Football

True

Truth is, everybody is going to hurt you. You just gotta find the ones worth suffering for.

Robert Nesta Marley

Tunes for the soul

Ends

There comes a time in life when you know you have to make a choice. And if making decisions has never been your thing, you're in trouble. I feel the end of one of the greatest journeys of my life is to be over soon. 16 Years of studying and it all comes to one big paperwork. But at the end, I can't really help thinking what comes next. Careless days will soon become a dream, free time will turn to be a precious resource, unlike today and I believe I will find many of the things that amuse me nowadays somehow blunt. As one of my favourite comedians - George Carlin - said once wisely : I'm not concerned about all hell breaking loose, but that a part of hell will break loose... it'll be much harder to detect. But unless you're in my head you wouldn't really get the connection. Never mind. It will be over soon.
So what happens at the end?
Should I stay more and live the moment to the fullest or rush into my inpatient future?
Should I be happy it is over or happy that I am before the beginning of a whole new adventure?

Time will show. And maybe someday I will laugh at my crosswords, but they mean a lot to me today. Yesterday. Tomorrow.

This man is sick!

...or damn damn damn patient!

From sis

Когато искам да поговоря със себе си, искам да съм с теб.
Когато искам да съм сама със себе си, искам да си с мен.
Когато искам да не вижда никой сълзите ми, искам ти да ги бършеш...точно ти.

Когато някой ми говори на въпреки, може само ти да си това.
Когато някой спи, докато приказвам, може само ти да сънуваш.
Когато някой олива ме с пиене, само ти можеш да ми казваш наздраве.

Когато някой е толкова далече, може само ти да си толкова близо.
Когато някой е в моите спомени, може само ти да си толкова често в тях.
Когато някой е (тук) толкова рядко, може само ти да си винаги толкова тук.

Когато някой е някъде, нещо със някого, може само ти да си там.
Когато в душата ми има я дупката, може само ти да си в нея.

Когато приятелите вечни са, може само ти да си безсмъртна.

Love is in the aiR

Сърчица, звездички, дъги, понита, захарен памук...

A night with the classics

Brazil....

The artists behind this work are Anderson Augusto and Leonardo Delafuente, and they call it “The 6emeia project”.

Wish they pass by Sofia and have some fun with our streets :)

A little tune

I believe I am the only person that finds this song soul comforting, positive and dreamy. Since Malta and BCom yr1, I have been hearing it in my head every time exams come. No kidding. It just pops out, like the moon on a very cloudy night. And I love it.

I'm going where the sun keeps shining
Through the pouring rain
Going where the weather suits my clothes

I am going back home, baby. Soon!

Любимо...

Когато си на дъното на пъкъла
Когато си най тъжен и злочест
От парещите въглени на мъката
Си направи сам стълба и излез
Светът когато мръкне пред очите ти
И притъмнява в тези две очи
Сам слънце си създай и от лъчите
Създай си стълба и по нея се качи
Когато от безпътица премазан си
И си зазидан в четири стени
От всички свои пътища премазани
Нов път си направи и сам тръгни
Трънлив и зъл е на живота ребуса
На кръст разпъва нашите души
Загубил всичко, не загубвай себе си

Единствено така ще го решиш

Колко е трудно да си кифличка

Скуката ме е завладяла и се ровя из необятното БГ блог пространство.
И попадам на това.
Не че съм от хората, които критикуват, ама блога на тази девойка ме потресе.

p.s. В нейна чест създавам дори нова категория - УДФ?. Ако не се сетите от първия път какво е, послушайте съвета ми: спрете да се напъвате мисловно, когато има противодействаща сила на това действие.

Enjoy!

