[theroomisintechnicolor]

A series of unfortunate events aka the most ridiculously stupid week of my life

*sigh* This is going to be a long one.

I was supposed to write more often but the pain in my hand(s) that I had last year suddenly came back with a full force. The issue is still there and I'm still waiting to be diagnosed but during this whole process I've managed to take a trip to Warsaw and now I'm emotionally recovering. Feeling quite defeated, yesterday I asked my tarot deck for advice. I got the magician, the empress and temperance - all major arcanas. All talking about creating, having all the tools I need, taking things slow and nurturing what I feel. Today my mind starts to create a flow of thoughts narrating my experience. The urge to write again really starts to creep in...

So I just spent two hours frying in the sun and I think I've caught enough D3 vitamin to get my shit together and start writing… or I should say talking because I am using the speech to text tool in Word. I've been getting used to it because funnily enough, when my hands gave up on me I was asked to write more content for the magazine. So the only way I could work was exactly that. I do miss tapping my fingers on the keyboard but you gotta do, what you gotta do. At least until I figure out what's wrong with my hands.

The past two weeks were, let's say, very intense. At one point my hands situation got so bad that I could only do necessary tasks. Even scrolling on my phone was a no-no cause just touching the screen with my fingertips triggered tremendous pain. As well as holding stuff. So for a week straight I've spent every day either at the physio’s or doctor's office or having my blood taken. And still, no one knows what's wrong with me. It’s not my neck, it’s not from strain, it’s not carpal tunnel or anything in that nature. All of this just days before one of the busiest weeks that I had planned for this year. So I panic. A lot. And I cry even more. My right hand gets swollen, I have to cancel my plans to see Hayley Williams in Berlin. I sold my ticket that I fought for for 45 minutes during the pre sale. I know a lot of people cried when they didn't get tickets so at least I know I made someone happy. Whoever you are, I hope you had the bestest night of your life.

Meanwhile I get my meds and I'm praying to Asclepios that my hands will get better within three days because I'm stupid enough to decide to still go to Warsaw for the Summer Punch festival - something I've been waiting for since fall last year. “This is a festival made for me, I can feel it” - that's what I was telling myself for a few months, especially that I've had a hunch who will be performing and I was right, which I took as a sign. At the same time just two weeks before my trip, something was pushing me away from the event. Call me crazy, call me woo-woo but for some reason, I felt it like a magnetic repulsion: the hotel I was supposed to stay in messaged me that they are closing… my ticket for the event never arrived even though I bought it months ago… and then of course my hands that just refused to get better and were progressively getting worse. Like isn't that weird? It's like something or someone really didn't want me there. And I can’t even blame it on planets as there’s nothing that would block me now.

But I've made it, all in spite. And my right hand swell up again when I was on the train. It was so bad that I couldn't even bend my thumb. Luckily I arrived a day earlier so it kind of got better the next day.

I strolled a bit around the city. I think I'm getting used to Warsaw. I generally don't like the business. Like okay, I live in a busy city as well but I live in the suburbs, there's peace there, a forest and birds chirping in the background. So I don't live in that busy environment. But sometimes it's refreshing to be around people. Also - because I can't go without mentioning astrology - I'm in my Venus line in Warsaw so it should be a pleasant experience for me. And usually it is.

So I booked a room literally in the city center, with a view on Palace of Culture and Science. After all these years I came to a conclusion that it feels homely in a way… it's still ugly as fuck. But homely.

I was sitting in the evening, looking out the window and seeing other hotels around. How people are coming and going and walking hand in hand under the city lights. It looked quite romantic and it kind of made me sad. Independence is fun but also quite depressing when you have to do everything alone, by yourself.

I wish I could have a romantic walk with someone, stealing kisses under the yellowish-pink June sky in the background when the city gets quieter and the air is still warm even though it's 10:00 pm.

Meanwhile I'm alone. With a frozen vegan pizza that I can't eat because the oven isn't working. Yup. Funnily, this is not the first time this happened. A year ago when I came here to see Poppy, I had a similar fiasco with pizza. So, note to self: no frozen pizza in Warsaw. Just eat something else. If that's not enough, there was also an issue with warm water. It was cold 60% on the time. For someone who likes a hot shower, that was a nightmare.

