Which roads does an American chicken with wet dreams cross? Only the ones in the greatest country in the world, of course. (I should be able to come up with a better title)

I'm ill at home, so I've had even more free time, which means more internet and movies. I don't usually engage in movie criticisms- like the Russians cleverly say: на вкуса и цвет, товарищей нет.
I am not a fan of super-hero movies but recently I've been craving them a little. A craving just as bizarre and inexplicable as my other recent one- salads. However, if something is worth doing, it's worth overdoing, so I sat down to watch Avengers, which everybody, fan of the genre or not, has been telling me is great and the best one of them all. OK. I am 42 mins in and my opinion is

This movie is great!

It's so indescribably BAD, that you're guaranteed 2h 17 mins of laughter!

The dialogue is clumsy, predictable, self-entitled and taking itself seriously, uses every cliché in the book, and it's an insult to the intelligence of anyone above the age of 12. When Samuel Jackson drops voice and "super"-seriously says "As of right now, we are at war!", I did actually laugh out loud, despite the fact that every movement I make causes much pain to my whole body. It was still worth it. Second favourite moment so far was the alien sequence with Loki about 29 mins in, the set is as bad as what I've seen from Star Wars and Indiana Jones...the old ones. To be fair, that is just called sticking to a genre. Ah, of course, the bad guy is English. [EDIT: I have removed my rant about Loki- I don't find him neither charismatic, no handsome, and a bad guy should be at least one but I've been told he is. I suppose he grows on you by the end]

This article was inspired by the movie but the movie is not the pivotal point in it. [NOTE: This paragraph has been edited in order to clarify that, as comments showed me that there was confusion] I am sure that those who like it have their reasons but I want to address a particular kind of audience: those who feed on such films to support their deluded fantasies of greatness. There's plenty good that has come from the US, and a silly little Bulgarian would need a lot more arrogance than I could ever muster to deny that. I don't hate Americans either, some of the best people I know are from there. The problem comes from the ones with very little knowledge of the world around them, who, however, are aggressive with their ignorance.

I do hate their indescribable ignorance, which inevitably goes hand in hand with their arrogance and self-praising. Of course you love it when Samuel Jackson so passionately delivers his line "We are at war", you fuckin' loved it 10 or so years ago, when this joke of a person told you "Either you're with us or against us". You cried that your soldiers were getting killed but you fucking loved it because you were playing the victim and the hero. And you love to see "Captain America" go fix it all, whether somebody asked you to or not. Cast an English bloke to play the bad guy, make a pitiful impression of Russia where the letters don't spell out anything but are random characters from the Cyrillic alphabet (which, btw, is not Russian, it's created by two Bulgarian brothers who studied in Thessaloniki). The you show all the main characters in random impoverished countries, where the location doesn't serve the plot, it serves to make the movie "exotic" in your twisted fantasies, where a few good US guys  abroad speak a couple of phrases in this foreign language, you look up to them because you think they are all that. I can see your pants drip. Unlike most, I think there's nothing wrong with being arrogant, there's just one catch though: you must be able to pull it off. So many are under the impression that "America is the greatest country in the world". Now, there's no such thing as best country in the world, first. Second, Aaron Sorkin, via Will McAvoy, explains:

"Hey you, sorority girl. Just in case you ever walk into a voting booth, there's some things you need to know and one of them is there's absolutely no evidence to support the statement that America is the greatest country in the world. We're 7th in literacy, 27 in maths, 22 in science, 49 in infant expectancy, 178th in infant mortality [...] We lead the world in only three categories: number of incarcerated citizens per capita, adults who believe angels are real and defense spending, where we spend more than the next 26 countries, combined. Now, none of this is the fault of a 20 year old college student but you are, without a doubt, a member of the worst.generation.ever. So when you ask what makes us the greatest country in the world... I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT!"

Maybe a little over the top, Sorkin style, but makes the excellent point. There is nothing wrong with being stupid. What gets me to fly off the handle is being unapologetic about it and aggressively stupid. If you don't know that Europe is not a country or that France is, that's sad,  but you can learn. But don't expect me to find you ignorance fucking cute and endearing.

