Melancholia

La Melancholia...

Resembles a bit the word 'cholera'.  

Maybe it actually is.  

Maybe, melancholy does to the mind what cholera does to the body but instead of losing bodily fluids, you lose, within the count of merely one heartbeat, all wit, joy and image of a bigger picture. 

A part of a Freud book title.

According to Wikipedia: 'from Greek: µέλαινα χολή melaina chole "gall bladders" also Latin lugere lugubriousness to mourn, Latin morosus moroseness of self-will or fastidious habit...'

A Lars Van Trier movie.

Or, if you ask me: 
the swift coverage of shoulders with an intangible, metallic and ponderous blanket.  

The mind soaked in a deep grey ink.   

The limbs crippled.

Impalpable prinsonbars around one's surroundings.    

I have been suffering from melancholic episodes since even before the age of ten, overcoming me especially on Sundays.  The day before school.  A sour aching stitch from my intestins reaching to my heart.  Lasting the whole day only to be cured by the reassurance that comes with the zombie like actions of a Monday morning.  

Oh, the mental calm of the mealstrom of life.  

Oh, the soothing effect of habitual actions, of living our life like souls deceased.

The student days went but the mourning episodes stayed.  

La Melancholia...

The overtaking of the aura by a dark, sombre, and gloomy energy.  
The being accompanied but feeling utterly alone and not present at all.  
The soft, yet almost unbearable, aching of a heart screaming, unable to be justly unravelled by the conscious.

x

Sex Addict vs Pseudo Postfeminist

Ok, so, this sex addicted acquaintance of mine has been trying to get me to sleep with him for quite a while now.  I blow him off (pun intended) because me being quite vulnerable makes me quite susceptible to other people's problems, tending to make them my own.  

Also, because I cannot enjoy bodily intertwining without a deep emotional connection.

Now being the pseudo postfeminist that I am, the intercourse junkie takes his defeat by throwing all the superannuated feminist clichés at me.  He sees me as this man hating, a-sexual, bitter cat lady but I honestly see nothing wrong with being mistaken for a passionate Phoebe Buffay, do you?  An undeserved honour I call it!  (Also, I don't have any cats.)

Still I would like to clear this out for all the other oblivious peeps out there: trying to find my way into promoting the empowerment of the during centuries oppressed woman does not mean that I do not totally adore (some) men, that I don't own a favourite pair of porte-jartelles and that I don't AB-SO-LU-TELY glorify the idea of gettig frisky. 

It's just that this time around I want to choose the right soul connection to do so with.  

Now I'll tell you why I gladly take the risk of being perceived as the stereotype the coitus dependant describes me to be.

Being in my teens I wanted to change the world.   I wanted to change the world BIG TIME.
Being in my twenties, it struck me as a thunderbolt that I was failing miserably at the attempt, being an average (although be it with some (imagined) Kate Moss features), trivial and chicken shit millenial, stuck in dogma thinking with obsolete indoctrinations.

Faced with this harsh reality, I hear you thinking: what else could she do, what other thing was left for her to do than... to quit her job and go backpacking. Right? I hear ya.
So off I went, meeting this German guy for literally five minutes on top of (waiting for the name of the mountain from my, for almost 10 years now, toxic ex, whom I just e-mailed...  Oh, apparently it was at the Avalanche Peak summit,  Arthur's Pass National Park, New Zealand, he just e-mailed me back (isn't toxic so rewarding sometimes)) who changed my life forever.

I can not recall how on earth he came to say this to me in the literally five minutes of our lives we shared together but he told me that when he was young he really wanted to make a difference.  Like me, he wanted to change the globe.  As he realised he was not succeeding, he came to the conclusion that in order to change the world you would have to start changing yourself first.  Change yourself and be the best person you can be for your immediate family and friends and let that love you bring pay itself forward.  To change the planet is to start with one.

New default philosophy for practicing life?  Check!

So, when I speak up, when I am trying to be fearless, when I am trying to be free, when I am trying to be lovable, when I'm being optimistically naive, when I AM and by being so getting a call from my friend to tell me that my advocacy is making such a positive impact on her life and thus on the lives of her child and husband as well, I take being falsely seen as a sour he-hater any time.

x

P.S.: Sex Addict and I are still very friendly despite our differences.  He read the text and really loved it.   Let's all be like Sex Addict and Pseudo Postfeminist.  Let's all be lovers not fighters.

Vintage

Being so vintage that when my foot reflexologist asked me if I do my payments with my phone I asked her (very much bewildered): 'Euh... No... How does that actually work? Which number would you have to dial than?' 

x

Hustling

I'm a hustler baby, 
I just want you to know, wanna let you know
It ain't where I been, 
But where I'm bout to go, top of the world!
Now I just wanna love you, just wanna love you
But be who I am, you know you love me

Writer(s): SHAWN CARTER, PHARRELL WILLIAMS, SEAN J. COMBS, CHRISTOPHER WALLACE, DERIC ANGELETTIE, TODD SHAW, CHAD HUGO, MASON BETHA, JAMES JOHNSON, ASHA GOLDSCHMIDT

Just sharing this with you today.
You know, just me, today, working my ass off to instill that there's no past and no future.
That there's only here and now.  That there's only love.  Love for self and thus love for all.

Just another day of hustling, of growing, of progressing, of irritating my peers.

You're welcome.

I love you.

x