Notes to myself and for everyone who's bored

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I always thought writing in my own language, after living many years outside Romania, felt so unattainable. I'll substitute Romanian words with English words and I wouldn't know what I want to say in the end. Don't get me wrong I don't have much fluency to exercise such a desire but..still dreaming about writing something, a book perhaps?! Ha! Look at me already dreaming of  the appearance of such a book...my book. Yep, nonsense that's what it is. Why not a leaflet to post it to my neighbors instead?! Much attainable, right?

I always always felt deep inside me a real hunger for writing.  Sometimes I come up with pretty good chunks of phrases, expressions or crazy ideas. I would have loved to dive into them but I would get lost. I am not very good at inventing stories nor did I try. But every time I want to write something I get stuck. Tried recording my own voice but it felt weird, strange, like that voice is not mine or it didn't feel authentic enough. Recently I've started reading Charles Bukowsky's books and he said about writing and finding inspiration..."Don't try!". Don't go and purge your brains out for any possible phrase or word to match your lousy story...just don't try. Sit with ideas, let them pass and some day in a year or 10 you will get it!  Are you gonna starve from lack of money? Very possible. Artist equals no money and perhaps... no talent either?! Talent is in the eye of the beholder.

   In my own mind, with my my own pain...I can't escape that frustrating feeling that you need to let the world know what is happening to you. But really...who gives a crap about you anyway?! You are not famous, now everyone is very socially active in their own digital world craving attention with every single photo that they would take and post it online,begging for comments, likes, applause. I understand them. I really do. Sometimes I am that too and I feel horrible to be actually pretty normal as they are because you want to feel authentic, to be something else, out of the ordinary. Everyone is bad and you are the only one  good.  Right? Why to be like everyone else?! Be uniq ! That's what you are told. Reinvent yourself, learn every fucking day, every time to yearn to be better and better and better. Tomorrow  be a better version of yourself. What does it even mean?!  Well, I am tired of hearing this and that about how to think, how to behave, how to give back, how to feel, what to say, etc. We pretty much act from a place of fear: the fear of losing our tribe! Fear of being isolated, of being alone, or worst..being alone with yourself.  And this kind of fear takes very disturbed forms in us which for the others will be like a show full of clowns and pitiful people. Irrational thinking is a very good base for people to feel good about themselves without trying to grasp a few ideas about how it is to be in someone else's shoes. Its like being in a grotesque  show where stones are thrown, virtually at least, and terrible labels will forever hunt you until you wipe your profile down and start from the beginning. A "better you", perhaps? Changed, refreshed, with more teachings to talk about...bla bla bla!

Yeah, I don't have much to say but at the same time I feel that I need to write down that little talkative nonsense that is my head all the time. So this is my blog, this is me writing about chaos. Your own bored mind brought you here.

Tried for 2 years Zoloft which is for depression and anxiety and although it did me a lot of good it suppressed my constant flux of phrases, ideas, words and I've felt that my whole creativity mind collapsed. No neurotic crisis emerged at the surface anymore. I have zero talent for painting and that's a true  assessment  nothing to do with zoloft I'm afraid.  In my mind I can be a monstrous hybrid between Picasso and Salvador, where I can make a canvas of how I would like my ideas to be drawn. I also know that my dreams could be transformed into a Tarantino movie if only someone can plug an USB cable into my brain and collect all those beautiful scenarios that I have especially during the night. And no, there is not much blood anywhere or...is it?? Anyway my dreams have their own physics rules which I might say that is pretty awesome. Floating in different temporal spaces, teleportation from a place to another, being followed by murderers and actually their weapons wouldn't function at all when they reach your flesh but somehow you can still feel the wrenching pain of those future wounds.  Running and flying above the earth where the water will appear like the one on google maps, immensely and of a deep anthracite blue. Living in different houses, where one of them was guarded by ferocious animals having black fur and golden eyes. Or someone would appear dead with  purple, livid  skin and when  I'm on the verge of waking myself up they would suddenly open their eyes and breath again.  Sweets dreams, aren't they? :)  Or one of my "favorite": I'm in Bucharest, in Militari and from the window I can see the apocalypse of the town, its own demise..planes crashing down, streets flooded with dirty water, carnage in the tunnel from car accidents, earthquakes collapsing  buildings and the last moment before waking myself  up a fire emerging in the apartment where I can feel my own despair of knowing that I won't escape this time around.

Well I am afraid that these kinds of  projects are  gonna stay locked inside me for a very long time probably until my death and beyond. No one's gonna freeze my brain and resurrected it in 200-300 years...I've established already that I am not a VIP. I'm a commoner and I really don't know what is wrong with being a normal person. I should love it. I guess my age doesn't give me enough wisdom so I can be liberated from such frivolous thoughts.

You see, in the digital word you are overwhelmed with tons of creativity from all around the world and their work is pretty amazing but it left me in deeply  distress thinking that I will never be like that and because having my mind being saturated with other people creativity I have not enough space for my own creations.

Anyway, I know that my writings have tons of  grammar mistakes and in the perfect world that we live in no one will go beyond that and see the person as she might have pictured herself to be.

I lived for 6 years in the Netherlands, 3 in Australia so I must have something to write about, right? Perhaps I do but what exactly? God...it feels so damn good writing about nothing. I can still feel Damocles's sword above my head which in my mind is the audience itself but I'm beginning to truly not care at all. Let the sword fall through the  hologram of myself cause nothing feels real anymore.