Unfortunate things didn't and there.

My hand felt a bit better the next day. I mean, it was still bad but a lot less swollen, which in comparison was a win. Maybe partially it was adrenaline because somehow the swelling went away completely when I left for the festival. Suddenly I could somewhat use my right hand to hold on to something on the tram.

I should preface everything by saying I generally hate festivals. I don't like them because they are big, there's lots of people there, a lot of random people that just went because they want to feel like it’s Coachella. And most of them are drunk af. Also, a lot of drunk men. A lot of men is enough, add them being drunk and it's a big “no” for me.

But this festival is a small one. It honestly felt very homely (apparently everything's homely here lol). And the people were… quite okay as well. I haven't seen anyone annoying or bothering others or being overly drunk and disgusting. And the atmosphere? Very nice. For me, musical environments feel… well… I need to say it again – homely. I didn't necessarily grow up in the musical home in a typical my-parents-were-musicians sense, but my sister was always around people from the stage and she was dating a fairly successful drummer for over 10 years. I'm familiar with that energy. I'm also a hobbyist musician myself so everything adjacent feels very comfortable for me. I generally do not get starstruck by artists, no matter how famous they are or how big they are. Well, okay, maybe I'd get starstruck by someone like Mike Shinoda… I think.

But what I'm trying to say is, it felt very cozy. If only my hands didn't hurt.

So I run between stages. I finally caught Wargasm live, after being a fan for seven years. Kinda special for me because they are the only band that I genuinely follow since the first week of their first single ever being released. This is the moment where I would also like to publicly shoutout myself because Sam from Wargasm said I look great. And I agree. I did look great and I'm glad someone noticed. Sam has taste, apparently.

I did fuck up one thing though. And this is the moment where I have to take a deep breath.

So you know, in my true Sagittarian spirit, I am a gift giver. I love giving stuff to people. I always like giving my friends little presents for no reason. And this time I had something for a particular someone as well. A Magic the Gathering single cards that I had laying around on my shelf for a while now. Not because I play, I actually don't know anything about MTG. I got those cards purely because I'm a huge fan of Stephanie Pui-Mun Law, who's an amazing artist and she made one of my favorite tarot decks, the Shadowscapes deck. It's one of the most beautiful things I own. She also happened to illustrate a few MTG cards from way back. So I got them, as an art collector. And I brought them to Warsaw knowing I’ll be seeing this huge MTG geek.

So my target enters my field of vision. The man of my a literal dreams (that’s a topic in and of itself, I’m not gonna discuss that probably ever). One can only wish to have someone like that in their life. You know, speaking of art, I truly do think beautiful things should be preserved… therefore I would take a bullet for that man any day. Just to preserve his gorgeous face.

Anyways.

I reach for my stuff. The cards aren't there, I have a mini heart attack, I panic. I must’ve left them in my apartment room like an idiot. Those cards were supposed to be my conversation starter. I decide to play it cool. Probably a bit too cool and too nonchalant which is always my issue… I tend to be too nonchalant especially when I panic. Or when I care. Even saying this right now out loud is embarrassing. I've never wanted to sink into the ground more than now.

I never forget stuff. I don't know what happened. I truly don't. I wanted to make a nice gesture but I fucked up. That’s one of the few moments in my life where I wish I could turn back time.

Few things were a saving grace tho. I got a front row on the small stage. Kind of accidentally, I just didn't want to be near the mainstage anymore because I needed to be somewhere more quiet due to my sensitive ears (no worries, I do wear ear plugs). I never had a front row before. So that was very nice. And then to finish it, some random dude gave me his VIP pass because he said he's leaving earlier. Honestly I only stayed 20 minutes longer than him but I thought it's funny that I have these lucky moments when I don't ask for them… like would you think someone will walk up to you and be like “hey do you want the VIP pass? Just hide your bracelet and take mine”. Thinking about it, it's kind of amazing. I do not consider myself a lucky person but this was a small lucky moment for me. Quite refreshing. I wish people and fate would surprise me like this even more. A nice random “hey”…

So I leave the festival to catch the last tram of the day. I think at this point my armpits are starting to get smelly from sweating in the sun for a few hours. Or my sweat just smells funny from the meds I'm taking. The sound of bass and cheering crowd is still echoing in the distance, lots of smiley faces around me leaving as well. I don't think I've ever felt so defeated in my life. I kind of want to cry but I’m also starting to disassociate. I don't think I'm physically tired, I'm not even hungry. But mentally and emotionally I'm drained. I'm waiting at the tram stop. I’m thinking, I've been on this street way too many times because there's a venue there where I've seen a few shows. And every time there's something weird in the air. Every time I leave, something's off, like something that was supposed to happen didn't happen.

