when she so much as hears me sob. IN THE DARK. So there.

My question is this: what if I DO run out of tears just when I need them the most? When I really have something serious to cry about? What if I go dry to the point of complete dehydration just then? What will I do instead?

I shudder to think of the mad woman impression - , which I am now, and have been for so long, trying so hard to conceal - I will then, finally, begin to project.

Will keep you posted.

Sniff.

all i wanna do is