Spiritwalking.

So around 6 am yesterday, seconds after I had an epiphany about life and about the fact that almost everything that we think is stopping us from doing something is absolute bullshit, I decided I should go on a spirit walk.

I took a shower.

I packed my backpack.

Ran the only errand I had to do.

I started walking.

I ended up spending the entire day in a different state, under the heat of the sun, walking.

I had picked up some provisions before embarking on the serious part of my journey so I wasn't going to die of dehydration or just go hungry.

I walked for so long.
I met some animals, bunnies, dogs, cats and geese.
I ended up watching a movie on the beach on a giant inflatable screen.
I only broke public urination laws twice.
I was on a motherfucking spirit walk.

Nothing is stopping you from doing what you want to do.
Don't listen to what the man says you got to do.
Listen to what you say you got to do.

Thanks for reading.

Smoking in public

I wake up.

Okay, I don't wake up, I just haven't gone to bed at all...

I have to go to the bank at nine in the fucking morning because I, somehow, have managed to make four different transactions from my bank account without having any recollection of the events.

I walk for 15 minutes so I can go to the nearby store, to get a coffee, pack of cigarettes and bus money.

And there are I am, no sleep whatsoever, a freshly opened refrigerated coffee in one hand, a freshly lit cigarette in the other, waiting at the bus stop, with only nice thoughts of butterflies and peace and tranquility in my mind.

And this girl comes and goes:
"There is no smoking at the bus stop..."

So naturally I say back:
"No hablo Ingles."

To my bloody morning surprise she repeats the statement in Spanish.

So once again I, naturally, say:
"No hablo espanol."

And then she starts nagging and nagging how I'm this and that and no smoking at the frikking bus stop.

And I gently lift one hand to signal her to shut up, and for the third type, naturally, say:
"No hablo any fucking language this early in the morning."

And then... the things that came out of that mouth. Words, comparisons, slurs... It's just so much.

Headphones in. Ass of the bench. Cigarette outside of bus stop, with the rest of me following closely after it.

Sometimes, even if not intended, we kinda are jerks to other people, and despite the fact that it's so fucking early in the morning and all I wanted was to enjoy my coffee and smoke, being a jerk ain't cool.

That's a very important life lesson right there.

Don't be a jerk.

Thanks for reading.

PS: Now that I think about it, she was also kinda jerk-ish, but I was jerk-ish first so...

ЧРД

Филипе

Waiting for the bus.

I remember...

Once... a long time ago...

Not that long, it was just a few years... 

But when you think about it a few years is a long time. 

Anyway. A few years back I had an epiphany.  It happened while I was waiting for the bus.  I even wrote an essay about that epiphany my first semester in uni.

Right now I'm waiting for the bus again, only it's a different time, a different country, and of course a different me. I just remembered the past, as all tend to do, and I recalled this epiphany. So here I go, sharing my not-so-impressive life wisdom with you.

...
...
...

Sorry for that pause, bus came and I had to board it.

I was sitting on a bench, waiting for the bus a few years back and I realized I didn't want to be doing this. That I'd much rather be doing something completely different, be with someone who is important to me. I know, what a shocker, but keep reading.

I realized that when we are waiting for something, anything, sometimes our minds turn blank, completely and utterly empty. As we wait if we start thinking how we'd much rather be with someone else, then that someone is a person who truly matter to us. An Important Person, with a capital "I" and a capital "P". 

Different time...

Different place...

Different person...

Same situation.

Those who become our thoughts when our minds are empty, mean the most to us at that very moment. And that makes them, even if only for a second, our universe.

Pondering on the meaning of art.

What is art?

Some say it's paintings.

Some say it's writings.

Some say it's music.

Some say it's life.

I know a few artist.
Doing all sorts of arts.

From street art to performing art.
From oil paintings to graffiti.
From flow arts to hip hop dancing.
From short stories to film making.
From guitar to piano.
From tattoos to poetry
to essays
to origami
to photography
to woodwork
to jewellery
to interior design
to music production
...

The one thing in common is that not one of them does their art because they are forced to. They do it because they want to, because they like it, because sometimes it's their reason to be happy.

So I came up with this.

Art is freedom.

The perfect metaphor...

- What are you making? - She asks.

- Pancakes... - I say back to her, prolonging one of the "a" sounds in "pancakes."

She stands up. Comes to me and looks in the pan. - These look different. - She states, a puzzling notch in her voice as she says it.

- These are American pancakes, small and thick.

She goes back to table and sits down. I flip a pancakes. It's too hot near the pan.

- Have you made like these before?

I pour more mix.

- Once. A long time ago. For someone special. But I made the pancakes special too.

I deliver another pancake.

- I'll show you.

2 minutes later I present a pancake in the shape of a heart. I take fork. Separate it in the middle.

-This is my part. - I say pointing to one of the halves.

I begin to chop it up with the fork. I stop when it looks like a jumbled mess.

- There, the perfect metaphor.

A week passed.

Last post I published was over a week ago. Since then stuff has happened.

I got a guitar.
I informed my roommate her hermit crab died.
I thought about the past and home.
I drank.
I smoked.
I've worked more.
I visited a new town.
I remembered the people that I have left and that have left me behind.
I met a few Americans that are nice people.
I finished a book.
I started another.
I found myself getting interested in haikus.
I was sad.
I tried American Chinese food.
I got a US phone number.
I punched a wall.
I learned a few more Romanian words.
I felt better.
I got irritated numerous times by my roommates on various occasions.

All of this happened in no particular order. Besides, the order itself doesn't matter at all does it? The bottom line is these kind of things happen all the time, life goes on around me and around you and around anyone no matter if you're aware of it or not. No matter if you read about it or not.
Life goes on.

The kicker is when you realize that absolutely everyone's life is just as full of stuff and happenings, occurrences, events, emotions, pain, heartbreak, happiness, useless habitual movements, awkward moments, luck, weird situations and everything else that happens to you yourself on daily bases. It happens to everyone else, all the time, and it is just as intense.

Yet, somehow, we are all unique and magical and rainbows come out of our asses.

I'm not saying you're not special. I'm saying you're just as special as everyone else. I'm also saying that what you are going through, there is at least one other individual who is going (or has gone) through the same. Maybe even a whole bunch of individuals, thousands, millions maybe...

If you believe that for you to be special everyone else has to be less special, then you are a piece of shit, and you're also being a special type of asshole.

Thanks for reading.