How can you think you are the greatest country in the world, when the vast majority (between 75%-93%, depending on different statistics) don't even hold a passport, thus haven't been to any other country? It's a vicious cycle- you assume you're the greatest country in the world because you'll eat up anything the media feeds you, and I won't even make an obesity reference here, only hint at one. Then you decide not to travel. Then you have even less information at your disposal to make such decision, reinforcing your idea that you are, indeed, the greatest country in the world.

OK, I'll go finish that movie now, maybe now that I've gotten my fristrations out, I can find something enjoyable in it. In the mean time, go play with yourself, I see you've got an erection.

Which road did the chicken cross? It doesn't matter- they all lead to Rome...where Rome stands for change.

Sometimes simple intensity can bring you to tears, where the reason for them is irrelevant. Things are changing so fast- every day is a day of surprises, news, change, goodbyes and hello's, I am left with an intense emotion but deciphering it would be near impossible.
Let's recap.

Two of the best people I know are moving. M&L have been together for over 4 years now, and just looking at them can simultaneously teach you so much, yet make you question everything you thought you knew about relationships. They will grow old together. They are the couple, in my life, who is my example couple- you look up to them, when you start a new relationship, and you measure your relationship against theirs, in the hope to resemble them and to be as happy as they are. They are moving to a country far away, and probably for good. I've just come back home after attending their good-bye party: they "sold" so much of their clothes, bags, shoes, books, all the way down to the plates and mugs, all for the symbolic price of 1 Lev (a.k.a. 0.5 Euro). They are really going and I couldn't be happier for them. I believe even fate has their back- they may be leaving in just 10 days and so much is yet to be figured out, including where they'll live, but every day they have news (tomorrow, I believe, they're selling the car) and it will all work out. I saw their life, both as a couple and as the lovely individuals that they are, disappear in 4 hours, everything they've built in this city, I saw it going to people who felt happy to be included in their story. I feel proud to be able to wear a couple of shirts, the sentiment behind which will warm me up while they are beginning their new life. I do wish them all the best but it's confusing to think I may not see them for a long long time....and that's good- if you love someone, you wish them what is best for them, right?
Seeing them, however, only makes me realise how far I am from where I want to be. The fact that they are 6 years ahead of me only gives me some comfort. The fact of the matter is, they are incredibly lucky but have worked so hard to get here and, even more than sadness I feel inspiration to keep going. Some do get a fairy tale ending, or so it seems. When you know the story, you know that they have built their happiness. Bon voyage!

Also in the news today, a close relative, I was informed today by the "Grandma international" news agency, is expecting her first child. Early days but at this point I can only wish her a great deal of health, patience and love. It's crazy- I've known her since we were kids, and she's having a baby?

A buddy of mine just got married, apparently, after only knowing his girl for about 8-9 months. Congrats, but I do wish you luck. Confusing.

A friend of mine just gave birth to their second child, she's a year older than me... no need for luck there, when you know her, you know it makes sense for them.

I've been having an existential crisis in the past months, which may be at its peak now, and it's a daily struggle. Some hours are great, happy, fulfilled, enjoyed, and others slither by so slowly. Yesterday started off shit- in depression and questioning, apathy and guilt. It ended at 4am, in McDonald's after a fantastic night out, with people who make me feel good. What is it about pool parties that makes me think "Daaaamn, I've still got it!!" Excellent feeling. It is this excellent feeling and that dormant thirst for life, which is hiding oh-so-well under a thick, reminiscent-of-winter-coat, layer of denial and apathy, that has pushed me to a point of "Yes". I have made the active decision to say "YES" to practically any suggestion that one may have (anything short of "Jump off the building"). Ever wanted to make me do something? Now is your time, go ahead. Test me, see if I mind. I may go camping at the seaside.

I have lost some friendships, I've questioned a few and found others in a strange place.

I am finishing my Master's degree in a couple of weeks, and I've never felt so intensely. I feel intensely: I experience events an a way which leaves a mark. I Need to find a job, I need to find a country to live in. But for all the questions that I have, I have a few answers too: I have realised that I really do have something unique about me, I respect myself in many ways; I know that as soon as I get a stable job, a few pay checks later I will get a dog, a Cocker Spaniel. I know I want to help people, so working for an NGO is now very much a possibility. I know that, after this growth period, about a year from now, I will be the person I want to be, and roughly where I want to be. I feel it like I feel the craving for coffee when i've been caffeine-abstinent for weeks: it's undeniable. About that: some battles you fight, some you let go. I am accepting caffeine as my only real vice and source of self-destruction, for, if you deny yourself the little pleasures of self-destruction, you destruct in much worse ways.