I get off the tram next to the central station. The ugly Palace is glowing purple. It's past 11:00 pm but there's still lots of people on the streets. I get to my building and finally to my room. I take a quick look at myself in the mirror. “At least I still look pretty, too bad I never took any photos”. The prettiness changes 5 seconds later. I start to cry and my makeup falls apart. I cry for an hour. I try to ground myself doing readings with my lenormand deck. The cards are saying I did great, I keep getting the sun card. I keep getting the heart card. But they also say something changed and that there was a metaphorical wall. “Did I do something wrong yet again? Did I even actually genuinely had fun?” Somehow my hands stop hurting completely. I see the damn MTG cards are laying on the table. I just stare at them.

I cry again at 4:00 am in the morning, can't sleep because the sparrows outside of my window are so damn loud. “Why did I even come here? I should have stayed home.” I feel lonely, I feel like crap, I still don't know what's wrong with my hands. What if it turns out they are fucked for life? What if I’ll never be able to play guitar again? Do crafty things? Or write freely on my keyboard? I think about my friends and the friends I've lost. And the social interactions that I've messed up. And that gorgeous face. Everyone I’ve met at the festival were so nice to me but all I can think about is how I literally malfunction when I'm under pressure.

“I don't think I deserve a bad fate” is what I'm ruminating on in my head. "I'm a happy, jolly and funny person in nature. Maybe a bit melodramatic because when I feel, I feel things strongly. But it's not normal for me to be sad. I don't deserve to be sad" - these words are looping in my head as I stand in the bathroom, trying to get it together.

Today I feel a bit better. But also a bit out of place. My sister said that my cat doesn't have his behavioral issues when I'm not home. Did I... spoil my cat? Is he naughty because of me? This made me think that maybe I should be away more often. If only I had somewhere else to be… As for my hands, I have EMG appointment in a week and I'm not gonna lie, I'm kind of scared what will come out of it. I am also already eyeing other shows and festivals so I better feel good. And hopefully I will.

[theroomisintechnicolor]

[theroomisintechnicolor]

[theroomisintechnicolor]

[theroomisintechnicolor]

I'm in my mid 30s and I've never experienced romance: a word vomit about being a late bloomer

My mind has been ruminating lately: I'm 35 and I'm lonely. I feel anger, I feel sadness, I feel disappointment, I feel disgust, I feel huge embarassment, I feel truly lost. I'm going back and forth what I did wrong in life. I've been feeling all of these complicated emotions and I thought maybe putting them on a metaphorical paper could somehow help. So this is me testing if it will.

It's quite funny actually because for someone who's a student of traditional astrological and philosophical thought, which carries the stoic principles, I somehow cannot channel that same approach to life. I always preach fate is a pregiven thing and that the mindset that our lives are already written out can be tremendously relieving. You know, it's like that "letting go" argument that some spiritual gurus talk about… And it's quite healthy as well because it releases you of any anxiety - why be nervous about something you have no control of? Actually, I had this friend in college when I was studying journalism, she always said that she never feels anxious because what's the point of feeling anxiety? I'm thinking, she kind of won for not caving into the pressures of life and just sailing with it. I think the way we process emotions is what makes us the way we are and maybe the idea of complete callousness is not something I'd like to see and feel myself but damn, I wish I had that stoic approach to life when it comes to my own fate. Or, maybe to phrase it better: I wish I understood it.

Maybe I wouldn't have to carry that disappointment and anger in me. Maybe I wouldn't feel hatred and repulsion towards myself. And sometimes towards others.

