Politically correct much?

It is more than often that i am struck by the political correctness that is blinding our speech (or small talk, non important chats) nowadays.

I understand political correctness. I understand why we need it and, you would be surprised, i even understand the rational of it all.

Still. Is suffocating me sometimes. It feels i cannot properly express a point without someone being offended – without having anything to do with the subject – and it is ridiculous. It doesn’t exist a generic consensus on what constitute political correctness. What that even means? It means that literally anything you say can be insulting to someone.

Now, with the risk of sounding like a well known globally known clown, i think that political correctness is a rotten egg that is suffocating communication. At all levels. I literally cannot talk about a subject, that someone will feel excluded, included, discriminated, marginalised, disadvantaged, insulted and so on. I am literally afraid to speak my mind in certain circumstances – i am sure someone will find it incorrect.

What i find politically incorrect, in another part of the world can be completely acceptable and vice-versa.So yes, being correct at all times is very much biased by our cultural background, experiences and personal battles that we fight each day. I cannot possibly be upset with you for your point of view. I can disagree, i can argue, i can refuse to listen. But i cannot imply that you intend to offend me just because you say it out loud.

The debate is not new and it comes with tons of arguments from each side. Yet, as i read recently – maybe we should not call it political correctness anymore. A new term should be found – since we cannot impose criminal penalties for making offensive jokes. Is like you agree with ISIS for attacking Charlie Hebdo for their cartoons.

I mean. Really. Yes, words hurt, create havoc and lead to violence. It is rather a “common sense” matter rather than politically correct one. You know that you are homophobic or racist or a xenophobe. Just don’t be one.

It always comes down to the “free will”. You know – that magic power that God gave you to agree with him and punish you in case you didn’t. Use your “free will” as long as it doesn’t interfere with another human well being. It’s really not that hard.

Anyway. Namaste

Nota bene – the above text is not intended of being offensive, oppressive or to cause distress to anyone.




What is a hashtag? Or what is a hashtag used for, do you ask?
According to the urban dictionary, a hashtag is “a word or phrase preceded by a hash sign (#), used on social media websites and applications, especially Twitter, to identify messages on a specific topic”.
If you are new to social media, or simply have no idea how hashtags work and you ask yourself why hashtags are even a thing, welcome to the club. Not long ago i was wondering the same thing, so i did the research for you.
Researching about #’s i read this:
“Hunt mistook an @ for a hashtag while tweeting derogatory thoughts about him” and i laughed.
Turns out that the little # are quite useful. I mean if you perform a search about #tomatoes (tomatoes are life, and you can’t deny it) the little pound symbol can group and optimise your search to get the best results and specific generated content. Magic isn’t it? Well, not if you are Hunt, but hey! who am i to judge?
Moreover, if you are writing and you want your content to be linked with more than one topic, you can use multiple hashtags and have your content be more “visible” to a wider audience.
To get even more proficient on your hashtag game – know that you can integrate them in your content or simply write a separate list with/under your post. I suggest you aiming on using more popular themes – that are for the general audiences and equally use some that are targeted on your interest, less popular but aimed for a specific niche. If you have no idea or lack creativity, there are even automatic hashtag generators.
Literally, the internet is working for you. Embrace the power of AI algorithms and discover the most uninteresting things in the virtual world, because why not?
Namaste and get your #game on!

Around the world in 80 plates

Some places are impossible to put into words.  It is like these places request silence and exists only within, independent of space and time. Yet, if you are lucky, sometimes you can feel a place’s soul even miles away. Only by a faint smell that belongs only to that place, the fine taste of bread and butter with a dash of salt, caramel cinnamon or the magic of colourful and crispy spices teleporting you in that very special moment in time when you were there.

As in Proust’s Madeleine – smell and taste can take you to a journey in yourself, in a place you’ve been before and you are yearning to be again, in a fantasy land that you know it exists because you have been there and never stopped searching your way back.

Often I ignore my sense of taste and smell (along with other senses equally important) – it seems unimportant with all the busyness taking over I forget to enjoy the simple joy of eating. As the pure pleasure of an apple. Have you been lucky enough, as a child, to explore the journey of an apple? An apple has a long adventurous journey from its tree to your busy hands and uninterested buds. From a tree rich in apples, is handpicked by the hands of your grandfather, carefully wrapped in paper next to other lucky winners and sent to you as the most honest and pure form of love.

I will not get all master chef(y) here, just that I get more aware of the food that I eat lately. Probably it comes with age, but I feel is equally important not only what you eat but how you take a moment to enjoy that food. So, here it comes, my Instagram series dedicated to food.  

Bonapp! As they say around here.


Plastic salad or emergency soup?

That is the question my friends, that is the question.

Leaving aside all the important stuff happening on the continent or ailleurs, do you know that hunger feeling after one intense workout? Well, if you don’t – good for you, I am not judging your lack of discipline (or do I ?) and if you do know this feeling, you also know that you could eat basically everything that comes your way.

Now, you don’t want to ruin all the work with junk food or some unhealthy choices ( oh, but I do!). So this time I had two (!) options in the little cafeteria at my gym ( because I decided i cannot make until I arrive home, i will eat people on the way, die of starvation or decompose because of the lack of substance in my body, you get the point): so, there was this plastic salad 🥗 – if you live in Belgium you will understand, otherwise let me explain: it is some plastic in a bowl that looks like salad but still taste like plastic. My second choice would be a vegetable soup. No, it’s NOT your home made mother’s soup, but rather a green liquid, a bit puréed, freshly vomited.

So now, you see my dilemma. Finally, I decided to go for the soup, which tasted way better than its looks.

