The Good Place

What can I write about today. Can it be that sometimes we are loosing our inspiration momentarily or, is just a bad day.

As much as I try to ponder on that, I cant find a satisfactory answer no matter how hard I try. Feeling empty or obsessed by some thoughs doesnt bring anything but sorrow. How can we control our own minds, designing objectively a clear line of thought, a positive way to put us in a happier state?

Well, we could try finding a muse, one which should indeed help us “survive” a little longer and a little brighter. So how about a TV series called The Good Place?!

Tiresome feelings.

And so it begins again. It’s always mostly at night although it does manifest in the mornings too. I’ll take this out of any rule we have and just call it a stressful feeling.

Thinking about death constantly. Thinking about how to die in a way that’s not gonna make me feel any pain, at least not during my dying breath. I’m trying to imagine how it could be. You take whatever pills and if successful you never wake up. No more of those tiresome feelings, no more worries about how I could’ve done this or that better, no more regrets that tear you apart constantly, no more slavery just to pay taxes and hardly get by, no more looking for meanings, no more of everything.

Just the end, the end of it all and that’s the difference between life and death. Life is everything, death is nothing. No matter how calmly and logically one can realise how true this is and for a moment feel at ease, the same overwhelming feeling returns over, and over again. Simply unstoppable.

I wonder how long it takes before the distress will get you to commit, and execute your very last action. Its so bloody tough and pills can only make it worse. They take you out from true reality and in the end never pay off or worse.

Letter to my son.

You know, I wanted to share this with you. Really don’t know how exactly you feel about me. We both know that you don’t say much. The least I would think of me should have I been in your place, I would described my character as very unusual.

I hope you’re not embarrassed or even ashamed with what I’m doing. I was lucky enough to get to the point where I finally understood the ultra large picture and not the thumbnail icon throu which we normally see.

Looking at the thumbnail icon, we think we understood clearly what’s there, our brain classifies the image and done. In fact, we only see a small photo, we know what it is but we can’t see the exact details. Just like life. You always think that you know everything about it and you carry on.

Then, you take one wrong direction and you realise that everything you knew was so little. Those experiences, and I’m sure we all get plenty as we grow old, made me realise what’s more important for me. To extinguish the burning fire of remorse which would have lasted forever leading to my demise. To do the right thing.

For almost 3 years I lived hell on earth under the apparent happy face. I don’t know why it took so long, why almost a lifetime, however, just like I told you, WE ONLY LEARN FROM OUR OWN EXPERIENCES, no matter what others tell us and I am no different.

Maybe you can call me a slow learner if you want to make fun of me. I accept it. Bottom line is this. I have nothing else to prove myself besides leaving you with something good enough to avoid living what I had to live.

I’m not important and don’t need much besides my latte and my Davidoff cigarettes addiction so all that I’m concentrated now it’s you. Take advantage of me and what I am felling as meant to do.

Participate and say yes to every opportunity. Each one, wether you think you like it or not, will leave you with more, not less. In the real life, the chances to finding something to be paid and do exactly what you want are small to none.

The real deal is finding something you wont at least dislike. Be more enthusiastic, you have nothing to lose but a little time away from the 2 computer screens.

Just like the guy in the photo we have to push ourselves to succeed. He managed to lift almost half a tone and that’s the determination you need by your side to make it happen.

I love you, dad!

Donate 5 Euros for Bezos!

Donate for Jeff Bezos. He needs more!

Corporations like Amazon and managers like Jeff Bezos will put an end to all small businesses. The campaign will aim at interviewing workers working in fulfillment centers all over Europe.

The truth about the back breaking work, work accidents and very low pay will be uncovered. We hope that this action will put an end to slavery like working conditions as soon as possible. Please help us reach this very humanitary endeavour.

Lets make the world a better place to live and work. Please click on the link below for a donations no matter how small. Thank you!

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Live it. It’s short!

Haven’t spoken to a dear friend for over 2 years. As we were living in different countries we used to check in every now and then, always keeping the connection we found years ago.

He was a big hearted man, full of the kind of humanity we so rarely find on people. Being around his country travelling and planning to visit, I gave him a call just yesterday evening. No reply, his handy was off.

Didn’t worry much, we sometimes switch them off especially evenings but had a weird feeling for a minute or so.

Tried again this morning and still no reply. The phone was off. Found his wife’s phone number and called. She answered momentarily and when she heard my voice started crying straight away, knowing that me and him didn’t speak for quite a while.

