Making my list, checking it twice

I love this time of the year when everybody is making their lists of resolutions and swearing to keep them, cos’ this time around it will be different, I’m sure. We promise to stop drinking, smoking, picking wrong partners or to start eating better and exercising regularly. Usually there’s a list of 10+ things, conveniently enough, never written down so that the 8 out of those 10 things  from our lists can be forgotten as soon as the alcohol we self-medicated with on the New Years Eve wears off.

I’m always so imaginative with my list making, especially if I’m a bit tipsy; than I’m like Hemingway ready to go of into the world and do….something.  I want to conquer the world! Travel! Write more! Drink less!  We are all pumped up to stick with our resolutions this time around, even though we know that in about 2 weeks time gym, we so eagerly started on 2.1, will be conveniently relocated at our local, friendly bar and the only exercise will be doing is calling for another round.

All this got me thinking about past list-making and past New Years Eves and impact they had on little ol’ me. Lets rewind to a New Years in early 2000’s. I was with my boyfriend, at the time, on an island, cocooned in a blanket in his arms. He was, by far, the kindest and nicest boy I was with to this date. He looked at me and said: “How we spend New Years Eve is how rest of the year will look like, so we should spend it in love and happiness.” It all sounded wise and meaningful, but hey, when you’re a kid everything sounds wise and meaningful. It comes with the territory, along with wearing all the wrong things to all the right places. Looking back to my past New Years Eve celebrations I couldn’t help but notice that maybe there was something to all that New Years Eve- rest of the year connection after all.

Fast forward to last years celebration…I was with my last boyfriend. We didn’t do much to celebrate, even though it was our anniversary. Our 4th anniversary to be precise. We ate a dinner he made, talked a little and ignored each other for rest of the evening. One particular part of that evening popped out in my head;  It was about 3 a.m in his small, one bedroom apartment overlooking a park. He was asleep and I was looking out of a window thinking how I wasn’t happy and wanted out. Out for a walk, out of that relationship, out of everything. It didn’t take us long after that to brake up for the first time, get back together and that a few months later brake up for the last time leaving me broken up six ways to Sunday and him with a new girlfriend in, literally, 2 days. It goes without saying that 2013. sucked royally for me. This year I was smarter, though. I celebrated with a bunch of friends while drinking, eating, dancing, singing the night away and I found myself at the crack of dawn dragging my tired but happy ass home. That being said; 2014. please be a kick ass year!

Maybe the kind and nice boy was right, maybe it all does come down to pixie dust we feed our selves with on that one night. Maybe instead of laughing of our resolutions, we should embrace the positive energy that comes out of it and use it in our advantage. Maybe we all should dream big and smile more. What do you think? Have you made any resolutions of your own?




The odd man out

Let me start by telling you a little story about moi, so we all can be properly introduced; I’m a 20smth girl from a teeny-tiny country no-one has ever heard of. I decided to start a blog  yesterday, on a plain old Saturday while I was in a shower getting ready for a beer at a local place that’s not that easily categorized, but for sake of an argument lets call it a pub, even though it really isn’t.

Anyway, I was happily washing my hair and when it dawned on me that I’m going out….on a Saturday night…with two couples. They are one of those types of couples, whenever I invite the female half of any of the two couples mentioned for a coffee or drinks, the males seem to follow and definitely are one of those couples you could name by combining both of their names into one, like Bradgelina except for insanely good looking people making that pair. This particular Saturday,also, marked one more important stepping stone; my best friend started dating a colleague and when she called to tell me the good news, she said: “Darling, it’s just you now!“.

I’ve been used to It’s-just-me label and it never bugged me really, never felt different than everybody else, no scarlet A anywhere on me. Just me and I was fine. Just me is good. Just me is liberating. Just me means I’m building my own empire and the world is my oyster.

Yesterday, however, my two couples invited a third couple to join us, a charming and funny pair to be honest. We were all laughing and having fun when the girl behind couple no.3 asked whether or not I am seeing someone. I replied: “No, it’s just me!” with a proud smile like I’ve just climbed Mont Everest. Oddly enough, that smile was knocked right out of my face with a slight but oh so obvious pity “oooohh…” and a shrug of shoulders from, up to that point, very nice girl. It felt like, in the awkward silence that followed,  she didn’t want to ask why or any other stupid ass question like that, because she might offend me like there might be something I could be offended by in that situation or even worse, that I might have to apologize for being single. That moment marked the first time I truly felt like the odd man out.

An hour later, faking a yawn I paid for my beer and politely waved to my couples friends and went home. On the way  home I stopped at a bakery and got a warm pizza with sausage on top.” Delicious and will go directly to my ass making it a size bigger” was the only thought I had going home at quarter to midnight. Munching on my pizza, I had some time to reflect on what just happened and the more I walked the more I was pissed of by a fact that It’s just me isn’t good enough by standards I had no input in making.

Well, fuck you very much for trying to impose your own standards and visions of the world on everyone else. I, quite frankly, couldn’t give a rat’s ass about what people do with their OWN lives, whether that means that you are gay/straight/bi or a couple/single or even change girlfriends/boyfriends more often than most people change socks. However, I do expect the same curtsy back. That seems to me to be the biggest issue these days; people go out of their way to make everyone else feel like the odd man out.

That’s how this blog was born. A pissed of, bit drunk, 20smth girl wanting to write her own Manifesto saying to the world what ever she liked. That’s the beauty of Internet and I plan to take a full advantage of it.