I admit…I’m not the best eater, especially when I have to show up and make it myself. Cooking is a ritual. Is an act of love. Cooking for oneself is an act of self-love, of self-worth.

Behind the mask of being too busy, not hungry, whatever, I do forget to eat sometimes. For years I struggled with my weight and even saw myself in the mirror bigger than I was… I still do.

The rain. Doesn’t stop here. I want to go and explore, see some shrines and parks. Visit the Samurai Sword Museum.

But with all honesty, with this rain falling down, crippling the sky, all I want to do curl up in bed. Be me and someone else at the same time. How about it? I have a lot to learn. No wonder I am constantly catching up. People come and go, they come and go. and I remain the same. I sit in the lobby of this swanky hotel in Shinjuku, my eyes turning, curling from the inside out. Ok, I found a better place to be.

Today is the day. I have done one 700 squats in under a week. I feel I’m transforming. I don’t think I could ever go back to not sweating like this again. Not putting in the work. If I can do 100 squats a day, surely I can do more. And if I can do this, then I can do anything! I can live my life as the creative entrepreneur I am through my words and gifts.

A lot has happened in the past few weeks. A lot that has made me think of the past and the future and our actions as humans. I don't know much. All I know is that people make mistakes. All the time. But it is not all the time that they rectify it. Apologise. Or even learn from them. I try. Surely not yet succeeding. But I do try. I try to be brave. Be better than the next day. Always true to myself.

When there is nothing to love.

I am soaking in a tub all these crazy wishes hopes and dreams

All the if only and all the what ifs…

There she was.

So scared. So fragile.

Unable to say a word.

All beaten down.

Clothes ripped.

Today is Valentine’s day, so happy Valentine’s day, I guess.

Anyway, for me it’s just another day.. Nothing more.

I want it to be special…. yet it’s not.

Ages ago I wrote about feeling in a prison, caged up, unable to fly and live my life on my own terms. That post really shook me and for whatever reason was my last post in a while. Before you start looking for it, let me tell you that you will not find it here as a few months back I removed it.

I am reading Stephen King’s book “On Writing”, and I am finding it quite fascinating. It is not your average academic book on how to write, but more of a memoir of his life which includes how he came around the craft. It is very inspiring how no matter what his situation was at the time (broke, married with kids and a long career of meaningless shitty jobs), he never stopped writing; even if it meant sacrificing his little free time for some more quality time with his pen and paper.

I am reading Stephen King’s book “On Writing”, and I am finding it quite fascinating. It is not your average academic book on how to write, but more of a memoir of his life which includes how he came around the craft. It is very inspiring how no matter what his situation was at the time (broke, married with kids and a long career of meaningless shitty jobs), he never stopped writing; even if it meant sacrificing his little free time for some more quality time with his pen and paper.

Listening to REM’s song this Sunday afternoon, “It’s the end of the world” made me think of the following. It’s ok, for it to be the end of this word. This world in which we live in that is full of hatred, apartheid, deceit, greed and so many other negative qualities that I just don’t have the heart to mention.

I have always considered myself as a no filters person. By this, I mean that I am really open to anything; especially new people and adventures without the social prejudices that usually accompany our lives now and days. But as I get older, I’ve started to realise that having filters is not such a bad idea.

The week has started, says The Ritzy, it’s more like… The week has ended! It’s Monday and I am back on the train on my way to London Bridge.

On the train

On my way home, at least for now.

This is my way,

Not always my way.

I’m not who I used to be… Yet somehow I want to believe the essence of who is me is still here, there, somewhere and everywhere.

The thing is, I haven’t done most of the things I wanted to do, but I’ve done some. Most importantly, I’m not where I thought I would be by now, but at least I’m somewhere. And as I write I think; and as I think my mind reaffirms: Time is an illusion, just like space; so intangible and alluring but mostly misleading.

NO GRINGOS IN OUR PLAYAS.

Unless they go to have fun, drink beer and surf, that is.

This morning something traumatic, actually mostly embarrassing happened. As I was walking towards the train station I was wondering whether I was going to get on the 08:12 train or not. I wasn’t running late or anything so I wasn’t fussed at all. But when I got to the platform, it was 08:13 and the train was still there, doors still open with people still getting on.

As we leave our homes every morning, we see people covered in layers, gloves and hats to fool our bodies and pretend it’s not that cold. but the truth is, it’s cold. It’s the winter. It has arrived. After a glorious familiar Christmas and a relatively wild New Year, it comes the time when NO ONE has any money. January comes and boom! Hello overdraft!!