Me? Me who?

I put a lot of thought lately about this blog, just another thing that I have a tough time letting go. This blog ... my stories ... my story.

As much as I tried, I just can't write like that anymore. To think that I was 22-23 when I started this blog and now I am slowly moving towards 40.

40 ... It is something, right?

Almost 20 years of Fiery Red. I should make an anniversary post soon.

The main point is that I would rather adapt and keep writing stuff here through this new lens then just give it up. I love this place.

Nobody reads blog posts anymore (What a shame ...), so it is more like me talking to myself in some empty space. Which is not so bad.

Long story short, If you are reading this post and are new to this, or to me, or whatever, I will tell you this:

My name is Ada and I am a (belly) dancer. I have a strange relationship with time. Always felt as I was born too late or too early, but never really on time. That's my main source of frustration.

Look, for example:

I fell in love with belly dance back in the 90's when I was a kid in Romania. There were loads of restaurants, venues and places where it was place for belly dancers. Freedom and hope were in the air. I should've been in my 20's in the 90's so I can enjoy the true extravagantza of belly dancing.

Now ... everything is corporate. Shops, restaurants, shows, conversations, friendships. The whole world is a big fuckin' corporation with little room for art, exuberance, beauty and rebellion. Such a freakin' boring era.

Don't want to complain, just to make a point.

Seems to me like all the people I truly admire, were able to express the fullness of their capacity thanks to some sort of synchronicity, the gift of being the right person at the right time which was almost never my case.

I was either the wrong person, or it was the wrong time.

Apart from that, I am happy. Been walking against winds and blizzards stubbornly: Even if it's not my time, I still must do this. I honestly don't know how to do anything else, so giving up is not an option.

I can't tolerate unhappiness. I don't know how other people can manage to get comfortable living miserable lives, but I can't. I get extremely unhappy and I want to die. So I accepted long time ago that I either embrace struggle and find some weird happiness there ... or death ... of the body or worse, of the soul.

Back when I was very young I promised to rock 'n' roll forever, so here I am.

Cheers and bliss!