A year from now, I will be happy. I also do have some doubts that finally, as far as my sexuality, I may have arrived where I wanted to be, although this matter is at the same stage as my relative's baby- too early to tell what the sex is. I'll keep you posted. And....hey! If you hear of a job I may be able to do, in practically any country, give me a shout!

R.

Why did the chicken move to the other side of the road? It was appalled to hear of the disastrous violation of poultry rights on his native side of the road.

I first left Bulgaria with my family and moved to Ukraine at the age of 15. I then graduated from high-school and relocated to the UK, to do my university degree there. I've always said that moving is temporary, that I love my country and that I will always love Sophia, my home city. To this day, this is the case, when I go back there, it is home. But I no longer see the people there as any group of people I want to identify with. Never mind the "chalga", never mind that education has gone down the drain and people my age can't write a single grammatically correct sentence. Never mind that they don't care about ecology, smoke like chimneys next to their infants, that their priorities in life are the same as the priorities of hip-hop artists: golden chains around their neck, the bitches around their cock and money to show off their status.

There seem to be а handful of people who understand the meaning of human rights. We're notoriously bad at understanding that just because someone is different, it doesn't mean they are worse than us.

This is clearly proven to be the case this time every year, when the talk of LGBT (gay) pride happens. The media enjoy the sensationalism and the average Bulgarian seems to enjoy the idea of beating up a fag or two. We know that most of  'em are just attention-seekers, and the real queers are mentally ill. A real man would never take it in the ass. What else is new?  

Is only gets more disturbing when we talk about people with disabilities or mental health issues. While fags are annoying, we at least see them. Disabilities and mental illnesses equal social death, it seems to be. No. In fact, having a mental disability equals real death. [the article is in Bulgarian but I think it's worth passing it through Google Translate] A 15 year old girl was in a foster home, started throwing up, lost weight and by the time anyone bothered to call a doctor, it was too late, she died. The doctors, hell, God himself couldn't have saved her: in the month before her death she had swallowed about 5 kg of garbage. In her stomach doctors found 25 insoles, 8 rags, 3 foam sponges, 6 socks, 3 pieces of paper and 3 stones (3-4 cm in diameter). The first problem is that this isn't the first time where monstrous things have happened to children in foster homes. The second problem is that the child was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Highly likely, given what the attitude seems to be towards the disabled, that doctors would have been called much earlier if it wasn't considered that having a mental illness means that you're lower quality person.

There are bad people everywhere. Here we're talking about something else- a culture which reinforces the belief that if you're not a rich, white man who has traded any chance for intellect for a Mercedes, then you're a second class citizen. No, you're a woman. Then if you're not that, then you are, in decreasing order of importance, a gypsy, a muslim, a negro, a fag, a tranny. I don't think you're even on the hate-radar if you have a mental disability. The girl died 6 years ago, it has been decided by court that it was nobody's fault. A friend of mine put it succinctly: "today the Bulgarian Helsinki Committee is suing Bulgaria. And I hope they win."

Why did the polygamous hen cross the road? She wanted to have her cock and eat it too...

Love and relationships are a territory where you should make up your own rules. I personally support anyone's right to  choose their lifestyle- be it straight or gay, man, woman, transgender, monogamous, polygamous, poly-amorous, swinger. If you're happy with your partner, then that is all that is important.

I myself have danced all over the spectrum of possibilities. I wanted to be monogamous, get married and have children, when I was with my first boyfriend. My second partner and I had a different relationship, at which point I found  enjoyment and respect for the more open lifestyle. Third relationship, and my most serious one to this point, we explored different options, but when we broke up, he wanted children and marriage, and I wanted no children and just a commitment ceremony. Not even why we broke up. But I remember one night, a few months into that relationship, we were talking and I was ranting about my desire for freedom- while I loved him, to me there was no relation between what you feel for one person and whether or not you sleep with others as well. He wanted us to not see other people and I was generally OK with that, but wouldn't it be nice if opportunity presented itself and we were able to take it? Yet, I am suddenly in tears and I think only someone who has been of the polygamous mindset can understand the paradoxical beauty of monogamy. Here he is, a man who can choose to have sex with other women and still have the woman he comes home to, have his cake and eat it too, but all he wants is that one person, me. And I was playing the part of the reluctant bitch.

