Sunday, May 24, 2009

The Word Of The Day Is "Bulk"

First I thought about writing the definition of bulk for the ones who have no clue of its meaning. But then I thought it over and realized that if I do so, my dear blog will seem just like all the other online dictionaries. Also, an image is way better than a million words (did I translate well? Maybe there's the same saying in English, but, please, don't make me google it now..move your ass and do it yourself!). No, I'm not upset. I swear. Sorry.

I'm sure you must be asking yourself what the hell I'm talking about. Well, let me say then...

I've been working as a model for the last 4 years (ok, you fell off the chair, you're laughing and probably saying "C O M E O N!" but it definitely is true. The purest one). Moving on.
What I really want to say is that this profession manages to be lots of things, like fun, funny, interesting, cruel and I kinda like it all. Why is it fun? You see beautiful people most of the times (I say MOST because being a model is not exactly related to beauty at all. No jokes, please..). Why is it funny? Because they think that everybody else is "less" for not being such beautiful people like they are. Perhaps the adjective "funny" should be replaced by "tragic". Whatever. Interesting? 'Cause they really look self-confident, even if they're not. And, if not, they pretend it so well that I myself am defining them as self-confident. And why is it cruel? Just because it's just like any other kind of job. Just because. And people say what they're paid to say, whether you like it or not. However it seems to hurt more since it puts the finger right where it hurts the most in every single person: self-esteem. That's what happened to me when I went to the fittings for the NCAD Fashion Show last week.
While trying on the exquisite garment which made me look kind of part of the Star Trek casting, the fashion show organizer told me kindly to swap my alien outfit with the other model because he needed some more bulk (yes, MEAN!) to run along the catwalk with that. It'd be ok if he called me in the corner and whispered this sentence gently, or even angrily, if that was the case. But no. It wasn't like this. It's fashion industry. Things are supposed to be loud when it comes to this. And also, people are supposed to laugh (yes, it was really embarassing). As a guy full of complexes that I am, I felt a little bad in the first begining, even knowing that I shouldn't take it personal And I didn't do it, I promise. Just felt bad for not being bulk enough to parade with that. But, as a model, I should be more self-confident and looked the bright side of all that: even not being sturdy enough for that outfit, the other ones fitted me perfectly. And also, I was still part of the show, what, for a few seconds, made me more special than others who are not. At least that's what I preferred to think of while I was there. It was the only thing that could make me forget my complexes for that moment and make me the secure person I should be.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Poor Little Cigarette


Yeah, that's what I think: poor, little cigarette. Probably you maybe be thinking I shouldn't stick up for it all the bad things it's been put the blame on: lung cancer, enphysema, heart attack, stroke and ,eventually, DEATH. Ok, fine. But I'm still trying to understand why people behave as if it was the only thing that could lead you to death nowadays. Ok, I'll try harder to get my message across...
There was this girl who I was in love with (believe me, it has already happened...and for long 10 years) and, when she moved to another neighborhood, I had the chance to pay her a visit in order to catch up. We were two dumb 15 year-old teens who were going through this difficult phase of our lives (I would say ugly as well), when we think we know almost everything about everything. Then, I rang her, she came down, we hugged each other and talked about all the things we antecipated to tell one another. Then, for my surprise, as if it was really normal, she just pulled a cigarette out of her pocket and said she needed a lighter. That was completely shocking for me (please, it was 1997 for crying out loud!) and I didn't hesitate to grab her cigarette roughly from her hand and throw it away. Her face was like "what the fuck are you doing?" but then I explained that it would make her harm and definitely wasn't good for her health. You may be thinking "yeah, Plinio, and you were right!", but the thing is who really cares about others nowadays? I'm aware that all the advertising ought to warn the smokers of the risks they may face if they don't stop blowing the stinky cloud at people's faces, but I don't understand why there are people that treat smokers as if they already have the diseases shown on the boxes.
Please, don't get me wrong! I'm not saying that you should start smoking right after reading this post. My point is that there are plenty of things that are even worse than cigarette and no one makes advertisings about them. Example? Gossip. It's bad, stinky (you know what I'm saying), harmful and even so I don't walk on the streets shutting people's mouths. And I have never seen any billboard with the saying "talking about others affects your OWN life". Or even "Mind Your Business". Actually, I think it's the religious part of me which remembers that " the tongue is the most destructive part of your body" (yes, believe me again, I've been to church a couple of times). For this, let's be less hypocrite for once (because I consider impossible not to be a little).Thus, for the ciggies-admirers, if you decide to quit smoking, quit some other more harmful bad habits in your life - and I promise I'll quit mine.

