The fear of falling

A bit over a week ago, I was sat on top on the blue run at the Mottolino mountain in Livigno, Italy, and contemplating the very steep slope at the top of it. It was the last day of my ski trip and I really wanted to go down that slope like a pro. But the moment I looked down, a great panic made my heart shrink and get all the way up to the bottom of my throat. I was paralized with fear. Not a totally unjustified fear if I am to take into account the ski accident from 10 years ago which left me with a broken elbow and two surgeries, but still just fear. It wasn't like I couldn't move, like I didn't know how to plough and turn my way down, but it was all about the fact that I was afraid of just going for it!

Although - slowly and painfully - I did go down that slope twice a day or two before, this time it felt like I had run out of the little courage I had left. I closed my eyes, said a prayer, put on my skis and reluctantly reached for the edge. I slowly watched in terror as I was sliding down the slope, but when I realised that all my body was shaking and that I was simply terrified by the look of that slope, I had the revelation that I had to give up. I took off my skis and frustrated left the slope, with cold tears running down my cheeks.

I spent the next 20 minutes crying silently under my googles and hating everyone who casually and elegantly went down the slope, all the while gathering courage. I tried to visualise how I would do it, thinking of the technique I had to employ to ensure a safe descend and generally just trying to positively make myself do it. I was desperate to do it, I felt like such a failure of not being able to. I am not the one to step away from a challenge, I always push myself, I always like to achieve the things I want to and yet sometimes, a self preservation instinct becomes stronger and my body and mind refuse to do what I tell them.

I was getting cold and the more I was thinking about it, it became obvious, that the less likely I was going to do it. Defeated, I dragged myself to the gondola and went back the cowardly way, crying my heart out all the way back. Unable to admire the beauty of the scenery around me, all I could think about was why? Why was I so afraid when I have been through probably more risky situations before, yet I went in without blinking. Somehow, between bitter tears, I had a revelation: we are always afraid of the unknown. And in this case, I didn't know that I was safely going to reach the end of the slope because experience had taught me that going down a steep slope ends up in broken bones.

But probably what I didn't want to admit to myself was that I didn't really know how to ski. The truth is I never took skiing lessons and, as with many other things in life, I thought I'd get away with it. I learnt it all by myself and since I am a self-taught nature, I assumed that if I just do it enough times, one day I will excell. But in all honesty, sometimes you just need to go back to basics and get it right. After that it's just a matter of practice...

And with this I realised that I wasn't afraid of falling, I was afraid of admitting to myself that I didn't know how to prevent myself from falling...

Truth be told, in everyday life, I find myself on the top of a steep slope more often than I'd like to admit. The extension of my fear is more present than I ever thought it would be. I recently started seeing someone and I already feel I don't know how to 'ski' my way into it. I have broken so many 'bones' down that slope that the thought of arriving safely at the end of the love piste seems like an impossible dream. Whether I decide to slide down and break a 'bone' again or just wait frustratingly on top of the mountain gathering courage and wishing to do it, but not being able to, it's all a very difficult game. Maybe I should go back to basics and learn the love game all over again...

The simple things

Sometimes it really doesn't matter that it's cold and grey. Sometimes, you just become present and aware of the beautiful everyday surroundings. I am a bit disappointed that I fail to see that more often...

On Valentines Day I went to a comedy gig, left slightly early and made my usual way down from Charing Cross to Embankment when I suddenly felt elated. I felt an eerie sort of happiness which I didn't know where it was coming from. But I knew: it was the beloved walk towards Embankment Tube at night. I realised I love this walk... As I was passing an Italian restaurant I remembered the dinner I had there with my friend Liluna when she came visiting last year, the pub where I had drinks with my friend Michael on a cold winter Friday a year ago, the tea at Starbucks with Aga, the really bad date which took place at Gordon's Wine bar and the park just on the left hand side where I brough Mum last summer.

And above all, a pink lit London Eye and the sound of music...'These are a few of my favourite things' Julie Andrews would sing in the 'Sound of Music' and suddenly I could hear it in a saxophone version coming from a street performer outside the tube entrance. It felt so right, so appropriate, so magic. Determined, I reached for my purse, took out all the change I had there and dropped it into his saxophone case. Silently, I made my way inside the tube station singing in my heard 'These are a few of my favourite things' all the way home...

Happy Valentine's Day!

