Arhive categorii: ganduri

Do All Guys Cheat?

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I don’t know. But I bet they’re thinking about it.

I’m not sure of how many girls cheat, I’m not sure if I would cheat like, ever (Valley girl-like tone)! But I know one thing for sure.

Everybody is thinking about it.

I thought about it, even if I was single or not. It’s a question of morale, but it’s a hard test to pass in real life.

You have to think about it, if you wanna lie, or come clean, or just plain forget about it. But you also have to think about the other option – do you want to know? Do you need to know? What would you do if you have a cheater next to you?

I sometimes wonder how would it be if I were to cheat on someone. Based on my past experiences, it would be someone who’d I think of as a good partner, a steady rock or something. I’d also like for the one I’m cheating with to be a girl. It feels more safe, a little less prejudiced and a little more loving.

But I also wonder how would it be if someone were to cheat on me (note: I only know of this one guy who sort of cheated on me, but not quite). I am the forgiving type, not a big fan of revenge, so I guess he’d be clean in no time.

Do all people cheat? Who knows? People aren’t true to themselves, do you really think they’re gonna tell you their darkest secret?

No, You Don’t Love Fall

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I live in this part of the world where autumn is not adored, but met with „ah, dammit” from people trying to stay dry on their feet. Bucharest is a dusty, dirty city, where drivers step on it and on us (the pedestrians), where people on bicycles do not comply with the simplest of rules and where the air is polluted 99,99% of the time.

I, myself, am a girl of the summer. I like dresses and sandals and the ease that comes with all of that. I love walking and I’d do it all day long, if not for this little thing called job. I like to see happy people enjoying a drink, I like to go shopping, I like to feel free, and summer gives me that opportunity.

I also enjoy springtime, when the bees and the birds and the trees and all that. It’s the magical season of rebirth, so what’s not to love? People are happy, the grass is green(er), so let’s get a movin’, then.

The winter is ok-ish. That’s because I am born in this cold season, but there are also different reasons to celebrate. Starting with Saint Nicholas (Mos Nicolae, for us), going through Christmas (3 days of Christmas are more than enough, thank you!), New Year’s Eve (that’s spelled party), New Year (the after party) and my birthday (just a few days apart). I also appreciate the fact that Bucharest has mild winters, but I wouldn’t rely on that. (We sometimes end up with muddy streets and/or windy days and/or below zero temperatures several days in a row.)

So, why don’t I like autumn?

I love the fashion, though. I love the scarfs, and the tights, and the skirts, and the jackets, and the coats. I love all that Oxford-y vibe autumn has, it makes me want to wear Oxford shoes with over the knee socks every day. But I hate the frickin’ rain. It rains, and when it rains, it pours. And when it pours, I feel like Noah left me here to drown. And Noah, I don’t know how to swim! What the fuck, Noah?!

So, no. I don’t like autumn. Maybe if it were a little bit nicer to me, maybe if it had positive temperatures or if it were to rain only at night, I’d understand. But I hate getting soaking wet. I hate the awful cold. I hate not being able to wear my skirts.

This autumn in particular has the kind of weather that makes me think that, if I leave my coat on, I’ll get severely ill, but if I put on my winter jacket, it’ll be too hot. It makes me think that none of my shoes are fit for this weather and wetness, but I can’t start wearing my boots just yet.

And I hate your pumpkin spice stuff! Stop throwing it into my face!

Good news – new project

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I promised some of you good news on October 1st, so here I am with a big sign over my head:

I started a new collaboration with this awesome website.

Yes, I already found employment in writing for other people, but somehow I find that writing about stuff that I care about is what keeps me awake and sane at the end of the day.

As some of you already noticed, I haven’t published a review for a movie in a long time, but I have the perfect explanation for this.

www.couch.ro

Check it out, if you want to read some of my opinions (because all of you know how opinion-prone I am) for new movies, old movies and full of suckage movies. Those are the best, people! Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

The Killers – Shot At The Night

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The most killer Killers song this year.

I listen to it, and I want to be covered in night, in the beautiful dark air of freedom… I want a special summer that lasts for a second, I want lights that shine bright above me, I want to be a shadow that dances til the morning…

This song makes me remember simpler times, when I was younger, and free, and with cares that belonged to only me. It makes me feel like a steady rock of glowing energy, if that’s even possible.

It makes me remember summer and islands and purple suns. It makes me remember mirrors that don’t lie and people that don’t hurt.

I think someday I had a shot at the night, but then I grew up and it all went black.

Letters

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I keep writing letters to myself and publish them. I know what I want to say to me, but I keep telling it to you. It’s easier that way, because it’s almost a promise made to the world.

One day, I promised myself to learn how to love and how to be good and how to be a beautiful human. I promised I’d be everything that other people were not to me.

27 years have passed and I still don’t know how to love. I’m not good and I am not a beautiful human. I am still scared of people and secretly I wish I was dead, because it would be simpler.

I don’t hate you people, I just don’t care. I’m not sure how to love, but I’m hella good at not caring. It’s easy and clean and it lets me sleep at night. My mind does not bother with weird thoughts of unfitting.

I’m not bad, but I’m not good either. I try to act on impulses, I try to help as much as I can and I’m not the vengeful type, yet I’m not good. My existence does not touch people and I feel perfectly fine with that. In my book, this equals not being good, but I think I might be wrong.

I am not a beautiful human. There’s no denying that, because I don’t like my fellow people and I’m scared of them. I try not to be too visible, but I also try to not be the bug people think I am. I like solitary confinement with music and a blanket, I don’t like crowds, gossip and mean people, but I also don’t feel at home inside close knit groups of benefactors.

I just don’t belong here, and I’m afraid to find out where I do belong.

Anhedonia

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Rivers go through me, as if tomorrow is brought with one single green wave. For me, this green has no color, maybe it’s white, or maybe it’s black, I don’t really care. My senses are numb, my desire is weak. Everything that I knew is not and everything I’ll never know will still be here long after I’m gone.

I hear you see the sunset. You like to take it in and smell it on your lips. I have no recollection of these things, and life is bitter as is cold and time has no meaning here.

Flags, Words, and Stars

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Flags out of feathers,
I keep asking the whethers,
And I’m all dressed in leathers
Under the weathers.

Words without bones,
Not written in stones,
Are covers for clones
And easy on tones.

Stars in the dark,
They forgot how to spark.
In this soup of quark,
I’m sailing the ark.