Just like most people, I too have little things that bug me, sometimes they even keep me awake at night. These little things, thoughts and feelings that bother me, in other people or within myself, can, like a cheeky mosquito, be buzzing around my head. I only hear it buzzing but I obviously can't see it because it's dark. The next day, in daylight, the little buggah is of course nowhere to be seen.
One or two little mosquitos are not really a problem, I can live with it, but if I let a million mosquitos stack up against me... it'll be bye bye my restful beautysleep!
So I started a blog called 'My Minimosquitos', in which I simply slap mosquitos (preferably with a bit of humor) around the ears as soon as they appear. And hey, believe it or not, it works! A slap and a smile, and poofff problem gone. Probably the nicest thing is that nearly every time I slap a minimosquito, there's a little lesson for me to learn. Maybe even for you, who knows! After all, I imagine we're not so very different, you and I.
Here's to my first blog-entry: My First Minimosquito
Enjoy, cheers! :)
There once was a minimosquito
buggingly bugging me toe to top
My hands went wantonly whacko whack whack
I wanted the thingy to stop
But hey the minimosquito
busilly buzzed on an'on an'on
whilst I was scratching myself head to toe
wondering when it would ever be done
And in case you might be asking yourself
oh jeez's Marco alright in the head?
Ofcourse he is not coz he's off course again
this time blogging blog-bloggies instead.
© M. AkAMAWA
Today I finished a song that I left half-finished "in a drawer" somewhere, never found the time to record it properly, until now that is. It was fun to be playing some flamenco-like sevillana-style on my Spanish guitar, I don't play it often (enough).
Also, it was fun to be singing the lyrics; some latin wanna-be-macho-man crying for his mommy because some girl left him for some other guy, the song brings BIG smile on my face. And the rhythm is pretty cool; can't wait to play it live and see people dance on it!
Last night I, just before going to bed, I watched the news, which in hindsight was not a very good idea. At all. To make matters worse, afterwards, in bed, I spent an exorbitant long time with my ipad sort of surfing the facebook, or le facebook, as some posh people call it, till we both fell asleep, with our batteries drained and totally out of power.
I woke up at around 5h15, well over an hour than earlier than the time I usually wake up, slightly irritated, even the fact that I felt irritated, irritated me. Plus the fact that my ipad, after plugging it in, seemed to return to consciousness way faster than I did, which of course irritated me. Yeah yeah, you can laugh all you want, but to me, at least this morning, it was drama after drama, here’s the proof:
- First of all, secondly I mean, I ran out of milk, and I REALLY don’t like black coffee.
- Then I refused to shave, because it would feel irritating, and didn’t take a shower, because I didn’t feel like shaving.
- The little orange washing-machine light was on, it had for 2 days or so, in vain, been trying to warn me that its dictatorial master wanted to be emptied. So I emptied the irritating dictator, eh… the washing-machine I mean, and all my clothes had an irritating smell. When I looked in the large bathroom mirror, I noticed that my face was as wrinkled as the clothes I saved from the dictator.
- Usually I put on some music, but this time I switched on the tv to kill the irritating silence. All I saw was an irritating repeat of last night. So, I went to my irritating ipad, (it was by then fully recharged, and I wasn’t even at 20%) to check messages.
One of the messages was a long one from a very good friend, who lives halfway around the globe, in eastern direction, in what I usually call “a problem-country”, and which this morning obviously happened to be “an irritating problem-country”. I know, because in the past I went there more than once to look for problems, and every time I was extremely successful at that.
She wasn’t feeling very well, a bit depressed even, and in all the years I’ve known her she never was depressed, or at least she never spoke about it. Because I care A LOT about her, and look up to her, (I consider her one of the great living treasures of mankind, oh…hang on, that sounds a bit too monumental, so I rephrase; she absolutely is one of my great heroes in life), my petty irritations vanished like cold snow in warm sunlight, when reading her letter. One of the issues she had to deal with was Covid-isolation, her health and the effect of people deliberately ignoring all Covid regulations. Whilst reading on, it became clear why I felt so irritated. It was not just the lack of sleep, it was also the effect of watching the late-night news combined with the sometimes (in my opinion) ridiculous posts I subsequently read (specifically) on fb.
