Wednesday is a remarkable day, by the 3rd class my brain  becomes some badly prepared pasta. In this, perhaps, there is no path to harmony with universe and no endless love.

Seeing love through the prism of a cat.

When night begins, I happen to discuss more or less meaning-of-life-related topics. You know, I hate being asked what love is. Theoretically, it has a lot to do with philosophy: an ambiguous formulation, transcendence, an attempt for some unbelievable spirituality and a  great depth of thought, but by its actual content - it's no more than some trivial talks on a Friday evening over a cup of tea. After all, people who are concerned with this question do not feel love, they are mostly inveterate bachelors or some exalted teens. I myself have stopped asking myself what love is at the age of 15 – when most parts of my being was hit by a virus «First love-2011». Love is somewhat similar to pain – when you feel it, you don't think about what it is. You just feel it and recognize it which is enough for you. Just imagine a cat. What does it look like? I imagined a red one, sitting and licking itself. Thick fur, long tail. Which cat would you imagine? A white one? The Egyptian Mau? All of them are simply cats. Word is an arithmetic mean of all existed representations of cat. In fact, love, from the point of a common sense, does not differ by any means from our cat. Love is what we think about it. For me there is no need to explain through a prism of all its characteristics what love is or what I intend by saying "I love you". It's enough that I feel it. It's enough that love exists in my own system of perceptions.

Living in a kindergarten

I have a feeling of living in a kindergarten – in a broad sense of this a social phenomenon, of course.

Problems, even mine (self comes first, as they say) seem so pointless, appearing out of thin air, serving as an excuse for certain type of behavior or as a way of seeking attention, it's even disgusting how much time and attention is allocated to the fact of whining about life.. After all, people live in a way they find easier or in a way they want to.

In popular psychology, there is a point of view: a person tends to hate in others such qualities that he or she has and wants to get rid of them. Perhaps, this is the source of my intolerance. Their despair... it must be the only quality that I can't put up with in people.

The only quality that I hate in people, to be exactly, I absolutely despise in them, it's this goddamned position of a victim that they take, some sort of ideology of pointless despair and pessimism.

Real problems: it is when you're thirty-something and all you 've got is a fatal mix of being unemployed, living in poverty, having a small child (or even two), and a husband dying from prostate cancer. And, what's rather surprising, such people do not give up, they find their strength to acquire a steel shell and live happily in spite of everything, they find a solution each time and in every hopeless situation that life throws at them.

That's why, when my cat's ears hear someone's not reasonable enough whining, I want to start swearing not in a very lady-like manner and to cut them some limb... The reasons of their whining are very diverse - from extra kilogram on their butt and banal everyday problems to sacramental "God doesn't hear me"

Apparently,  something irreversibly changed in the last six months in my mind. I made a rule to whine only in periods of despair caused my female hormones, and even in those moments I feel like a fool when I whine.

To whine – it's like pitying yourself – it is degrading. Change, accept, or screw it.

It would have been so much easier for all of us if we never hid (at least from ourselves) what we REALLY want.

Girls are suffering because their patners couldn't get over their exses.

Guys are suffering because they've been cheated on.
It's over millions of broken hearts, which no one gives a shit about.
The chain reactions are tested on humans, have you already  killed someone?

It would have been so much easier for all of us if only we knew what we want.

But we simply can't know what we want till it's too late. 

Lately, my dreams resembled something very strange and frightening, so that I always was extremely happy to wake up and interrupt them, even if it meant waking up in the earliest and very gloomy morning.