Believe it or not, my friends, I don't care it's Valentine's Day today. Not in a 'I say I don't care but I'm actually  slightly angry I'm alone again' kind of way, but in a more 'I don't care because I am ok with being alone and don't feel like celebrating anything other than hey just another great day of my fabulous life!' kind of way.

The origins of today's day have something to do with a martyr called Valentine who died for his religious convictions, therefore not for an actual demoiselle who may or may not have stolen his heart. It seems that some people around the 14th century decided to set-up a tradition of associating this particular day with romantic love. Hence it is a purely fabricated celebration with no real 'romatic love' origin, except for one man's love for God or religion.

Nothing wrong with celebrating love, I say. But stop telling us we have to buy heart shaped trinkets and give them to The One we love or feel really depressed about not having  The One to love in our lives!

But despite being the marketing monster of today (following closely behind the Christmas money making machine, currently the market leader!), Valentine's day is indeed another beautiful day of our lives. So this year I decided to embrace it rather than hate it!  I decided today I wil be cheerful and happy and I pledge to love myself and give myself the gift of love to show I care.

A very cold February

Source: www.theexperiemntoflife.blogspot.com

February it's been the coldest month of the winter so far. London's even seen some snow and as always lovers and haters of snow have been arguing about whether snow it's good or bad. I don't really care. I don't really care about the cold outside either because I finally learned to wrap up and keep the cold at bay. I also spend a lot of time indoors and when I do have to go out, it's simply painful...

I wonder why I do it though. It's almost like trying constantly to fill a void in my life, I am out doing things, meeting people, getting mentally exhausted. It almost feels like I should feel guilty about the time spent doing nothing. And the more I try filling my time with 'useful' activities, the more I want to stop doing them and just plainly do nothing. It's an interesting dilema I am going through this cold February... To do or not to do?...

I guess the answer is limiting myself to doing only one thing at the time and just to the important things in life. It almost feels I am chasing too many things, I am trying to improve too many aspects of my life all of the sudden and I am growing increasingly tired. My heart is getting cold and I just want some sunshine and a bit of slack from myself...

Giving in to January

January is named after the god Janus, who is usually depicted with two faces looking in opposite directions – one into the future and one into the past. This unique viewpoint makes January a great time for learning lessons from your past and applying them to the future (The Independent).

So here I am looking forth and looking back... With a little bit less confusion than in previous years but confused nevertheless...

Not sure what exactly is the problem with January but I feel like I've been poisoined: with ill humour, bad temper, annoyance, loneliness (oh, loneliness, old friend, you found me again!), insomnia, tiredness, depression (could it be?),  boredom...

I'm asking myself again the questions: why am I alone, am I in the right career, what do I really want out of life, where is this all going, why, when, what for, why not??

All these questions. I feel like I have to find an answer right here and right now, make decisions, change things, do, don't do,  punish myself, push myself!... Just to end up exhausted and more confused.

It's not the first January I have to go through. Yeah, they're terrible little bastards: cold, miserable, skint, dark.
And because I've been through it before, I always try to avoid feeling like I'm feeling now and yet every year I end up in the same place. Because maybe that's the point of January. You can't be looking back and looking forth without a bit of a headache, I suppose. It's gotta be done! Just accept it, don't struggle, lie around if you must, watch soapy films, eat frozen pizza, get a bit annoyed, feel a tiny wee miserable and then get it over with! As long as you accept it for what it is and don't try to get all the resolutions sorted within the first month (like myself: joined tango course, joined Portuguese course, sorted out ski trip, planning Argentina trip, sorting out my papers for permanent residency, training for half-marathon etc etc) then it's going to be ok. Not everything has to be achieved straight away.

I've got a whole year ahead of me and I've survived many Januaries before. It will be spring before we know it! 

2012

 

2012 is the year of the Dragon, according to the Chinese Zodiac.  I'm sure I wasn't the only one who wake up in the dawn of 2012 and felt happy, as if a really good year was ahead of us. Whether that's true or just an illusion, we are yet to see, but generally speaking we live what we feel, so I am sure it will be a good year. After all, the Dragon is the ultimate auspicious symbol signifying success and happiness. London's going to be an even more special place as this year the much awaited Olympic Games are taking place and many more celebrations and opportunities to declare 2012 a truly great year!

