Turning the light on

It's been months since I last wrote anything. Anything at all.

Why? I've been tired.
I've been constantly, incessantly, invariably tired for the last 3 months or so, and I still am, tbh.

You know how it is when you have something brilliant in your mind, you put all your energy in order to make it happen and then life decides to screw it all up, for no apparent reason? At first you try to laugh it off, to think positive, to believe it's just temporary, but then it gets worse, and worse, and worse, until you just can't take it no longer.

Well, that's exactly how I've been feeling lately: strengthless, miserable, lonely. And most of all TIRED.

You know what though? I'm sick of this feeling. I'm sick of feeling like nothing I want is going to work out the way I planned it to be. Sure, most of it isn't, in fact, going to, but so what? What's so bad about it? After all, the greatest experience of my life so far, the one that touched my soul so much that I totally had to commemorate it through a (beautiful) tattoo, came from the failure of my previous plan - or plans, to be honest.

I'm sorry, I know that this post is going way too personal and way too reflective for my standards - as though I had some - but that's just exactly the reason why I'm writing all this: I somehow, out of nowhere, seemed to have lost all my positiveness for a "short" while, seemed to have lost me, and I think time has come for me to get myself back.

Tomorrow morning, or tonight, for you guys overseas - 'cause I know you're reading this, though you never leave any comments : SHAME ON YOU - I'm gonna go back to my city for a short while, as I'm unexpectedly going to have a lectures-free week - thank you Karma - and that, for once, makes me extremely happy, mainly for a couple of reasons:

1) I get to get out of my exhausting routine and to finally have a little time for my self

As for the second one, beware, cuteness is coming.

2)May I introduce you all my beautiful new baby, Ronald Bilius Weasley?

I just hope he'll get on well enough with my other not-so-young-any-longer beautiful baby. 

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A P.I.A. Story

Unexpectedly enough, I managed to finish all my first year exams on time this semester – YUPPIES – and therefore I and all those who know me expected me to have the most wonderful holidays a university student could ever fish for.

Guess what.

I didn’t.

Now, you could argue that expectations most of the times exceed reality, and it is therefore quite in the norm that I should be somehow disappointed, BUT, really, none ever could have guessed how very far from my idle dreams my holidays went.

To be fair, the first two weeks haven’t been that bad, I mean, they were actually pretty good! Chilling on the couch, watching HP movies, reading, hanging out with old friends, drinking, drinking again, drinking again and again, puking on my room floor… ok, I may have gone too far.

Anyway, you got the point.

But then, the last week came in.

Before I explain anything else though, there’s something you guys should know to completely understand my frustration.

Previously on “Alex’s life”

One of my best friends, whom we’ll call A. – no, not THAT A. – has been living in London this past year, and is now moving to Portsmouth to study. As you guys can guess, living in two different countries kind of limits the chances to spend our time together, which is usually confined to a few days during summer or winter holidays.

We, of course, are much aware of this, and therefore we usually start planning our holidays pretty early – as early as May, which means that we had more or less everything set by the end of June.

So, what’s the big deal?

Here it comes.

During the year, A. eventually met this girl, whom from now on we’ll call Pia – standing for Pain In the Ass. One beautiful day, after having spent more or less 4 days in a year together, Pia sent, out of nowhere, a much more beautiful message to A., basically saying that she had bought a flight ticket for Italy on August 13, the return set for August 27. That is, she’d be staying at A.’s for a good fortnight. EXACTLY the period we had intended to spend together.

And that’s when things started collapsing, for although A. had planned to go back to England a bit later than the 27^th, she now had to go back that very day, for she couldn’t obviously – at least for us, can’t really say the same for Pia – ask her parents to drive twice in a week to the airport and back (400 km at time). Not a big problem, wasn’t it for the ticket price: around 300£ for a one-way flight. Insert favourite curse word here.

And now that you know the prequel of this madness, let’s move on the rest of it.

All our previous plans been cast away, we tried to make the best of it, although there were some requests made by our beloved Pia, which we could hardly attend i.e. travel around Italy not spending a single penny. Like, sure, that’s like asking to swim from France to New York and not getting wet. What a smart girl.