Скъпи момчета/мъже,

Много сте зле! Ама МНОГО!
Кой по дяволите ви каза, че можете да си позволявате да ме оглеждате, да ми подсвирквате или не дай си боже дори да ме заговаряте при все, че от моя страна очевидно няма никакъв интерес. И да, не ви се е сторило, че гледам лошо, аз наистина гледам лошо и това със сигурност не е покана за разговор. По-добре не дразнете тигъра, ако искате да си тръгнете цели. Нужно ли е наистина да си го пиша на челото, за да се усетите, че не сте добре дошли?!
Друго, което винаги ме изумява е, защо сте решили, че не знам колко съм хубава? Знам, имам огледало вкъщи и се поглеждам преди да изляза. Напълно съм наясно, че съм прекрасна. И честно, може и да ви се струва оригинално да ми обяснявате каква чудесна усмивка имам, но не знам защо ви убягва, че това всеки ми го говори и вече до толкова ми е дотегнало да го слушам, че който ми го каже умира във въображението ми по бавен и мъчителен начин в адски мъки и потъва в пламъци.
Hint в случай на бъдеща кореспонденция: Гримасата с вдигната вежда, съпроводена от въпроса „Веееееерно ли?“ не означава нищо хубаво. Или ако наистина се налага да съм по конкретна, в превод значи „ако не беше с една глава по висок от мен, с 50 кила по-тежък и не си пазех маникюра до сега щях да съм ти резнала един тупаник и да съм си тръгнала“. Got it?
Да си ми познат и да ми казваш, че изглеждам добре – супер. Да, определено имам нужда от признание от хората, на които държа и се радвам изключително много, ама като не си ми никакъв знаеш ли колко ми пука дали ме намираш за красива?! Никак! Разбирам да си на моята маса и да си приятел на приятел, заповядай, ще си приказваме, ще се смеем, ще се забавляваме. Ама да ми идва некъв от другия край на заведението, за да ми пили някакви глупости на главата – не.
Не бе, сериозно. Много ще се радвам ако някой ми обясни какво ви кара да си мислите, че можете просто ей така да дойдете и да ми говорите някакви неща, да ми показвате манекенските си снимки, да ми говорите на „мацка“ и подобни, при положение, че нито ме познавате, нито знаете каква съм, нито нищо, ами просто сте видяли, че съм в някакво заведение и около мен не се върти някой собственически настроен мъж, който да гледа на кръв всеки, който посмее да си обърне погледа към мен. Това е супер нечестно! Защо трябва да ми се налага да отбивам постоянните атаки на някакви малоумници, само защото съм излязла сама? Или жена без мъж в заведение значи „заповяяяяядай, не се притеснявай, аз точно теб търся тази вечер, независимо колко си ЗЛЕ“. Е, в коя Вселена жена като мен е single? Освен ако тя не е избрала да е така, което пак прави безумните усилия на мъжкия индивид напразни. Sry.

GraphFun (actually sarcasm)

Гастрономични сътресения

Едно време като си пеех ‘зеленчуци който не яде’ идея си нямах, че да ги ядеш може да е привилегия. Привет от Холандия – страната, където всяка чушка има вкус на джапанки за 2лв от женския пазар. Никога не съм била от децата, които предпочитат ябълка пред вафла. Май и днес не съм. Обаче като ми отнемат възможността да си правя салатката с вкусни доматки и свежи краставички някак си ми става нервно. Цяла зима нагъвам салата. Маруля, демек. От пликче. И броколки. Тях ги обичам. Ама и те са от пликче. И си мисля, как ми се хапва нещо нашенско...

С един колега се усетихме, че като се съберем все за манджи говорим. Превъзнасяме българската кухня до такава степен, че ако ме чуе дядо ми ще се просълзи и ще си помисли, че живеем на солети и вода. Никой, който не е живял в чужбина не може да го разбере. Колко нереална може да е една мусака. Колко божествено е да си направиш кюфтенца. Да хапнеш тутманик/увивано/сирник докато още пари. Да се омажеш до ушите с лютеница. И сирене. Ехххх сиренце.....

Чревоугодниче съм, така си е. Обичам да се въртя в кухнята, за предпочитане докато майчето ми не подозира. Но какво може да се очаква след 18 години наслада? И изведнъж да се намериш на остров, където освен картофи и диня друго не вирее. Където тиквичките и краставиците са мутирали заедно до неразгадаема различимост. След което да се ре-локираш в потъваща страна, където имат от всичко. Но ако не виждаш какво ядеш никога няма да познаеш какво е, аджеба. Сериозно се замислям да направя теста – парче ябълка, круша, домат и чушка, може би дори грозде. Вързани очи и български субект. Мисля, че ще е интересно. В крайна сметка не може да си свикнал да ти е вкусно (по нашенски) и в последствие да нагъваш храна, която без подправки го докарва на вкус като талашит. В този момент бих заменила всяко едно изядено от мен произведение на местната кулинария (вкл. шоколадови мусчета, домашни пайове, карамелени вафлички и прочие) за една тава пиле с картофи. Или за голяма шопска. Ама много голяма, с доволно количество лук и сирене.

