Night watch

The echo of my high heels was spreading all over the boulevard, like a blanket of rhythmic post-ecstatic parade of pleasure. It was already 2 hours past midnight and my fancy hair style had long gone turning into a squashed pumpkin on my head. But it was all well and I was that confident young woman from a half-dream, half-reality that walks alone at night with no fear, and with a huge knife in her pretty bag.The day seemed all over. But it wasn't...
I realised I wasn't alone because of the strange clatter behind my back. After that first attack in a park one night, I always get freaked out(inner freaking out, of course) even at the slightest suspicion of someone behind me. So as I slid my hand down to the knife and held it tight in my arm I turned my head back with a serious, semi-intimidating expression on my face.
And there it stood!
It was the cuddliest dog in the world, sniffing the air behind me. Maybe it was trying to catch my fragrance!? I smiled as widely as I could:
-How are you, my sweetness!- I whispered softly and walked on.
And before I could react the dog came in front of me and I almost tripped over it, as it tried to sit down beside my moving feet. It looked at me as if understanding my fear of...all the things that may happen to me here at night.
I slid out my glove and tenderly run my hand on its head. And that marvellous dog bowed at me with amazing gracefulness.
I could hear myself talking to it...Him! I decided it was male and gave it my favourite random doggy name : Chochko!
He walked in front of me, speeding up and then turning its head to wait up for me to catch up.
The sound of my unrealized speech and the soft breath of Chochko put my thoughts as rest. As I approached the store next to my flat I made plans of buying dog food and arranging my sweet companion with a midnight feast. And when I turned my head one last time to look for him in the darkness of the street, in front of the shop , he was gone. I was out of the dark and back to safety and Chochko had provided me with safe passage.
It wasn't extraordinary. He knew I needed him and there he was. My knight in shining fur and I- a damsel in permanent praumatic stress...

Chili and Tarrot: Merories of the present, memories of the future

Chili and Tarrot: Merories of the present, memories of the future: "A raven landed somewhere beneath my window as I opened it to light up a cigarette. I ordered my tears to land quietly on my cheeks, my room ..."

Merories of the present, memories of the future

A raven landed somewhere beneath my window as I opened it to light up a cigarette. I ordered my tears to land quietly on my cheeks, my room mate was still sleeping soundly. Only an occasional tender sob let me out but I could not bring myself to anger over my immediate need to cry, even though not in silence. I felt the disgusting taste of the smoke in my nostrils but I kept smoking on as if I was making a proclamation. I couldn't continue hiding away from the flashes of realization, mixed with insanity, that ran as scared rabbits in front of my gaze.
I remembered the night I got my admissions letter and how the little orange sparkles flew away as I put out my cigarette on the window pane. And the clear thought of already having seen that- too long ago to remember. Or the purple-green haze flouncing around us on the staircase, as Eka and I spoke about past lives.
I looked at my right hand. It struck me I had never thought about how the blonde hairs on it curled and by so, making it mine. Before I never thought of the fingers as mine but they were, are.
Most people get scared when I take out my tarrot, wrapped in their soft cotton and organza coverlets. They say they would never handle knowing the future. But the future is never shown in the cards - it is their deepest secrets I see...Maybe that is what scares them. I don't need cards to see the most feared part. The future is written all around, deep in the heart of the choices we make, made or refuse to handle.
I could still hear the raven's croak, even though I did no longer see it. And just like that sound I could still remember what has already been, is and what lies ahead. But that is not the future?! How can it be, when I can already bear it in my memories as a marking of a long forgotten manuscript...

Mea Culpa

I've never been a fan of knock-knock jokes. They are fairly stupid, somewhat passive aggressive and completely intentionally insulting. But that's just me, thinking about things that are too much of a detail to actually be meaningful.
That's, however, what most people around me do most of the time. I often find myself wanting to shout aloud the thoughts boiling in the right side of my hippocampus. As you might not know- that one is responsible for spacial navigation. So, as a result of my 100 degrees Celsius bouncing, unshared mental process, most of the time I can't really direct myself properly.
Did you know that every second of the time we so so wrongly dismantle as a straight progression a thought is born. Unlike human babies, thoughts don't grow up, grow old and die. They stay! I'll let you do the personal math but stop thinking for a second and imagine how many billion, gazillion thoughts swim in a mental ocean above the atmosphere. Or are the IN the atmosphere? Or maybe they're in in our own mental lake-like ocean ( it's a lake-like cause, well it's in our brain...somewhere, and an ocean, because there is no lake so big)...

