Category Archives: Writing

Book in progress: All roads lead to Ohm

Chapter III

Recap of past years

Looking back on my last few years, even I feel a little surprised how much happened to me. I went through so many experiences and my life changed so often that most people don’t experience this much change in an entire lifetime. While I was in the middle of the process of each situation that was shaping the path of my life, I didn’t realise just how transformational these events were. We need to stop every once in a while to evaluate what we went through and how we improved or what we achieved.


I used to have a tendency to not recognise my own success, to not pat myself on the back occasionally. It didn’t feel right for me to do that. I didn’t want to put myself on the pedestal as I was constantly fighting against my ego and I was consciously trying to dissociate from it, to shatter it into pieces. Once I understood that our ego needs to be understood and managed, not completely destroyed, I realised that I didn’t give myself enough credit. I didn’t know my real worth, I repeatedly ‘undersold’ myself. Knowing your worth and the value you can bring is vital in every area of your life. Be it a job, a relationship or a social commitment, you need to understand where you can position yourself. Not from a superficial point of view as in how others see you and what you portray yourself as but to fully understand where you are standing along your journey. How much knowledge you have, how much value you can add and how you can serve best.


At the end of the day, if you live your life to the full then it’s all about service. That doesn’t mean you need to be in a subordinate role, no not at all. Serving others, serving a community, serving a cause and most importantly serving to fulfil your own desires. These are the things that matter. Either from a business point of view or a personal inspiration, prioritising the service aspect of the process, you will achieve long-lasting results. For example, a business that truly puts customer satisfaction first will thrive within its competition as it will have happy customers who will not only return for more business but will also recommend the service or product happily to others. But hold on for a second, I got a bit side tracked with my story. I wanted to share with you how much happened to me in these past few years, that triggered my need for becoming ‘homeless’ for a while. To have no fixed address and just to go with the flow of life for a while. How I went from having the perfect life (on paper) to living out of a backpack because of that one thought on 4th April 2018. I was a CEO of a start company, I was living in a beautiful 2-bedroom apartment on my own, driving a BMW, ate in restaurants pretty much every day or had my food prepared and delivered to me, had some really good friends yet one day I said I’m not happy and threw my lifestyle away to seek some kind of meaning.


I was looking for some sort of revelation, a lesson, the ultimate purpose.

I was not happy with the ‘successful’ life that so many people only dream about. I had it all laid out in front of me yet it was not enough for some reason. It was lacking a mission, a purpose: what do I leave behind? What do I contribute? How do I inspire? How am I making this world a little bit better? My mind and soul were seeking answers, searching for something. Even I wasn’t sure what it was I was seeking. I just knew I had to change. I wanted to go into the opposite direction and start looking for something that I didn’t know what it was.

Double jointed circle

29/05/2018

Upside down
Round and round

The circle keeps rolling back to its starting point but now the shape looks different to me. It’s no longer a circle. It resembles more of an 8 shape. Double jointed circle bent in the middle into infinity. Cliché? Perhaps. Yet it doesn’t faze me.

Keep going, keep going, round and round, upside down.
Same thing. New perception.

Trip over yourself

01/04/2017

Dream with me and live without me
Tomorrow might be just a fantasy
And apologising to me will be a courtesy
Dancing around the pieces of our broken dreams
Might help you to forget me. Go on and heal.
The truth might be buried deep

But the heart sees
Beneath the lies,
The cries,
The begging.

Begin the new trip. And trip over yourself
In the process
Because pain now means less
That is a new Yes.

 

That’s all

31/07/2018

I’m not mad at you
I don’t feel anger nor any hurt
My soul just seeks answers
It wants to see the truth and nothing else,
That’s all.

I am not mad at any of you
Your actions are not my path
They purely belong to you,
Nobody else. I just keep ‘the one’ eye to see reality,
That’s all.

I am not mad at myself either
Every event is another lesson
Learning is a beautiful journey
It goes deeper each time to bring more light,
That’s all.

