The scooter and the car

Jonathan’s eyes lit up the moment he saw it. He knew this was exactly the change he needed in his life and it would certainly get him to places much faster and easier than what he already owned.

Exchanging a car for a motorcycle, and particularly a scooter, was a huge step for him. Especially since everyone saw him as too conservative to do anything of the sort.

He was tall and slim, always well dressed and often bearing round, black-rimmed glasses that matched his wide dark-coloured eyes. He was the person you could count on for everything: to do exactly what he said he would, at precisely the time he had committed to.

But Jonathan grew tired of being so predictable. He wanted to do something different for a change. He wanted to surprise even himself.

Fed up of everyday traffic and the constant stress of worrying that he would be late for his meetings, he decided to get a scooter. And he never regretted it. Well, apart from some winter nights when the cold air penetrated his skin and smacked his face like an ice bucket.

Being able to swish through the traffic and overtake literally everyone else was what he enjoyed most. Plus it was more convenient economically too, as it cost less for petrol and he didn’t need to waste a lot of time searching for parking spaces either.

Sometimes, it takes the smallest things to bring about a pleasant change in your life. One that you so long for.

But then, Jonathan met a stunning, elegant woman whom he took on a scooter ride one afternoon for coffee. He could tell she was freezing by the time he returned her home that night, as he felt her body trembling against his back.

He decided that some other times, being prudent had nothing to do with being daring or unpredictable. And he decided to rent a car for those few times when it was really necessary.

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Bulletproof

She woke up enveloped in her fluffy quilt. It was snowing outside, which resulted in it being freezing cold inside. It is strange, though, how she woke up far sleepier than when she went to bed late the night before. She decided to roll over and snooze the alarm clock one more time. But she had managed to wrap herself so tightly in the quilt that she couldn’t really move. It was easy to fall back asleep in the warmth of a comfortable bed.

The alarm clock buzzed for the third and last time.

Ashley knew that if she allowed herself to sleep through this one too, she would never get up in time. Andrew had challenged her to a cross-fit session that morning. She presumed it would be more fun if she went with a friend, and at least she might even go back for more after this one. Gyms were obviously not her favourite place.

But how do you convince yourself to get up in all that cold?

An email bleeped on her phone. The first thing she thought after reading it was that stupidity is everywhere. She was wide awake from aggravation as the message simply further demonstrated the incompetence of certain people who lack the capacity of comprehending their own limits and faults. She got up instantly and within half an hour was out of the door.

Working out does help your psychology. Because for that hour you are there, you manage to forget everything else. You become bulletproof. You are allowed to take out all your rage and aggravation, peaking your adrenaline levels, and then all of a sudden you feel so calm, as if nothing ever happened to distress you in the first place. It is certainly true what they say, that a healthy mind lives better in a healthy body, because it is not only about being physically fit that is important. It is about being happy about it too. About maintaining the proper attitude to be able to ignore certain things. To not allow trivial stuff to strike at your nerves. It is about reinforcing your organism’s shielding capacity and boosting your own mentality.

That way, even on freezing days, you can find the courage and determination to get out of bed, because you never know what an amazing day may lie ahead for you.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Ready, Set, Done

Cat space

As soon as it felt the touch, it sprang up as if jolted by an electric current, back curved, hairs on edge and nails ready to slice you up. Cats don’t like to be disturbed when they’re sleeping, or grooming, or pretty much doing anything on their own… which is often.

The cat got up, very irritated and left the room. It would need to find some other hiding space.

But the human wanted to play, or was obviously bored with himself, too insensitive to go find something more productive to do.

He soon discovered the new hiding place.

The cat had rolled up into a fluffy ball and was sound asleep again.

He only meant to pet it, but to a cat, that is more than a simple caress. It is an intrusion of its personal space. It is a violation of its independence, of the fact that it too needs some time alone, away from people. We all share that feeling. The need to submerge yourself into something independent from anything and everyone. To be left alone for a while. Or to be able to deal with something else, something that you chose without needing to explain yourself for it. It is disturbing when others keep wanting to bug you no matter what you do, especially when you don’t feel like including them in on it at the time. Cats know how to respect that. They can tell when you need some company and they’ll come and purr on your lap, providing the warm comfort to soothe you. But they can also recognize when you need to be left alone, to experience your own sentiments in the way you so desire. Humans, however, are not like that.

Cats know how to draw a line. Humans are too selfish to see it.

Cats are always adorable no matter what; no matter if they scratch you or get annoyed with you, a simple meow will always win you back. Humans are far from that.

Please reply

The message was read. She knew it because there was that often inconvenient announcement at the bottom that informed you of when it was delivered and/or read. It was the source of all evil. Because if you didn’t know, you weren’t (so) concerned of why the recipient would not reply. But now that you knew, something was constantly bugging you all day. An entire conspiracy theory.

But what had truly happened was something that would never have even crossed her mind.

