Christmas

Ho! Ho! Ho!

Spellbound by the season's spirit, I must admit that this has been a strange year. From remarkable but pointless joys, to meaningless and yet painstaking sorrows, I have experienced a bit of everything.
But still, I must be greatful with my family, my job, my temporary sanctuary. But I am not.
A feeling of unexplainable emptiness lingers still. A lack of will and purpose to do what needs to be done. Having to accept the challenges that serendipity have lay down before me.

And Christmas?
This year I have started working before dawn.
May be I am just rambling on due to lack of sleep.
I think that somehow inside of me there is a sadness that lingers from the past. There is a romantic side of me that likes to hold on to these sad touches of life, hoping that somehow in the future there will be a way to get what my illusions call for.
Why must I be trapped to my meager dreams?
I wish I could make things right again. Release some pain and feel free to be honestly happy.

2017 has been crappy, there are still a few days to make it right.
If only....

Release me from my sorrows

Hollow pursuits - a 2017 memory

Crap!
My soul is spellbound to be trapped into a loop of soothing memories that are blended with the sugar coating of wishful thinking. This by itself would be something wonderful to sink my reminiscing teeth into, but much like the proverbial sweetener, these memories are not without some unwelcoming side effects that leave a bruising heart. The irony of these recent assaults of memory is particularly annoying for the timing of it all, for these hollow recollections are shadowing what could have been a promising relationship.

One might argue, that the above mentioned pursuit of a past meaning is actually being driven by the jump start of this new relationship  with someone that is an absolute opposite of whom my memory recalls so fondly, even though so undeserving how much paradoxical this might seem.
They say karma is a bitch, and the last episode to confirm this folk belief came with a bitter taste from a Zomato review. How could I have not remember to remove from my account the friendship with this past lovely foe? I wonder if this is the clogging of too much social media apps, and I worry to think how many more apps can stalk me in the future without me suspecting.
Let me clear this to you keen minds.
A few days ago, I have gotten a warning from Zomato that my ex had post a new review from a local restaurant, by clicking on the warning, I have got to see it and I  was also served with the expected but unwanted Intel that her heart was also being served a course of passion.
Curses Zomato!!!
Why did you sour my day? How could you? Could you not tell that we were no longer in tune? That despite my stupid persistence for a love no longer given, that I a cannot be serve any information about that woman, specially about her love interests who do not interest me at all (may they be very happy and never have sour times {my lawyers demanded I included this sentence}).
And,(yes I start this paragraph with And and a comma, to emphasize), how come does this have to affect me, my life and my own possible current love interests?
Why do I have to dwell on the lyrics of a certain Edward Vedder, when he prophetically wrote

I know someday you'll have a beautiful life under somebody else's sky
But why, oh why, can't it be in mine?

I guess it couldn't and it won't. Period! (thank you Mr. Spicer)
So, my request to the universe is simply this... take this pain away from me, reset my heart, and allow me to fall in love for someone who clearly is more willing and  has more to give me, with much more respect, love and care than the previous one did. Instead of that someone that had been singing from day one that this would not last, and it would be ruined somehow... What heartfelt delivery of passion was hidden behind those turbulent predictions, that unfortunately revealed to be true.
I guess, when we repeat something like a Mantra so many times, it ends up catching on and becoming true.
Maybe, we can start using for positive stuff and the world can be a better place.

Mental note - must give a try to positive mantras.

For now, I just want to purge the hollow pursuit of thinking about an ex-love as the relationship of a life, and instead seeing it for what it was. A passage in a specific time set, where I had to love, to learn, to suffer and to inherit a new Iris. As far as the latter feline is concerned, I think I got off with the better part of the deal. And I will enjoy it better too, just as soon as I get the bitter feeling out of the way and enjoy the new wonderful life's propositions, that seem more promising than what 2016 unravelled and to some extent 2017 have been painstakingly underlining.

Written fall of  2017

Hell is going to underline my pain

Such irony populates my life. I do not think I'm suffering from dystopian illusions or utopian dreams.
Life recently granted me Prospect of love. I like it.
Alas I am not ready to receive it. The fair gender has produced a willing accomplice for my adventures in this earth.
However my heart beats for another. This is an ancient beat. This beat has been receiving harsh blows. I hope it finally dies. It has been a mean beat... A cruel beat!
I feel as if it's my own personal hell as it undermines any attempts to move on with my life. The constant reminder of how weak, pathetic and foolish I was in a previous affair. Joke of the universe!
How I wish it was the affair to remember but unfortunately it has proven to be the affair that keeps on pushing me to grief and sorrow.