It is also my 32nd year of life on this planet.  And what a ride these 32 years have been. I kind of lost the appeal to celebrate my birthday by getting drunk and trying to make a big deal out of it, instead trying harder to be grateful that another year has passed and I am still alive, healthy and happy and surrounded by good friends. But in all honesty, being in my early thirties is the best thing ever. A survey conducted on 1,500 British women, found that 38 per cent who said they felt most attractive in their early thirties attributed it to the confidence gained from experience, an active love life and eating and drinking sensibly*. Which thakes me to the subject of setting up objectives for this year, but not before looking back at 2011.

They say a great method of progressing is by looking at previous year's achievments and failures. 

In terms of achievements I think one of the most important one is the charity trekking that I completed in Ethiopia at the beginning of the year. And as much as the trekking was a physical challenge, even more exausting and at the same time rewarding was the fundraising part. Why this has been important to me? Because I have never done anything of the sort and by achieving my target I set up new standards of self esteem, which helped me progress through the year. Also because it was ten times harder to achieve £3000 without a corporate sponsorship and I owe it to all my friends who made it possible. Another success to note: the quality of all the people in my live! 

2011 was also a good year professionally. For the first time in a very long time I am in a place where I feel like I can stick around. I was beginning to worry that there was something wrong with me by wanting to change jobs all the time. Phew, it wasn't! But another lesson has been learned in the process: it takes two to tango. No matter how good a team and management you may have, it takes a bit of effort from yourself too to make things work best. And the other way around. Anyway, I consider myself lucky to be in a good place right now! So there, another tick!

I am also pleased I made an effort into filling up my free time with useful things, such as the Styling Course I am about to complete. 

 2011 was also the beginning of a healthier lifestyle. Since from about September (following the most severe hangover of my existence), I took working out seriously and it has now became an imbedded part of my life. This new commitment brought in a serious decrease in smoking (I am now oficcialy a social smoker only!) and moderation in drinking. I still do have a big night once in a while but far more seldom than in the past. And not only that I feel healthier, but, in my humble opinion, my looks have also improved and I can't imagine my life now without a toned body. And yes, now I can do press-ups. About 15 of them if I really try.

And since you're all wondering I'm sure, yes, my lovelife has also taken a step upwards by stagnating a bit in 2011. Because it really needed a break! And a slap on the back! Now it may be allowed to get out of confinement. If it behaves. that is. I spent most of 2011 making small mistakes and adjusting course along the way, not punishing myself for them anymore, loving myself more than before and valuing myself for the real qualities that I have, have always been there, but I was too blind to see, by enjoying my solitude, making the most of it and not complaining anymore! Because I finally understood every stage in life is precious and it should be enjoyed!

To be honest, 2011 has indeed been a great year for me (much unlike 2010 which was a tad bitter). So I found it rather hard to see failures. There were of course of few. Such as falling out with people in a nasty way and not being able to let go very easily. Or getting upset more than necessary about little things. Or not having put that much effort into things as I should have done. Or not having been in touch a bit more with people. Or having been too judgemental sometimes... But these are all good learnings, which I am planning to implement in 2012.

So here it is, a small list of what I want to achieve this year:

• Health plans: stick to my gym routine and add at least one challenge: I am thinking about a half marathon. Go to at least one surf and one ski trip this year, do more climbing, take tango lessons. 
• Career: keep progressing at work, get more involved, add more value, improve as a professional, but also start doing something with my styling as a free time activity.
• Culture: make a point of doing at least one significant cultural thing a month and go to the Opera at least once every three months.
• Learn a new language: I've decided it will be Portuguese!
• Writing: so I can get my writing to take off, this year I must attend more writers' meetings and participate to a couple of short stories competitions. I also can announce that a character has been born in 2012 and she is a mix between Bridget Jones and Lisbeth Salander. Watch this space!
• Personal development: stop judging others and jump to conclusions, be more tolerant, love more people, spend money more wisely, give back to society, be happy most of the days.
• Love: just give it without expecting anything in return.  One day it will come back to me...
• Travelling: this year I have two destinationsin mind: USA and Argentina. I am fantasising about a Thelma and Louise road trip through America (or at least a long week-end to New York and another one to Vegas to start with) and a week of tango-ing my way through Buenos Aires!

And that should be more than a handful! :)

Peace and love in 2012 everyone!

*Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1128596/A-beautiful-age-Many-women-feel-attractive-early-30s-study-reveals.html#ixzz1irtqdbBR

What if I just skipped Christmas?...

What if you can just say to everyone: 'Sorry, there'll be no Christmas cards from me this year, I won't buy any presents, I won't be putting up a Christmas tree and I won't spend Christmas Day with my family eating myself to death, so please just skip me this year!' True, you may miss on the office Christmas party but there'll be other occasions to drink like a fish and make a fool of yourself in front of Jane from HR and Tom from Finance by calling them 'lesbians'. Sure, everyone will think you've gone crazy and try and talk you out of it but only if you stand by your decision, maybe you can feel liberated by the fact that you don't have to become a victim of the Christmas season and follow all the other zombies sweating around Topshop in search for a present for your teeange cousin who you haven't seen since she was in diapers...

Ok, maybe I'm a bit harsh. After all I do have a family who I love spending Christmas with and I do love making a fool of myself at the office Christmas party. I also do like the lights on Oxford Street (though this year they are a bit disappointing - I mean umbrellas? really? what's that got to do with Christmas?...) and man I do like a nice Christmas turkey (or pork, if I'm in Romania, for that matter!). But what I hate about it is that Christmas has become an almost unbearable marketing pressure. To wear the best outfit, to buy the best presents, to get the perfect roast, the loveliest decorations, the best tree, the most prestigious looking Christmas cards, a boyfriend to visit eachother's families with etc etc. 


I don't remember when I stopped liking Christmas. Maybe during the only year my dad brought home a real Christmas tree and we decorated it like all the other families do. Because after that year I felt we ought to have Christmas like everyone else. Only it never happened again. My parents got divorced, we moved away, I grew up, left my country, spent many Christmases away from home, some of them working, some of them just alone in a London which gets eerily quiet on Christmas Day... I guess I spent too many Christmases that didn't match the marketing picture perfect I always thought Christmas should be to care anymore. I became numb to Christmas! But somehow, without realising, I kept trying. If only I tried harder with each passing year, if only I went home often enough and had my Mum put up a Christmas tree for my sake, if only I did a good deed on Christmas Day, if only, if only... But everytime something went missing. Either a cancelled flight, or a cold house, or a party I didn't belong to, or a guy I was waiting to get a call from... Somehow Christmas was always going wrong. 


But not this year. because I finally realised I don't care! I don't care about Christmas, because it is not me. Sure, I go along with it, but I don't feel it belongs to me. My life so far didn't have a lot of Christmas in it so this is me: somebody who'd rather run away to a hot place and sip on pina coladas while others are waiting for Santa and play in the snow. I'll let you in a little secret though: the moment I stopped caring, my life just filled up with all the Christmas in the world! Despite not planning to go home this year, a friend offered me the opportunity of a free plane ticket and it looks like I will, after all, spend Christmas with my Mum and perhaps the rest of my scattered, crazy but adorable family. Despite toying with the thought of being true to myself and skip this whole Christmas business, my lovely flatmate who is the most passionate supporter of the holiday season I've ever met, set up on a mission to get me all Christmassy and I find this very sweet. 

I think perhaps, besides it all, I am a Christmas person. Because it's not about the marketing of it, the decorations, the Christmas cards, the office party, the Christmas tree, the perfect setting and the perfect family affair etc, it's about the people in my life and yes, I can say it now, this is probably about the best Christmas I've ever had!

A healthy bit of sadness

Source: creattica.com

I wonder if sometimes we're not  meant to be a bit sad, if there isn't a healthy level of blues we just have to go through in order to function properly?... Have I been too busy keeping myself positive and energetic to the point that it is actually wearing me out? Am I too afraid of being sad?...

Ever since my teenage years. I've been a victim of my own mind, my own anguish, my own worries, my volatile self-esteem. Until now... Until about a year ago when I discovered that I have the power of controlling how I feel and I decided I would only feel good about things. And this is what's I've been dilligently doing: pumping my levels of positivity like an athlete getting ready for the Olympics, relentlessly, thruthfully, continously. Even when I ought to feel sad, I won't allow myself to be so anymore, because there is no way I would go back to feeling depressed and demoralised.

