The Reality of Perfection on or the Perfections of Reality


Yesterday I was told something that made me very happy. I hadn’t been told that in a long time. When times were better. And much much sweeter than now.
Yesterday I was told I look happy. Not only that. I was told I irradiate happiness.

That is great news. Especially coming from someone who can easily read people.

Happiness that we pursue can be felt at times as fragile as foam and bubbles that easily burst away.
I’ve been trying hard though. I’ve doing my homework even though quite a few days are really tough. I read once, not too long away, that if you act happy, happiness will come to you, you get used to feeling that way by forcing yourself to feel like that.
That’s what I’ve been doing: pretending, putting up the big show that I am happy, even though I am certainly not, in the hope that some day soon I will feel happy, not so lonely and undeserving.

I had to lie yesterday and said that I am happy. But I’m still not at all.
Though getting my hopes back little by little.

I’ve been refusing things that come my way lately but have no use in my pursue of happiness. I don’t think some time back I would have refused them that easily. Not at least without considering it. At this time of my life the refusal was immediate.
Now I’m looking definitely for something else: my peace of mind, my well deserved pat on the shoulder, because after all, I think I am not that bad, I’ve been only trying to help every time, even people who never deserved it but I do, i think I have earned myself a quite big share of happiness of my own.

I deserve to be happy. I am a good person. Just hoping that the happiness that comes won’t be as volatile and fragile as soap bubbles are.
Again: for a change.

(This post best read while listening to:
Digging in the Dirt by Peter Gabriel


Come Talk to Me, Just Like It Used to Be (Unuttered Words)

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This time of the year, exactly one year ago, I was having this type of wine with a person that became very, very, very special to me.

This year since he doesn’t think of me any longer, I wish I was having a glass of that wine with a person that’s originally from the same area as that wine is coming from (he is the “Star” in a previous post).

But he’s away, very far away.

I am as well. And the longer time goes by, the farther I am.

Too bad that the messages we want to get, so not usually come from the people we want to receive them from.

How can people forget that easily?

I wish I could. But that would make me much less of a human. Yes. Sentimental. Again.


(This post best read while listening to:
In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel) 

 But whichever way I go

I come back to the place where you are
…and the grand façade, so soon will burn 

The Spoilers


Last night I went out for a drink and dinner with two friends. One of them had just lost his best friend but couldn’t make it to the funeral miles away. We got to talk about meeting new people, befriending people and then having to lose people.

Leaving everything behind, friends included, moving away means having to make new friends. Losing the old ones, then at some point, the new ones, then meeting new people. It’s an endless process. But what always stays is the big elephant in the room. This big elephant is the great spoiler. You know it is there, but you choose to ignore it, to not acknowledge the fact that something will end up being wrong. And the people will end up leaving forever. Call it death, call it disappointment.

I can’t deal with sweet talkers who cast a big elephant’s shadow.
I’ve known people for 4 years and it seems it was 40 years ago.
I’ve been close to people for 3 years but felt like 30 years long.
I’ve been with people for 7 years but acted towards me like they’ve been with me for 7 months.
I’ve been in the life of people for 7 months but I felt like it’d been for 7 years long.
And he forgot about me in 7 hours and no more.

Call me sentimental.

The spoilers end up making a mess and leaving chaos and confusion and pain behind.
I wouldn’t want to deal with any spoiler again. But acknowledging the big elephant becomes the beginning of the spoiling process. The beginning of the end. And we get stumbled upon.
Not acknowledging it forever is impossible.

I wonder whether there is a way of making the big elephants disappear.
I wonder also (and most difficult to deal with) what happens when we realize we ourselves are the big elephant in the room. With the potential of becoming the big spoiler in the end.

The people who we know will fail to be there at some point are what I call the sweet talkers. These are people that would talk sweet but not act accordingly at all.
They take too much energy away from those around. They are the big elephant so hard to ignore.

