life

From Zombie to a Human


The desire to become a better person came to me instantly and unexpectedly the night I was asked to play Rachmaninov in a` private party. I was an alien there, wearing made-in-China synthetic top and what I considered “special slimming concert pants” size 4 stretched out on my knees. I was stoop-shouldered and scared to make an eye contact with dazzling blondies and their packed in expensive suits partners.  It was the first time in my life I touched the real Fazioli piano and fell in love with its deep and rich sound. I had a glass of wine in hope it would help me deal with my nothingness and minor acne on the forehead but it only made me excessively sweater. My armpits were wet and smelly like Lady Speed Stick, and I was ashamed to fully extend out my arms while playing the piano.
Guests were looking through my “good-girl” type of body in cheap outfits focusing at tall girls in strapless dresses with sharply defined shoulders, huge deer eyes, and bleached teeth.
 I was myopic, and looked like a school teacher in black rim Chanel glasses, the only expensive thing I allowed myself to have. I drove to the party in a pre-owned American junk, chewed menthol gum to mask my mouth smells from pizza and Starbucks coffee, and felt like usually, worthless, tired, and reluctant to go home to an alcoholic and a full-time work and clean routine.
As I left, I lit a cigarette prior to getting into my vehicle and turned around. That house looked like a dream, a sparkling Christmas tree, warm, enticing, and homey. And at that very moment, I realize that I gotta change something about myself to get out of loveless marriage, nerdy image, endless running nose, antibiotics, acne, and low self-esteem.
It was the last cigarette I smoked and the last wine I drank.  I became pagan and raw vegan, changed coffee and tea to pure water, and joined a local gym. I started seeing beautiful changes in the bathroom mirror. A year after, I met the man of my dreams, got pregnant, and left my ex. I started living, breathing, laughing, and crying. I was gradually turning into a live human being, capable of emphasizing, feeling, giving and receiving. I became a human, and it was the best thing I ever did for myself in my entire life.     
life

How to communicate with a zombie.


I gotta interact with zombies sometimes. It does not bother me much, but the communication with them has certain distinctive features. 
1)      When communicating with a zombie you should respond to their meaningless: How are you doing? somethings like: I am fine, and what about yourself? Of course, a zombie does not care about your wellbeing, but he automatically throws How are you? into your face since socially acceptable manners are literary ingrained in him
2)      A zombie has rigid boundaries. If you accidentally come too close to them in Publix, apologize. Even if you did not bump into their shopping carts, apologize anyways. They will say their usual:  You are fine and won’t spill their mind crap on you
3)      Apologize, apologize, apologize no matter what. A zombie always thinks that he is right, and everyone else is gender, culture, race and blah-blah-blah biased; therefore, the more apologies you throw into the discussion, the higher your chances are to get out of unpleasant situations
4)      If, no matter how sincerely you apologized, a zombie continues rambling on and on, the afore-stated strategy did not work. The recommended step is to get quiet, let him vent, and go with a flow. If the conflict escalates to the point that a zombie becomes violent, get out as quickly as possible. You never know exactly where he is stuck in his crazy ways of thinking, so do not try to become a therapist, zombies can be really dangerous.
5)      If a zombie takes you to court, hire an attorney. Although extremely delusional, a zombie may be very persistent in his craziness to take revenge. Trying to resolve his brain farts by yourself may actually play against you; so invest in a professional.   
6)      If you need something from a zombie, watch his demeanor. Zombies are extremely insecure, pathologically vulnerable and panicky, but they hide their mess under the mask of what they name toughness. If you emphasize with them for a while, they will melt like ice-cream and overwhelm you with their fears, hatred, and despair. Do not allow them to drown you in their mental shit and keep watching for the underlying interest. Once you define it, give them what they need but not what they want, they will be happy to assist you after.
7)      Zombies eat dead food, which does not rightly digest in their stomachs and causes bad smells, which they try to mask through perfume, gums, deodorants, and daily showering. Their poor eating habits as well as lack of exercising and fresh water intake results in numerous health issues. Whatever. Explaining to them that consuming fried, grilled, or boiled bodies of dead animals is not only disgusting but extremely unhealthy is a waste of your time. Agree with whatever they say, be polite, nod, and smile.
8)      Zombies are extremely competitive. The meaning of a zombie’s life is to prove another zombie that he is the coolest, the most popular, and the best. Show admiration. Look right into his eyes imagining that you are looking at a ripe and juicy mango and tell him something like Wow! You are so smart, brilliant, awesome, blah blah blah. How did you do it? Unbelievable! I am really proud to be around a person like that. Remember, inside, a zombie is deeply insecure and believes that he is a piece of shit regardless the societal achievements. Therefore, admire, admire, and admire. Your true opinion is not only unnecessary but may be really harmful.
9)      Strategies to deal with zombies can be numerous, but the best advice is just stay away, do not get involved, life is way too short to waste it on those who are dead while being alive.  
life

Greg’s introversion


Introversion equals Greg. His world is hidden behind the wall of silence, professional ethics, workaholism, and the habit to internalize everything. It took me years to grasp the fact that the only way for him to be emotionally available is to leave him alone, have my own life, and let go of all attempts to get him interested in what is thrilling to myself.
Jim is different. His extroversion makes him as saccharine as old German Jägermeister. He yells at me that I am not warm enough; with Greg, I constantly have to quieten my self-expression. I gotta listen to Greg’s silent narcissism stepping on my own desires, while Jim urges me to get out of my shell and tell him about the feeling that he expects me to have for him.
          How do you relate with your introvert? – I was on the phone with my ex sister-in-law whose husband was akin to Greg, quiet, absent, inexpressive.
          You gotta find the approach and start building trust, people like Marc have trust issues – my sister-in-law is extroverted, actually was extroverted, red-headed, and stunningly vigorous until she married Marc, the CPA dude who, with years, put out her inner fire and turned her into an obese and nervous mother of three with alcohol-related issues. Are you speaking about someone from work or is it your personal involvement?
          My personal involvement, but he is even worse than your Marc, – I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose. I wanted to be with Greg, but the thought of gradually turning into my poor sister-in-law made me shiver with horror.
          Are you speaking about this surgeon? – The tone of her voice seemed kinda invasive, and I suddenly had the impulse to stop this conversation and hang up on her.
          Why?
          I think it is fairly typical of male surgeons
          How are the kids? – I briefly changed the subject, discussing the man of my dream with her was not something I was willing to do
Greg’s demeanor is unfathomable; short yes/no responses, constant self-focus, and egotistical attitudes. Poor Emy. Living with a man like this must be a torture. Sex is the only way for me to get through and have him be verbally available, but I am not verbal in sex.
Vixen, auditory is a part of good sex, I wanna hear you – is Greg’s usual feedback. But I cannot express myself when being in bed with him. Not that I am afraid he will stab me in the back with my own words, I just do not feel like entirely opening up to anyone, I need my personal space, my own secret garden…  Wow, seems like I am introverted too.  This insight brought me some relief. Maybe we have things in common, maybe we can feel the same.

I have neither aspirations nor present or future with him only his sudden emergence in my life marked by intense sex and silent aftermath interrupted by TV and his need for steak and the access code to my Wifi.  How do I feel about it? Nonchalant, tired, and kinda sleepy.