But when against my best intentions and my efforts, a diffuse sadness still creeps in, I wonder whether I shouldn't just let it happen. My body starts aching, my energy levels are low and yet I still refuse to surrender. I force myself to keep up with  my exercising schedule, to attend all the social events which holiday season forces upon us, until I realise my body is sending me signals. That perhaps I should stop. Just feel miserable for a little bit, feel the holiday blues, or anything of the sort. Yes, the nights are longer and the days are shorter and, yes, a little bit of sadness is okay.  And being tired of having to go out everyday for some social comittment or another is also okay.

Clearly one extreme won't compensate for the other, so as long as I don't allow too much sadness in my life, I'm sure that an okay bit of it would only do me a world of good. So maybe I should listen to my body, spend a day in bed, take in al the vitamins I can take and wallow in it as much as I can, because, tomorrow is another day and I know I will smile. After all, it's only a healthy bit of sadness...

What's so special about Goa

I've been meaning to write a post about my holidays in Goa for a long time now. First I had to get over my jetlag. I might have to blame it on the winter too, but I have to struggle to stay awake past 9.30pm these days. So most of all my blogging has been on hold.

I really wanted to write about Goa not because it is a wonderful exotic destination - which, despite its understated charm, hardly is - but because during this trip I've learned a few very valuable life lessons.

First of all, going to Goa and hoping to find the idyllic  beaches and hospitality of Thailand, is a huge mistake. A mistake which I made. A second mistake was trying to tell myself that I wanted the same thing from a holiday as my friend who I was travelling with...

Some people go on holidays to rest and reflect. I go on holidays to be active, try new experiences, new cultures and reflect, all at the same time. I know it's important to be able to allow yourself to stay still and become one with the Universe (call me a cliche, but this is what I thought I'd do in India!) but not when you've gotten into an exercising schedule and a comfortable routine, it's not ideal to let go. Unfortunately for me, apart of swimming there wasn't much to do in Goa...

What I learnt about myself two days into my holiday, in a very quiet and rural part of South Goa, Patnem, not being able to stay still and 'beach' myself the whole day long, was that my active nature needs to stay active, that I love my daily routine, my morning cup of coffe, my jogging by the Thames and the hustle and bustle of London. I learnt that I actually love my life!

What a shocking conclusion. I remember the times I used to go on holidays to run away from my life and instead of enjoying my days away I would fear the moment I had to go back. I would wrap myself in holidays blues for weeks and weeks after I'd gone back.

Anyway, so here I was, a few days already in Patnem wondering what was all the fuss about Goa. Not much, I thought... Not after you've been to Thailand... Despite its flocks of annoying tourists and increasingly even more annoying backpackers (the kind that bother you with questions such as 'Don't you wanna get shitfaced??'), Thailand's reputation is well deserved. Friendly locals, excellent food and out of this world beaches...

The other thing that makes Goa so different from Thailand is that local men seem to be particularly interested in European girls and will not make an effort to hide it. We've experienced local male attention from the owner of our resort and his brother, until it became clear that we had to leave. To be fair, for 2000 rupees a night (which is a lot for India) all we got was a dark and wet room which made it impossible to stay up after dark and where I showered on a few ocassions with a frog.

After a fleeting adventure in North Goa (assuming that all beaches were as nice as Palolem, we risked going up to Candolim beach), I became convinced that Goa wasn't really the land of beach hopping but more the land of stay where you feel safe. Candolim was a sight from Independence Day with people lounging on the beach while on the sea you could clearly see the profile of several huge oil tank ships. I would have taken a picture of that impossible sight if I wasn't too busy crying with frustration and disappointment. So back to Palolem we went. This time in a different beach huts resort serviced by Nepalese people - all in their best behaviour!

Sunset in Palolem Beach

My second week in Goa was as serene as this image. Because I finally let go of the frustration that there wasn't much to do, met some lovely people, learnt where the best places to eat where (believe it or not I couldn't wait to get back to London to have a nice curry), started a routine of swimming every morning, discovered the only place where you could get real coffee from and started appreciating that I was in fact in Goa.

What makes it so special then? The dolphins (the do exist and some lucky people even swam as close as 5 metres away from them), the silent parties, the English restaurant (Ourem88), the laughter with friends you've just made but feels as if you've known them all your life, the perfect weather, the two old toothless guys who sell pineapple and coconut, Sonia, the funniest and most gifted sales lady in Palolem, the guy from the corner shop who sold us cheaper water, the tuk-tuk driver and his dog Happy, the sunsets (oh the sunsets!), the lime and mint juices, the sound of the waves, the night sky adorned with palm trees tops, stars and a full moon.

