My experience with drugs is that of a witness. But there are different types of drugs.
I lived with people who were taking drugs. Back in the modelling world I saw the easiness with which people found and consumed them. At one point when I was physically and psychologically drained someone from the agency proposed drugs, just to keep me spinning for longer.
I refused drugs and thus accepted Moldova and all the fears and struggles included. Fighting for survival at that time seemed a better alternative. I have been fighting to survive even during the modelling years, it was a combat way of living that kept alive my need of controlling life, pain, emptiness, loneliness, being stuck, avoiding the psychical aspect of my being and the attention that it draws on me.
Fighting is also a kind of drug. One that makes you resilient, cold, old, prepared for the mature mind, the mind of a wicked ego which is not easily satisfied.
Now I am here in the Czech Republic spending hours and hour inside and office, fist to fist, with people who are using drugs on a daily basis. Having small amounts of drugs is still illegal here but if you get caught there will not be a criminal record on your name.Maybe a fine.
Different kind of drugs. The classical ones (home grown plants or manufactured chemicals), alcohol, porn, over sexual ways of speaking, bullying the weaker ones, psychedelic love scenarios created by the office environment (the lovely newcomer+the porn addicted team leader), people talking to themselves (self isolation, fear), carrier addicts, people hitting the phone after a long conversation with an unsatisfied client. Never -ending pointless chatting to buffer social anxiety or the uncomfortable feeling of being silent next to a strange person.
The Italian team, where I landed, is composed of angry and essentially fearful people, underneath the joviality , happiness and easiness of the Italian dolce vita. Their way of talking and drawing the attention to the sexual aspects in each possible scenario is overwhelming. It is difficult to understand and not to judge. It is difficult to present yourself as an alternative and not be perceived as an anomalia. In fact I had to listen to a comment about me which was rather revealing. Revealing the character of the person talking. He said: Che fai tu, non scopi, non mangi, non bevi, non fumi, niente droga…cosa fai? What are you doing, you don’t f****, don’t eat, don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t do drugs ..what are you doing?
I did not answer.But of course it hurts. Being removed and considered strange hurts. Like it hurts to connect with people in a very sterile way.They interact only when they need something.When they need to feel good. Like going to church on Christmas out of the whole year.Do I also do that? Do I also interact when I want to feel good of myself? Because I choose to treat this life differently people don’t like spending time with me.Not all of them but the most. When I know that I am loving and caring in a genuine way+I have my black holes. And still I am wanting love and care.They have the impression that I can take it, I will be fine. I have indeed learned to take a lot of punches and stil find reasons to move on,but it hurts like hell.
It is lonely out here.
The gighi-gighi-bum-bu Italian returned from another trip to Italy and problematic absence from work, and the waves of heavy, bored, maintenance like, functional like, washed out stories of performed sex restarted. Periodically, like tides coming over beaches, he spills it all over himself again and again.
I have figured it out by now that this person is suffering from chronic consumerism. The society as a whole is affected. In fact he is hiding from his own need of love and attention, his self doubt . He buries himself under a mountain of things he can buy, sexual experiences he can attract by means of his “privileged” position as a foreigner in a country where most of the people are trying to live the european dream*.The girls here, according to him, sono da scopare not like the Italians.
The gighi-gighi-bum-bum guy does not care. He needs to consume because his mantra is now or never, otherwise he is done. He would feel sad, lonely, afraid, empty. Which is normal and fine. But he does not want to be normal and fine. Consuming without knowing why or without needing is a drug.
The italian colleague who had “marriage” on his mind found himself a girl in Poland. She is the one because, according to him, special and different. He did expose her photo to mostly everyone in the office, but, unprecedentedly, did not permit anyone to even think of her as good catch. He reviewed his sexual activity while browsing FB, together with another colleague, and decided that the polish girl is indeed standing out.
Avete scopato? Did you f*** her, asked the one who tries to superate his personal best in gighi gighi bum bum olimpiade.
Ma queste sono cose private! This is personal, said the newly in love Italian. A fact that never had happened before. He would have lost track of himself while spreading out details. He is in love and happy.He took some days off and went to meet her in Poland.He is searching even for a new job there.A natural reaction for someone who’s parents don’t get long.Throwing oneself in undoing the mistakes of those who make us.Not a good idea.
Falling in love and wishing to preserve the status quo lifelong is a romanticized drug. Even if this one is sweet and empowering at times it has the same effects as usual chemicals. I am quite sorry about this one though.I feel that empathy is a more lasting feeling.
As I feel and observe all that I ask myself, what is to be done. Are we supposed to live in order to become conscious or are we already conscious and so, afraid of ourselves, trying to tame this power. But then, too much consciousness, from my point of view, makes you become the party breaker putting lights off, is’t it? This is the fear behind being conscious and being present, fear of being ostracized.It happens on a daily basis.
The atmosphere here in Brno cuts like a two bladed knife. And it stimulates further questions in me. On one hand you find yourself surrounded by this closed, brained, atheist society, on the other hand you have these people leaking emotional and, I would strongly affirm, spiritual pain, disorientation. I have never seen so many alcoholic people populating the streets, the bushes, the parks or memorial gardens as I see here and Romania. I felt the same empty desperation in Paris and Chisinau.
And so, I decide again, quietly but with conviction , that being conscious does not mean being the party breaker but the creator of another type of party. The creator of new life. It does mean being lonely and removed.
Can you take that?
Vive la resistance!
*(Just as it happens in Moldova. A dream shattered again by the results of the recent presidential elections.Waves of rage and discontentment followed, accusations and political injustices).