I do not deserve this!
I deserve the chances to write new memories with this new love that joyfully unfolds with each encounter.
My first reactions have been of comparison, of disregard, of complaints... When instead they should have been actions of welcoming and thankful sharing.

I hate this moment.
The crossroad of love, where a duel of fates unfolds...
Not a true duel.
Reality Vs a Fantasy.
 The fantasy of the rescuer that comes back to fight for me... Vs the reality of the true resilient fighter who is ready to unfold love with no strings attached, just good humour, romance...
So what is it about this past that traps me so. Why can I not let go, even after months of mutual neglect... Of knowing that the other person has found love in the arms of another. After being told in many ways that my presence is not desired... What is it that blocks myself... Why am I trapped into this delusion?
I want to shout
Scream a pain
Cry my sorrow
I feel intolerably lonely, while having the best of times with someone who is willing to share the world with me.
Why oh why do I linger in the pointless feeling...
I hate myself for being pointless

Loveless year

May all the ones who shed a tear of love for me for the past 365 days forgive me, as I am not worthy of such affection.
My focus has been to endure the loss of my own deception, as I did believe that I had found a love of my own to cherish the rest of my days.
The good news is that I have no idea when my demise is set to occur, the odd news is that the baseless search of a proper replacement came with catastrophic results to those who put their feeling in me.
I deserve love as much as any other fella but I am not able to love by request. The few times I was granted the feeling, I was a victim of its intrusion rather than a welcoming host. Still, on the odd moments where the tune was the same for both hearts singing, I was blessed with the desire of an eternal of bliss of such magnitude.
Sadly, the magnitude of the feeling was not mutual and the length was scarce, which brings me to current times, where love as no dominion, but only echoes with vague promises of whatever love may be can be heard in the dead of night over the digital waves of our time.
My pursuit of love is much based on the "baseless fabric of this vision" - a chance to share without reservation or condition; the possibility of feeling the connection through a wink, a smile, a touch, a sigh, a breath, a single demonstration of affection that would leave no doubt in the path for that most wanted road of love.
The digital airwaves have produced ironic results, a willing partner that had way too many expectations for what dreams may come, and a partner thousands of miles away that could as well be eons out of sync.
And any attempts to rekindle that which was severed exactly one year ago was received with a dire No, on the grounds of lack of reciprocity.
Attempts to approach people that share the same time and space with me have been futile, either if they have a common context or if they are completely oblivious of who I am, and find themselves surprised by the proposition that a complete strange may notice them and is willing to expose himself with the following words:
Hello! You strike me as an interesting person.
If you want to know more, I am there.

Two weeks later
A longer trial, with more facts being exchanged, only to be received with suspicion.
The current  world does not reward the brave fools who dare expose themselves to the possibility of an hello.



And like so many others, these past few summers are tragic to me.
Either my friends are far away, or I feel intolerably lonely by the deprivation of what I hold dear - my sense of conspiracy with a fellow human to inspire awe in a shared fashion.

It is impossible not to be sad for a second, when this day reminds me, of all the possibilities this year could have unfolded, if my accomplice of back then was in tune with me to conquer the world by the mere presence of love.

I guess no new love can blossom if the soil I have to offer is still tainted with the resentment of being a castaway from the voyage I was willing to share with a true immortal beloved.

A purification time is still needed. Maybe soon enough, my passion can be cleansed from all the clogged shadows produced by a path of wishful thinking .

I am getting tired of the constant failures pertaining this regard.
I want to deserve better luck and enjoy all the perks that come with it.

Delightful deceits of August

This month last year meant the end of a dream.
October after that meant the birth of an illusion
And for Christmas I was painfully free from illusions and dreams.
Reality kicked in 2017, but I still managed to give someone a deceitful illusion for the first half of January.... hurray to me :)

Now, I see myself facing what August will bring.
I was never in love with August. It haunts me with strange memories not pleasant.
I saw fires up close in the peak of the summer in 88.
As a boy, the summer, particularly during this month I would watch all my friends go way with their families for awesome vacations, where I would stay with my folks or would be taken to my grandparents house up North where there was not that much to do. Actually there was, but there were no kids my age to play with. So sometimes I would be bored.
In 2012, I saw my dreams being emptied by mere expressions of boredom.