That very second I knew something irreparable happened and started crying instantly as well, feeling her pain. It lasted minutes and she didn’t have to actually say anything.

They were the most amazing couple I’ve ever seen. Between them it was that pure biblical love. They were together since they were 16 and been together for over 40 years.

Healthy guy, healthy life, beautiful grand children, a generous person full of care for others, without any self interest whatsoever.

Came home and simply dropped dead. Aneurism and heart failure in minutes. She was away and never got to say farewell or one last I love you.

It may be late to tell someone how much you care or how much you love them and this proves how fragile we are no matter how healthy we appear to be.

Farewell my dear friend.

Donate 5 Euros for Bezos

Donate 5 Euros to put Bezos where he belongs. Sent to a life of isolation just like Napoleon. He will slowly destroy all independent business leaving us with nothing but his health destroying and “amasing” fulfilment centres, growing like mushrooms after heavy rain. Pay Pal account georgesmasons@gmail.com

The money will be used entirely to interview workers from fulfilment centres all over the world to show the real working conditions comparable to the slavery days, low pay and terrible targets requested by an ever unhappy management. It’s time to put corporations where they belong. A deserted island.

The Master and Margerita

Reading Bulgakov’s satire of 1930s Stalinist Moscow helped me understand how easy it is to mess up a nation psychologically.

In the novel, the devil and his retinue which includes a wall-eyed loon and a talking cat, manipulate “the Master”, a writer, and Margarita, his muse. The controversial and much-analysed conclusion to the novel is about the Master and Margarita being granted “peace” but not “light”.

I also read it as representing the mental state necessary for surviving in the Soviet Union and to some extent that can now be applied to the whole world.

In other words you can have some kind of inner peace in your internal life but you’re never quite off the hook. More importantly, I was surprised by the book’s sense of humour, mixed with the unusually fantastical. Definitely a must read for everyone.

Love…

Love is the substance of all life. Everything is connected in love, absolutely everything. Love is life and everything’s united by it. Love is God, and to die means that I, a particle of love, shall return to the general and eternal source.

Love is involuntary. Brain science tells us it’s a drive like thirst. It’s a craving for a specific person. It’s normal, natural to “lose control” in the early stage of romance. Love, like thirst, will make you do strange things.

Love is a wonderful experience. It’s one of the greatest experiences life has to offer. And it is something everyone should aspire to feel and enjoy. It’s love that holds it all together…it’s love that’s holding back the weather and the same will let it go. Keep love in your heart.

Indeed we can keep on going on the topic of love – as true as it is, no amount of words can describe and complete the tale behind it.

Lady and the dog

“The senator and the tour of inspection were invented to deceive you. In January, just as now, he did not go away, but stayed at Pekarsky’s, and I saw him every day and took part in the deception. He was weary of you, he hated your presence here, he mocked at you…. If you could have heard how he and his friends here jeered at you and your love, you would not have remained here one minute! Go away from here! Go away.”

“Well,” she said in a shaking voice, and moved her hand over her hair. “Well, so be it.”
Her eyes were full of tears, her lips were quivering, and her whole face was strikingly pale and distorted with anger. Orlov’s coarse, petty lying revolted her and seemed to her contemptible, ridiculous: she smiled and I did not like that smile.
“Well,” she repeated, passing her hand over her hair again, “so be it. He imagines that I shall die of humiliation, and instead of that I am … amused by it.

There’s no need for him to hide.” She walked away from the piano and said, shrugging her shoulders: “There’s no need…. It would have been simpler to have it out with me instead of keeping in hiding in other people’s flats. I have eyes; I saw it myself long ago…. I was only waiting for him to come back to have things out once for all.”

Then she sat down on a low chair by the table, and, leaning her head on the arm of the sofa, wept bitterly. In the drawing-room there was only one candle burning in the candelabra, and the chair where she was sitting was in darkness; but I saw how her head and shoulders were quivering, and how her hair, escaping from her combs, covered her neck, her face, her arms…. Her quiet, steady weeping, which was not hysterical but a woman’s ordinary weeping, expressed a sense of insult, of wounded pride, of injury, and of something helpless, hopeless, which one could not set right and to which one could not get used. Her tears stirred an echo in my troubled and suffering heart; I forgot my illness and everything else in the world; I walked about the drawing-room and muttered distractedly:

“Is this life?… Oh, one can’t go on living like this, one can’t…. Oh, it’s madness, wickedness, not life.”