Сигурно звучи смешно – би трябвало да се наслаждавам на тази различна кухня, да оценявам и да се радвам, че мога да пия кафето си със горепосочените вафлички. Обаче не ми се получава. Не може да се очаква друго от човек, който изяжда около 1кг сирене на седмица, предполагам. И сега да се опитват да ми обяснят, че 437284 вида кашкавал са истинско богатство, много са различни и нашето сирене било не особено гастрономически изискано! Айде бе! Кашкавала си е кашкавал. Или е мазен или е сух, но винаги е кашкавал. И сиренцето винаги е сиренце! За сметка на това всяко сиренце е по-добре от никакво сиренце. А тези тук дори и тази мисъл не биха разбрали!
В крайна сметка идеята ми е, че наистина нямам тарпение да се върна вкъщи. Нямам тарпение да ям таратор и да гриза нашенски дини. Нямам търпение да мога да пия мента и да хапвам праскови. И череши. И да си взема баничка с боза.

Носталгично? Не бих казала. Усмихващо – определено.

One fine day

Some can't really escape being trapped in the daily routines. Going to classes, going to work, going to the gym, going to a bar, going going goign.... same old same old. And to be honest I feel damn good that some days I can just have an obligations' embargo and enjoy a day of made-belief. A day at the beach all by myself, some hippie ladies with tats, a bad ass salami-dog (dakel), beers and green fairies, and to top it all with cherry cream - my last school printouts. Since Malta, I had forgotten how nice it feels to study in the sun. But I'm taking back my tradition now.

Living the way one wants is a gift, I presume. One day I will be trapped in my work, family and big city I-am-so-important-and-so-not-funny routines. But this day is not today. And I hope it won't be any time soon.

The courage of a dead man...

Dam(n) II

Reality leaves a lot to the imagination... I would even consider having this line as a tattoo!

Restlessness

I hate evenings like that. Evenings in which I feel restless. I have done my homework, paid my rent, taken out the rubbish, had a great laugh with some friends and at the end something’s still wrong. Or missing. I have no idea. The fucking sense of worry is stuck inside me like a full spoon of peanut butter in my throat and not even calling all my family could get it out of there. In my mind I ought to be having a great day, followed by a calm night – today was a real delight. So what the fuck is happening now? I hate the times when I get that feeling. It happens usually before exams. Or several days before I have my heart broken. I am not suggesting anything, it’s just statistics! And the worst part is, for the exam thing I know beforehand that it is coming. The heartbreaking most often than not comes out of the blue and leaves me shredded into pieces. And this feeling beforehand, this exact same feeling that I have now is my only warning.
None of my friends is online. At least none of the ones I would talk to right now. I called him, he’s not home yet, but I can’t really believe that my subconscious would be so fascinated by the idea of missing him that it would play a joke like that. Fucking restlessness! At least when you are insomniac you know something’s up. For what I know, I’m just nervous and sleepless. One other great feature – the more you struggle with your mind to find what’s wrong, the more your mind resists answering the question. And sleep (for now). As if it is a 4 y/o and would do the opposite of what you say just for the fun of it. Maybe it’s because I had so much sugar before going to bed. Or because my fucking 6th sense is going crazy on me. I wish I was a man. They have no such problems. If shit happens, it just happens. No preparation, no bad feelings, no restlessness, no left eyebrow dancing, no tingling feeling in the stomach.
Damn, I sound like a kid, that’s about to enter its first exam and is about to puke. Watching movies didn’t help either. Movie’s over, I’m still up, still worried for no apparent reason. I wish there was someone here tonight. Anyone. Talking to another human usually makes me happier. Or sleepy. The last one is a fact. And for the first time since I’m here I feel lonely. Though I just had some beers with the folks, though I know if I wanna have another beer even at 1.40am I can dial a few numbers and have a merry gang at my front door with a 6 pack of Heineken. But it’s a Monday night and my stomach is in a ball. My sleep is hiding and my mind is searching my brain and heart for any hidden troubles. It’s almost as if I’m scared. But not really of something scary, rather of something unknown.

Maybe this is how the psycho’s journals begin...

Dam(n)

As seen at the shopping windows in the streets of Amsterdam:

This is one of those times I have absolutely no idea how I feel about something. The something being this kiddy piece of clothing. I don't think it's particularly funny, nor do I think it is offensive. I am just confused. Or maybe it's just because it is already Friday... :)

There are some days like that....

One too literal

This is toooo good to be true!
This guy has decided to do the unthinkable - have the literal 'translation' of a song - you hear what you see! It's more fun than expected, so follow the lyrics and do not forget to check out Loser because I had a 29min battle inside me which one to post here :)

... not make dreams your master

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And which is more: you'll be a Man, my son!