It was a moment of realisation, certainly. The biggest commitment has nothing to do with rings and promises. It comes with this strong desire within you to just see one person, even though you have a world out there, just waiting for you. To have the option and to choose to, rather than be forced to, decline it.

Perhaps I was genuinely converted that night. I've only just started a new relationship and about 10 days in, it is a record in my book, we randomly picked up the topic. What are we doing, where are we going, what do we call this? We had the conversation. My first reaction was to postpone it, to delay monogamy, to keep my options open, even though all I wanted was this one boy. But he called me up on it, and I got butterflies in my stomach when he suggested we were exclusive. The gorgeous man had a choice, yet he chose me.

Why are the two chicken friends crossing the road? No-one remembers, the point is that they are crossing it together.

A very simple idea has been jumping around my head, reaching all tiny corners, playing around with my thoughts, and the more I've entertained it, the more it made sense. It's hardly revolutionary but I'll share it with you anyway.
Friends. Why, yes, it is that simple. I personally think of it in terms of physics, because this is how it makes sense to me. Imagine a see-saw. One one side we have the things in our life which are a given, and on the other side, to balance out, are those things which we choose to introduce to our life. At least roughly, they have an equal weight. Seen as we only choose our friends, because our family, our relatives, our school are chosen for us, the only thing that we choose must have an equal effect on who we become as a person, to the effect of other few things combined. Of course, in the early stages of development, the environment and the parents will have more of an impact but after we go to school, we make our own life.
It sometimes scares me that it is such a random, arbitrary choice. Not only are friends and contacts based on location, they are based on something as silly as who you sat next to that first day of school. Not always, but very often. The first day of high-school, the group of 20-odd people that would from then on be my class was asked to split into two groups-boys and girls- and then arrange according to height. Thus, two by two, we ended up sitting next to each other, and the boy I sat next to is one of my best friends. We share a lot, despite having different interests, different views on religion, different views on family. Now that I think about it, and, scarily, this is the first time I do think about it in such depth, we have no obvious reason to be as good friends as we are. Yet... it is 9 years, 7 months and 11 days later (the lovely soul read this and corrected my maths!) and I still consider him one of my best friends. Charming, how much chance shapes our life.
When I sat down to write this, it wasn't chance that I wanted to talk about but somehow I ended up here, the topic took me by surprise. I guess occasionally, writing will do that to you, it will take you somewhere you didn't know you wanted to go.
What I wanted to say, and I will only say it briefly now, is that who you choose as your friends may be the most important choice you'll ever make. It's not who you marry. Friends will be there before you meet your partner, when you expect your child, when you get divorced and when your parents pass away. If you choose them wisely. Friends are your real partners for life. They can support you but they can also drag you down- so often you see "good" people in "bad"situations, and you wonder how they ended up there. Likely, because of a friend they are close to but who is a bad influence. Just as much, a friend can rehabilitate you when you've lost your way. Some friends will try to put you down so they can shine, and like a Eurhythmics song, some will use you, others will be used by you. You may be in a situation where you find that you're tempted to compare yourself to your best buddy and think "well, at least I am better than him", and I am not sure who that is worse for. Friendships, [feminist joke alert!] much like women, will come in all shapes and sizes, and you can probably learn more from the bad friendships.
No discovery of the wheel today, I'm sorry. Just a thought that needed to be said out loud, and a quiet thank you to my partner in life, the friend who has shaped me as a person.

The more the chicken crossed the road, the less he liked it, but the more he needed it.

You know that warm fuzzy feeling inside you, the one that makes your heart leap with joy, expectation makes your palms sweaty, you cannot help but smile, you can't wait any longer... Oh dear, you thought I was talking about love, didn't you?! The braver or more vulgar amongst you are probably proudly thinking "nope, you snide woman. We were thinking sex." Nope. I am talking about addiction.

Whether it's cocaine or, like in my case, caffeine, addiction leaves no loose ends, imagination is scrapped for what is a story so predictable that every word of it has been written before it has even begun.  In fact, I'll give you that, it is very much like a love story.The initial thrill and enjoyment are quickly replaced by habituation, and then a need for it. It will never feel as good as it did the first time but we try it anyway. Quantity does not substitute quality.