I will stop writing about mental processing and data storage just about NOW! Honestly, I can go on talking about that forever and I don't really believe anyone ever listens.
Another thing - Have you ever thought, when in a obese traffic jam, that on the planet Earth alone, in other parts of it, there is someone stuck in their vehicle, thinking the same thing, at the same moment as you. Chances are there is more than one of those... The same goes for feeling lonely, feeling down, hungry, angry or absurdly passionate. We humans tend to believe no one else feels the same, but truth is emotions are universal( I am not renouncing the presence of a private emotional prism) and time is an illusion.
So these days I tend to believe when I walk home alone that someone else is walking home alone, as well.I worry about him, rather than myself. And it is because I hope that one realises loneliness is a state of mind, shared by another...

Captain's Log: Stardate:28 357 234 days of wondering

Hello there all you fellow loners!
Not that THIS is out of limits for relationship-ers. It's just that you,lucky brats, don't have to go through the emotional turbulences of the singleton's life (although I'm pretty sure you have your own set of electrical storms). But I'm not talking about emotional status, not this time, at least.
There is a frank question I need to handle not so swiftly, yet bluntly:
-Is there a "DO NOT TOUCH" sign on my forehead? Am I supposed to be a helpless, innocent, sweet, pink-cheeks, pink-wearing of a femme fatale to get ANYONE'S attention? What am I to do, not to scare men away? And why the hell to men get intimidated by women who are as powerful and determined as they are?
So many, too many questions and more on the way, forming inside my angered, anything but rational brain.
The last thing I am trying to say is I need a man- if I did,I would have found one. No, I need answers, based on statistical data, gathered from men's brains from all over the globe...
Okay, enough with the impossible and into the realm of the improbable: I bought a new book yesterday (yummy); I tried something never before in my life did I think I would try; I rearranged my desk and my closet... You'd think after those relevantly nice things something might change for me. WRONG! I'm still stuck on my super ultra cool, going invisible, space ship. And that's the whole absurdness of the situation- How can anyone feel stuck on a ship like that?!

The biggest win of a big dream!

Once I stumbled upon this very peculiar quote "If you don't like were you are, change it!You're not a tree!". My first thought was: -That cheeky bastard (whoever he is)! How dare he/she tell me I should make changes.
A few seconds later I was the bastard. How could I possibly think someone was talking to me. Fact is I fell for the oldest trick in the book. I didn't need anyone to shower me with invigorating words, cause either way I was so far down "Self-pity Lane" I did feel like a tree.
Well...Here I am an year later! I am twenty and I have just made the biggest change in my life (so far!). Well,yeah,not exactly just- because I needed a day or so for my brain to resume it's normal functioning.
The biggest dream in my little human life has come true! How many of you can say that for themselves? No, I'm not go all smug now. I am just indecently happy. I finally proved to my self the biggest win of them all- I AM NOT A TREE!
I'm not saying it in a profound meaning. It's just that I got rid of the imaginary roots I was growing and I feel like a young sapling again. I'm not saying roots are bad but they need constant watering... And I'm kinda eco-oriented!
So now I'm gonna pack my bags, book a ticket and make sure my head stands still were it is required. It's good to know some things don't change, though. For one, I'm never gonna stop writing. And as always I am sorry to disappoint the haters...NOT!
I was thinking about another saying of my own making:" You're not a tree! So plant one and start looking for an unrightful place under the sun!"

Alchemy of the brain functioning

Back at school I was very good at chemistry, biology not so much. This, however, is not an analysis of those physiological functions that make us capable humans. In the contrary, when it comes to thoughts and emotional state we fly far away from the dwellings of science and into the realm of mysticism and not so hidden truths.
Can anyone promise me, assure me that I am an unique case?! No! Don't even dare question or deny your mood swings and occasional (or regular) tantrums. And there it is! The universal,ever so far, unbelievably positively grotesque question- What drives us?
When it comes to the mind, I have always thought of it as a detached-from-the-body part. The signals that eyes, motion sensors and nerve endings send slide up on an invisible silver line right to our consciousness. And presumably that same consciousness is close by, only in another level of existence. And at certain occasions, instead of the body sending information, that other part of us does. But then again, that info might just be to much for us simple humans to handle. That's when it happens- All of a sudden we jump far of our usual emotional arena and land in the land of unknown, frightening realisations.
I have never accepted the theory thoughts and emotions should be separated. How could that be?
We feel what we think, and think what we feel. No matter how poignant those proceedings we do need them in order to be real. Although, I should admit - There are times(and not so few)that I feel I am not real, at least not in this reality. I like to believe my consciousness, in collaboration with the subconsciousness send me that grasp of existence.
Yes! We ARE here and now! But what does that mean anyway? A hurricane of emotions and a whirlpool of thoughts. Just like Scilla and Haribda,guiding the way to a higher understanding...