I am not mad at the world either
This is not a poem nor modern art
There are no structured rhymes here
Don’t let the shape of this fool you; it’s a reality illusion.

That’s all.

notepad

A sneaky peek of ‘Sent Away’

My brain is currently giving birth to a fantasy / sci-fi novel. Here’s a tiny glimpse of it, enjoy!

 

I was very surprised they hadn’t noticed that I was in the basement as well. I didn’t deliberately stay quiet or forced my muscles into a standstill when they ran through the fake-wood door. Lying down behind the sofa might makes you think that I was hiding but in fact that’s the only place where I can connect to the wireless charging unit. My phone ran out of battery three hours ago and I had to find a place to upload my daily activity report. I couldn’t risk missing the deadline, again. I already have two warnings and trust me, I have no plans bagging the third one. It was 19:48 when I heard Lorna telling off Brian as she slummed down on the leather sofa that my friends call so-vintage. Exactly three minutes earlier I pressed ‘Submit’ for my upload and I let out a sigh, feeling quite pleased that I had 15 minutes to spare before I would receive my confirmation back.

So there they were, not even half a meter away from me – how can they not notice me? Well, I didn’t exactly throw them a ‘Welcome to the basement’ cheer when they rushed in. But still… they were so ignorant sometimes. Especially Brian. The amount of fights I had with him as a child! He’s not the typical older brother who would look out for his little sister. From time to time I got so angry at him, I was wishing they would send him away. He came close to it on 3 occasions. But as soon as he opens his mouth and gives his ‘Final Speech’ the jury would change his mind and let him stay. I never understood how it was possible. Once, maybe. But 3 times?! I used to wonder if it had something to do with his looks. So many girls were after him when he was in his twenties, even my friend Jessie fell desperately for him. She would not shut up about how Brian’s greyish blue eyes made her hypnotised. How his deep brown hair looked so neat yet sensual when he slicked it back. Or how she would gladly die if his bizarrely thick lips could seal hers. Ew. I pulled a disgusted face every time she described his facial features in this manner. You don’t want to hear these things about your brother.

Then one day I realised it wasn’t his looks. When the ‘No gender no physical attributes’ law came into effect I was sure his lucky days were over. The law stated that anyone being prosecuted needs to remain anonymous and presented behind a sound altering wall in front of the jury. This way no one would know if the accused is male or female or what they looked like. As Brian stood behind this wall on his third occasion, I was positive this would be the last time I see him. And yet, he managed to convince the judges that his good, compassionate personality only took a little tumble and he was ready for his big good deed. They let him stay, again. That was the last time he was giving his Final Speech.

“See little sis? This is how you deliver the perfect FP. It’s not like you would really need to know, you never get into any trouble. You must be so bored every single day.” The arrogance of his voice was increasing my blood pressure at a dangerous speed. It hit me there and then: it was his way of manipulating people with his words and nothing to do with his looks. This was about 1 year ago just when he was turning 30 becoming High Risk. And based on what I’m hearing from behind the sofa, I think I need to get prepared for his 4th time. But what the hell did he do dragging Lorna into his mess?

“It’s not about fear Brian, why don’t you get it? We need to have some structure. We can’t just live how we used to. You need to finally accept the fact that things have changed.” Lorna’s cheeks were shining with redness as she placed her shaking hand on Brian’s shoulder.

“I can’t accept it, I won’t.  Don’t you see? They are forcing us to do things we don’t want to do.” The words echoed with an arrogant undertone.

“What? You don’t want to help people? You don’t want to do a good deed every day? They are not asking us to lie, to rob or kill. If you feel that this one rule is so terrible then maybe you should be sent away” her voice trembled as she got to the end of her sentence. Brian shrugged his shoulder so forcefully that Lorna’s hand fell off of it slamming down onto the leather sofa. The redness in her cheeks became brighter and her chocolate brown eyes instantly got filled with tears. I thought this might be a good time to show my presence, as strangely I felt a little sorry for my brother. Not for Lorna for some reason.

