Why did the chicken cross the road? Because it hoped there was something better on the other side.

Granted, I am in the kitchen at the moment, It's my 'creative' space, but when I say that I find myself in a weird, uncomfortable, challenging yet memorable and cherished space, it's not the kitchen I am referring to.

It's a space of change. I am neither my old sarcastic, misanthropic promiscuous self, nor the well-rounded calm, smiling and girly self that I'm slightly headed towards. Obviously, this is me being simplistic. Indeed, though, I have been making this big turn in my life and it has repercussions on all aspects- how I feel the relationships in my life should be, thus further affecting my style and external presentation, as well as my studying habits, my interests, even my hairstyle. And, inevitably, at a certain point, it becomes overwhelming. I am in the middle of this turn I am making- i've definitely started, much has changed as far as my outlook goes and I can't go back. Luckily, it seems like this change, or turn, is the right choice so I don't want to go back, either. I simply don't find within me the verbalised knowledge of what I want exactly, to come out of the turn.

I'll probably do well to be more specific. A simple thing, and it is unlikely i'm the only one who found themselves in such a situation- this new person I start to identify myself with, it simply needs a new avatar. Most of my clothes are literally exhausted from time and wearning, and I would enjoy to create a somewhat new style to match what I think i have become. However, since I haven't finalised the process, or maybe simply due to habit, i don't know what fits me. Ok, I can't say I care much about fitting into labeled boxes but not knowing how to describe yourself is frustrating. Except for the word "different"- different from my old self, and different from others, too. Maybe that should be my guideline. 


There's some definite good news! I may not have the details od dresses and shoes down but I've reached an understanding with myself on what I want out of life. My summer 2010 is shaping up to be dedicated to work and internships, which is overwhelmingly positive and something I really am looking forward to. It's amazing what would have felt like 'sacrifice' at a certain point of maturity, or career pressure, becomes inspiring and a priority. Sure, the few weeks i will probably spend in Sophia will be anticipated to but anticipation makes it better, someone used to say. Though, it's probably not what he had in mind.


Being single is something i've enjoyed immensely but all good times must come to an end. I am ready to tip the scales in the opposite direction. If there's anything i've learned in the past two months, it's that I am ready to give. Of course, the difficult part is not deciding to give but finding whom to give it to. 


As it goes, I've always had someone beside me to receive from. It's time that I gave some of it back. My lovely Yulianka has been there for me, though thick and thin for 14 years and she's been there for me in these last months of self-improvement, doubt and motivation. My family, too, have been a support for since I can remember, and despite all turbulent times, I can honestly say nothing compares to the calamity of coming back home. I can only hope they see a better person, when I am all done with carving and polishing the new me- I intend to smile more, love more and be a kinder person. I really do.

Why did the chicken cross the road? Because the hen told him not to.

The pountchline of the joke, this week, is there to pose the question: what is left when it's all over? 

One of my closest friends is someone I split up with 7 years ago, how is this even possible at my age?.... We've spent countless hours since, talking about our new relationships, there was even a failed engagement in the menu of things to talk about.Some days it's as simple as an ice cream and a walk in the park...Other times it's as heavy as the snow outside while we're sitting inside drinking tea at 11 pm days before Christmas talking about depression and life-goals. It's what you make it to be.  

Do you not find it absurd, then, to give up a friendship potentially so good just because of past physical closeness? It is an odd oxymoron, and you can't spell oxymoron without "moron"...

A former partner put in my mouth the first chunk of dark chocolate with orange and spices, a taste as intense as his character- a bite of this same chocolate while I write these lines brings into the air the touch of his skin.A song...I have to make the effort not to close my eyes and open them in a room, 4 years ago, listening to this same song, next to someone who is now on a different continent.The question forming in the eyes of my first lover while hopefully reading this, wondering where is the acknowledgement of what the two of us had. The smell of hyacinth in my room right now is intoxicating, rich, full and it reminds me of this someone "purple". So here it is- this acknowledgement that long after you've split up with someone, inevitably tastes, smells, sounds will remind you of them.

But memory is partial and selective. And this is the crucial point. Sure, some people just tend to remember the good and some tend to remember the bad, and it is a matter of choice as well as variance of personalities. Me, I remember the good. I insist on walking the extra mile to keep my ex-es in my life, and surprising for the lazy bastard I am, I enjoy walking that extra mile. Once having decided to accept you in my life, romantically or as a friend, you are likely to be welcome to stay there. In a way, it is almost a utilitarian approach- you've spent energy in getting yourself acquainted with a whole new world of a whole new person, so to throw away this knowledge, effort and time seems inefficient.

Whatever it is that pumps that black luquid through the veins of my clinical-about-love body, skipped a beat when I picked up the Skype incoming call from my high-school boyfriend: to hear his voice, coming transatlantically, virtually and for the first time in two years was quite the experience. There was no hope or agenda in the 3 hours we spent talking online, to get back together or to even meet, I am sure he will agree. Just to hear how the other is doing, listen and share. With the 3 years that had passed, we'd found some new topics to laugh about, to add to the old ones. Despite its futility, this call was more comforting than anything i'd experienced in a while. In fact, talking to ex-es has that effect: the comfort of familiarity which is safe by default- you know their flaws, they know yours, there are no unpleasant surprises, just the same old voice that voluntarily or not, you associate with hearing the words "i love you" over and over again. And yes, the words "you're full of shit, you arrogant bitch", too.

So, just because there is "ex" in "sex", is that a reason enough to put the "ex" in the X-files when the "sex" has ex-pired?

So... why did the chicken...?

I am concerned with why the chicken supposedly crossed the road, simply because the answer is relevant to a bigger question: why did the man cross the road? Well, that we know. The man crossed the road because he heard the chicken was a slut. 

Ergo, if the chicken was indeed a slut, it crossed the road for 1 of 4 reasons: 

1) it had reasons to believe there was more clientelle on the other side of the road. 

2) it had already performed sexual services on the man, who subsequently crossed the road too, and was trying to get rid of him. Possibly to find someone else to screw for money. 

3) there was a KFC outlet, whose deliveries had fallen through that day and the chicken had to get lost asap. Starting with crossing the road. 

4) The chicken was utterly hammered and didn't know what it was doing. So it zig-zagged across to the other side of the road.  

Of course, I am well aware that the validity of the argument is dependant on the major presupposition that the chicken which crossed the road was the exact same chicken that the man followed. Furthermore, the argument is also based on the presupposition that the rumour of the man-who-crossed-the-road-because-he-heard-the-chicken-was-a-slut is factual and not fictitious. 

Concluding, I have briefly outlined, in a vivid manner, some of the problems hidden in otherwise simple anecdotes, such as this one.  With further questions, confusions, logical equations or news on the whereabouts of the chicken, please write back. 

Investigative reporter: The Velvet Pumpkin