Anyways, the final plan was that she’d be spending a couple of days at A.’s and I’d join them on the third, then we’d be heading to Rome, in which we’d spend a couple of days, afterwards we’d have a day off al A.’s again and finally 3 days at a camping site on the beach. After this, there’d be only a couple of days for A. to pack everything she needed and head back to the UK. 

A lovely plan, which would suit everyone, wasn’t it?

So, the 13^th finally arrived, and Pia and all her nonsense came with it.

First of all, she’d stuck in A’s room, more precisely on her sister’s bed - who was forced to leave the house during her staying – and would come out only when called for lunch or dinner, which she wouldn’t eat anyways because she apparently doesn’t like anything but Pan di Stelle (for non-Italians: cookies). For non-Italians again: it’s a really great offence if you, as a guest, refuse ANYTHING your friend’s mamma made just for you. Then, as A,’s cousins joined them for dinner and guess what? When they asked her and A. to get out and have fun together she just complained and decided she would stay home instead. Her reason? They were speaking in Italian with A.

I mean, really, she amazed me with her intelligence.

Anyways, things just got worse once in Rome, she wouldn’t talk to us at all during the whole day, and started crying once at the B&B because she felt left apart – that after my many attempts to involve her in anything we said and did. Still, she cried, A. explained herself, they talked it out and things just seemed to start getting better.

How very wrong I was.

The days after were just the same, if not even worse, especially once back at A.’s – her mum was in such a discomfort that she had to leave the house and wouldn’t come back before 1 am because of Pia’s behaviour. Seriously, the situation was just MENTAL, and it just continued at the camping.

Let’s talk a little about it, shall we? We had just spent money - money we were saving for something else – on something which we weren’t really looking forward to, but we did to make her happy, and you know what? In three days she only swam once, for more or less 10 minutes: the rest of the time she would only text or read. Especially the last day, which she spent entirely in the tent, my tent.

 I don’t know how you’d react, but I got mad, like, it’s been long since the last time I got so pissed off.

I still can't figure out how she managed to piss that much off probably the only two people in the whole country who could best understand her difficulties in living abroad on virtually her own - even though in this case we're talking about just a fortnight and NOT an entire year, as both me and A. did at our time. Still, she did.

Of course we once more told her what the problem was, she said she understood and was sorry about it all, but I’m sure she didn’t really get it at all. Why so? Well, the day after, and those after i, it was all the same again.

Plus, on the way to the airport, the27^th, she just kept puking all over A,’s dad’s car.

What else can I say? Majestic.

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How to survive when you're living on your own

After months and months all my attempts to get by decently on my own and be something more similar to an adult than a five year-old have been, well, I don't know how to put it, a complete disaster. 

It suddenly hit me something like two or three weeks ago, while I was scrolling my Facebook timetable and came across this VICE Mag article about some young ladies' flats. Read it please, or at the very least look at the pictures. 

Did you see the young men's ones? Now, I'm not saying my bedroom is exactly like theirs, though it does have much more to share with Chris's and Ike's rather than Charley's. Yep. And i'm supposed to be studying Interior Design. Good job Alex. 

In my defense I must say I tend to have a pretty busy day almost everyday, getting out at 9 am and getting back home at around 10 or 11 pm most of the time because of my University or because one of the many things I always misteriously end up doing. However, I do realize it is not in anyway a good excuse for having bits of chewing-gums lying on the shelf for months or for having withe wine rotting in glass - to be honest that wasn't me, but my roommate whom I LOVE and won't surely get mad for me to reveal this to the whole Internet #pleasedontkillme. 

Anyway, I do however think that after exactly 9 months of independence I'm finally starting to get how living on my own works - or I'd better say, should work- so here are the tips I'd surely give to the 9 month-younger me :

1) Buy a fabric softener. I know that seems useless, but trust me when I say it's a life saver. However strong your New Year's resolutions are gonna be, you're NOT gonna be making your laundry at least once every week. To be honest, not even once every other week. You'd actually be very lucky if you'll menage to do it once a month, and of course it's not gonna be all the colors at once, so believe me, the few times all of your clothes are clean you'll want them to be perfumed and soft for more than half an hour. 