Everyone was safe on the streets afterwards. And, yes, of course It happened that I have some chocolate at home. What am i, a sociopath?

What would you do faced with such a dilemma friend? Are you surprised about the amount of blabbering I can produce about soup? Me too.

Until we meet again.


Change (s)

I have an extreme aversion to change. That’s right. Every time it occurs ( big or small) I roll my eyes: here we go again.

Even though, since i know myself change has been the only constant in my life, you would think that, by now, i got used to it. Yet, somehow, i never handle changes well.

Any expert, (read Guru), will tell you: learn how to manage your emotions, so that emotions don’t lead you. Well, that’s easy to say. In practice, change creates much havoc in my brain, even though it has little to do with rationale. Any kind of change. Mostly it happens with people. When people (i care) disappear from my life, for one reason or another, my brains get foggy and unable to cope with the actual state of affairs. Sure, it is different with people we care about. Other mechanisms come into place to protect us from grief and/or loss.

Mostly, changes are, as a fact, good. Tested and proven, all the changes I’ve been through over the years, have proven to be beneficial and, almost, always something good or better followed. Yet, my brain gets soooo triggered when this happens. Either i completely block the actual situation to the point that i don’t even recognise it as a fact, so my brain behaves like nothing is happening, or, if by a miracle i recognise the change rationally, it becomes an emotional journey in itself. And that is good.

I think i am a lucky one, since these emotional state of affairs happen once in a while. I get to cry from seeing a scene in a movie, seeing an impossibly cute dog with those puppy eyes (admit it, that gets you too, sometimes),  or bumping into a stranger in the metro or a yoga trainer correcting my posture (that’s right, i am THAT sensitive), or some days even when i get a simple “hello”. I call it luck because i have the chance to release all that emotions. I think a lot of people don’t have it so easy.  More than often i don’t understand my own emotions. It is called emotional intelligence after all and some days are utterly hopeless.

Hmm, yes. Coming back to change: in the end it is the only constant. Embrace it.




Days like these

I must admit that sometimes I get extremely provoked when people say stupid things online. Ok, I get extremely provoked if they talk, in general, but online is another story.

Is a complete provokation at so many levels. Online we become Gods. There is nothing will stop us from being plain dumb, playing the intellectual or insulting others simply because we can.

So the best example is when actually people I know start posting an extreme opinion about something. An opinion is not an opinion though until is not insulting. And it is true that more than often I get triggered and start a long thread trying to reason with that person. Wrong move. Never try to reason online. Is like trying to fry eggs on a frozen lake. You get the point.

What I wanted to say: online we are still us. An extension of us, yet still us. So, if your behavior online is different from your real one with such a great degree, what that says about you?

Kisses on your chakras (translated from Romanian and quoted accordingly).


The chronicles of Irinia’s

When I start to believe that I might be a social animal after all, I jump in a plane for an inter continental flight, surrounded by the most despicable humans – and it hits me: no, I am not Aristotle’s human, craving society’s approval, acceptance and immersion – it is impossible. I literally cannot stand all these people. So according to the same Aristotle, I must be a beast or a god.

Situation on the left – there is that one person that when he breathes you can feel his intestines rotting. You understand that he is slowly decomposing and at this rate, he might even die on this flight. But he doesn’t – he still breathes and even with his mouth closed you can feel the insuportable stench of his stomach, even with my sweaters and scarf covering my mouth and nose, I think I will faint because of the unbearable and constant smell.

In front of me – must be a large man. One of those that needs mostly an entire row to be comfortable, rather than the RyanAir version of long distance flights. He is, of course, reclining his chair: ”Ça va?” he asks. ”Ça va pas!” I respond with tears of despair, feeling my cap knees crushed under his weight. He continues to recline Insensible to my visible pain and verbal vociferation.

Situation on the right – there is the extremely agitated teenager, he moves up and down, he stands a lot with his ass level next to my head (feeling like pinging his butt with a needle, I don’t have a needle!); his girlfriend dropped something under her chair and he starts searching occupying the whole couloir with his butt up. Again. He’s done with that, he starts picking his nose, he’s unhappy with the meal and his girlfriend starts to ask anyone who’s willing to donate the little Gouda’s cheeses – cheese and bread is the only thing he can eat. His restlessness is giving me an anxiety attack.

My left companion, starts as well, to search something that he keeps in the backpack – he decided to store his backpack under his chair. Now, obviously he doesn’t have space for his legs, therefore he decides to enter into my VERY personal space with half of his body. Meanwhile his breath didn’t ameliorated by miracle, as I hoped, and I am having a hard time to breath trying to avoid the unbearable odour. I want to scream. I think I WILL scream.

The big one in front does not have space obviously and he is just pushing himself in the chair maybe, just maybe, some space will be found in the immediate vicinity of – you guessed it – my knees.

Meanwhile, the teenager starts to read a comics book by using the light of his mobile phone – that goes directly into my face. My eyes are filled with pain from the unfriendly device. The light is cheeky and wants to go off but the zealous reader does not give up and refresh it every 7 seconds by making a light effect that is meant for a techno club.

”Excuse me, I ask the nice flight attendant that gave me some water, seeing me dying slowly in agony, how long do we still have?” ”Let’s see, what is the time in the Metropole(aka Paris)?” ”I don’t know, this is why I am asking”. ”Ok, she says without losing her smile 😊 – it is 02:00 am, so we still have 3hrs55 minutes”.

Meanwhile, a fairly large man is falling over me because he tripped in the darkness on the teenagers legs spread all over the coulouir.

I get another anxiety attack. I am not sure I will make it. I think about my empty island 🌴 and it feels like a dream.

This story is a pamphlet and should be treated as one.