Monday, June 17, 2013

Poker face

Or that is, the lack of one.
I really don't have a poker face, nor I am a player.
More, I have been recently told, I am terrible at playing the game, because you can read on my face everything that goes on inside my head.

Needless to say, it wasn't referred to the card game poker (although I am sure that the suggestion applies).
I can't play with feelings, I am not able to manipulate people.
You'd think this is good. Apparently, it is not.

Luckily and once again, I have to thank for being such good friends, that are less naive that I am, and can (and do) watch my back.
When I complain and I say that I'm too naive, and I blame myself for that they say "It's ok, it's not a bad thing".
Or is it?
Sure, I guess that not being a selfish, self-concerned, manipulative individual that plays with other people's feeling could be seen as a good thing. 
Then why do I wish I was more like it?
When did having bad qualities became something valuable?
Sure, I am happy and proud to be an honest person. Deep down I don't really wish I was any different, but it would sure save me some troubles and heartaches.

I'll be honest and say I don't think it's any different anywhere. I don't really think that Sweden is so much worse than Italy is, or any other place, really. Just the general behaviour is different.
By this I mean that most people and what people do the most is casual sex and hook ups. Whereas the same I am sure it happens in Italy, it is much less so, at least in the small community where I come from; and this always to the extent of my knowledge anyway.
Again, I don't mean to say in the slightest that Swedish people are "manipulative players" and that doesn't happen in Italy. Quite the contrary, I am used to a society where you do get judged for having casual sex (let's be honest, it is like that), whilst here is quite common; really it's more unusual the contrary. And no one judges for that, which honestly I find quite refreshing.
So I am sure that you get players in Italy too, just you encounter them less because people don't sleep around that much. Probably this also means that the ones that lie, do that so much more and more often. 
A friend of mine knows a guy that is commonly known - admittedly not by everyone - to have multiple girlfriends at the same time. He does it constantly. He seems like he cannot bear to have only one girl at the time, and he genuinely likes them both, and just can't choose.Poor guy, I really pity him.
So, I wonder:
If everyone sleeps around anyway, which need is there to lie?
If the gal is clearly into you (guilty as charged), why make up stuff?
See, I can be innocent as you like; but I'm not that stupid. You could have gotten the girl (that is, clearly, me), if you hadn't been that idiotic. Now I'm all suspicious and probably you won't get into my panties after all. Too bad for you. Because, see; I know I can't play, so I avoid it altogether. But you think you can- when you cannot. And you just burned your chances. Too bad.

Friday, June 7, 2013

Perfect summer days

I know I've probably said it before, but -
you get the most perfect summer days in Sweden

Possibly because they last so little, so every single one of them is dearly treasured (unlike in Italy, where I longed for the rain and breeze of the autumn; dreading the long, endless, summer months where you don't do anything but sweat and lay lifeless incapable even of sleep. Yeah, I don't like summer much.) but really, they are perfect.
First of all, the summer sky is the bluest thing you'll ever see. Seriously, I've never seen a sky so perfectly ... blue. The temperature is just perfect, the sun kisses your skin and the air caresses it, so you get sunburns without even noticing. And have I mentioned lilacs?
Lilacs are my favourite flower, I really, really love them. They're pretty as it get, they grow big and tall and they smell heavely. And the colours are beautiful. I used to have a lilac plant back in Italy, but it kept on dying despite my efforts. For some reason, I thought it was a warm(ish) climate plant; so you can imagine my surprise when I moved here and there were lilacs everywhere. (And I do mean it, they're literally everywhere, like they're endemic or something. Not that's a problem, it makes the spring even more amazing. I just love living in this place!)

So, the landscape is set: bluest than blue sky - check, flowers that smell like falling in love - check, sun shining - check, softest green grass - check; avaibility of free days and parks around the city every corner - also check.
I am also blessed with the best of friends, and I've been spending the last month in almost paradise- that is, every weekend, when I'm not working.
Take yesterday for example. It was amazing.
We met early afternoon, after a long enough night of sleep, head to the supermarket and buy the most random and lavish amount of food. You name it, we had it: french baguettes and brie cheese, blackberry cider, chocolate (milk, dark and white), donought, chips... anything, really.
Then we head to the park, sit on plastic bags (yeah, we forgot the blankets. As usual) and just proceed to lay in the sun, laughing, eating, drinking and occasionally playing cards.
We spent ...  I don't know, possibly 4 hours like this.
(Yeah, this is another awesome thing about living in Sweden: endless summer days. I mean, they are endless, because the sun barely sets. You have to go northern of the Polar Cirle to get the midnight sun, and then it's just a couple of weeks between June and July; but even as south as Stockholm, the sun does go below the horizon, but you still have the light that lingers after the sunset... or before the dawn; and then it begins all over again. I cannot swear, because for some reason I keep missing the early hours around 2am, but there is still light around 1am, and there's already at 3am. So.
Yesterday I got home after the picnic at ... 9.30pm maybe, and it felt like 5pm instead. I told you, it's unbelieveable).

Also, I am finally doing all the things I've always only dreamt of doing.
I know it's maybe cliche, but... late nights at the beach, and barbecues, and walking barefoot, and just improvising and not planning and have lazy afternoons. The kind of days you see in movies, and I thought - "They're not real, who actually does that...?" (of course, I was only jealous).
Then I moved here, and I saw people actually doing that (even more jealous).

And now, I do too.

Of course, that is the whole point, really.
It's not what you do, it's how you do it. It's being that kind of person.
It means being outgoing and carefree and happy and having friends to do that kind of stuff with.
And I am closer to that now.
I am finally beginning to be who I always wanted to be; beginning to be the kind of person I've always really been on the inside. And now it's finally coming out, and I am still liked for that. I am liked for that version of me.
I am myself and I am happy. And it's all good.

Monday, June 3, 2013

I swear if I was to meet you again
I'd jump you so hard
You wouldn't know what hit you.

Sunday, June 2, 2013

Regrets will kill you

The worst thing is, I really don't regret anything.
If that was the case, I least I'd have someone (myself) to blame for what happened (or not). 
But I don't.
Looking back, I really couldn't do any different. I am ... if not proud, at least okay with the decisions I took.
But then... I have this itching, really, that's driving me insane.

Because I keep looking for him everywhere. Anywhere. Just based on the fact that he lives here too (if he hasn't left yet. That's also a possibility, and a sort of mantra that I keep repeating to myself, to remember that meeting him is not a possibility), although I know that the chances of actually meeting are less than scarce.
But, oh!, how I wish there was some way - any way - to get to him. And I don't know how.
Or even why I want to meet, really.
I mean. I know why I want to meet him. But then I didn't left him my number last month because I wasn't sure about him, and I didn't want to be a tease.  
Why am I now so driven? What happened? 
And if I meet him and then change my mind?
Oh, I don't know. I am really really confused.

I am okay and happy with meeting other guys, and I having a good time; and I do that. But then, I always kinda ... compare all of them to him. And thinking (ok, now always; but given the guys I meet, most of the time!) that it was him that I was talking to instead. Because of his damn accent that drives me crazy, because I want to know more, because... I want to kiss him so badly.