A Lesson Of Humiliation

It`s so simple to throw words at people, specially when you know that due to some reasons the person you`re humiliating is not able to answer back. It`s so damn simple to think about yourself you`ve got the ultimate right and the ultimate power that you`re entitled to say or do anything to people. But what will you do when that person will answer you back exactly the same way you`ve been treating her/him?

In that situation my mother got pissed off, threatening she will cut off my power, remove my computer, etc,etc. Anyway, she did her best to find a way to touch me somehow. Pitty she didn`t succeed. I`ve paid for the power, I`ve paid for my own computer, I`ve been paying for lots of other stuff, so she has no right to do whatever she pleases with my own objects. So, she came up with something new: she said I`m going to have to pay for my food. I said fine.

So, that`s how I am put in the position to play tough with my own mother. Everybody would say I`m crazy, rude, bad daughter, etc. Well... people... try to be in my place for a week. And if any of you find humiliation a good way to be pushed to do soemthing good with your life, lemme` know.

In case any of you think that I misunderstand certain things... read below.

hu⋅mil⋅i⋅ate

–verb (used with object), -at⋅ed, -at⋅ing.

to cause (a person) a painful loss of pride, self-respect, or dignity; mortify.

You need practical examples?

1. You are never good enough for her. You can never compare to her, your life is way easier than hers, your job is much simpler than hers, etc.

2. Everything you do will never be good enough. Everything she does is sacred. You are just a piece of crap trying to survive on her back. Your job is lousy, your choices are lousy, your mind is lousy. She is the mother of Jesus Christ and you`re a mean roman soldier putting her to work for you. AND NO, I AM NOT OVERREACTING!!!

3. You will NEVER be as good as she is. No matter what you do, no matter how much you study, or read, or work... you will continue to be a lousy piece of crap in her eyes. And guess what? She even nows for sure that treating you like this will make you better, will determine you to try to be better. So she keeps doing it. Minute after minute, day after day.

4. You are a slave, not her child. Not that my mother would put you to work till death. No, she`s not that kind. Actually she would work herself to death just to prove you that you`re nothing but a lazy piece of crap. She treats you like a slave because you must always know what`s your place, what`s your condition: you will always be inferior to her.

And don`t missunderstand me: she means well. She tries to make me better. She has always tried to bring out the best of me. But she has never ever tried a different way to prove her points. She made me better. But I ended up hating her.

The Master Of The World

I`ve been told I should live, but I have no idea why I just like to watch.
I`ve also been told to gather facts and form an opinion afterwards. Despite that, I like to change opinions, in this way I can evaluate myself: I am able to see if my opinions are wrong or if I was right. I can test and train my intuition.

I`ve been silenced. But no one could stop an idea. No one has been able to put a thought to death without any chances of revival. So, my mouth is shut, but words keep flowing. I think I`m reliving the "master of the world" syndrome. There are few people that know what this really means. And no... it`s nothing like a God complex.

So, for those who know, climb up to the sky and look under your feet. Take a deep breath, after all, a successful flight over the world is a one life experience in some cases.

Amazing...

... not that I enjoy listening to this kind of music, despite that I was amazed. Not that Bianca Ryan is a nobody. But after seeing Charice...

Tastes And Designers

I went shopping with my mother. We needed to buy a shirt for my father. Men stuff are always perfect. Always suitable, always clean and clear. When I have to dress a man, I always know what to choose, what works with his eyes, or with the color of his skin... I am quite successful in that. But not when it is about me.
I am picky, I am damn picky. I can`t find reason in absurd ornaments that cover almost everything that is nice or sexy about a woman. Does the woman have hips? Ok, then show her bloody hips off. Why? Cuz she`s frakking sexy. Does a woman have long legs? Then show her frakking long legs.

But no, that`s not the way. It`s not fashion. Fashion is ment to let people know in how many ways a famous designer can abuse common sense, or excentricity, or sex appeal. Fashion is when a common arrogant designer comes and sais "TODAY YELLOW IS THE COLOR!!". Even if yellow makes me (for instance) look pale ... as if I was dead. But no... in their opinion, I should be dressed in yellow? Why? Because it is fashionable.