There is no such thing as an ex addict. Addiction, you cannot undo. The body will be physiologically altered but it's the mindfuck that will keep you going. What I love about addiction is the warm fuzzy feeling of belonging. It is like meeting an ex: maybe you haven't seen each other for years, and then, as soon as you meet up, it's like you were never apart. There are weeks, months even without a single drop of caffeine, not in tea, not in Coke, not in energy drinks. And then, a smell... out of nowhere, an echo from your past reminds you of how good it used to feel, to have coffee. Your experience and your instincts battle. It's not that you can't have just one, it's that you won't. The pattern, the self-destruction and the unconditional, albeit residual, love from the object of your addiction, make it so easy to have just one more. One more.

I know for a fact that I have an addictive personality, so believe it or not, I do actually handle things fairly well. Thought, here it is- I think another common thing between addicts (to anything) is control: addicts possess a specific type of weak character, perhaps rooted in a challenging childhood, a character attracted to power and control. Because addiction, control and the lack of it are a match made in Hell, a destructive threesome: the illusion of control, the self-torturing game of losing control and gaining it back again, the arrogance when we accept the challenge that "it's just one more time, just this once". So, even though  I know  have an addictive personality, despite my knowledge of psychology, anatomy, and that painful feeling in my kidneys I got last year, I keep going back to drinking energy drinks and coffee, every few months. I handle it by having long periods of time, when I don't do it, and in the times when I do "binge" on caffeine, I still try to it in moderation. Or what for me is moderation. Only 3 cans today, watered down with tea.

Yet, for all my efforts, I know I will spend the rest of my life having nights of caffeine and self-destruction, despite my better judgment, because... it feels good. It feels welcoming, it feels a bit mischievous, it feels complete, and, for a second, that first sip makes all the rest of the world disappear, while my body is filled with bliss and taurine. It is a forbidden love affair. The object of your desire doesn't judge you for relapsing, it doesn't even judge you for not coming back sooner, it loves you because you love it. I won't quit caffeine not because I can't, because I don't want to. Sad, perhaps, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Why did the four ducks cross the road? I have no idea, but they gave me hope

As my housemate's pictures of 4 ducks crossing a road are getting uploaded, let me tell you a story.

I've been feeling very badly in the last week or so. It was an end of an era coming, and that will get a whole other blog, it's a story worth telling. But I also realised that I have friends and I have family, I am strong and I know what I want from life, I will not compromise, and that's definitely something worth keeping.

Tonight was an ordinary tuesday night. I went to the new BED,  and for the first time, it felt like it should do. I met some random guys, made a bet with them - should I fulfil their challenge, I get a beer from each one of them. The bet was that I wouldn't dare dance on top of the bar. Of course, what they didn't know was that this would hardly be my first time doing it. I shared the plan with F, he lifted me up on the bar. I got another innocent-looking girl to dance with me up there, and I could feel the energy of the crowd going up. I then got my beers from the random boys. I partied, said goodbye to my peeps and left. Already, it was a better night in the new BED that I could have hoped for.

And here it is where the story gets magical.

On my way home, I literally saw four ducks crossing a road. Never mind the chicken. FOUR....DUCKS....CROSSING....A....ROAD...IN...THE.....CITY.....CENTRE...OF.....ROTTERDAM....indeed.

The four ducks...just after we'd caught them crossing the road. Next to a shop. At  3 something am.

I've been needing direction in my life. I've felt lost, I've felt like all the important parts of my life are disappearing, I've felt like I have no direction. It's still true: I'm still dealing with a break-up, I'm dealing with living in this country where I don't speak the language and I am learning it, I'm writing a Master Thesis, I am applying for jobs all over, I'm figuring out all about who I am, I am dealing with other stuff as well.........and all of a sudden I see FOUR DUCKS crossing a road. It was a bit like wink, a quirky (or quacky!) reminder that life has a tendency to sort itself out. I don't believe in god, I don't believe in fate, but I sure as hell believe in the four ducks that crossed my street.

Thank you, four ducks. By far, this is the oddest and quackiest thing I've ever seen.

R.