Happy Belated Anniversary

I actually missed my blogging anniversary. It’s been 5 years since I write whatever comes to my mind on this site.

In the beginning, I was shy about sharing my poetry and most of my older posts aren’t tagged at all. In the old days, this blog was mostly about music that I liked and I shared YouTube links. But then came the day that I realised that liking music didn’t make me a critic – and I never wanted to be a critic either. So? Why holding on to a concept I didn’t like anymore? I took off almost every music. I also took off most of my personal posts and began sharing my writing.

I am proud of my words. Of my writing voice. Sure, I cannot write a post without a mistake. I cannot write a poem without a mistake. But maybe that’s my signature? Lol…

I am not sure what the future will bring. But I learned that writing is more than just spending some time doing something. Writing helps me to filter my thoughts and put them in order again.

To everyone out there spending time here on this blog, thank you. I appreciate it a lot and I hope you never feel like you just wasted time when you leave my place.

Happy Holidays.

xx

When two become one

“I had these ideas about you. None of them are true…”
“Like?”
“Well… You’re a smoker.”
“Been one for 30 years. What else?”
“You’re smaller than I expected”

*He groans, rolls his eyes and puts his cigarette out with the heel of his sneaker. She’s embarrassed and nervous, trying to find words to say that aren’t offending or insulting in this awkward situation.

“Go on…”
“You are much more handsome than on your pictures.”

*He smiles. She’s back on track.

“What else?”
“I said “no” when you asked about being intimate on our first date. I meant “yes”.”

*The admission leaves her timid and waiting for rejection. She puts a lock of hair behind her ear. It jumps right back to where it was. He stands straighter, anticipating what will be happening next.

“I can’t see how this has anything to do with the way you imagined me to be”

“I judged you. I don’t know you.”

*It’s almost an apology. Almost.

“We spoke on the phone for two years.”
“I know.”
“You know exactly who I am. Maybe not my mannerisms or my daily habits. You know the deeper me. You know me better than anyone else.”

*It’s flattering to hear these words, but she is sceptical. Does he really tell the truth or is this his way of getting what he wants? It doesn’t matter. Who cares? She gives in. No reason to fight the feelings she doesn’t want to fight.

“You had me with that smile, moments before you said hello.”
“Two years ago I told you that I would never fall in love with you and that I only want sex from you. I lied.”

*She blushes and smiles at his feet. She still doesn’t know what he sees in her; she is short and overweight; and he could have every girl he wants.

“Come here… We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s make the best of it.”

*She nods. Their eyes are locked and their breaths mingle, moments before their lips touch. Her heart races and her knees feel weak. Electricity. He tastes of cold smoke and she can feel his smile on her lips. His hands find an immediate way under her shirt. The heat of his skin on her back leaves imprints on her soul that she can never wash off. She needs more of him. All of him. As much as he is willing to give. If he lets her in, she will submit to him, surrender to his needs. She will become his everything. With an urgency, they find the bed behind them. Clothes are quickly disposed of. There is no time to waste. Not even to appreciate the nakedness of the other. He used to ask her to tell him that she loves him. For the first time, these words leave her lips without being a lie, just as he enters her and fills her in a way she hasn’t felt in years. Completion. This encounter is more than she ever expected it to be. It is less too. Two lonely humans giving in to their primal urges after building up to this moment for more than two years. Everything they ever said, everything they ever wrote; every picture they ever shared – everything led to this moment. The moment when two become one. And although everything that is happening right there is ordinary, nothing about it is, in fact, ordinary. Moans, sweat, the scent of sex, the creaking of the bed. Two people who stopped thinking. Only existing. Become one.

Training

I work in a job where we are sent to trainings twice a year. Today I spent an entire day in training. We were a group of sixteen strangers. The training was about self-conception, our effect on the parents, and the use of verbal and nonverbal communication.

One exercise this morning was very uplifting. A stranger sat across from us. Facing one another, the stranger had one minute to compliment me. This was done twice. So… I had two minutes of compliments today and also gave two minutes of compliments.

Here are some things these strangers said to me which left an impact (or got me thinking). One man and one woman made these statements.

  • There is something mysterious about you
  • Very open and welcoming
  • Warm
  • Gentle
  • Humourous
  • Bright smile
  • Beautiful eyes
  • Curvy (yes… That too was meant to be a compliment)
  • I feel safe and accepted just sitting face to face with you
  • Very high tolerance for everyone, regardless of gender or anything else
  • Dynamic
  • Available to your friends
  • We could talk for hours on end if we met for a drink
  • Outgoing
  • Intelligent
  • Interested
  • Calm
  • At ease with yourself
  • There for your friends
  • You seem to be a person with a positive attitude who can find a solution to every problem
  • Would love to work with you
  • Beautiful when you smile

These are the ones I remember. The ‘you’ is me, of course. These things were said to me by people who I had never met before. It’s incredible how uplifting this exercise was. And, I recognise myself in the things they said, too.

I do want to add though: what is mysterious about me? Can anyone explain this to me? I’ve been told this more than once and I don’t know what to make of it.

