Starting the blog I thought I could focus on one or a few subjects, research them like so many prominent bloggers do and give my contribution to the betterment of society. Yeah, not really working out. Firstly, I am the “Jack of all trades and master of none” (well, that is unless you’d like to read a blog about horse-riding). Secondly, I can’t do research. My attention span is that of a 3-year-old (though I seriously think sometimes that my niece of that age is more attentive than I am). I love the creative process – the thought, the idea – I get overwhelmed and turned on by it but put paperwork on me, no, not even paperwork – put a notion of “having to do something” on me – and I’ll go mad.
So screw the improvement of society. I’ll spill my guts out and write in incomprehensible charades – that’s what I do best. Or not. But that’s at least me.
And the society will survive on it’s own. Just like Socrates contemplated the dilemma of the rotten youth (as recorded by Plato): "The young people of today think of nothing but themselves. They have no reverence for parents or old age. They are impatient of all restraint. They talk as if they alone knew everything and what passes for wisdom with us is foolishness with them. As for girls, they are forward, immodest and unwomanly in speech, behaviour and dress." And yet, the world is still turning, civilizations still standing (though I’d have to agree on the girls – my God are they shameless).
My epiphany came from “El secreto de sus ojos”: “A guy can change anything. His face, his home, his family, his girlfriend, his religion,his God. But there's one thing he can't change. He can't change his passion.” And although I am penis-less, I do agree with that to the fullest extent. My passion is people, freedom, adventure and that is what I’m going to write about from now on.
We are the constructions of our parents. Not only in the sense of that we are who we are raised to be, but even more in the fight against being what we were raised to be. In the search, the quest of trying to understand the ways we are wired in, the things that make our hearts skip beats and all the fake pretences so firmly ingrained in our social behaviour that we can barely recognize them as replicas of our true selves.
Take me, for example. I was raised to be fit for a royalty – learnt languages, played instruments, read classics and went to the National Theatre every week. It taught me versatility, stretched my will to the lengths I did not know existed. Made me a perfectionist as well as lead me to resent perfectionism and try to root it out of myself day-by-day.
That is why, my dear Romanian friend, I’m so full of contradictions that are so difficult for you to understand. I want to live on the edges, change professions every day and yet I wish not break the rules. My quest for freedom and justice, both in home and work, often lead to upheavals. My mood and relationship with others can change in an instant and the faint-hearted are often overwhelmed by my exploits.
I’m passionate about so many things and I’m inspired easily. I see messages and meanings in everything – every book I read, every movie, every silly TV sitcom. But that’s how I see life – an accumulation of meanings that we have to untangle, puzzles we have to solve and figure out what really drives us.
I can be indulgent and dive into something with my full heart but then my upbringing kicks in and I can be heartless to myself and to others. That’s why my life spins from drinking beer (and any other alcoholic substance that comes my way), eating cake and constantly being with people and their dramas for half a year to almost complete isolation, fruit and veggie diet, killer workout 6 times a week and introspection. And so I keep spinning in and out of various extreme cycles all my life and it’s the only way of living that I know so far that makes me happy.
My heart bleeds when I see people with potential, with smarts and wits, locked up in offices of jobs that are “sufficient”, not challenging themselves in anything, slowly submitting to social conformity and simple comfort that it brings. We learn to blame others for out faults and mishaps and rely on the notion that this was the only life possible for me. Well, if you didn’t have the balls to step out of the bubble of convenience then I’m sorry, but yes, this is the only life you could have lived. And I pray it makes you happy, at least sufficiently.
And it is hard to change. It is hard to risk. I know, trust me! I love using this quote for change (a bit of gruesome realism, but really true):
"Harper: In your experience of the world. How do people change?
Mormon Mother: Well it has something to do with God so it's not very nice. God splits the skin with a jagged thumbnail from throat to belly and then plunges a huge filthy hand in, he grabs hold of your bloody tubes and they slip to evade his grasp but he squeezes hard, he insists, he pulls and pulls till all your innards are yanked out and the pain! We can't even talk about that. And then he stuffs them back, dirty, tangled and torn. It's up to you to do the stitching.
Harper: And then up you get. And walk around.
Mormon Mother: Just mangled guts pretending.
Harper: Yep, that's how people change."
But that’s what gives me the thrills – the unknown on the other side – be it a fall or a wonderful uplifting – and I’ve had them all. It’s a rollercoaster ride, sure, but isn’t that what life’s supposed to be? Sure you’ll try to feed me the crap that I have the circumstances to do what I want to do – no husband, no kids, supportive parents. And yes, I do have that, but you cannot prove to me that I would not do this if my circumstances were different. All you have to do is fight your own fears.
Friends have the right to judge me and most of them have the guts to spill it to my face, watch me bleed a bit, put a band-aid on my stitched up soul and pour some tequila. But at the end of the day – we all end up with our lives only; so those are the only ones we should be concerned with.
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