2) Try to separate as much as you can the kitchen from your bedroom . Which means, try not to bring your food on your bed. Why? 'Cause then you'll have to deal with that piece of fried chicken you really hadn't any place in your stomach left for for at least another week, until you'll realize insects are NOT coming into your room only because they know you don't enjoy their company,which leads to the number: 

3) Buy a mosquito net. It doesn't work for mosquitos only, you know? It does actually help a lot against wasps, cockroaches, flies, and U.F.M.s in general - Unidentified Flying Monsters. I know it's not "stylish" but better bad then dead. 

And, last but not least,

4) Don't use the floor. Let me clarify this for you normal people out there: with this phrase I'm not implying you shouldn't use the floor the way it is supposed to be used i.e. walking on it. No way. What I mean is much more like don't use you floor as an extension of your shelves, wardrobe, desk, bed and whatever. Please, just don't. 

Now, hopefully most of these advice didn't come as a surprise at all for most of you - and if they did, make yourself a favor and ask anyone to teach you the basics of hygiene, as I should have done - tough not many would normally take into account the hypothesis of buying a mosquito net, well, not until some monsters try to kill you and your roommate multiple times at least. But that's another story. 

Hope you guys enjoyed it, fell free to subscribe, comment, like or share if you did and have a wonderful day!

- Alex

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gVH6LM9uQc

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God Save The Queen, but please, forget about the King.

I disappeared once again, I know.

Bad Alex. BAD!

Ok, now I officially apologized to the world let's talk about some sirius shit - High five HP fans!
I don't know if it's just me who's surrounded by this gigantic cloud of bad luck, perhaps I just killed a kitty of two in one of my previous lives, I don't know, but still, how is it F&%@ING possible that the one time I meet someone acceptable (and by acceptable I mean sexy as hell with an even sexier british accent), he turns out to be a douchebag?

Let me explain things better: one magical night, one of the very few free nights I had since I started University - a post on this thread is coming, don't know how, don't know when, but it's coming. Just like Winter in Westeros. - me and my friends went to this Irish Pub for the first time. Nothing too weird about that, you would say, and so did I, until this random guy comes saying:<<Hi, sorry to interrupt you guys, I know it's a random question, but have you seen a wooden cock, 5 inches long? My friend's just lost it somewhere>>.
Let's be honest, any person in his sense would have turned his head and never spoke to that weirdo again, but remember it's me we're talking about, and I'd had a couple of drinks already.

Once again: bad Alex, BAD!!

Anyways, after a while we started having a real conversation, danced a little, had some more drinks, kissed -ehm ehm- and exchanged numbers.

Everything looks perfect so far, ain't I right? Right, and so it did for a couple of weeks, until my lovely misfortune cloud came back from its holiday in the beautiful Caribbean Sea. Thanks.
So, at this point there's nothing much I can tell you, since I still don't know what's happened: he just disappeared, just like I did with this Blog. The day before he was telling me how beautiful I was, and the day after puff, like nothing happened- oh, how I wish I knew how to put GIFs in this! You know which one I'm talking about, the Madagascar's penguins one.

It's been two weeks now since we last talked, so no, even though he was a girl,and if he, say, send me a message now, (s)he still couldn't blame it on his/her (?!) period, plus he's NOT a she, so anyways he couldn't blame it on the period. Or could (s)he?

Ok, this is getting way too weird.

Anyway, that was it. I'm not gonna say I'm heartbroken, because I'm obviously not, otherwise I would be watching Titanic for the millionth time in a row, holding my owl shaped teddybear insulting that young piece of art known as Leonardo Di Caprio, instead of writing bullshits on this blog.

Probably.

Let me know if you can relate to this,or if you just enjoyed it or whatever. Or also just read and leave, JUST LIKE HE DID. Feel guilty now.

Cheers!

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