Also, try to pay compliments to a stranger for an entire minute. It’s long…

Anyway, this made my day and I wanted to share.

xx

Cathy

Challenge accepted…

Before:

After:

Getting rid of the long hair was a big deal for me. 40cm (16inch) were cut. I always looked young. I look even younger now. Quite weird actually. This change of hairstyle happened spontaneously (on a whim) and after many years of being proud of my long hair.

While my kids aren’t fans of the short do (my daughter cried!!), I honestly love it and most people seem to like it too. (Or they are just being polite.)

I can’t really put into words how this feels. But I am happy 🙂

xoxo

Cathy

waiting…

Thursday night. 7:56pm. I am waiting. The sun is setting. It’s getting colder. But I keep waiting. Every once in a while, I take my phone out of my pocket to check for missed calls or messages. People are looking at me. I keep waiting. It’s only our second date. A concert date. A band that I like a lot but I had no one to come with me tonight. I asked him. Enzo. He said he would love to come. Enzo is Italian. Looks like one too. Dark long wavy hair, brown eyes with a sparkle. Really pretty eyes. His voice is a bit nasal, and he seems nervous all the time, buzzing with a restless inner energy. I have a cousin named Enzo too. Italian heritage and all that. But I am still waiting. The music started inside, and the crowd waiting outside where I am is thinning. The bass is droning. Where is he? I hope nothing happened. Another look at the phone. There’s a message.

Sorry. This is not going to work. Enjoy the show. Sorry. Delete my number. We shouldn’t get in touch. Got back together with my ex.

I read it again. But I don’t understand what I read. I had no idea that he considered going back to his ex. Then again, it was not a subject we had breached. I am torn. Should I go in, buy a couple of beers and listen to the music? Or should I go home? Yes, I was excited for our date tonight, but was I that attached that I will drown in self-pity? I consider my option. I look down the street. It’s nearly empty. Illuminated by the orange city lights. I look back at the club’s entrance. Two men who wouldn’t fit into my closet are guarding the doors. They are laughing. It makes them appear even more intimidating. 8:25. Shit. I have never been to a concert on my own. But I really want to see this band. I take a deep breath. It’s funny how sighing or taking deep breaths relaxes me. Out of my huge tote bag, I get my ticket. I paid for it. I’m going in. One of the burly guys scans my ticket while the other ask to see my bag. I should have thought about that earlier. Could have saved me the embarrassing moment of showing how many used tissues I carry around. Love will tear us apart says the man who scanned my ticket. I don’t understand. He must be good at reading people because he jerks his chin into the direction of my bag that is inspected. Indeed. The words he said are written on my bag. I just smile and nod. I hold out my hand for the obligatory stamp. It’s a teddy bear. Childish. Who chooses these things?

I walk inside. The music is loud. Too many people. And I am alone. I try my best to fit in. But I might look lost. At the bar, I see an opening. Maybe I am lucky and can order a drink without feeling out of place? To my surprise, it does work. The usual shouting and international signs for beer are used, but I get what I want. I turn around to make my way closer to the stage. A man stumbles into my path and something cold is poured down my front. Jeez. Jerk. I shout, looking at the mess he made and the merged beer and whatever liquid he drank that are now on my shirt. I am not sure if he heard me above the music. Our eyes meet. I know those eyes. They are green. Very pale. I take a step back. Small, cautious step. It’s him. Fucking hell! Him; the band’s guitarist and singer. And I just called him a jerk. I feel the heat rising in my cheeks. He looks at me. Watches me with his head tilted to the side. There is something like disappointment on his face now that I recognised him. Should I apologise? I didn’t do anything wrong. But he’s famous. Everyone around us is here to see him. And he poured his drink down my shirt. It’s a weird moment. I only see him. I know that there are people around us. Many people. But they are out of focus. Blurry side notes. Come, he orders and gently wraps his hand around my wrist. Too stunned, I just follow him. He pulls me toward the merchandise stand and asks for a T-shirt. All the time he has his hand on my wrist. He must feel my pulse against the calloused skin of his fingers and hand. I can feel it. Mine. My heart beat. It’s very fast. Almost uncomfortable. He turns to me and smiles. Again he orders me to follow him. And I do. It’s actually not careful to trust him. A stranger. But somehow, I do. Maybe I fell for the illusion that I know him because of his familiar face? Apart from my two greeting words I haven’t said a word. My mind is racing. My heart is too. He pushes doors open and shows his access all areas badge. In one hand he holds a shirt. In the other he holds me. What’s happening here? The music is not as loud anymore after we walked through another door. There are tables with food and more strangely familiar faces. People are laughing and teasing each other. Others are checking instruments. Batteries are put into guitars, strings are tuned. He shows me a door and gives me the piece of cloth he had been clutching in his hand. The one that hadn’t been on me. The moment he releases my wrist, goose flesh spreads where his touch has been. My skin is already missing his touch. Silly thought. I should dismiss it. And I really don’t want to wear a band T-shirt. But I am soaked. And so I give in.