Life, the universe and almost everything

A library is a place of magic! My favourite place! The place where not only dreams come true, it is where the dreamer's mind finds shelter.
I am not going to babble on about books (part of my therapy).This is a story about flying, sleeping sheep and a roller coaster in the skies.
Atos reached his hand towards me. His smile was as radiant as ever, ever assuring me of how right, righteous and dashing he is. We went to Florence- back to my memories of a not so far away life, yet in long forgotten plane of my existence. The sky wasn't any different, although the sun moved, on it's daily walk, from west to east. And the northern winds that blew and whistled in my left year were warm and comforting.
No! It wasn't a dream. It's just that it wasn't real compared to the solid, confusing reality we dwell in.
One of the things people do best- run. Oh, don't just stand there,pretending you don't know what I'm mumbling about. Everyone gets scared once in a while. I get scared almost every minute of every day. But then (don't thing I'm going on about courage) all I have to do it to remember about the northern wind.
Nothing is certain... How do you know that instead of 2010 A.D. the date is 20 galactic days after The Big Bang and everything so far wasn't just a short preview. I tell you this- Believe as you wish. But never give up on the simple truth that it takes only one blow of the wind to change everything...

The art of mind reading

The art of mind reading is simple( contrary to all beliefs and precautions). "Thoughts" equals "Body language" equals "Body temperature" equals "Ups and Downs of behaviour patterns" equals "Smiling/Frowning" (mostly towards you).
Truth is people like to make themselves sound a whole lot more complicated then they really are. Because when it comes to relationship-ing and socialising we're not far away from our other family members - the mammals:
We live in packs -willingly or not so much-family; room mates; summer camp; homeless' shelters. No matter what the age, we are almost always a part of a so called social group (think about it!). And if, Lord forgive, we're not suitable for a bunch of any type we become outcasts. Although once you think about it, even those cup-cakes are in the middle of a stuffy crowd themselves.
We are divided into plant eating, predators and, of course, the occasional carrion-eating cuties. Not that we're eating each other and running scarily through a savanna or taking an afternoon nap on pride territory. But most of the time we do feed on each others nerves. You get it- bio-energy gone through the window and into someone else's bio-energy tank.
And last but never ever in a thousand million years least- mating rituals. For us they come in all shapes and cizes and very poorly stolen from the animal kingdom. It always has to be about speed - to get to the most wanted male/female first. She/ He absolutely has to be wanted by a third party. There are too many variations to be described but you get the logic, I'm sure.
In the end we all want not to be alone. Well some of us (don't pretend you don't know it's men I'm talking about) mostly look for sexual satisfactions. But in the end it's ALWAYS about finding somebody...Anybody.
So I said- PEOPLE ARE NOT THAT COMPLICATED. Look for the signs. But mostly STOP thinking about what others think and mind your own mind!

learning and breathing and growing along

There are those gravely low moments of the rather spunky journey that take away from me the one thing I feel completely committed to doing. That is my main reason and excuse for not writing for such a long time. Truth to be said I can not, should not excuse myself on this one. It is more like I am letting go of my desire to write so quickly it's as if it was never really mine.
But then again...how could all those words not have been mine?!
I have met an old man the other day. I was rushing down the street and didn't even notice him until he put his cane in front of my feet. He looked me in the eye and said that in life people don't get what they want, but what they need.
Did I?! Do I still?! Is losing my inspiration and strive the right thing to be happening to me?
So many, many questions.Before, I was determined to always look for an answer. Now I just want to get through the day and not think about it afterwards. And is that so much to ask...

Една точилка и много бобри

Отдавна не съм го правила. Това. Да бъда едновремнно страхливка, но и откровена със себе си.
Когато написах последната страница от първата ми книга, оттам изскочи един бобър. Имаше сладки предни зъби не толкова сладка миризма на мариновани плъхчови опашки.
Аз се уплаших- разбира се- но бързо се осаферих и му размазах малкото мозъче с една масивна кухненска точилка. Не ме питайте защо държа точилка в спалнята си... Конфиденциално е! Та, дори за момент през главата ми не се промъкна осънзаването колко абсурдна е ситуацията. Вместо това започнах да ругая бобъра, как смее да се вмъква така в книгата ми.
Малко по-късно поразмислих върху невъзможността на ситуацията ( горе-долу около времето, в което върнах малкия тлъст бобър в ръцете на Майката Природа). Не ме вълнуваше толкова как е попаднал там, а защо. Нима писането ми е само това- Една смрадлива среда, удачна за развъждане на гризкащи животни. Или може би аз сама, през последните месеци, бях гризкала полираното ми усещане за знамичимост на написаните думи?!
Изводът ми беше един възможен: Докато се съмнявам, все ще се появява някой вредител да ми гризка от увереностните ми притежания. А аз надали ще спра да се съмнявам. Но ще спра да се съмнявам в себе си. А относно другите съмнения- Идвайте ми бобъри малки,гадни, смръдливи- Аз си имам точилка и силна (дори малко в повечко за една девойка) десница.

П.П. Честита нова година на всички валкирии, банници, самоиздивели и пагански ориентирани съратници!
Slainte!
P.S Happy New Year to all of us creatures with a high tolerance for pagan rights!