On my previous entrance I talked about my reflexions on mainstream women and weddings in the US, however during my daily runs in San Fran men’s behaviour came to my mind as well. Wichtigtuerei, this a German concept that cannot be fully translated into English, but refers to an attitude of self-regard, self-conceit; a sort of grandiloquence that has the purpose to impress others especially in a professional terrain, but also in more personal interactions. Personal communication has turned into impure advertising, a self-promoting discourse with the sole purpose of selling a product, “Me” the best one in the market according to many of them. I smelled fear all over, fear of rejection, fear of solitude, anxiety of being perceived as a loser. How sad.

I really don’t know how these guys can possibly endure the self-inflicted long-run-pain of perfection. The problem is acute and gives me the chills whenever I think about the repercussions such a trait could have in the near future for a society where vulnerability can only be understood as a major disadvantage.

My point during one of the conferences held was that today more than ever, art is important in terms of accessing, recovering our humanity. In a world where productivity and efficiency reigns, engaging in a creative process may remind us that the shortest path from point A to point B is rarely the most enriching. Art may help us rediscover the lost value of exploration for its own sake. It reconnects us with our susceptibilities. Art helps us to rehabilitate uselessness, rediscover the efforts of work and find value in it. Even when we fail; or even better, because fuck-ups are not only allowed, but warmly welcome in art.

Art has transformed me. Wether in Tibet, Nepal or India many people have wondered why I rarely use map-apps to reach a destination. Explaining that to me the destination is the journey itself has not always been easy, but I have tried to the best of my abilities to make myself understood: I’m not afraid of losing focus since it is the path I’m interested on. And even if I have a practical goal, let’s say meeting with a client in a certain point of space and time, any road I take, will lead me to it since my internal radars are in shape. Every single day of my life I deliberately choose the risks of adventuring and eventually fail.

Art helps us develop emotional intelligence as well. Yeah, this kind of intelligence is not gasoline. It’s not a simple one-dimensional substance that can be measured the same in both the swift and the halt. To me there is no more certain indicator of true intelligence than an insatiable curiosity for the world and especially for the people who live in it. Thats why I find Wichtigtuerei particularly annoying; I wholeheartedly dislike ‘done humans’. I despise guys who seem to know it all, to have it all. How embarrassing is it to watch them trying too hard, how boring is it to hear them talk as if they were gods. Your new Rolex? I couldn’t care less. Get naked, impress me.

Photo Morgan Keys. Composition moi, Mimi.

I can be me, and still be loveable

People can call me names, I don’t give a damn. No personality problems myself; as long as I know who I am, I’m done. But for heaven’s sake my last name cannot be THAT difficult for you French wannabe Valentine, try harder next time… if ever.

Every time I’m planning a visit to India my mother calls up expressing serious concerns, as if she would give a damn about my personal welll-being. But the reputation of the family comes first of course, how could she possibly explain her society an eventual rape? These are the kinds of things that fill her mind; she panics and mental paralysis sets in. This is how I try to discern her brain’s process and excuse the fact that her concerns offend me in every possible way.

Yeah, women are not exactly safe from public harassment in India. But truth be told, nor are we in America or Europe. It’s true that if you are a woman, drinking and dancing in Mumbai is risky business; I had to be extremely watchful during my nocturnal escapades. Everyone from the waiter to the white-collar guy at the next table thinks a woman out for a drink is up for grabs. But you know what? It didn’t stop me. I love getting a drink, and I went back to that same damn bar for weeks. It was awkward at the beginning, but it worked out. Unmolested I managed there to read mails, send millions wapps to friends and family, write my daily diary-entry and sometimes even draw, which to me is the ultimate prove I was feeling alright and this happened certainly not due to excessive alcohol consumption, but due to the kind atmosphere. In the wee hours I usually walked alone down the Colaba streets back to my tiny, modest, and comfy home. No incident to regret, ever. Lucky me.

In my country any woman who’s ever tried to have a fun, unfettered night out with girlfriends knows that men drinking in bars often feel free to make lewd remarks and otherwise sexually harass women who aren’t interested. And many of these guys can’t take a hint when women try to move away from them, they just don’t take no for an answer. It happened to us yesterday, good thing was that bar staff were largely helpful; bouncers intervened and tossed out the dum-dum boys of the bar. We were grateful and glad to acknowledge that things are getting better in our country; bar owners are proactively working on keeping us safe.

Bad thing was that I could recognise one of the guys; he often seems to chose by mere chance the same places I visit, even the most unlikely. Scary. This is no joke, believe me. Sensing that my whereabouts are somebody else’s business freaks me out; so much that I’ve been seriously considering leaving the country, moving to India maybe. I pray hard to the heavens that this shit would only stop or proves to be temporary or non existent; my bad, a wrong perception. In overdrive mode…. just in case.

Yeah, I am the wrong person. Who the hell am I to give advice in this particular field?

For reasons unknown the idea of Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf falling for each other came to my mind while designing this year’s Valentine’s card. Since I’ve been working hard on more serious projects, I just wanted to rest, giggle a bit, and have some fun coming up with something fresh, naïve, uncommon. It felt like holding hands with the enemy or meeting someone totally different, from outer space and out of the blue. Free translated the text reads in English:

Happy Valentine’s Day. Forget about Prince Charming; go find yourself a Big Bad Wolf who sees you, and hears you, and eats you better.