“I don’t mean to interrupt but…” I said quietly and peeled myself off the floor slowly remaining in a sitting position.

“What the hell Lia?”

“I had to find a charging unit to upload my report. I’m guessing you haven’t done yours?” I asked. Actually it sounded more like a statement than a question and I couldn’t help raising my eyebrows. They were still sitting down twisting their backs around to see me on the floor. Lorna propped her arm on the top bit of the sofa and rested her head down on them letting out an exhausted sigh. Her hazel skin gave a magical contrast to the saffron coloured furniture. I always wished I could somehow swap my pale skin with hers. And her hair. Her curvy, dark caramel locks with my not-quite-brown-not-quite-blond straight mess. I was a little envious of her looks but then so was every female who saw her. There was something about Lorna that made you feel intimidated until she started talking to you. So humble, so cheerful and always ready to help someone.

“Not only he didn’t submit his report but told the jury that mine was a fake and it was him who did the good deed not me.” She said so calmly that really confused me. If he did that to me I would want to punch his model perfect face.

“What?! How could you do this to her Brian? And why?”

“Chill out sis, it’s what Lorna wanted.”

“No, I did not want this. I told you to do this my way, not your stubborn, manipulative way.” Now her voice sounded a tiny bit angry at least.

Brian jumped to his feet and took a dramatic deep breath as if he was about to go under water for a while.

“Manipulative? It’s justice, not manipulation. I have to prove them that I’m right. That WE are right.” The way his words came out of his mouth reminded me of his last Final Speech.

“Explain to me what’s going on?” I asked and swallowed back the fear that was stuck in my throat.

“Listen Lia” He looked at me with such brotherly love that I’ve never seen in his eyes before.

“Do you remember my last Final Speech? The part I was talking about you?”

“What?” No, no, no….don’t let this one be true. He’s a manipulative liar. He will say anything to turn the situation in his favour.

“Do you remember?”

Red brick wall

Writer’s block

I have moments when a strong urge to write is burning inside me, yet I cannot form a cohesive sentence. I know that I’m not the only one who faces this frustration occasionally. The question is: what do you do when this stubborn block hits your brain? Personally, I carry on writing and I end up with a hard-to-decipher, frustrated mumble. Like this one: 

Delete. Type. Delete, delete, delete. Start again. I have something very important to tell you, yet it doesn’t want to become a form of words. It burns my soul with its white fire and tightens my throat when I’m attempting to say it out loud. A heavy exhale. Yes that helps temporarily, let me do it again. Dizziness kicks in; well at least my physical symptoms are now in line with my emotional ones. Start typing again. My fingertips are hitting the keyboard at such a rapid speed that my skin is burning up. Sloooow down, this is not making sense. Delete, delete.

New paragraph. Organise the tornado of thoughts. I need to understand where to start and why do I want to start. Do I want to start? Stop confusing yourself even more, no questions. Just type. Two more sentences are formed, let me read them back. Doesn’t this sound miserable? Was that another question?! Hush now consciousness, this truth inside my soul needs to be born. It needs to be shared with you but firstly I need to admit it to myself and stop running away from it. This is not a rabies ridden dog trying to bite my arm off but this is…delete, delete.

The realisation hits so hard on my chest that I struggle to breathe for a few seconds. I do not know what it is that I must tell myself. It all remains the playhouse of Confusion.

Question mark

Power of the written words

Words. Letters. Some strange lines scribbled on paper. Or they are flickering back from the screen of your electrical device. Thought processes materialised into the physical world. Touch it – you can’t feel it.

Why would you feel the written words? You see them, yes. But how can you create something that when you touch you don’t feel it? Although when you read them back, the whirlpool of emotions will start stirring. Can we really put our feelings into the forms of letters and dots and question marks? When you read my letter-chain, does the same feeling kick you in the stomach as the one I had to fight off? I don’t think so.

I feel. I think. I write.

You read. You think. You smile.