If
by Rudyard Kipling

StarWars

I have to admit I have never been a fan, but this is probably due to the fact that I have never seen all the series. And have actually never had the urge to do so. But it seems like a classic, so I take it as a challange - by the end of the year (???) I plan to watch all VI parts of the epic. Hopefully after surviving it I will share some more insights. But at the risk of sounding too anti-sw, for me it seems idiotic to start a series from the end. Or almost end.
Anyways, check the stencils from around the world - they are kinda inspirational and I have to admit I absolutely adore this song. It's awful and not musical, the lyrics sucks and the MC is worse than my half-deaf dog at rapping. Still, I can't stop humming it. Monday crazyness always gets me...

Gettin healthy

... as seen somewhere in Sofia :)
Actually the titles of the drugs for joint health are faaaaaaaaar more frightening than any joint (health).

Ava-hontas?

And just when you think the Hollywood people are NOT out of fresh ideas..

I seriously doubt that James Cameron has never seen Pocahontas, but Avatar is great in so many ways, that the obvious parallel is easily ignored.

the french do it better

The recently 'scandalous' anti-smoking campaign, suggesting
smoking = sexual submission
Weird doesn't even strat to cover it...

Hopeful

...somewhere, out there is another little freak that would love us, understand us and kiss our three heads and make it all better...

Amsterdam ride

click on the pix for more detailed view

People with xtra time

a.k.a. creative people :)

Mr. Killa

He's French.

He's a designer.

He doesn't really like furry animals.

Correction, he does.

The furry part.



If you see this man, please skin him for me, would you.


Actual info:

Quentin Verone showed this model as part of his new collection. The saying I'd rather wear fur refers to the popular PETA slogan I'd rather go naked, that proclaims wearing fur = murder.

Get your island on

Monogamie

I know I might sound very ‘Sex and the City’ tonight, but those days I got to think about exclusivity. How comes we all get used to the idea that monogamy simply doesn’t exist? We are constantly flooded with the concept that you cannot expect it all form one person. That it is absolutely adequate to uncover the pleasures of life with different people, sometimes one after the other, sometimes simultaneously with several. Women are told to forget feelings as soon as their highschool crush turns into a crash, get over him (and all men) and get to the better part of life- love lobotomy – no feelings, just fun. Are girls nowadays made believe that romantic men are an urban myth, that sex can be casual and that having more than 30 people in your secret count is simply normal, if not encouraged? What happens if, by a strike of faith, a miracle happens and you come to the point where you receive it all from one? Can you digest it, or does it make you feel (besides everything else) predominantly noxious?

I got out with two friends the other day and despite all my attempts to hide it (why?) they ripped the confession from me.

Hello, my name is Deni and I’m a monogamist.

They both laughed and said that if I put an end to my hunting days, hell will freeze over. Chilly! They meditated upon the idea of being with one and discarded it as unacceptable. As if I was proclaiming using stationary telephones or going to church every Sunday or even worse – wearing purple shiny leggings and listening to Azis! But despite their ‘ I’m so not into monogamy’ speeches, I realized one of them is only capable of talking about her last fuck buddy and the other one stays online in all social communication devises, waiting to be detected by someone. Or so is my suspicion. So why did they felt the urge to convince me I’m a dinosaur if I believe in a uni-person relationship? I looked back and realized I felt that same need a while ago. Seeing one person was so not for me, I needed someone to talk to, someone to make me laugh, someone who listens to the same music, someone to fuck and someone to cuddle. At best, 2 people were sufficient to fulfill those functions.

I’m not converted already; still I am doing my best to unlock my mind for the possibility of a long-term monogamous relationship with someone besides my own self. Damn, even putting it I writing makes the party girl inside of me as scared as Cinderella, who by mistake ended up in a Hickox movie! Although I feel like I have a jar full of ants and I’m about to stick my honey covered finger in it, I try to keep my cool and open up, if only for him to see that I mean well. However the transformation is painful. It was the first time when I turned into a non-believer, what made me think it would be much different this time around? It is like being a chocoholic and waking up with diabetes one morning. You know what you gotta do for your body to be well, but your soul is in constant struggle with your mind on the issue of brownies and mousses. Or on the issue of spending almost every evening together.

I have serious doubts if I should go and post this one. But it’s been a while and putting things in writing usually makes the fog lift and I see things almost clearly. If only I didn’t need glasses…

Test test test !

