Wednesday, 17 September 2014


In lamest terms 'Sassenach' means:

[sas-uh-nuh kh, -nak]  
Word Origin
noun English inhabitant of the British Isles: used, often disparagingly, by the Gaelic inhabitants.

An outlander. 

Well yes, maybe I am influenced by this book series - or the tv series altogether. But in broadest terms, an outlander is someone who doesn't belong, an outsider, an alien, a weirdo - as people might call them in pop culture.

The summer flowed through a great depression. It seems to be ruling over me still. Mostly cause there came a point in my life when I realized how to spot the honest ones with the not-so-honest ones. It was sad, and gruelling and it had a lot of angst and tears involved, as could there not be. 

I am an Outlander.

This is how the people in my life made me feel. A stranger to myself. I don't know where it all started. No, no. Stop lying to yourself. You do know where it started. You just didn't want to admit it to yourself.

I became somewhat of a nuisance. Just talking and meddling and hurting people. But in the end, it hurt me a lot more. It hurt others too, but others weren't so keen in accepting to be at fault. Partly cause  everyone has their own perception of how things unfold. 

There's always three truths involved to every story: 

  • my truth
  • your truth 
  • and the truth 

And the brutality is that, I've been called out as the boy/girl who cried wolf. In my anger, I've said things (that I meant at the time) but when the time came when I really desperately called out for help, no one would believe me. least no one. 

Cause then you have those rare few, who so genuinely and overwhelmingly touch you with their kindness and their generosity, that it humbles you. You are no longer vain. You cannot be. 

I've realized once again, that I cannot be mad with people just because their reality is different than mine. However, and regrettably, there is a hollow disappointment when people I love(d) not only refused to perceive my point of view, but when in so far as to not even respect or accept my reality. 

Have you ever felt so angry that there is a knot stuck in your throat? Have you ever felt so shocked that a great punch gave in from your insides? Have you ever felt like you wanted to just fade into a thousand little molecules because you're realizing that the world that once made sense to you, it didn't any more?

This is how it felt this year. 

A life punch. A right big bitch slap right to my face. And I accepted it. Cause it taught me another great lesson:

The people who once taught me that first and foremost I should learn how to love myself above all, now blamed me for it and called me....wait for it....selfish. 

The ego is a great foe. But one's self, one's soul is the only guide to eternal love. Two years (or so) ago, I forgot what it meant to love myself. And I'm still for the hell of it, learning so much how much I'm worth. 

But there's always one thing I have always refused to count: my love
Even when I was in love, even with family or friends, I consider it an honor to offer my love (and by love I mean any act of kindness, from the most dreary to the biggest nuisance in the world) without expecting any end result in it. This I'm sadly proven, does not always go the same for everyone out there.

I have witnessed in the past, on numerous occasions, people who 'count' their love, and when the times of great dispute arise, they often enumerate 'how much' they did, citing lists of examples of "I did this much for you" and "You did this much for me". It all comes down to a great big mash, as they even call you out on their 'how much' love, when they throw in a 'selfless' somewhere in there, just to get the 'victim' card on the table too. 

It's sad. So sad. It' sad, sad situation, and it's getting more and more absurd. Elton said it just right. 

Luckily (or not), I have reached my twenty eight years of age with a fair amount of bumps and bruises, mostly internal ones than external, although the external ones have greatly contributed in heightening the internal ones too. 

And despite it all, through the guilt, the hurt and the outlander-ish approach with which I was so graciously gifted, I still have the strength to forgive. The matter of it though is, that memory rarely fades away easily, and the heart once crumpled its trust, can take aeons to mend back together. 

But above it all, you give them love. Camus said it best methinks:

“My dear,
In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love.
In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile.
In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm.
I realized, through it all, that…
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.
And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.

Truly yours,
Albert Camus” 
― Albert Camus, The Stranger

Thus, you learn to move on.
Alone and bruised.
Perhaps with some friends around.

Perhaps with one friend, who likes more than anything to lick your face and love you no matter what. 

But to move on, you have to move on with love
Not hate. If they hurt you, send them more love.

Because love is the only real truth. 

Michael Giacchino - Moving On 

Friday, 5 September 2014

La Vita e Cosi Bella

Everything happened so soon. 
Life runs in circles.
It almost feels endless sometimes.
There are evenings such as these that I remember you.
Nostalgia slithers up on my flaky skin and makes me shudder.

I have no regrets or remorse for the past.
It's done. It happened. It's gone.
No reason to look back now. No.
Life did go on. And it's sweet still.
Somtimes lonesome and tedious, but sweet.

The starry sky is full of promises tonight.
Full of new possibilities and renewals.
The 'one' lurks somewhere there.
Lingers in the shadows, perhaps.

The heart is a funny thing. 
It doesn't always work when you want her to.
A thing you once thought you wanted, now feels strange and distant.
Such an irony, timing! It's all about taking that leap of faith.

Friday night. Curling up by the sofa with a good book.
Classical music sways in the background.
Something familiar. Tchaikovsky. Swan Lake. The waltz. 
Makes you teleport. Vienna. Music halls. 19th century. 
The elite traversing for another night at the ballet.
Gossiping about who scandalized whom. 
Societies in all of their forms are all the same.

Even as 21st century spectator, it all feels rather tedious and hypocritical still.
Gossip! What a "great" human invention. 
How does that quote go again?...

Great minds discuss ideas. 
Average minds discuss events. 
Small minds discuss people.  

It doesn't matter.
It can't really hurt you if you don't let it.
Such is my blessing and my curse.
Knowing what you want, and refusing to compromise.
It's like your whole nature is rebelling against this tediousness.
This pettiness that they have you believing that it's "normal".

Fuck normal!!!
Normal is so boring.

Aloneness is liberating.
It lets you retrieve pieces of your soul you never thought existed. 
Re-imaging yourself as a phoenix. 
Shelterring the sky. Soaring above it all.

Of mice and men.
So small. So ignorant we are all. Ant-people.

I can't help but going back to this quote:
"Beasts of the Southern Wild"

When it all goes quiet behind my eyes, I see everything that made me lying around in invisible pieces. When I look too hard, it goes away. And when it all goes quiet, I see they are right here. I see that I'm a little piece in a big, big universe. And that makes things right. When I die, the scientists of the future, they're gonna find it all. They gonna know, once there was a Hushpuppy, and she live with her daddy in the Bathtub.

"Little piece in a big, big universe".
How vain we think we are.
Just because we know that the stars we see are dead, we think we own them too. Like we think we own everything else in our lives.

Faith. This is what consumes me tonight.
Overwhelming faith. 
Wisdom. An unquenchable thirst for peace and knowledge.

I shan't ever accept the ignorance is bliss.
And I shan't ever miss the little life I let myself believe I was meant to follow.
Having you believe that if you eat there, and if you dress like that, and if you show and broadcast your happiness, therefore it is so. 
But...haha...joke's on you. It. Is. Not. 

Happiness is born from within.
And is not vain or boastful.
It doesn't need to be broadcasted. 
Same for love.

Faith. Love. 
You give them. 
You never count them.
You give without expecting.

And the heartache you think you're receiving is a blessing too.
For without pain, there would be no joy.
So give them love. 
Give love to all. 

Life runs in circles.
It's full of yin and yangs.
And it's so, so beautiful.
Even when you're curled up with a good book.
And you have Tchaikovsky or Luis Bacalov or Paco de Lucia or Ennio Morricone or even Leonard Cohen to make you dream and hope still.

La vita e cosi bella, non credi?

Il Postino (Luis Bacalov)