Yesterday I went for dinner with some friends to an Italian restaurant, one of those with foreign waitresses who were taught some words like Grazie and Arrivederci, the menu with the original titles of recipes and an approximate translation in English and cooks with strong stereotypical names and even stronger accents. A bottle of prosecco later, we started making conversation with those at the table next to us, ending the night with an exchange of business cards, a couple of flattering sentences and some casual talk about politics, the weather and buying vineyards. I’m not talking about this merely because I love talking about food, but because it is pretty surprising how random life is, curious how the moves you make and all that happens when you don’t give it too much thought can change a whole lot of things to happen.
I don’t genuinely consider myself as a religious person, nor with a strong belief in chakras shaping my days and my routine being part of a big painting by some sarcastic artist. All I’m saying is that it’s pretty surprising how much the tiniest of choices you make – no matter if out of months of weighing pros and cons or as a drunk impulse – can reshape everything. Buying a plane ticket, going to a concert, sleeping in a hostel without planning it. This is how I happened to meet some of my favourite people in the world, those you wouldn’t meet anywhere else if not out of nowhere, if not when you’re spontaneous. So here’s to late night talks on rooftops, casual weekends in a new city, long walks and sleeping at others’ because you missed the bus.
What I’m trying to say here is that it’s pointless to try and keep your shit altogether all the time and expect everything to go as planned – the day you’ll be on your period, the price of avocados at the market, your m&m’s not melting in the sun. You just have to let go of your thoughts, sleep tight and allow for some indulges.
It may be because my lunch today was an ice cream, or because in my future I want to afford good wine for every meal, nice organic looking food with tropical names and well displayed in a bowl and burning my overthinking and saturated fats at pilates classes. But the point I’m trying to make here is that you can’t keep track of all the stuff filling your days, perfectly fitting everything and bending appointments and relationships and grocery shoppings in-between. I may be bias, but who cares if you can’t manage money or if you too often end up eating ice cream for lunch and oversleeping your classes because you had a pinch of prosecco too much the night before? What matters is being able to face your reflection in the mirror, the carbs you have at night (I’m definitely not planning on entering the fashion world anyway, I love pasta too much) and getting your shit done – one way or another. And don’t forget to have fun in between, or else what’s the point of it all?
And as some gorgeous human being on a skateboard I follow on Instagram said,
‘it’s all about the good time’