reconnaissance

I know it is a petty issue and I am being so too. But I have to confess it pisses me a bit when someone tries to discredit my help, thanks to which they can get the work done, after which, however, they need to believe they have done it all by themselves in order to boost their long oppressed egos. I understand that. I understand someone who always fails something beyond their comprehension needs that from time to time, but it doesn't mean I don't mind being used unrecognized. I am happy to see that my effort has fruit and they progress but I don't appreciate their self-illusion. But again, like I said, I am fully aware of the pettiness of the whole thing. I guess guinea pigs cannot understand the theory which is being tested in the experiment performed on themselves.

Crane walking by

I see revising one's past only useful when they interpret it differently every time and can get new understanding. I, myself, find myself reliving my past episodes very often but each time it is more abstracted from another level, which helps me to answer the present questions. 

    I once had this non-realized relationship with a sneakily flirtatious character. In my memory she now appears in the form of a crane, probably because of the way she walked. Slim and stealthy. Her interest in me was possibly due to her inquisitiveness into my sexual orientation. But I admit I was also attracted to her mysterious allure. We were drawn near as two strangers and lots of intriguing encounters happened quietly but I could never make the move because we were so young and I had doubt. 

    There was one particular scene still lingering in my head. She showed me shaft leading to the roof of the building she discovered par accident and her wet hair suggested that she had just came down from there as it was raining outside. She led me through the empty hallway and helped me to climb up. I spent the noon there watching the grey sky with hardly appreciable mountains in the background (I'd not known right outside the city I lived there were mountains!). I still remember the feeling I experienced on that roof in the drizzle: I was so in love, which had something to do with her but not specifically with her, not specifically with anybody in fact. Like I said, we were so young and I was only feeling hopeful.

    Nowadays I understand what in her I appreciated most was the unpredictable future, just like that in myself. I felt we were both about to take off anytime. I thought we must part from each other because the things we had not learned yet were too many but somehow we would be linked. There was a feeling of competition to see who was going to reach further, which had ended much earlier than I had expected. She landed and since then I avoided meeting her every time I came back because I do not want to see the loss in her. That fearless ambitious one is gone. What a waste. Now the reminder of her is still on that roof dipped in the grey blue hopeful sky.

Winds & wings

Mood: annoyingly over-sensitive

Not considering myself very keen on environmental issues, which is deeply rooted in my understanding of mankind, being nothing close to an animal lover, who is not scared by dogs, and seldom associating nature with sentiments, I do start to pay attention on the flying creatures while walking and find them amazing. Pigeons, sparrows, hawks, or crows, I cannot and do not care to tell, but watching them spread their wings floating into the blue sky against the cold wind, I couldn't help envying their ability to detach themselves from the ground. They could fly anywhere they want to, which although is not true deprives me of all the pettiness I felt in the chest. Does it matter? Does anything matter as long as I can go free? I won't go ahead to turn things too sentimental or try to symbolize more, but I want to remember the image and the feeling it generates. Those dark spots against the sky reminds me that sometimes it is all about flying away.

My categorization

Attitude: judgemental

I know it is wrong to consider people ununderstanding grammar (rudimentary rules I'm talking about) synonymous with idiots but I cannot help it. There is something lacking in them. I don't mean I don't make mistakes - spelling mistakes, punctuation mistakes (a lot), syntactic mistakes, or whatever mistakes that appear stupid, but at least I like it. ( Sh! you are not supposed to tell anyone, because that will make you look like a geek.) Next time if you come across somebody who claims that they love grammar, run away or get to know them better because there is surprise waiting.

The knowing look

I like writing early in the morning when my brain's performance best but I also enjoy writing in the evening on Sundays as if I am summing up and as if with a plan for the week to come.

    I cannot to get back to that amphitheatre full of people, where I always sit in the same spot and she will intentionally seek my eyes and at some point seeing me realizing she is looking at me gives a warm smile at me or when the difficult points come up she look for my reaction signaling my understanding. The tacit exchanges are always something amaze me. How it can happen between people who do not necessarily come from the same place or share the same codes is wonderful. It's happening to me all the time. Despite my passion for words, there is so much you can learn about a person before speaking to them. I like them already before hearing them speak. Her interest in me got me to invest more attention in her ('stalk' sounds too creepy). For someone who would not normally brag about their achievement showed their credentials in front of you, it is possible that they want you to know, right? And I knew she was different by intuition but did not realize that special! 

    Seeing the past she's lived, I find myself more 'planable'. I should not stop pursuing my academic achievement, about which I've hesitated for quite some time, particularly because my capacity allows me to go further. ' Stop putting you down' a friend keeps telling me. So I decide to let all my unresolved issues not be in my ways. They can always be dealt with. I don't know if many people tend to underestimate themselves, probably there are. The thing is sometimes people with greater understanding of things are confined by the narrow minds, making their living situation hard, that is when you have to get out. Even in the days I doubt the possibility to escape, I've always known I cannot live with them. Sometimes people are not stupid but choose to be. I am sorry, not an option for me.

For all my travelers

I appear shy and know how my audacity penetrates the air with my look and especially is manifested through my voice, which is based on my confidence on the that one aspect I both love and hate (because of the confusion it causes) about myself - being special. That is not something I choose but have to accept. Not being it is synonymous with faking judging from my past experiences. However, I think I am facing a situation relatively soft on my stubbornness, since I chose to prolong my school years in order not to be trapped. Weird, because some time ago I thought I was trapped but it turns out the opposite.
     I've always wanted to escape home. One the most suffocating image in my childhood was family dinner - the warm light from the ceiling onto the dinner table around which all family members were sitting quietly, occasional words exchanged. I hated it and couldn't wait to swallow down my food and run out to play. Outside, I feel better.
    I had a wrong concept of the world back then before seeing a map. I thought the country I lived in was the earth and the city I lived was a country. I was later self-corrected and it seems to me a waste to stay in one place for so long. I succeeded to replace myself many times and each time farther from where I were. Now I am thousands miles away from my birthplace where I have scarce to hold on to. Somehow it is not enough. So much to see and so much road to cover.
    However, the relative immobile four years here have allowed me a more lucid recognition about my aptitude and future direction. Thanks to the wonderful people I met, my doubts are less, although the sad thing is those people are also busy chasing their own unusual path. They keep leaving, so do I. We crossed the paths and although they don't disappear, the existence in each other's life cannot be materialized. That's the dilemma sometimes getting me down but carrying the memories of  all my dear travelers, I'll keep leaving the places becoming familiar.