I am trying to change my attitude towards the summer.
I am giving alone time a break.
So I pick myself and head off to the beach and read there.
As long as August does not trick me again in believing that good things will come, I think I will be fine.
But then, in 2013 I had a gift from Spain. Completely unexpected and dreamy for a few months.
It lasted all the way to February of 2014.
I guess there was no deceit there and it was delightful.

My life is like that delights and deceits.
I expect the best, but then somehow inspire the opportunity to spur its worse.
Is it my fault? Am I just a spitting  machine of platitudes? Empty words for full ideas without merit in a real world?
I wonder. I think I can be delightful in any month. But for some reason... August tends to bring me deceits.
This year, August will take me on a tour for work. That will be the delight. The deceit I will be working in motion - Spoiler alert: I bought Dramamine to avoid car sickness.

good grief. This august might make me want to throw up.
Well, I used to throw up on my way to my grandparents place... and that could happen in August... so no surprise there... but the journey then was deceitful. I wonder how it will be

I will keep you posted!

Anxious

Attention readers!

This morning I woke up feeling anxious. I woke up quite early. There was a erie feeling. Something is crushing my chest. I went to drink a glass of water, came back to bed and I was still feeling the same unrestfulness.

It is quite strange to feel so empty sometimes, specially after feeling so much joy during the past few days. I do not know what prompt this. Maybe I cannot shake the feeling of loneliness. 

I guess the anxiety comes from the unknown, from the inability to scrutinize what reality is offering us, but at the same time, the gifts given you cannot fully comprehend.

I'll try again to Slumber into deep sleep hoping to find a piece that is missing which hopefully will grant me some peace.

For now I would feel intolerably lonely if it was not for the care of the unique Iris.

Back in a few...

Requiem for two fantasies by an editor

Imagine, if you will, that you  have been granted the ability to dream, nay, to fantasise about two possible outcomes for your life.
One in a far away land filled with entanglements and journeys daring and heart warming to fill ten thousand life times. The other, close by, built by the specs of sand that cover any given beach. Sand that could be witness the birth of a shared look, gazing like a reflection yet unwilling, yet irresistible to condense in one second the same life times as before, but with the intensity that gods only knew when the light was born eons ago.

I tell you dear friends, this July has been a friend. Fantasies have been emerging from unsuspecting corners. But like " the baseless fabric of this vision" they leave me with the scarce memory of "what dreams may come".
For now, I sum the friendship beyond the oceans to rise my soul to heights of new comforts. I am pleased.
I do not count much more on these fantasies, but I am still thankful for the opportunity to dream. "To reach the skies" and believe that fantasies may fuel actions to shape realities. I am now content with the little visions this month unfolded.

The requiem for these fantasies is most certain, but the soothing memory will linger on, and most likely keep me going searching for welcoming strangers that appear by form or innuendo.

So as I am about to start a new week of image weaving I take the inspiration of these past days close to heart and hope that all that I do can fill others with the same contentment as "these spirits who apeared" confide in me (with words or with glances).

I am yet, a better person now. What more can I aspire to be...

Flight from the city

I flew.
I left a world of possibilities behind as the city on the edge of forever was moving further away. The delicate fantasy that once was... Was there no more. I cannot recall if I dove into it for a week, for a month, for an eternity. Something tells me that somewhere down the line I stayed there as a strayed cat that found a nest that would sooth the emptiness of  previous lonely paths.

The city showed so much promise, but like so many others, after over staying its welcoming allure, the city had no place for me. The air was too soft and the sun was too bright. The blindness was almost permanent if it was not for the heeded warnings of those who see far beyond the single nature of their own realm.

A missing link procures me. The feeling that I have been here before, down this road, but not exactly down this city. The familiar view of the clouds passing by my window remind me the unforgiving wheels of time invite me to become older, leaving new friends behind.
No fantasies are allowed in the unforgiven setting of reality. Platitudes are presumed to be the norm of the falling dreamer. Once wrapped about his thoughts of possible ways, the dreamer now awakes as a stowaway, somewhat delirious with the faint sounds of the unwilling siren.