A goldie oldie from the times, when creativity in advertising was just a textbook term in Bulgaria.

Priceless

I have no idea who came up with the brilliant concept of taking pix of people while they use Chat Roulette, but just look at how surprised a man can get :) (and also why you should always talk to webcam having strangers only)

Gym class (heroes?)

I hated it as a kid. Big mistake! (I am used to blaming my mum for not putting my ass on a treadmill from the moment she discovered my huge appetite for...everything!)
I was the worst when it came to running, jumping, throwing heavy balls, throwing any balls, for that matter and I was just a mockery masterpiece of how not to use the gym equipment. However, as growing older made me grow bigger (on both axes!), I realized the need to decrease my appetite and width. The first one proved to be indestructible, however, my stubborn mind was set on doing workouts to try cope with the shapes of my body.
I have to tell you now, if you are not really good at remembering and you are giving up easily, going to group fitness is just not for you.
At my first day I was having Steps for Beginners. Beginners my ass! I felt like the dumbest non-blond on the planet. It seemed as if one of my feet was made out of marshmallows and the other one was cut out of wood! They both moved independently from what my mind wanted and I believe independently from any logical pattern known to humans. The whole process was further complicated by the existence of the step, which proved to be a torture weapon, or so my bum thought at the end. All joints in my body were challenged to twist my unobeying limbs at angles, known only to the enlightened in the sacrament of the routine. And they had to do so in a timely manner under the count of our lovely (blond!) teacher. Thanks to that I can now count to 8, say left/right and down in Dutch. I honestly hope one day I get to shout ‘Laag!!!!!!!!!!!!’ to someone with the same passion that chica put into the word.

Still, not able to control my feet and fighting their resistance, I did my best to remember the order of the workout routine. I have to admit, I considered quitting visiting (and using) the famous Amsterdam coffee shops then and there. A tablespoon must have had more remembrance span than me at that point. Just as I learned a new move, the previous one slipped out of my mind, as if there was not enough space in there for both of them. My arms were almost as inconsistent in their movement as my feet, but I believe they were at least thankful there was no step for them to work on. Otherwise I bet my body would have hated me for quite some time. At a certain point, I was so focused on doing the moves that I forgot to breathe. In case you don’t know it, it is not a good thing to forget that particular function of your lungs. It hurts. And then you get to be the same color as a jar of cheap marinara sauce.

However, as the torture hour finished, as a pure surprise to me, I felt happy. So happy, that I was looking forward to the next time I get to fight with my cardio-vascular, muscle and nervous systems. Now I can safely say I am better. I learned most of the steps, combinations and elaborations, therefore I am not an absolute failure. But just yesterday I saw a girl struggling with her first class. I thought she’ll feel the same way I did after the class is done and be running back for more the next time. She left after the first 20mins.

Being stubborn is not for everybody. The same applies for steps.

Stylo

Someone asked what happened to Gorillaz a while ago. They have a brand new video with a catchy tune attached - promo: 2nd March, a.k.a. today.


The naugthy cartoons are back!(+ a weird Bruce as a bonus)! Enjoy!

p.s. The album will be released on the 8th, boys who buy presents for girls who still listen to CDs...hint hint!

Voices

Sadly we've lost them both... but they left so much to be remembered by! If this doesen't make your hairs stand, I seriously doubt we can ever become friends.

There will be many

I didn't have a clue that there are SO many bloggers in the world. Obviously most of the people that blog believe they have something very very VERY important to share with the rest of the world. Pictures, words, sounds... if none of the results on the first page of a Google search is a blog, you are looking for something outdated. DUH!
However, I have faith in the Bulgarian blogger in particular. Because she/he has got something to say. And sometimes a thing as innocent as a recepie for the perfect baked potatoes or a guide for the correct usage of the yellow cars in Sofia can actually make a day of constant rainfall seem like a nice one.
I didn't know that there were so many. Especially when I started. I think I'm not blogging, per se, due to the fact that I can disappear for more than a month and have absolutely noone missing me (virtually, as a blogger). And I prefer to keep an open mind about my page. It is the world as I want it, as I see and feel it. With or without pictures, sounds or words.

Killing time

I know it's been more than a month, but I'm really not gonna apologize.

Fucked up weather.

Fucked up school.

The perfect city.

Minus one person.

Jizz, baby, jizz

For all sexy-fashion-house-colorful sunglasses fans

Brooklyn style

Seems everyone is going green these days :)
green link