I’ve had one weird ass weekend. Throughout this particular weekend, I’ve had two big contradicting thoughts – one being that fucks sake, my life is a whole lot more interesting than that of most people, and yet the other one was how foolishly I’m living my life. Now the question is whether being foolish and short-sighted, but happy is better than not being happy at all. Now to give you context, by foolish I mean how fucking pretentious I am. And I keep on saying I hate pretentious people, but here I am, sitting at some place in the capital, waiting for my meal, when I could easily have had a snack, went back home and do this from my own bed. But I choose to stay here longer. I know it doesn’t mean anything. I know very well it will not last. I know this has no point, because the final result is the same. But I choose to be in this atmosphere. Just like I choose to get close to someone knowing very well they will probably hate me in a months time, here I am choosing to have modern impressionist paintings around me in an empty bar, waiting for the sweet little ginger girl to bring me my stew. I choose to have that bartender judge me, since he has nothing better to do but stare at his phone and the people around, since it’s only 5 pm and nobody’s drinking yet. I enjoy this. The alternative being me on a train home, having dinner in my boring, wood-filled kitchen. I would save a whole lot of money though. And that’s the part of me that wants regular life. That wants to settle down and do what society says one is supposed to do being the age that I am. But I have this need to enjoy the process. I have this urge to have things around me nice. It’s so horribly difficult for me to work in an atmosphere that is one little bit off. It can be all perfect, but that one person in a cafe that’s just bugging you, that one light that’s just a little too bright or too dim in your living room. These details bug me to the bone. But it’s not the existance of it that annoys me, it’s not that a tile placed wrong fills me with hate. It’s that these details tend to fuck up the overall vibe and then the mood is off so badly I can’t even focus. I was chatting to some stranger at a few weeks ago. He didn’t know me much. After a day or two, he defined me as a person, who has to have everything cosy. ‘You have to have everything max cosy, don’t you?’ he said. And he really did have a good point.
A middle-aged couple entered. The gentleman wanted a beer. He asked the waitress what did they serve, she wasn’t competent, she didn’t know beer too well. Girls don’t drink beer. He decided to have a leffe at last. The lady wanted a pina colada. The little ginger girl came back in 46 seconds saying they couldn’t make a pina colada at present. The man was angry. In derogatory tone he said they’d have to go somewhere else. As if it was the little ginger girl’s fault they didn’t have some ingredient. They left.
I just keep on thinking I’d rather have a process that leads nowhere, but makes me happy, rather than suffer at present to have a big future. People keep saying that no direction means degrading. It doesn’t have to. If you know what you’re doing and why you’re doing it, if you keep on trying to find yourself, actively, that’s where happiness is. One of my idols right now is this guy who’s been travelling all summer and he’s now in Argentina, trying to figure it out. I don’t believe he plans this ahead. He just goes along with whatever life throws at him.
Why did I order a chilli stew? I’m no spicy eater. I did it once as a challenge to my stepdad and now I pretend I like spicy food. Gives me character you know. Your typical white girl won’t be ordering the extra spicy burger, will she?
The connection is off again. I’m stealing wifi from the place nearby. Should just connect to my phone probably.
How does my mate say I fit in with this city. People here are either minding their own businesses or looking like it’s fashion week. I’m neither of those. I don’t know who I am. A girl just walked past the window. She looked like an ootd picture on instagram. I would like to live here someday I think. I found myself not wanting to leave the hotel this morning, that’s how much I enjoyed the noise coming through my window from the street, sitting on the windowsill drinking my coffee. I didn’t want to move. Just sit there with no clothes on, watching the cars on the street.
Baby, love never felt so fine. And I doubt if it ever could. Not like you hold me. Hold me.
My thoughts are getting inconsistent. This valonia blanc is kicking in.
Girls don’t drink beer.