Blank space

My mind is blank as sheet of paper just picked out from the paper tray. I try to write but nothing comes out. Mixed feelings run through my head in a completely incoherent form. I type some words, build a phrase. I hate it. It is not what I want to say. But, exactly what do I want to tell people? Do I want to reveal the intimate details of my life, the ones that you only tell your closest friends? Do I want to “metaphorize” about the problems of day to day life? Do I want to dissert on the joys and bitternesses of love? I stop. Try to reorganize my ideas, but my thoughts still come out disconnected. What is happening to me??? I give up. Leave the writing and go do something else. Suddenly, like if a dam had been broken, a flow of coherent thinking rushes through my mind at 2000km/h. I run to the computer and try to type it all down. I write a couple of sentences. Shit! What seemed like some interesting text turns out to be another babbling amalgam of words, thoughts and feelings. I’m feeling frustrated. I’m going to bed. Maybe some sleep will do me good. Perhaps resting can bring back my writing mojo and…… I fall asleep. And I dream that maybe writing about life isn’t that hard after all. That maybe sometimes what we need to do is write things as they are and not as we’d like them to be or like we’d want the others to see them. I wake up. Another day is breaking and another post is written. Maybe some will read it, maybe not… but it feels good to be back.

What do women want?

I know a movie has already been made out of this question, which also gave rise to hundreds of books. Or thousands! Or tens of thousands! And I bet most of them were written by men, like me, who still try to grasp an insight on feminine thought. 

I mean, society (and by society I mean the romantic movies, the romantic comedies, the romantic books… all those things that WOMEN – yes, because the only times a guy watches those movies is when he goes with a girl he is trying to hook up with, or one he has already conquered. And yes, conquered is the right term, because getting a girl’s heart is the equivalent to a Charlemagne campaign with only one person! – like so much to watch and read) gives us this idea that a guy, in order to please a woman has to be gentle and sweet. The typical knight in shining armour… the true prince charming! 

Well as you all know (or at least some of you, if you watched a couple of Shrek movies), prince charming is a bastard! And actually that’s what most of them like! As someone once said, if a girl tells you you’re a sweet guy, basically you’re fucked. The chances of a possible relationship go down like titanic. To a woman, a sweet guy is the rank after her girlfriends. It’s someone they like to be with, go around and maybe even hold hands… but it will not go much further than that. As a humorist once said, sweet men are like the pandas… They are lovely, cuddly, women just adore them… And look where the pandas are now on the extinction list!

But it is also the kind of man to whom they won’t forgive a mistake. You do something wrong, bye bye.  The princes charming, however, to those they forgive it all. These guys may do the worst of the worst… and women will just forgive it. Of course they will look and sound offended at a first instant, but just give them a couple of days and you'll see them smiling and giggling like little schoolgirls to the most idiotic story from the most idiotic guy.

Of course not all women are like this… I know some that are looking for (and several that have found) the now-so-rare true gentleman instead of the everyday jackass. And is for these stories that I would like to think that today I am being unfair to some people. That maybe it is all an error in perception. That maybe my initial opinion (which seldom fails me) was not so wrong after all. Because for as much as I refuse to admit it, I still hope for hope…

Life...

And suddenly, the emptyness…

But the words keep bouncing inside your head like a squash ball, from side to side, hurting you at every hit, and all you can do is look at them. No chance to grasp their meaning, no chance to realize if what you heard was true or if it is all just a bad dream… no time to think.

The world seems to stop spinning and you feel like a hedgehog standing in front of the headlights of a Ferrari approaching at 300km/h. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide… no time to think. J

ust that inevitable and agonizing wait for the pain. You wait for that mercy blow that will end the suffering for good. But it’s not that easy. Instead of a quick finish you’re left with a dull agony, a stupid ache that leaves your senses numb for some time but that leaves you space for hope…

Aaaah… hope. There has to always be hope… at least to get everything fucked up again and again. You hope that things go well, you hope that things stay well, you hope that things end well. And you hope you’ll be lucky to hope again. Hope is that light at the end of the tunnel that you run into, to later find out it is a train coming your way.

I got ran over by a train today and it is still hurting like hell…