What is it that the cities of the world seem to be populated with creatures that feed of emotion but can only dwell in logic, accept not the mere proposition that the propulsion of any dream  comes from the challenge of that the status quo and the willing to prove it wrong, hence replacing it for a review version, which allows dreams from any city to write the rule in any world.

Now, as I am about to collapse to oblivion, I am ready to surrender to the logical thought that emotional dream for the fantasy that was on this city, was sadly not to be.

And so, I carry on, yet alone, yet lonely.

But who remembers...

Seamless scream for relevance

Instagram has ranked worst for young people's mental health according to a study.
I have used rarely as a publisher and occasionally as a viewer. To this date, I think I have about 20 or so entries.
I know that I every time I go there I end up feeling bad about something and it is always related by some post or comment by someone dear  to me. The same thing happens to me with Facebook, which in turn leads me to shut down my social media accounts now and again. My friends then react demanding my return, which I guess is another way to call for attention. But I do feel that social media is somehow toxic to me and I am not sure if it is because the way I interact with it. Maybe it is normal for me to get these down moments as a member of a species that is growing more and more into vanity, and where I realize that I do not have anything to be vain about. Which poses the question are we vain out of our acceptance by others... doing whatever we can to call the attention of the beholder.
We love to be accepted, so we use these outlets as a way to carve a perspective we want others to have of us, albeit distorted as we want others to see us under a better light. And so, we go off into to our smartphones, tablets, computers and alike to push images of places visited, people interactions, foods not yet tasted, paintings barely seen, quotes overly stated, quirky and intellectual expressions of the ego, to later jerkoff on the reactions that we hope it  might produce.
Why do we do it though?
Are we really crying out for relevance?
Do we need to find the love in the empty expression of others, by means of emojis, likes, hearts, or short sentences of support?
Do we really feel more connected to each other, now that we are promptly ready to contact anyone that is available through the networks?
These are questions that surely sociologists, psychologists, and other logists out there, are dwelling, but it seems that the outcome will not matter, because we will be carrying on, just like smokers keep on appearing regardless of the warnings by the health community. We like to some extent toxic environments, but we like to desguise it with the bipolar plant to make us feel more intune with nature, but then we scream to the person that lets a dog run freely to its contentment in a park. But I diverge.

A friend said to me, that over of us lies an elite that laughs out of our childishlike behaviour as we are engaging on irrelevant questions that biased media outlets convince us of being relevant, while we are being prompt for life styles that we are lead to believe are right for us - music, film, tv, food, books, places to visit.
Really, people! There is so much noise out there and yet cannot help but contribute for the clogging of visual content over the digital airwaves.
We desire to be meaningful, to leave some footprint in the digital landscape, but our distorted sense of satisfaction comes from the recognition  out of what we leave behind. It is no wonder that all of the social media out there allows you to like or comment. We need this. "Tell me if you like this". But the more the merrier.
For the dystopian view of a senseless world where the networth of an individual is measured by likes I turn you to Black Mirror's "Nose dive".

(Blogger app just lost some of my text). I guess I should stop writting now.)

 

Memories of love spark dreams of comfort

I won't pretend to know what happened last night.
I decided to play the 8 hour Sleep by Max Richter, that by his own admission,  is a piece intended to be appreciated while sleeping.
I know that I had a couple of dreams that were very soothing.
One was about power sockets that needed replacement.
Another was about soothing displays of affection towards me. They were inspired by a love lived not so long ago and yet still yearned. I cannot say if the music just reflected a wish that seems to be impossible to take place in the current time line, but somehow felt as comfortable as the overwhelming nature of a perfect moment shared by two people who love each other without conditions, without rules, just fulfilling a desired to be accepted by the only person that makes sense.
The dream was not sensual, but it had the kindness of a kiss invented to express recognition of existence. On that moment, the memory of that kiss, felt to me as if I was the most significant person to the one that was kissing me. It was not a glorification, but tender, cared.
How the words fail  me now. How the  poet in me is still trapped in that dream, and refuses to put in to words the intensity of a love shared on a dream.
Sadly, this is the realm of reality, and I have no substance of experience to realize the nature of that feeling.
All I know is that is inspired by a moment once shared, and now is but a wishful thinking of that which reality brings me no further. The uniqueness of the purest kiss, conceived by the fairest of those who ever lived, can only be relived in this dreamers dream, for the motionless train can no longer carry the love of two, when one is burden by some other sort of love.
Of my lover I can only say this.
I hope that she may find in this reality a love so passionate and pure, as the one I lived on my memories last night as was performed by the cast of players of my dreams.
Selfishly, I shameless confess that I wish nothing more than to be the lover that gives and receives the building blocks of memories not yet formed, but forever yearned.
Dammit I love you
The emptiness lingers still as you are no where to be found, by your will alone.
May your will keep you out of harms way and remind you of endearing memories of my love for you, so that you may wake up in a dream fulfilled by your loving memories of me.