I’ve never been very keen on quoting/sharing “secondhand” quotes, unless they are from great masters like Rumi, Socrates, Gandhi, Aristotle, Confucius, to name a few, and even then I do a bit of homework to make sure I stick as much as possible to their original.
Or unless they’re firsthand quotes from people that I personally know and admire.
Or unless I invent the quote myself. (my personal favorite is ‘…Weeeeh… Wheeeeeh Wheeeeeeh’ dating back to the day I was born)
Perhaps I’m too proud of a person to share cliché stuff without my own stamp, and I’m especially allergic to picture-quotes with markings “share if you agree”, they tend to make me feel a bit nauseous. Or maybe I’m just too critical, or too picky. Or I think too much. Or whatever.
But…there are exceptions every now and then. This one for example. I haven’t got a clue where it comes from, but it did make me smile, as soon as I noticed the glass in the lady’s right hand.
I always was secretly proud to have the 9 lives of a cat. This quote and that glass made me realize I’m definitely NOT a cat, I’m just me, and that’s good enough.
…ever noticed that pointing fingers (at someone) point for 75% at oneself..?
About Alzheimer’s, and a video call last night with my dad, I must this morning write my light frustration away. It's about what I imagine whilst trying to walk in his shoes.
I wish I could make my moments to stay even if only for just another day But as time is ticking itself away my once colorful memories are now dull and grey They are MY moments, the good ones and bad, they are all mine I often say but then I'm wondering again what year and day we are today Like in the lines of a monotonous rhyme every last word ends very much the same and even if a new word would come up to me I'd quickly forget why it came I prefer now to live safely back in the past where time doesn't tick, and my memories still last
a while ago I found some pictures of when I was working in the Punjab, (Sialkot) in Pakistan, less than 400 kms. east of Kabul, Afghanistan, if you can fly like a bird and don’t care about borders. The idyllic picture above is from when I was guest of honor at a wedding there. This morning when I woke up I heard that Taliban had overtaken Kabul, and therefore the whole Afghan nation, and I immediately thought of this photo.
I wrote “idyllic”, but what I never mentioned was that I was NOT allowed to be alone on any photograph with a woman, let alone with the bride, especially since I was not married, although I lived together with a Russian girl, Yulia, in Spain, something that apparently was not appreciated somehow. As you might know, Muslim men can have up to 4 wives, as long as they’re married.
Nor did I ever mention waking up at sunrise, 5 am, every morning because of the Fajr, the religious morning chants and first call of 5 daily prayers, which is totally fine with me if it were not having joined quite a few “illegal-men-only-late at night-alcohol parties” in rented rooms at international hotels right after the Isha, the last prayer of the day, a bit before midnight, when it’s dark outside.
Nor did I mention the dry staccato noise of an AK-47 firing somewhere in the distance, multiple times a day. Even I eventually was not too shaken up anymore, after all the Punjab was a be-twisted region, so what do you expect? Although it did feel somehow surreal with the eternal Himalayas in view, with the top of the K2, world’s 2 highest mountain majestically towering over us little insignificant ants.
Nor did I mention the lack of religious freedom, watching seemingly abandoned Christian churches with Muslim propaganda on the outer walls, always with their doors open during the day, in an in my opinion false governmental statement that monuments of “foreign” religion are “acceptable”.
All this hypocrisy bothers me. It bothered me then and it bothers me now. But I will NOT allow myself to hate it, because as soon as I do that, that hate will immediately turn against me.
Way too often we sadly seem to forget we’re all mammals, just like dolphin- and whale-families, with the same basic instincts, and that we evolved in and out of the same water…
…eh…having said that… I don’t think I’ll post this on my Japanese site…
Soundcheck at charity-gig for Habitat for Humanity (Helmond- Netherlands, Nov. '22)
Ik Hou Steeds Meer Van Jou
60% of this song’s proceeds (media+streaming+downloads+album sales) go to Alzheimer’s & MS cure-research