What makes it so special is what you make of it. This is the most valuable lesson I've learned after Goa: that despite all the little annoyances one might encounter on holiday (and it is of course a valid lesson in everyday life too), it's really up to us in the end to see the silver lining and make the most of it! Don't be put off from going to Goa. You may discover your own life lessons...

When did I turn into a cynical feminist?...

 Source: leeraloo.wordpress.com

'...as women have climbed ever higher, men have been falling behind. We've arrived at the top of the staircase, finally ready to start our lives, only to discover a cavernous room at the tail end of a party, most of the men gone already, some having never shown up – and those who remain are leering by the cheese table, or are, you know, the ones you don't want to go out with.' (Kate Bolick: why marriage is a declining option for modern women, The Observer, Nov 2011)

Today I woke up feeling annoyed. Not lonely, not sad, not victimising myself, just annoyed. I suddenly realised it was terribly unfair for a girl like me, with all the qualities that one could possibly want (and a few flaws which only make me more charming, of course), to be alone. Alone for so many years, despite all the efforts, all the positivity, all the trying and all the dating I have possibly invested in being able to share my life with someone. I think I may have been more succesful if I planned to kill a person than to find someone to love and share my life with. But that's not the most annoying thing about it. The most annoying thing is that I have grown as a person, I became perfectly capable of dealing with my emotions, I matured in a way that only rare wines can, while all the men around me have remained the same, or in some cases even regressed.

First of all, let's all shed a tear for all the men that had their hearts broken... Get over yourselves! I have had my heart broken more times than I can possibly remember and, still, I pieced it back together and went back into the world with more hope than ever before. Do not talk to me about not wanting to get hurt. Talk to a professional!

Secondly, let's all feel supportive of the guy that hasn't learned that manners can be very useful in society. Such as: 'It was nice seeing you!', 'Thanks for a lovely evening' and 'I don't know what's gotten into me to kiss you when I have baggage to sort out and, hey, I am not even sure I can talk about it so I am just going to leave and never talk to you again!". Even that would be better than nothing.

What I find really annoying is that I get it. I get exactly what's going to happen with every single guy I meet. There is no surprise, no expectation, no mistery. I can count on each and every one of them to blow it. Some sooner than others but the result is always the same. And it hurts me that I even reached this conclusion because I realised today that I turned into a cynical feminist. I swear I didn't mean to...but I did. And I feel sorry already for that poor sucker with the best intentions who won't even know what hit him just because he is a man... Shame.

To say or not to say...

Source: http://www.diabolika.posterous.com/

Him: 'I'm still not over my ex. Don't think I am ready to see anyone at the moment'

You (Trying to be really cool and pretend not to care, because nobody likes a hysterical woman, right!?): 'No worries. I totally understand...'

What you really want to say: 'You inconsiderate prick! Winding me up with hundreds of explicit text messages that were supposed to lead somewhere, wasting my precious time only for you to realise you are so vulnerable and don't want to get hurt!! What about me, you moron? Did you think that maybe I have feelings too???!

Him: ......................... (Total silence after having chased you around to go on a date and you finally agreed)

You: ......................... (Total silence because you don't want to seem weak but it's eating you inside)

What you really want to say: 'WTF!!?'

Him: 'I just didn't feel there was a spark...Sorry.'

You: 'Fair enough. Nice to meet you anyway.'

What you really want to say: 'And when were you going to tell me that, you dick? Before or after you went missing? In fact, thanks a lot for not bothering to tell me. I sooooo love going on dates and not hearing back!'

Him: 'I am actually seeing someone at the moment and it wouldn't be fair on you.'

You: 'Thanks, I appreciate your honesty.'

What you really want to say: 'And you went out with me because...?'

You: 'Are you not having a good time?'

Him: 'No, no I do. Well, maybe not the best night i've ever had...'

You: 'Let's try to make the most of it then, shall we?'

What you really want to say: 'Prick!' and leave

To say or not to say... This is the question... When is it a good idea to say what you really think?

I mean, the result is just the same isn't it. Whether you say anything or not it doesn't change the fact that many of these people do not consider the fact that their actions have consequences and that yes, they may affect you. After all, you are a human being. You do have feelings. Feelings that need not be repressed...