What partially made me write my thoughts out today is music. So, to explain it: I'd call myself a pretty conscious listener. I don't know if that comes from empathy or intellectualizing everything. Or maybe both. I can tell when the emotions of whatever the writer tried to articulate in the song have been succesfully channeled into it… sometimes even too well. I never ignore what the message is. I also, mostly subconsciously, put myself in the shoes of the protagonist or - as I'll discuss in a second - compare myself to them. And sometimes… well, the song is just extremely thought-provoking to me. There's certain tunes that I can't even listen without feeling physically ill or just breaking down.

So the older I get, the weirder it becomes. In the past couple of years I started catching myself feeling bothered by people much younger than me singing about sex. Peculiar, given a lot of my favourite tracks are about sex indeed. I like a sexy sounding song, I like empoweringly sexy lyric, I like intimate themes. I grew up on Britney after all, gimme all the bod, all the sweat, all the lusty double entendres.

But somehow that started to shift. I still like the old stuff but when I hear Tate McRae singing about riding sports cars and Sabrina Carpenter about giving house tours… I just feel weird. I feel weird and disconnected because I'm much older than them, yet I can't recognize my own life in those lyrics. Obviously there's certain life events that will be unique to certain groups of people and so we can't ever relate to everything but sex is such a normal and substantial part of life… yet I'm someone who has been exluded from experiencing it.

So songs like this just make me space out and feel a bunch of emotions that are hard to describe, even for me - and I'm pretty good at describing stuff. The only thing that's like a saving grace here is the fact that these songs are fun. But when the song is serious or when somehow it reminds me of my situation by comparison, it's when I start feeling icky.

I've been in a very bad place emotionally when the new Olivia Rodrigo song came out and hearing her sing about going out on a date and about kisses really triggered my despair. I think I'm better now but what is not changing is, never ever remind me of the themes of THE first time unless you want me to feel like a piece of shit. It's not even awkward anymore, it's just infuriatingly distressing to me.

Which brings me to the topic of trauma. And man, the trauma of a late bloomer is something else.

The annoying thing is, no one ever gets it right. A person who had a "normal" experience in love and relationships will not comprehend the damage that never having one does to one's brain. First of all, being in a relationship is purely luck - let's not be ashamed of calling it like it is. You're telling me you're attracted to someone and this person is also attracted to you and you both do something about it?!? Let's just think about how ridiculous that is for a second. Like think about it. And then let's have our minds blown even more: you did that multiple times in your life. Someone tell me how is that possible because I cannot wrap my head around that concept.

All I know is being attracted to someone and this person ignoring me. I know being attracted to someone and this person choosing someone else over me. I know shaking uncontrollably for a few hours with 20 used tissues around me, crying buckets of tears because the person I like a lot, probably too much, is dating someone else. That is my reality.

I don't know how it feels to have your interest reciprocated. I don't know how it feels to be taken out on a date. I don't know how it feels to receive flowers from a guy. I surely don't know how it feels to hear "I love you" or even "you're beautiful". I don't even know romantic love at all. So imagine what that does to your mind and self-esteem. Mine is skewed, that's for sure. I don't even know anymore: am I ugly? Am I too weird? Am I cursed? Do I repel people? Am I unlikeable? Unlovable? Am I too much? Or not enough? Maybe I come off as mean? Maybe it's my fault because I'm too picky and I'm barely attracted to anyone. Maybe I should've gone for that one douchy guy who was trying to get my number once? Settling for someone you don't even like is quite popular these days after all…

Or maybe it's my fault because, for the most of my life, I didn't care. I was never one to prioritize having a romantic partner. I was never actively looking for it. I'd even say - unless I wasn't crushing on someone - I was running away from dating. Don't get it twisted though because there were a few people with whom I really wanted to be with throughout my life so when the idea of being in a relationship seemed more palpable, then yes, I wasn't opposing to being taken… with my freedom taken away from me as well - because in a true Sagittarian fashion, I always used to say "no, I don't want no strings attached, I don't want my freedom to be taken away from me". Generally I was prioritizing myself and my interests, my own growth and a peace of mind. And then I was ill for a while and then the pandemic happened and I felt like every possibility for me to be with someone, has been frozen. So taken all of that into consideration, I wasn't really worrying that much about my singleness in my 20s. I thought it's a bit awkward but I wasn't pressuring myself. But the time started flying so so fast… and suddenly I'm in my mid 30s and for the past few years I've been hurting a lot.