Natasha e José

Natasha and José are a couple that celebrated the combined age of 100.
This happened today.
They did it in style.
They prepared their favourite dishes.
They gather friends, family and me.
To this day I had never seen José and I saw Natasha once at a birthday party.
But today, I was immersed in this rather unusual celebration, by one of her friends, someone who has become quite a remarkable friend as of late.
I saw people saying poetry, performing mini sketches, interviewing the birthday boy and girl, singing songs, mimeing in group, wearing ballons on the head. It was an homage, not just to Natasha and José but also to the people who mean the most to them. I saw a true celebration of love.
It was almost anthropological my interaction with these dozens of people as I was an appointed outsider that was cordially allowed to witness one of the most impressive displays of love I have seen in recent years.
Fortunately, I am blessed to have a family that organize special events to celebrate important dates within the family, that do not fall short in anyway to express love.
We write songs, record video sketches, say poetic toasts indulging the honouree.
I have very few words to say about what I saw today, but I just wanted to leave this record as a reminder of this unique party that I was blessed to attend.

With all my love

How I wish I could have found strength in me to invoke all the love this universe has ever known and channel it to you. How grand could it have been to hold you close just one more time, not just for my enjoyment but for ours. How I would have loved to vanquish your fears and dreads and cast light towards a better path, a shared path, one that was meant for our love to grow. How come did I lose the battle of the eternal flame of passion,  when I was so  willing to join you from sun to sun in the pursuit of our inner voices, so that they might sing in a lovely tune that would in turn inspire millions to follow suit over their chants of love. How far would you be willing to go, if the softest kiss could have lingered as an immortal memory, to keep your weary self confident when in doubt, to fill you with joy when crossing the miserable rivers of unwanted sadness, to cure you from a venom that was never meant for you, but alas has found a tragic way to be carried on, from generation to generation, and was supposed to be over by the sheer simplicity of love.
How long would you have kept me company if the love I have for you was somehow the love you would have rivaled with the love you had for me. Would you kept going beyond the erroneous belief that things were forever lost, due to darkness that grew from within?
Would you have found the simplest spark to light up a new universe with in my heart? And would you, if you had the persistence to keep me by your side,  please tell me, how would you persuade me to believe in us one more time? And do you think, that in this timeline, what was valid for me once, could in turn be used to sway you back, to show you that we are truly bounded by love.
If only, I could spread the magic of the comfort of love and build new bridges for a better tomorrow, may be then you would burn the bridges that lead you through shallow ways
Know this, even though our paths are no longer meant to be drawn together, I respect this existence and I hope that you are indeed well and I thank you for all that you left behind, a unique set of memories of an unique passionate love.

What we leave behind

I caught this title from the ending of the Deep Space Nine series.
I liked the idea that we always leave something behind.
Maybe in everyday of our lives, we are constantly choosing what we take and what we leave.
Granted that everyday, life seems more like a string of choices that can be rewritten if we just go back and redo a bit of the past in the continuous present. Today, if I call a friend, I am choosing to grant attention to that one person in particular, leaving a series of other possible encounters behind. But tomorrow, I may call another and thus instill the illusion that I am not leaving anything behind, but instead make conscious choices by will, keeping day by day what matters close.
A poem, a music, a film, a play, a painting, all these expressions of art are continuously undergoing selection by what stays and what moves one. Every now and again we revisit some old favourites, to keep them fresh in our memory.
Alas, with living entities we often are faced with the painstaking fact that some things that are left behind, do stay beyond our reach. We often invoke them by memory but that is a fickle trick, one tapestry that almost immediately loses grasp of the original moment. For a fainting moment it allows us to recall the highlights of a particular event, but without actually experience the full spectrum of nuances that the whole extract of life had right there and then.