Jake woke up startled that morning, as the thunder alerted him that it would be a long and stormy day. He got up, still half-asleep, washed, dressed, ate breakfast as if on auto-pilot and joined the tens of other drivers going to work. But the slippery roads made everything more dangerous. And how was he to predict that the truck full of milk heading to a protest rally in front of him would break down, spilling liters of milk into the street and moreover, accidentally dropping an entire container full of milk onto his front car hood? He was stuck on the motorway for three hours until adequate assistance arrived.

That is when he saw her message.

“Goodmorning! Hope you are well! Have a lovely day!” It beamed full of sunshine. All that was precisely lacking from his day.

He was too agitated to respond at that moment, so he closed the app and put the phone away.

When he finally arrived at work, his desk was already piled with to-do notes and messages from phone calls he had to return. He even skipped lunch that day and managed to leave the office even after the cleaner. It was almost midnight.

He arrived home exhausted, fell on the coach and dropped into deep sleep.

Georgia on the other hand was steaming. It had been all day and he had not replied. A million scenarios had gone through her head. The things women make up and drive themselves crazy for a reason men do not and can not understand. Women can not understand it either, but they still do it anyhow.

She promised herself she would not send anything else or call him. She might even ignore his future texts and calls too.

The next morning when Jake awoke, the first thing that came to mind was that bright message he had forgotten to respond to the previous day.

“You are my ray of sunshine. I’ve had a terrible day yesterday and would love to see you soon,” he texted.

Georgia huffed when she heard the text alert. She was both curious and excited at the same time. But the minute she read it, she couldn’t help but smile. She was about to respond, when he called. She couldn’t hold a grudge. Not after that. She just wished he could have simply texted two words the previous day. Indeed how much agitation we would all avoid if people simply sent a reply to even the basic of messages.

The dangers of living on the edge

It’s not what you think. The danger of living on the edge is not that you’ll stumble and fall over. No. It’s that once you step back, everything will seem too dull.

Because, let’s face it, we all need that adrenaline rush from time to time. That feeling of excitement you get when you’re doing something you’re passionate about. Or when you’re racing against time to reach a deadline. Or even when you’re simply daydreaming about all the things you are determined to soon accomplish.

It’s a great feeling to have this constant buzz in your veins. To feel you heart pumping fast and to be happy about being so…well, “on-edge”. For some, it is a way of life. To not have time to be bored. To not even have time to consider the fact that 24 hours in a day are not enough. For others, it is just too much going on.

But for those who are used to being constantly engaged with stuff to do, with emotions, and with never-ending obligations/passions, living “on-edge” is routine.

The danger comes when you suddenly find yourself forced to step back and take a deep breath. When a cold or an illness overpowers you. When you run out of so many things to do (it does happen). Or when you simply allow yourself to lie on the coach and relax, doing absolutely nothing. Having spent days and months with little sleep and in constant motion, this is when the danger becomes more evident. It comes in the notion of boredom. Because that is what happens.

It is like when you go dancing for five nights in a row. That “happy feet syndrome” becomes part of who you are, and you are addicted to swaying as soon as music sounds. When the music stops and you have to sit down, it all seems too boring for you.

The same applies to when you are running. You run through parks, avenues, busy streets and neighborhoods; observing people, animals and noises. But when you stop, walking seems just so…dull.

It is dangerous to live a life in constant agitation. But it is equally hazardous to live one which you don’t enjoy to the fullest. The key is to find the right balance between the two. To know when to run and when to walk, when to dance and when to sit, when to stress out and when to relax.

Lesson of the day

You know that feeling you get towards the end of the day, when you realise that going to bed late the previous night was a bad idea? It’s because the tiredness catches up with you and you’re suddenly drained, to the extent that even coffee makes you sleepy now.

It’s nice exploiting to the fullest every waking hour you have. So much, that you are even out of the country and back during the week without anyone realizing. Or to the point that you have taken multitasking to another level with the amount of things you do.

But there is one thing that you need to run all of this: just like an engine needs fuel, you need sleep. And it is not easy. Because when you finally get comfortable and curl up in bed, you suddenly remember everything you need to do and become wide awake again. In a vicious-circle-like phase, you’ll be back to feeling sleepy the next afternoon, right in the middle of all those things you just mentally noted you need to complete.

Whatever the case, we all need to find a few extra hours to catch up on this vital life process. You’ll hear a lot about what sleep deprivation can do – increase your need for food, add extra pounds, encourage wrinkles, diminish your memory. Most of all, you won’t be able to fully process everything you are so actively engaged in, if you are not adequately rested and awake to enjoy them!

The unlikely bull-fight

«If you could go back in time and relive one moment, so you could do it differently, which would it be?” Mike asked his grandfather a question that he had thought about a million times before. It was a seemingly easy question; one which, however, was very difficult to answer. Because, really, if you were given the chance, would you want to have a do-over?

Grandfather Joe thought about it for a few minutes before answering.

“I’ll tell you a story,” he said.

“There was once a young boy. He was raised in a poor family and began to work from a very young age. He was imbued with the mentality that that is what people should do – earn their living in any way possible. So he worked in various jobs – from farming, to sheep-herding, to a cabin boy, to a waiter, to a teacher, to an office assistant. He did whatever he could find, because he believed this was the best way to earn experience.