It's not like being single is bad. Actually, I think it's cool and healthy to be single for a long time… But it's different when it's almost forced on you. It would be different if I chose to be single but I didn't. So now I am starved of love, starved of affection, starved of physical touch.

And I feel like I have a very passionate nature so it's extra tough to not have it expressed towards another person. Funnily, for a brief period I even fancied the idea of whoring around just because I'm that touch-driven… Unfortunately that will never happen. And why, you might ask, well yea, it is because of the trauma. Being in your mid 30s and never having any experiences really crosses out the idea of having hookups and just going for it. To be physically close with someone I'd have to feel extremely safe around that person. I also feel like at that age you don't really have much room for experimentation. So, the sad thing is, because of that, I also can't even "ride out" the heartbreak (yes, this is a Hayley Williams reference).

And through heartbreak did I went through. The heartbreak of a late bloomer is different I guess than a regular one. You know, maybe it would be easier for me to just be rejected in my face. But instead, there was always hope slowly, gently glowing inside me. I think I'm too fiery to completely loose my faith. Or maybe I'm just delusional. And so instead of giving up, I was waiting like a puppy for the person of my interest to pick me. I think this is how I've learnt patience. I'm always patient with people. I will always wait. I'm probably an idiot for doing that. I think because I was never chosen, I will always feel like I'm imposing myself on the other person if they ever give me attention. I also hate asking people for things, which is funny considering I'm going around asking people for their birth data but do know that I hate doing that for this exact reason.

The imprint of constant waiting I think is very well portrayed in one of my favourite songs from Billie Eilish, The Greatest. Most of the time I can't even listen to that song without crying. Her experience was different obviously, as she wrote it about being in a relationship but weirdly I do see myself in this song: "And you don't wanna know / How alone I've been (…) Man, am I the greatest / God, I hate it / All my love and patience / Unappreciated". That hits like an arrow right through my chest honestly. Different experience but the same feeling. It's honestly very easy for me to get triggered like that by quite a handful of songs.

What I often think about is, if I do end up with someone, that person will be very special to me but I will not be special to them. I will never be someone's first in any shape or form because people my age have went through it all.

What else new can I bring to the table? I don't even know if I'd be a decent partner. Maybe I'd be a shitty one. Like how do you co-exist with another person???

And because I never prioritized relationships, I also never thought about getting married. Fantasizing about a wedding dress??? Forget it, I don't think the concept of me getting married ever even crossed my mind when I was younger. I do honestly think marriage is just a paper… I also think engagements are corny. Maybe this is what being a late bloomer did to me, turning me into a cynical twat, but I don't want to see your engagements. I don't care. In fact, no one really cares. And no, I don't think it's cute to have a public one. Love shouldn't be a performance and engagement should be an extension of a love confession, however that would look. But why are we doing it in front of people?!? Do you really want to marry the person you're proposing to or are you just making a performance and just doing it "because it's what's proper"?

Anyways, what I was trying to say is, I never fancied a thought of getting married but you know, again, it's all about the idea of having the choice. I was never even given that choice, I didn't have the chance to even have it crossed my mind… And I'll probably never have that choice. But I've been thinking about it in the last few years, how romantic it would be to spontaneously say "let's get married!", elope and tie the knot somewhere on a foreign land, or maybe on a ship… or maybe not get married at all cause that's quite a cool thing to do as well. I can definitely live without bowing to patriarchy and a ring with the blood of slavery on my finger, you know?

So, these are some of my thoughts. It's definitely not everything and I'm actually leaving out a huge chunk of my experience (or lack thereof) unspoken just because it's a very fragile chapter for me. If you're still reading this, kudos to you. To be honest I don't know if I want anyone to read this… but also, sometimes I wish I could scream it all out in public so I guess that's kind of me doing it right now. Lastly, maybe this will be some reversed-jinxing type of thing and soon stuff will look completely different to me… if fate allows and fortune smiles at me.