Personally, there are many things I miss.
I do dwell on recollections to preserve a fresh sense that what I have left behind is not so far gone that I cannot somehow feel it as being some echo from yesterday. My memories will eventually fade away to oblivion as my faculties start withering and ultimately, when death leaves my body and memory behind there will be nothing left.

There is a constant hope, some comfort notion of an afterlife existence, albeit unproven, whether by reincarnation, spiritual evolution, transmutation, you name it... Religions of different sorts hold its believers hoping for a life after death, where somehow we can reencounter all of those that has left us behind so long ago.
There is no proof that it may be so. For now, the marks we leave, each of our living days til we die, are in fact all that we can be certain that we actually are leaving something behind. Hopefully those that survive us will carry on the tale of our existence for generations to come. Plus, if the deeds he made in life were worthy, those too will carry on.

I leave this entry, one of many, behind. Hopefully, this text will outlast me in the physical world and might hold some meaning for someone I will leave behind.    

State of Life

Hello dear ones!
I am not sure if I still have any readers (or if I ever had), but I will keep writing just in case I am the only reader.

Nothing extra to say. I am still alive, despite the emotional earthquakes.
Still here.
Still alive.

Friendship

Should we dare to say whatever we think to our friends?
What if it is a matter of opinion about an issue they did not even asked but concerns them?

I sometimes wonder how far should I go to tell a friend to go colm monkeys out in the jungle rather than tell me their views on specific items that affect me dearly. Maybe I am not ready to engage them on their turf of opinions, specifically if they have to do with situations that I am not dealing well.

Having said that, what gives me the right so vomit ideas towards closest friends, with the arrogance that my view on something that was not asked for, called for, is the right on, and worse, that they need to know it... because for some reason, my view of the world is the right one.
Well its not.
But neither is theirs.
We just all pretty much agree on a set of ground rules to make the world a semi-understandable place, when in reality is a very complexed place.

Oh well... I am not in peace with some of my friends now. But I need to be in peace with myself first.
Still, I do not feel troubled, I just do not have patience anymore to bullshit, even if it comes from my most endearing friends. They will not stop being my friends, I am just not going to take it anymore.

Hopefully

Does money buy love?

The other day I was driving home late at night and I decided to fill the silence within the car with whatever sounds the regular programing of the national broadcast radio was offering to its listeners. To my surprise an interview to a famous portuguese comedian was on and I was drawned to his specific answers that stayed in my mind and led me to put these words here.
Still, its not without surprise for me that this comedian showed such an intense view on subjects like suicide, happiness, depression, love, wealth.
At one point the interviewer mentioned a quote by somebody the comedian knew that read more or less something like this:

"Money can buy true love"

The comedian agreed and offered some stories to reveal how money can sustain the endearing part of a growing relationship and by opposition, how the lack of it can blur, with the greyish and sour nature of a succesion of poor days, the purest of love, by occuping the clarity feeling with the dirtyness of perception.
He implied this by sharing a story of two couples he knew on opposite situations, one that was the typical woman that loved the comfort that the money of her lover could buy and eventually realized that the money was only a means and that the man was such muc more, and a poor couple that had two glorious weeks in wealth and that when they returned to their meager condition they could not linger in the passion of that fabulous fortnight.

I could not help but reliving some of my own experiences on this field, and oddly enough I found that I agreed with the proposition. For sure, money does not buy happiness or love, but it is a powerful catalyst in sustaining the nature that leads to it.
Which leaves me with the question. If money does play a role in buying love, does it come a time where the love is pure and true to withstand the lack of it?
Think about this for a moment.
Imagine that you had lived for two weeks in a glorious richful setting that helped you live a fantasy that for all ends and purposes can be mistaken by true love; and when your days in "paradise" are over and you and your love interest return to the bland reality of everyday life and then find out that what was fueling the love was not the relation but the setting - would that relationship last if the setting lasted?