Well, people... fuck fashion. Why? Because I apreciate beauty in a less Aristotellic way. I apreciate hips, or boobs or long legs at a beautiful woman, wearing a beautiful simple dress. You know, the kind of the dress that completes the image, not the kind that tries to create one. Well, people, unless you`ve got at least several grands to go shopping at Channel`s, start thinking your own models, go find a good tailor and start creating beautiful things.

Because beauty nowadays is so... into fame and wealth.

Sahara Madness

Well, it seems I`m the only one feeling alright during all this unnatural heat. And I have no idea why exactly. I went out to buy some icecream and some other stuff from the market, there were like 50 degrees and a very hot wind. It felt kinda nice.

Now... the madness. People started to wonder why I am not complaining about the heat. So, after coming back home, I remembered I had forgotten to buy milk and bread (and some other stuff). So I got back downstairs to get what I needed. While being in the lobby I was able to hear the conversation between two of my neighbours that I had previously encountered when I got back from the 1st round of shopping.

- Mrs. Ani... I really believe she`s mentally sick.
- Are you serious?
- Have you ever seen anyone enjoying this silly heat?
- She told me once she went to Sahara. Maybe the bedouins did something to her, said mrs. Ani laughing out loud.

I opened the door and walked right by them. At my sight they suddenly stopped. They watched me, and they continued with something else as if the whole world was perfect.

- I`ve baked a cake for Claudiu last night. He was so pleased.
- Really?? On this heat?
- You know I would do anything for him. Since he got back from the Academy I`m so proud of him. I`m a uniform sucker...

"Yeah... me too", I thought. "I think Claudiu is really ... hot, specially in his uniform". I wish I forgot about my parents honor from time to time., and during this "unfortunate" amnesia I told everybody how imperfect all of us are, and how they should stop doing... certain things.

- Do you think she heard what I was saying?
- Neah... she looks high today!! I think she`s suffering of Sahara Madness and I mean it!

"No, stupid bitch, I am not high.... I am at my period. And yes, I hate everyone and everything in this moment. AND, guess what? YES, I`ve heard everything", I thought, but didn`t say anything. So, with a friendly look and an encouraging smile, I slipped inside the shop to buy some tea. After all, those bedouins told me that there`s nothing better than some hot tea during these days.

My Mother And The Price Of Silence

I have noticed that in every second from my life I have had to prove to someone that I`m worthy of... everything I get. I have also noticed that silence in these days is very expensive. You are either a successful person and your money closes everyone`s mouth, or you are exposed to the general judgement: you are either too rich, or too poor, or too excentric... in any case they always find a way to judge what you are.

And yes, it is normal, among strangers. It is normal to be judged, at least till you become... "close" to the group. I thought that after you get close enough people learn to accept you the way you are. But no, I was wrong. My mother hasn`t accepted me for what I am, not even now, after 31 years of existence. She permanently tries to shape me... after her own appearance. She tries to shape me, by humiliating me every single time when I open myself to her. I`ve told her one of these days that I am so afraid that I am going to be a bd daughter in the future. She asked why, but I wasn`t able to answer her straight. I am answering her here: I am afraid that she will drive me away for good... and that I won`t want to hear of her ever. Not because she has been humiliating me, but because she will keep doing that thinking this is the way she should treat me.

I am tired of proving everyone that I am what they expect me to be. I want to be who I want to be and not some fancy-rich-bitchy business woman, driving an expensive car, with 20 handsome servants sticking around me. I want to be me...

I WANT TO BE ME!!! Is that something so difficult to offer to someone?

Monday Night & Sales Principles

Do not underestimate the power in the tone of your voice. How well do you use your voice to express emotion and emphasize the importance of your message? In today's world where more business is done over the telephone rather than in person it's important to realize that a voice can in fact hinder your success.

We all run out of time. We are expected to increase our sales in numbers, but we often sit spinning our wheels wondering how to do so. It today's economy it's important to nurture the relationships that matter. That doesn't mean just nurturing the potential clients that may sign tomorrow, but nurturing every relationship.

Contrary to popular belief, to be a successful salesperson, it doesn't matter how much you know about your product or service. It also doesn't matter how much of an industry expert you are.

To attract attention in your industry, you have to show off. Well-known people became well-known because they showcased themselves.

