I have come here to write on many occasions and I have started each post the same way – with some sort of reference to the amount of times that I have come to the page and allowed my fingers to type nothingness before the mind tires or empties or frankly just can’t be bothered to continue typing. This time, I vow to myself, I will continue and I will click publish no matter what. I’m not really sure what that will achieve anyway. Perhaps some sort of mild victory against the self, in which case, if you’re only battling against yourself you are the winner, yet also the loser. Life is balance, they say.😉
2015 was a year of absolute firsts and unbelievable memories and I have myself to thank mostly for that. Of course, I can delve further into my past and thank the ways in which I was brought up which eventually led me to being the person I am today and thus forth spirited me to achieve the things I did last year, but if I just think about who it was who made those things possible last year, it was me. For once. I can take credit. And I am damned proud of myself for doing something different, for stepping beyond what I deem as comfort, for breaking self-imposed boundaries. I think I understood myself more than ever before and I feel most comfortable in who I am, which is quite an achievement, especially when I think of my twenties as a whole which was one big huge unknowing experiment. Well life is an experiment as a whole I guess, because we’re never really ready for anything and when we think we are we’re still probably a little bit scared and then once we’ve overcome that fear we feel great and then seek more to fear to overcome to fear to overcome.
I can’t sleep. It’s probably because my Christmas and New Year period was one filled with much joy. Remember what I said about balance though? What balances joy? That’s right. Pain. But not the emotional pain that some have to endure during these “festive” times, I mean self-inflicted, privileged pain. The body killing pain. The brain cell damaging pain. But altogether, fun pain.
And now it’s nearly 7am and my head is swirling with thoughts. I’ve been looking over some of the pictures I’ve taken in 2015 and I’ve stumbled across some videos as well – those videos that people record without a second watch. Ever. They just appear on nights like this when there’s nothing better to do than to click aimlessly on the keyboard or mouse, desperate to get some sleep.
I fell out of love at the beginning of 2015. It wasn’t tough at the time but later in the year, and particularly towards the end of the year actually, it hit me. It was as if I had a block against it, or as though I fooled myself into thinking it was actually easier because I saw rationale in the break up and so I concluded that I’d grown up a significant amount which worked as an extra tally on the points of manhood. But alas, no, I cried like a little baby again later in the year when I started to reminisce and in fact was a little bit angry at the raging fool who made me feel that way. Strangely enough, we share this weird little bond and have talked about it and it’s all out in the open and it’s like a sea of butterflies have taken our short-lived bad past, stuffed it into mini backpacks and flown it all away so that all was left to be see was an array of glittery flutters flying off into the sunset. So yeah, we’re “friends” now. He’s in love again and he loves to tell me just how perfect this new guy is for him. I sound bitter. I was bitter, but only at the way he expresses such things, as if to dig at me. I know him so well but still, I wouldn’t want anything less than for him to be completely consumed by puppy dog love. He was a big part of my 2015, seeing as I visited Poland in January and he visited my city and stayed at mine and met the family etc in March. He taught me a lot about myself and he taught me some new things and also reminded me of some things too. Such as patience, such as accepting viewpoints that I don’t agree with, such as being tolerant, such as being the bigger person, such as being there for someone who clearly needs helps even if it kills you inside and you actually want them to suffer a little bit because of the pain they have no idea you’re feeling. I saw some photos of our shared time together and his stupid face made me smile and even laugh sometimes – no hard feelings, no tears, just good memories shared. And I’m glad we figured it out together too, something which is very rare these days.
Another huge memory was of me turning 30. Yes, those days are over. Those days of.. well .. depression and not knowing who I was and all that awkward bullshit that doesn’t even matter anyway. My 30th birthday party was probably one of the best parties ever, even if I do say so myself. Everyone was there. My family, siblings, even some cousins surprised me!, my best friends from all walks, some new people and my family really turned the house into a celebration of me. It was pure joy and I’m so so so grateful for such a spectacle. Of course, it was also a sort of “bon voyage” party too as the trip of a lifetime was about to happen. That’s right. Brazil.
Brazil. Ah. I don’t know where to start. I wrote this on my facebook page:
“My final night in Sao Paulo, the city where my short travels around Brazil began, was made all the more apt by this illumination in the busy night-time city centre.
Want to thank everyone who I met (there’s loads of you), or who helped me, partied, danced in streets or sometimes in the rain or on the beach or in the sea, put me up, translated, showed me around, joined me in my travels, hitch-hiked, beached, cooked, CARNIVALLED, missioned from bloco to bloco, shared tents and stories, laughed, hiked, flew, walked, bussed, and everything else. Big shout to the hospitable Brasileiros who made my stay easier.
Brazil, you humongous crazy piece of rhythmic energy, I salute you! P.S. It’s pissing it down now.”
That was my final night. The picture shows the back of my head staring up at this skyscraper which had been illuminated with the Brazilian flag. I think a tear fell from eye at that point. I was standing with a Brazilian “friend” Diego, who I’d met online a couple of years before and who I consequently met up with and who pretty much looked after me the first week and last few days I was there in his city, Sao Paulo. He showed me a real good time. He took me to parties on skyscrapers lit up in green and took me to pre-carnival parties on the (very homosexual, shockingly to me?) streets of Sao Paulo. We had a funny old friendship because it had built over a couple of years and there was an obvious attraction but I didn’t want to get into anything like that with him. Not to forget that I had a failing relationship looming in the back of my mind, though that didn’t stop me from experimenting and taking up opportunities when they were thrust in my face. I’m not proud of that. But it was a complicated time, all of which I don’t regret. Hm, I have this warm feeling when I think about all of what Diego did for me. He even came to join me later on my trip in Florianopolis, a beautiful island south of his city by quite a fair bit. He organised for me and him to stay at his friends there and he accompanied me for a day or two. He really liked me. I think we gathered that. And I think I probably could have liked him a lot had I let myself go a bit. But I wasn’t prepared to 1) fall deep then have to say goodbye and 2) cheat wholeheartedly on my “boyfriend”, though looking back, the word boyfriend is a huge overstatement. Yes, Diego played a big part in my trip and I love him for it.
There was of course CARNIVAL. Yes, I went to Rio carnival, the greatest celebration of life in the world. It was absolutely crazy. Parties from day to night, the smell and stickiness of amor in the air, the lack of clothes, the beaches, the rhythmic pulse of the never-ending drumbeat. The boys. Oh, the boys.
Prior to going to Rio, I met another guy called Guillherme. A real cute guy. Young and innocent and cute looking and handsome and attractive and very very …horny. At one of these pre-carnival parties in Sao Paolo, Diego left me to go get with another guy and left me with Gui. We sat on some steps out of the way, while revellers passed by, and chatted for a long while. We connected on a different level. He has a gentle soul, a spiritual thing happened. He went on to tell me that his last boyfriend had fucked him over and gave him HIV. He explained a little bit about his ex but it didn’t bother me. I asked to kiss him. And we saw each other again, alongside Diego (yes, all a bit weird), a few times over the week that I was in Sao Paolo. He, much like Diego, played a big part in the beginnings of my stay in Brazil. They really made me feel comfortable.
Okay. I’m tired. There’s so much more. I wonder if I’ll have the late night agility to ever finish typing up my year. I’ve only just made it to February.