Pete The Spider

The fire cracks quieter and quieter as the piece of wood inside burns out. When it's just embers I go to the basket with the pinecone in front of it and pick up a new one. Open the glass door to the fireplace and position the new log on top of the burning embers. Close the door, slide the thing that opens up the air vents and make sure the wood catches fire. When it does, I slide the air vents back and get my ass back on the couch. 30 minutes left.

In 30 minutes I have to slowly make my way to the room in which Ben rests and check if he's asleep. If he's sleeping peacefully, I get my ass back on the couch for another hour, if not I turn him over from his left side to his back so he's comfortable.

Ben has a rare muscle degenerative disease and he's stuck to a wheelchair and basically can't move by himself properly. He needs someone to care for him and 2 nights a week that's my job.

I arrive at 20:00, make his bed, do whatever Ben needs done in the next 2 hours, like make him a cup of tea, help him with his weather station, or just chill and talk. Then around 22:00 I assist him with his medication, brush his teeth, wash his face and hands, prepare whatever clothes he wants for the day after, help him with the toilet and get him to bed.

Everything has to be done in a specific way. Just like with the fire there's a special procedure. A specific way to put the electric toothbrush in his hand and help him use it. A specific way to wash his hands. A specific way to prepare the water with which he drinks his pills. A specific way for... Everything.

And after he's asleep it's just me and Pete. Pete is a spider.

Maybe it's Just Me

There are very few deprived of emotion. For the rest, there is an abundance to choose from: love, hate, disgust, interest, abhorrence, fascination, dislike, excitement, amazement, pain, comfort, annoyance, sympathy and so many others. But we must also not forget that each one of those emotions and feelings have different magnitudes.

You can love your child and you can love chocolate.
You can hate stubbing your toe and you can hate someone who has hurt your close ones.
You can be in pain from a scratch or you can have your leg chopped off...

The thing is when we feel something we usually manage to trace it back to a basic emotion of sorts, at the very least we know whether we like it or not. However today I felt something new, something that I am incapable of putting into words and yet I'll try because I know that I must.

It's like an emotion in a dream. You think it's real, yet deep inside question its actuality. It confuses your being with its unfamiliarity.

I believe it is a feeling you get that requires someone special to you in a way different from any other person. And I don't mean regular special, I mean that sometimes you will look at this person and your mind will vibrate with the knowledge that the universe has altered space and time at some point to ensure their creation. You look at this person and sometimes you question either their humanity or your own, because you can't believe them to be a person just like you. Yet they are...

I'm not good enough of a writer to describe it. Were I painter, there'd not be enough colours to portray it. Were I a musician i would need so much more than sheet music and instrument...

And yet it is an emotion that yearns to be sang... It yearns to be painted... It yearns to be played... It yearns to be put into a mathematical formula... Anything as long as it can be represented... Which is why I am still writing.

And some of you will say it's love, but love is too wild, too passionate, too real and unmistakable. Love is scary and fleeting, real and old, but familiar... This was all in a single moment that echoed through my being, this was ultimate.

You know what maybe it's what you feel when you look so deep into someone's eyes you actually see their soul.

Maybe it's what Van Gogh felt as he looked at the sky and drew the dance of the stars in his Starry Night.

Maybe it's what Buddha felt when he achieved Nirvana.

Maybe it's what a person feels the moment he ODs on drugs.

Maybe it's what a person feels when they manage to look into the soul of the universe.

Maybe it's just me.

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.

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.

The night sky.

Here in the USA the moon is prettier than back home.

Why you ask?

Because you cannot see the stars.

Unnamed #2

You're born, and you're pure.

Seconds later, when your lungs activate properly and you start crying, that's it. Game over. It's all downhill from there buddy.

You live your life, you experience good times, you experience bad times, it's called life.

Sometimes the bad times are more than the good ones and at those moments you tell yourself life sucks. Sometimes it's the other way around and you're happy, but I don't believe either state can stick around forever.

So eventually if the bad times get too much, you've suddenly had enough of this sucky life and you decide you'll start anew.

You'll remove your past.
You might find completely new friends, the old ones connect you to you.
You might move away, you don't need that old place anymore.
You might start new hobbies, the old ones never worked out okay anyway.
You might find new interests, you've had enough of these old ones.
You might start listening to new music, the old one was nothing special.
You might buy new clothing, fashion changes everyday.
You might delete all your Facebook pictures, you don't need them anymore you're a new you afterall.

And then you say "Voila."

But you can't start anew. That's the thing about the past, it's your past. You can't ignore it. It is your life. It is your experiences. They leave scars in different forms and shapes. Mental, emotional, physical, psychological. You are not your scars, but they definitely helped make what you are now. No matter what or how much you change, a part of you will always be affected by these scars, by your deleted Facebook pictures, by your old clothing, by your old music, by your old interests, by your old hobbies, by your old town, by your old friends... by your past.

Your life is like a blank sheet of white paper, pure. Then you start writing on it, and the ink makes it impure. But the ink also gives it life. The ink cannot be erased. But the more you write the less important the first few words seem, but they will always be there.

In the end, you are you.