Men And Complex

You men always... ALWAYS have to be, or at least to seem to be above. Not that you are, don`t get me wrong... But if you`re not doing that, you ain`t men. You have to prove a point, you have to tell us women: "Hellooooooooooooo, I am the men in the house, so respect ME, woman!!".

Yeah bitch, I respect you... or at least I`ll start respecting you the moment you start rubbin` me properly... Or the moment when you start reacting when I`m rubbing my butt on your pants. Why? Because your point is proven: you wanna fuck. Ok, I`m the woman, I get it!! Now stop proving points and start putting your hands in the proper places. No? Why? Ah... you`re the man... of course, you do things when you wanna do them, you decide when`s the right time to do everything. Thenstop wondering why there are no women willing to date your sorry arse.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Good morning, world! Despite the rainy morning, my coffee tastes perfect. I need to sleep more, but I won`t do it... this morning attitude rocks, so why spoil it? I`m in that state when you feel like doin` nothin` at all, yet, you`ve got the strange energy that pushes ya to different actions, have no idea wtf is wrong... or right. After all it feels alright, so I`m not gonna complain. So no coffee outside, under a blanket, in the fresh smell of the rain. I suddenly feel too romatic for this morning. My doctor Doolittle got to the office (in time, as usual)... and now he`s in the usual silent mode, not hear, no see, no talk kinda thing.

So... my coffee`s sweet, my Sunday`s cold. Keep up the good work, people, after all... I`m easy.

Wonderful World

Pleasant day, pleasant people, and also, pleasant topics, at least for me. The lack of confidence is often expressed as a lack of "know-how" to allow words to subtitute emotions. So let`s feel cool, listen to cheap music and hunt out in the open. Anyone can explain me, how the hell some people end up being totally the oposite of good taste and common sense, just because they haven`t got the slightest idea about how to live?

Cheap music, cheap eyes sliding on my body... and the damn bus keeps being frakking late. Cheap music, again... cheap eyes, again. And I am supposed to react like a horny stupid lil` bitch, overimpressed by the macho talents of the hood concepts. I`m desperatly looking for the bus, as the music goes on, scratching my brains and my nerves. Big bellies, noisy laughters... and cheap music. Where the frak is that bus?!?! He starts walking... one of them. I don`t dare check how many they are. Not because I`m afraid... neah... but I think I`m gonna be scared by the number of people that need to be shot. So, as I was saying... he walks around, trying to meet my eyes. He`s got the cool walk, something that expresses "hey pussy... wazzup?". I`m avoiding his eyes by admiring a dirty Vectra parked right in front of me, or by checking some products at a small shop. One of them is shouting in disgrace: "Yo, buy her a lipstick!!". I told myself: "I need a shotgun, you dumbass, not a lipstick.... I`m full of lipsticks, eyeshaders, eyeliners and any other face molesters. I need something to make you regret the fact that you were born stupid. I need enough money to bribe a doctor to cut your balls so that you won`t reproduce. I need a bat to hit your face till I see small pieces of your teeth popping out of your mouth. I need your face to be as stupid and ... inviting, so I won`t be tempted to stop hitting it." THE BUS!!! The damn bus is coming. I`m happy... no more "manele", no more empty looks. I`m getting into the bus. While watching the happy gang in the station, I`m thinking: I`m a racist! Should I be sorry for it?

The New Face Of The Truth

TRUTH!!!

...And the road becomes my bridge
I have stripped of all but pride
So in her I do confide
And she keeps me satisfied
Gives me all I need

...And with dust in throat I crave
Only knowledge will I save
To the game you stay a slave
Rover wanderer
Nomad vagabond
Call me what you will

But I'll take my time anywhere
Free to speak my mind anywhere
And I'll redefine anywhere
Anywhere I roam
Where I lay my head is home

...And the earth becomes my throne
I adapt to the unknown
Under wandering stars I've grown
By myself but not alone
I ask no one

...And my ties are severed clean
The less I have the more I gain
Off the beaten part I reign
Rover wanderer
Nomad vagabond
Call me what you will

But I'll take my time anywhere
Free to speak my mind anywhere
And I'll redefine anywhere
Anywhere I roam
Where I lay my head is home
Carved upon my stone
My body lie, but still I roam