Monday, May 18, 2009

"I Just Want To Be Loved"


"PlĂ­nio, I just want to be loved!"

This is something I'll never forget. You know when you hear something from a good friend of yours that just dropped by to say this to you? Well, that's exactly what happened to me. It was a sunny day and I woke up immersed in a terrible hangover, and the only plan I had for that day was to remain the whole afternoon in bed, enjoying my headache. But then I was surprised by this call from a good friend of mine who said she really wanted to come over to talk.
Then, a few minutes later she rang my doorbell, walked in and started crying. I still had the smell of the last night (it means smoke, alcohol and lots else) but, just for that time, my hangover state didn't matter at all. She was there crying. And I was there listening to it without any move.
Actually I have no idea why I'm saying this, but what I just found interesting in this is that she said what many people feel like saying but will never do. People are encouraged to behave like they don't give a damn about others think or say about them. This is totally bullshit! Everybody cares and I think everybody should care at least a little. Everybody likes to be pleased somehow, as well as please someone they like. For me (yeah, this is utterly personal) it's something really easy to do. It's nice to make the ones you like (or even the ones you've never seem before) smile for some seconds. That's a good example:
Yesterday it was a fucking rainy day (for a change), I got on the tram totally wet commuting to work and could see lots of people running in order to grab a place to be underneath. But there was a girl, listening to music on her Ipod, no umbrella in hands, wet from head to toe and enjoying herself. And you know what? She smiled at me with this I don't mind the rain-look and followed her way.That really made me happy! Isn't it just fantastic, somebody smiling when they're supposed to be cranky for getting wet? Well, for me it is (because I was cranky till it happened)...
I want be loved in this way. I'm not looking forward to receiving flowers, candies or a love letter (of course, who'd send that?). I just want a good smile, respect, good nights out with friends and feel free to be whatever I wanna be. Who doesn't, by the way?

Saturday, May 16, 2009

R!OT, In My Own Words


No, it wasn't me who came up with the definitions you've just read above. That's called freedictionary.com. Ok, as if you didn't know it...let's move on..
One more rainy day in Ireland, one more boring day at work, some time more to dive deeply into my complicated thoughts (featuring boredom) and then R!OT is conceived and immediately brought into this cruel world. You know the times you're sure you thought interesting ideas but you have no clue about how you're gonna get them across? The worst part of it is when you're willing to tell them to everybody but then you sound stupid and nonsense.Well, been there and done that...and failed.
A riot is exactly what I am. Don't mean I'm a hooligan, don't go out on the streets kicking people's asses, throwing up on O'Connell Street at the weekends or wearing tracksuit as it was the only less-filthy garment in my closet. What I mean here is a riot of thoughts. When you think for hours of plans for a good future (car - overrated, house -overrated, marriage - overkill), but then you drop it and head for the nearest pub in order to forget your painful life for a minute...and then you end up regretting having spent so much money on alcohol (or drugs, why not?) because you worried about not making good plans for your life. This is some fucked up shit! Whatever...
Don't yawn, don't sleep, cause I'm never intense like this (probably you didn't even think so). Everybody knows that rainy days inspire these kinds of thoughts (the riot ones) and it's pretty likely that it's the last time I'll post something like this. So, don't be surprised if next time I talk about the beautiful sunrise I beheld or even relate Obama to Susan Boyle. In my crazy mind, they may have a connection. This is just riot in my own words!

Followers