One day, a renowned matador came to his village. He offered a bull fighting show, which gathered the entire village into the town square and at the end of it, he made a very interesting proposition. He said that he would give a tonne of gold to the person from that village who would be able to subdue the bull. Everyone had seen that the bull was very aggressive, and indeed very tough. No-one deemed themselves capable of such a feat. But the young boy stood up and declared he was up for the challenge. “I’ll do it,” he said decisively. The villagers gasped. They were certain he would be devoured by the bull in no time. But, at the same time, they were all intrigued to see what would happen.

So the boy stepped into the middle of the town square. He took the matador’s symbolic red cloth and waved it in front of the raging bull. The latter was snuffing air out of its nostrils, shaking the ground as it prepared to attack. The boy swerved as the bull scraped past the cloth. The animal became angrier. It missed again and again. Its rage increased with every miss. But the boy remained composed and continued. To the audience’s amazement, he then dropped the cloth and allowed the bull to run straight into him. But the minute the bull lowered its head, protruding its horns, the boy swiftly grabbed them and in an acrobatic move jolted himself above the bull’s head and onto its back. The bull-fight quickly turned into a rodeo contest with the bull kicking and screaming angrily at the unwanted rider. But the boy then struck a nerve on the bull’s neck with a sudden move of his right hand, and the rage abruptly ended. The village square sunk into silence. The boy climbed down the bull’s back, as if he was dismounting a horse. He approached the dumbstruck matador and asked calmly “may I please have that tonne of gold now?”.

The matador was amazed. The villagers broke into loud cheers and applaud. The matador was forced to keep his word and handed over the tonne of gold, but he asked the boy the one question that was on everyone’s mind: “how did you do that?”

The boy responded calmly, “I have done so many things in my life, things which many consider are demeaning or unworthy, but I regret none, because everything has taught me something and most of all I have learnt that you need to grab every opportunity that presents itself at that precise moment because it may never come again”.

“So,” concluded the grandfather, “to answer your question, if I lived again, I don’t think I would do anything differently. It’s not about regretting the things you did. It’s about regretting the things you didn’t do when you had the chance”.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: If I could turn back time

(Not) Another regular Friday

Her name was Henrietta. It was a straightforward name, albeit a bit irregular for a female. You would think it was easy to remember, and not to be confused. But today when she went two hours in advance of the opening time to pick up the concert tickets for the next day, which she had booked four months earlier, the lady in charge told her she could not find her name on the list. There was a Henry, though, with the same surname, for (weirdly enough) the same tickets. It took 45 minutes to prove she was the Henry, although, the Henry was in fact a Henrietta, who was her.

By the time she returned home, people were already flooding the cafés for their afternoon coffees. She decided to chop some vegetables in order to make a quick salad with some baked beans she was about to boil. Quick, easy, and healthy, she thought. But, alas, her new knives would prove their worth. She nearly chopped off her left index finger together with a slice of tomato. A crimson stream began to flow from that little finger, soon turning five napkins from white to red and refusing to stop. Henrietta rushed to the pharmacy for some first aid. She would have to pay attention to the entire hand now, as the wound was deep and required time to heal.

By the time she was back, the beans were not baked, but burnt. And now she had a black pot to scrub with one hand.

This is when she realized how many things come to us so automatically every day, that we hardly pay any attention to them. For example, how much work that single finger does. How vital it is for the entire hand to function. She noticed how hard it was to do the slightest of things – from getting dressed to washing your hair, to putting on contact lenses – all with one hand.

As the sun set, and calm returned to Henrietta’s apartment, which now smelled of burnt food – she sought solace with Duchess, her fluffy, white Persian cat. But, as her name implied, the feline could not care less for her mistress. So as Henrietta compromised with online videos of cats asking to be cuddled, the power suddenly went out.

For one and a half hours, she sat in the dark in a burnt-smelling home with a bleeding finger and an inconsiderate pet. She was all too happy to go to bed and end this adventurous Friday. It was not so TGIF (Thank God It’s Friday), after all.

 

N.B. Based on a true story.

Wishing Well

The young boy looked into the well. The old man had told him it would only grant him one wish, so he should choose wisely.

Before uttering what he most wanted, the young boy had roamed the village and asked its residents what they would wish for.

There were those who said they would ask for more time.

But the young boy thought that those who wished for this were those who mismanaged the time already given to them.

There were those who would wish for more money.

But money, he thought, was a commodity of which more could always be earned.

There were others who would call for luck.

But that is something the boy thought could not be controlled – falling upon the right people, the right circumstances, the right opportunities. You just had to keep your eyes and mind open to recognising them.

Everyone asked for more of something.

The boy believed that you can work hard to achieve more. But all that requires one thing that is essential and irreplaceable – good health.

So if there were only one thing for which he could wish for, he would wish for that: for being healthy, to be able to realise your dreams, to show the necessary courage to go further, and to fulfil everything your heart desires.