They are always there. And there they will always be, whether we ignore them or not.

People disappear. And we are the only ones that stay. On our own. Always.

(This post best read while listening to:
Weird Fishes by Radiohead)

World in Black and White


I am making plans for the future
And I should be feeling fine
But the recurring feelings of loneliness take over
And turn the warmest and most colorful pictures
Into just plainly dull and cold black and white

(This post best read while listening to:
Dreams by Fleetwood Mac)

A Star


Last weekend I met a pretty special man. We were introduced at a special beach club for me on Saturday afternoon, we laughed a lot and at times we isolated ourselves from the other conversation going without even noticing, even though we were surrounded by a lot of people. By night, as a total surprise the person who introduced us brought him over to my place and the three of us stayed out on my terrace drinking gin and tonics and listening to music until around 3 am.
On Sunday we went out for dinner. Just the two of us.

The atmosphere was strangely relaxed, it almost felt like we had known each other for years. We talked a lot, we laughed and we discovered we had so many things in common that it almost felt surreal to me.
Same pathway in life, same life experiences, look (and feel) way younger than we actually are, great good looking (him, not saying that I am), the traveling, the successful careers, our music collections and our future shows attendance, our favorite characters, tv shows, jokes… The fact that either one of us is comfortable enough and could strike up a conversation with virtually anyone we bump into anywhere in the world and still be friends for years afterwards. We would adapt (and have adapted) to pretty much anything but now consciously decided to have a little bit more selfish and less selfless approach to life. So we were standing at the same point. While sitting down on a spring (summer temperature though) night by the water.

It was an amazing eye opener. A breath of freshness and hope. I am not that crazy. I am not the only one who’s lived this way and feels this way.

But at the same time it was strangely weird. We would say similar things, just to say the opposite a while after. When opening up about the things we were looking for in life and in someone that we would love to have near, to share everything with.
I heard so many mixed signals. But I was sending the same ones.

We finished dinner and went for a drink across the street by the harbor. The place was crowded but naturally there had to be just the one available table for us. I went to the counter to order but the waiter insisted in bringing the drinks to the table and in keeping a tab open. So we kept talking. And talking. About our friends (of course none in common). And smiling. And drinking. And observing people around. And more talking. And laughing. And talking. About what we wanted. About life. About other people’s life compared to ours (ours so similar). And then went out for a smoke. And of course we started talking with the guy who gave us a light. And he started talking about his complicated life, about how simple out lives were, about how young he was in age but how young we looked.
Then the stranger left. And we kept talking about holidays, about plans and about life.
But suddenly the carousel stopped (no it was not the drinking, it had only been one). He said something like “I need to figure out what I want to do”. He wasn’t talking about just his holidays.
And it hit me: that’s what I needed to.

Wonderful date, but what a strange night.
In a really creepy way, that whole night (or weekend) felt a bit unreal, it felt very fuzzy. It was the kind of feeling you get when you realize you are dreaming and you can sense that something is about to change: you’re about to either wake up or enter a nightmare.

The best way I can express it is this: I almost felt like I was on that date with myself. Saying one thing, then saying other. Sending a this is want I want and the next minute playing it down and restating the sentence so it would mean the opposite.
I realized that I’ve been sending mixed signals pretty much all my life. I like playing it down, I don’t want to say what I want too clearly, I don’t want to disappoint. I am the many mirrors.

I had an amazing time but since then I feel very detached from that night (weekend).
If it wasn’t because I hear from the person who introduced this man to me pretty much every day, right now I would be trying to convince myself that that weekend had been a dream. But I know for a fact it wasn’t.

Fact is that great man went back home way up northwest part of this country a day after.
Fact is I most likely won’t be hearing from him again. How do I know? Because he was just (too much like) me. And that’s what I would do.

(This post best read while listening to:
Caravane by Raphaël Haroche)

PD: strange enough, the strange dreams that I mentioned in my previous post started after all this I wrote above.