Call me crazy but I've been saying what I think for a while now. It hasn't necessarily changed the situation to my advantage, nor did it suddenly made the other person realise how inconsiderate they were and apologise so I felt better. None of that crap. Some even became really defensive and had a go at me.

You'd think people should be capable of realising that any feed-back is valuable feed-back and that if sometimes you project a certain image, intentionally or not, and get comments about it, it means that perhaps you can adjust your attitude to improve that image. No need to take things personally. I like feed-back, I love becoming better, be a better me. I wouldn't know how to do that if I didn't listen to people telling me what they felt about me. I think it's only fair I should do the same. But I don't cease to be amazed by how many people out there are so full of themselves and take any criticism as a personal offense.

Not sure if it makes me feel better telling someone that their behaviour hurt me and that it really wasn't cool. I suppose it does, because it is the truth and it helps expressing feelings into words so you can then let go of them. The other person may even be evolved enough to take it as positive criticism. Yes, it may not be as dignifying as ignoring the situation and leaving the scene in solemn glory. But until I am capable emotionally to let go of a situation without feeling the need to express my anger or my frustration I will continue to do so. To say, I say!

When in Goa

I clearly haven't been on holiday for a long time. It's taken me about 2 days to get over the home sickness if anyone can believe. I organically missed London and my life balance that I've finally managed to obtain. And here I was in India, in a tropical paradise, not being able to sleep at night...
I've clearly forgotten how it is being away learning to trust a new environment. Everything seemed threathening and the usual London background noise that I've grown so accustomed to suddenly has been replaced with scary bird cries, dogs howling at the moon and helicopters (random, I know!). All these in a wet and mucky night where mosquitoes and strange night creatures rule.
We are in Patnem in South Goa, an area known for being the quieter sister of North Goa. It's also the beginning of the season when shacks are still being built and the beach looks almost deserted. It takes time to adjust to this quiteness, it's almost like a rehab retreat. It took us a couple of days to discover Palolem beach and realize that relative civilisation was in fact only about 10 minutes away.
It's nice though. Probably the best time to come. Prices are still lower and there are very few rowdy people to spoil your mood.
What I really like about this part of the world is that people are not just nice, they're absolutely hillarious. Shopkeepers are pushy and yet so funny that you're happy to buy what they're selling, take their picture and learn their names. The tuk tuk drivers are having a laugh when they see how scared you are that they might run over the cow parked in the middle of the street. The yoga teacher is happy to do some free meditation as it helps him practice too. And the 'resort' people are all running inside the bungalow to catch the frog that scared the pants out of me when I was in the shower. It's the little things that suddenly made me feel like home in Goa. And now I can sleep well and wake up early tomorow morning for my yoga class and who knows what else tomorrow brings...

My life in coffee cups

The Holiday Coffee

Italian coffee outside Spanish Steps in Rome

The Week-End Cofee

Coffee at Le Pain Quotidien at Borough Market

The Everyday Day Coffee

Really bad coffee at my desk..

Happiness

Happy to say I have a new mindset and I find myself these days living in a state of an almost permanent beatitude and enjoyment. As if I was permanently high without the next day headaches and lows.

I confess it didn’t happen overnight - it took roughly about a couple of years of intense training of the mind – but I am amazed at how one day it simply just took off and I am now blissfully enjoying the benefits of having a ‘spotless’ mind without having do anything about it but rejoice.

I have been living all my life in a self built cage and raged around about the limits of my humanity, about how much I wanted to achieve in my lifetime and how little I was given to fight with, about how other people have more than me, about how I can’t find love and how I am the ugliest and fattest girl on the face of the Earth etc etc. You name it and I would have complained about it. Loving to hate is an incredibly attractive feeling which I grew terribly accustomed to…Because complaining was easy, it justified my being miserable.

And aren’t we miserable perhaps because that’s what we have been trained to do all our lives? How we’ve been taught to dream about achieving things and suffering when we fail to do it within a certain timeframe, about how we SHOULD look, feel, talk, think, exist, but we always somehow fall short?...

Not sure about you, but I grew up with a sense that tragedy was waiting for me just around the corner and when I least expected it would come and suck me into a deep black hole and if only I kept looking out for it, being constantly alert and aware that it might happen any minute, I could at least congratulate myself that I saw it coming when it did indeed occur (not occurring wasn’t a valid possibility in my mind).