Some friends have frequently suggested  that some relationships fail because what drives love is not the true nature of the person but the idea we make of the individual helped by the circumstances that are being lived while making the acquaintance that lead to intense passionate affair - but is it love?

The proposition of the comedian was that if you live in the beautiful setting for a prolonged period of time you eventually pass the point of no return and you become head over heels.
However it was no clear in his interview that if a change of scenario took place would the loving couple change its view?
In some cases, crises provoked by outside parties can affect the stability of the relationship. Is it fair to blame the rupture on these sources of disruption? Or is it more honest to see the feeble nature of the couple, that at first sight of trouble, found that the exit was the solution?
Is true love something easy that flows or is it something hard, that constantly resists the harshness of time?

Being a professional single for the past 40 years, with some ponctual moments of affection in my relations, I do wonder about the merits behind successful relationships. My parents for instance. They started their relationship in a harsh scenario. My mom was a modest young woman that was raised on a rural village in struggling conditions that work hard to find a break in the big city; while my father had already 4 children from a previous marriage that ended badly, mainly because of the emotional instability he had due to the unpleasant effects of an overseas war with the colonies.
But still, they had me out of wedlock, they managed through odd times find the delicate balance that allowed them to be together for almost four decades. The eventually got married after 12 years of relationship, and my mom took care of my father until he died at age of 84.

The comedian also said in his interview that life is more like a wagnerian opera that mainly feels like a long dull four hours with ponctual moments of sublime beauty and awe.
My parents life had this simultide as so many other lives in the modern times.
But still the money or the lack of it does play a part in the way we perceive the way we want to feel the tune of our lives.

Limelight

"Life can be wonderful if you're not afraid of it. All it takes is courage, imagination ... and a little dough.' 
Cavalero

Friends, nothing could be truer.
For Life is rather wonderful, full of awe and amazement if one just steps aside the ill perceptions and accepts the unfolding of events as an active player; rather than being a mindless spectator, someone who expects events to come to him and drag him out in a sort directionless raft that may actually take the poor sod anywhere worth going. 
The chances to take life's paramount nature are all there.
At every turn, in each second, with each breath.
We might let pass a few but soon, for sure another will definitely  ensue. And the true wonder of this little spectacle of chances is that the act that can make a difference can take place early on or just before your very last breath, with a kind of poetic justice that is written like the very last footnote that arranges all the previous actions up to the point in such a way that one's perception is changed, and what seemed to be a series of seamless unrelated events finally holds meaning.  

And all it takes is...

Courage to act
Imagination to know how to
Dough or luck to apply it when it needs to

For my part, I know that I have missed so many twists and turns in my life to make a difference, but I cannot ignore the load of opportunities that to this day I have grabbed the best way I could. 
Our actions, they are all up for interpretation, depending of the beholder. Trust me that they can always be played for better or worse, and perceived the same or inversely.  
But the beauty of if it all, is that even though those opportunities happen once... New opportunities will soon appear, prompting fresh results, unthinkable possibilities leading you to new and unfolding venues.  
For all that is worth, the limelight of life is comprised with right performance in the right time. 
It is the true action that needs to take place, either by word, silence, or momentum. 
The limelight will be remembered for the right chance taken by the performer.
The unique nature of how wonderful life can truly be is measured by the timing it takes to enjoy the right moment fully. 
And the right moment is now, with each breath, with each second, with each page turning.
So I dare you all, to rise for the moment that is now and take this life with the joy and sorrow that the event inspires you, but live that emotion fully because the opportunity is before you right now.

Thank you Mr. Chaplin for this lesson on humanity, through your own Limelight that inspired these simple but heartfelt words.

State of self

Hello everyone!

I am writing these words a few weeks after turning 40.
The feeling of crossing this fourth decade was not as harsh as it was when I was turning 30.
I think I had far lower expectations for this period of my life than when I was in my twenties wondering of all the achievements I would reach when I would eventually complete my thirty birthday.
I guess I can be proud of some accomplishments.

I wrote a page long of good thoughts and bad thoughts about my self. It was a hard raw look at my life.
Blogger's bugs lost these considerations i made.
I guess they served to merelly therapeutical.

My call for attention will have to be done some other way. I can say that I feel worse now than before writing.
I will sleep on this and hopefullly wake up feeling refreshed.