It’s fucking Sunday. I promised myself I would publish things on Sundays, and that I wouldn’t use curse words here. How could I have been so ignorant of the obvious fact that I am terrible in following things through? Here I am. Sunday evening. Six unfinished blog posts accumulated over the week, and two fresh ideas trying to escape through my fingertips.
How the hell do you people do this?
I live close to Madrid. I woke up nervous and annoyed by the sunny skies outside my window, emphasizing my dark nervousness. Nothing helped; I tried skipping coffee, as it usually makes me even more tense, I ate a healthy breakfast, tried to watch something funny, but I couldn’t laugh.
At one point I was chewing a leaf of Romaine lettuce, while holding the rest of Romaine lettuce in my other hand. That was it. I had to get out of my flat! So I sat on a train, and less than an hour later I was in the centre of springtime edition of Madrid.
I left my flat feeling like the world around me woke up after a long winter, and I was the only part of nature that didn’t get enough sleep. I had to shed my old skin and feel new again, or to be precise, I had to go and buy some nice piece of clothing for myself.
As much as I despise the whole consumerism, capitalism, whatever-ism that’s going on in the world right now, those two new shirts in my wardrobe really made my day! And also, capitals of countries in general, are full of wonderfully weird people that will inspire you in different ways.
Today there were more transvestites in Madrid than I ever saw anywhere. They were all in their own world, each one for himself. Pink tops, bleached hair. Interesting ways of applying eyeliner.
I liked them.
I saw two really good looking men, sleeping on the sidewalks with their dogs. I guess they were homeless, but to me, they looked so cozy and comfortable, and I thought, well shit, i wish i was sleeping there with one of them. Yes. Loneliness can be very scary.
However, the first thing when I got off the train was to pick up my long overdue cup of coffee and then happily bounce towards the shopping streets. I got temporarily drowned in a current of marathon runners, that just seemed to have no beginning and no end. Balancing my café con leche above my head, holding my bag and my coat in the other hand, I performed a little running spectacle of my own, as I tried to cross the street in which the marathon took place. I investigated well before jumping in – there was NO other way to make the crossing.
I decided to find the whole thing charming, even though, while I was mentaly mapping my steps across the marathon, there was a man in his fifties, cheering at each and every runner on that street. He was loud and dramatic, clapping his hands like a sports coach with a very serious expression on his face. “You can do it! Don’t give up! You did so much, don’t give up now! There’s only a little left!” All the runners were ignoring him, without exception, but his persistance and his never-dropping level of enthusiasm astounded me. I guess that’s what we can all turn into if we give up on running ourselves.
It’s a familiar feeling, I know it well myself. When some ridiculous thing, like fear, stops you from doing the things you want to do, and so you end up living your best experiences through somebody else.Or you end up being deadly jealous of them. The way my aunt listens about my travels, half crying from just imagining to travel herself. The way it burns inside my chest when I hear of somebody else’s success.
Those are really pathetic little feelings. Mere signs of directions in which we should go ourselves. No reason to dwell on it. No reason to clap our hands endlessly at people who don’t even care if we’re there.
Well, that’s it. I’m tired. I didn’t have time to tell you about all the other things I did, families I saw on the train. Mothers with children, almost always without fathers, and when there actually was a father with the family, he would be staring at some young woman’s breasts.
I feel very conservative and dreadfully normal at the end of this day. Will try to mind my own bussiness on my next nervous day.