Until one day when you wake up feeling you’ve had too much to eat the same dish and decide to make a change. When that happened to me, I started reading a lot of self-help books and although, at first, they all sounded like unrealistic babble, one day I stopped thinking ‘this is not what real life is about’ and started feeling. I still think a lot of them are written in a metaphoric/childlike way that don’t always resonate with my logic, but having forced myself through various I did find that I could extract the main ideas and apply them to my own life. You’ll never find the exact same situations to exercise your new found inner skills, but extrapolation is a powerful tool. The moment you start feeling the effects of the positive mentality on your own life, you bring it to the next level and good things just start happening.

When I say that I don’t mean I suddenly became filthy rich, found a gorgeous man to whisk me away to a tropical paradise and marry me, of course, wrote a book, won a Booker prize and successfully launched my own styling business. Although now I am convinced all of the above WILL happen one day because I decided they will, I don’t live my life waiting for the day when I will finally start living. I am happy right now because I am living right now and enjoying the ‘right now’. Whether it’s sunny day or a cold and rainy day, I stopped judging, I just acknowledge what is and enjoy what I can from the ‘what is’.  It works miracles…

I learned a very important lesson: happiness, as much as unhappiness, is a matter of habit. And I am grateful I forced myself into the habit of being happy.

But as I was writing this, I received the ‘bad’ news that my Indian visa application was returned and that I had to re-apply within only two weeks to my departure (whoever tried getting an Indian visa, and especially as a non-UK citizen, knows what a pain in the backside this process is!). Naturally I got very annoyed and almost been put off going at all, however I decided that the fact that my application was retuned is still just a fact and that it is up to me if I decide that I ought to get upset and make a big deal out of it or just acknowledge it for what it is and just go down there again and re-apply. I decided for the latter and within minutes my whole body relaxed and I felt incredibly calm. It's common knowledge that there are things in life outside of our control and influence but knowing that indeed I have the power over what I feel about it, does indeed make me carry on this happy feeling day, after day, after day....


And as Abraham Lincoln said: 'Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.'

The day my ass was grabbed twice

The most notable thing about last Saturday is that my behind received a lot of unwanted attention.

Setting no 1: a young couple - very close friends of mine, who recently bought a house and renovated it completely (with a modest styling contribution from myself) - were hosting a housewarming party/barbeque where I was the only unmarried lady. As to be expected, a compact group of children were playing in the background making the usual noises sometimes covered by shrills.

The day was lovely and I was getting drunk on champaigne. Rather than being tedious, I was feeling great and slowly slowly let my guard down, being my usual loud self.  Almost unnoticed at first, one of the guests, a dad to be more precise although not sure where the respective mum was as I never asked, started flirting with me quite obviously and soon I started to feel slightly uncomfortable. Despite my habit, I decided to play with the children and - believe it or not! - I found that jumping around, going in circles holding hands until one falls, screaming and picking them up to the sky can be incredibly therapeutic. I was having a lot of fun until the dad came sniffing around like a wolf catching the scent of pray and asked me if I didn't mind giving him a tour of the house. Not wanting to be outraged by something that was yet unconclusive, I agreed and started walking up the stairs when suddenly I felt his hand on my behind. I turned around and said: 'And what exactly is that supposed to mean?' only for him to answer sheepishly 'I thought it was the bannister!' Well, I never thought my ass looked like the bannister!

Setting no 2: the same day, somewhere in club in Shoreditch. The usual Saturday night crowd, loads of drunken kids and very loud music. I went out for a fag break and started up a random conversation with a very loud Aussie who just descended into town. I guess I have the misleading habit of being ironic in a subtle way, as I think he took my irony for interest in hitting it off and became brave enough to grab my ass. 'Honestly?' I said, 'what was that for?' 'That's because you didn't want to be in the picture' (his friend had just taken a snap and I had covered half of my face with my hand). 'I have no desire for my face to appear all over Facebook on people I harldy know profiles, if you really must know' I said and turned around. A few seconds later I felt another touch of my bum. 'And what exactly are you trying to achieve with this?' I asked exasperated! 'Nothing, speak to you later!' and he disappeared.

After last Saturday, I have only two things to say: 1) my intense going to gym must have paid off!; 2) I really wonder why do men feel the need to grab your ass and can't even explain why?...


Other than that, a lovely autumn day with falling leaves and sunny spells.