intro.

Cap ou pas cap? Cap.

My palms feel itchy. I can’t sleep, can’t breathe like there’s something growing inside my chest, expanding, ready to explode. I need to move, I need dare, game, phase out; cause holding myself together is damn tiring. Trying to push through is making me detest myself, cause I’m boring, bland, tedious, dull, ponderous to myself. But to get back on track there’s gotta be an impetus, somebody’s gotta kick my butt big time. Can you? Cause now I’m driven by anger and cynicism. Preppy idiot. Does. Anything. Really. Matter? Or are we all just “the same decaying organic matter as everyone else, and we are all a part of the same compost pile.”?? To be honest, I don’t even really care what the answer is. That’s how much of a show-off I’ve become.

I feel sort of zuckerberg-ish at this moment [nerdy allusion, I know]. I couldn’t be further from computer science - I wouldn’t be able to figure out my IP. The allusion arises from the oh-so-glorious Hollywood and it’s Social Network where, of course, the idea of FB reveals itself as a phoenix from the ashes of lost love. I could not not use this as a starting point, as I’m a cheesy bastard.

My story’s quite fucked up. It all began in a library two years ago where I met a fellow student whom I barely spoke to during lectures (point of information: there are many libraries and many better things to do then rot in them, which makes running into someone you know quite a unique and embarrassing experience). We exchanged a couple jokes, yadda yadda yadda, a month later she’s the only person on earth who actually gets me. Or, more accurately, gets, what we named, the suffering. It’s notably a very noble act where you over-indulge in petty little details of your miserable life (though to others it may seem completely normal and even jolly). So there the suffering was born and every now and then we’d phase into it. What’s even more ridiculous, it was always the same time that we got into this phase together, and only perhaps Charlie the unicorn can explain why the hell this was the case.

It actually turned out to be quite a useful thing – always ignited creativity, crystallized our thoughts and gave us sort of a cleansing experience without using unidentified substances produced by the natives. It became an outlet for our unexpressed-selves; as, seriously now, most of our frustration came from having much potential and no worthy outlet (none of us ever had any problems finding a job or getting into anywhere we wanted – we are those who you despise as we seem to be gliding through life). I have once heard in a sermon that the talented ones carry an awful burden as they are never satisfied with who they are and everyone’s always expecting more and more of them. You are never enough to the world, to your teachers, to your parents, to your older/younger sister, to yourself. That’s why I just stopped trying altogether. Whatever happens.

So, two years later, we’re in the suffering again. My sweetheart of four years decided that he sort of… how to put it? Didn’t freakin love me anymore. Oh, darling, I’m so glad you realized that before I’ve borne a child or two of yours. As I am going to quote Gloria Steinem A LOT here, I might as well start at this point: “most women are one man away from welfare“.

OK, fine, I drove on ice at 120km/h and screamed my lungs out to this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7nD1T7mjp8. Then I mourned for about two weeks crying hearing the lecturer talk about deductive research methods as it would remind me quite remotely of something that has happened in the course of those four long passion-filled (and sometimes not so much) years. Before the mourning my mom had kicked my ass with a long speech [yet premature] that could be summed up quite accurately as “get over it for god’s sake” and I must say with time it started sinking in.

And then, an epyphany. “We are becoming the men we wanted to marry” [rephrasing glorious Gloria Steinem. Again.]

A concept suddenly crystallized. I AM all I’ve been expecting someone else to be. I can do anything I need to be done. I can console myself, cheer myself up, put myself into misery and pleasure myself. Most of the times, actually, better than anyone else will ever be capable of. Therefore free will remains the only, ONLY reason, why I would expect anyone to be in my life. So I let go of the past and I moved on. How? By writing on topics I’ve been brainwashing my poor girlfriends about for a decade. “Writing is the only thing that, when I do it, I don't feel I should be doing something else." [G.S.]

Some things need to be cleared out of our way before I begin.

1) I do not prefer to be called a feminist (because of the negative aspect this term has gained thanks to a few slightly hysterical ladies).

2) I love men. The more, the better.

3) But there’s even more: most of the time I hate women. The hen-like laughing sound when there’s more then two of them and especially if there are any testosterone-flooding beings close by. I apologize in advance for the sexist stereotype, but MY GOD the way they drive… Seriously, the mirrors fixed on the outside of the car and above the windshield are NOT for putting make-up. And, my personal favorite, what they become after they’ve given birth… These bragging Loch Ness monsters, posting their children pictures instead of theirs on their FB profile. When I ask you how you’re doing, I specifically DO MEAN YOU and not one or all of your children. I thank god my sister, a mother of four, has a tolerable level of this syndrome (but it also could have something to do with my legendary tolerance to those next of kin).

What I am is very VERY opinionated. One of my friends just told me the other day on the subject of birth-control pills: “I’m a strong advocate for not taking those. But every time somebody asks me why – I can’t remember the reason. The only thing I can stammer out is that YOU told me so and that must be right.”

This also means that I take great pleasure in luring girls over to my side. Therefore, not judging has become my daily challenge and I can proudly say that I’ve succeeded in judging… less :) (it’s just too much fun). I still have friends who are highly pro-choice on abortions, friends who take birth-control pills and friends who think that serving men is a woman’s greatest purpose. I can only thank my wonderful female side of the family – my grandmother, who never tires of repeating what a bore marriage is and my mother, who has preached of self-worth and emancipation on a daily basis. They both had long, relatively happy marriages.

So that’s me. I’m going on a journey here and you are welcome to join me. No promises. No expectations.