Hourglass

      Just stop! Please stop spinning like crazy. I lost count: 2008, 2022, 2025, and where the hell am I in this story? The moment I became an adult, like on the 17 of September last year, when I brushed off the forty-niners, it became harder and harder to keep up with the freaking "Jones." Last Christmas, I did my usual escapade in the sun, had some fun, and brought back some sickness to start the new year with the sound of blues. But I lost it on my Merry Go Attitude. Last year, I was preaching to my friends that you must get out of your comfort zone, go to movies, and go dancing to the hula hoop speed dating thing. It seems that I don't sit well with New Year resolutions, but I managed to sneak one on the menu: cook some Romanian food. Yes, people, of all things, this year is about cooking. So far, I managed to do it! I am in my third week of practicing a delicious recipe - Tochitura moldoveneasca, and I must confess that the results differ every time I make it. I followed the recipe to the T the first time, but now I am free styling with whatever I have in my house.

     So, it's the 17 of January today—what a coincidence! It's my favourite day, and I am just hanging on here, trying to count my blessings because I feel lost. It's harder and harder to cheer up and sing, "Everything will be all right." I wonder how my parents lived life to the fullest without ever feeling lost. How did they embrace everything with a smile and decided to be without questioning everything under the sun and moon? It must be my blessed brain that suffers from chronic scenaritis, aka making up tragedies all year long. I am going from Ms. Happy Bee to Macbeth in a heartbeat. I tried to douce myself in holly water and prayers, but I still slip into the lost mood. I sit in the void and let the darkness bombard me with doubts and roller-coaster imaginary failings. I am not counting sheep, but moments of life. I sort, analyze, bounce back, and shake that feeling of being lost by taking a swig of "this shall pass" finest brandy and falling back on my fears with that Jean D'Arc attitude.

     Every day, I enroll myself in a new journey, and just like the snow, drag that Hallmark idyllic happy holiday spirit closer. Lately, I love "snow" no John on the horrizon. It doesn't bother me anymore, as we have plenty of that sugary, powdery white sparkling thing in Alberta, which could be 6 months or more. Winter makes me feel lost because I find myself swimming in this white desert, searching for a glimpse of hope. I better hibernate until the first cry of Spring and bury myself alive in this "che sara sara" and let the lost be lost! I am trapped in this hourglass.