When Life Gives You Lemons

I have never considered myself a particularly unlucky individual, but I do understand where the idea is coming from - all you need to do is Google "Serbia", and you'll get my point.

However off-putting our recent history is, there are certain recompenses for living in a culture so blatantly id-ridden it tends to shit its own bed simply because someone thought it was a good idea at the moment. For one, it takes the freedom of speech to a completely new level... the one where you can say whatever you bloody please to whomever you bloody please, as long as you're strong enough (or accomplished at martial arts enough) to take the beating that might follow up your speech.

So, as I was saying...

I had the good fortune of growing myself a personality at a time when the political censorship was breathing its last as well, so "political correctness" is as familiar a term for me as "quasi-stellar radio source" for most.

In other words, I've never learned to be evasive in my native language (unsurprisingly, backhandedness comes to me naturally in English - after all, I mastered it as a semi-adult) nor to self-censor my attitude and beliefs.

However...

What I did learn was that Life has THE shittiest Customer Service in the whole known universe, and that complaining about the mistaken orders doesn't help:

At the age of seven, I wanted to be an underwater camera(wo)man. I found out it was impossible here.

At the age of thirteen, I wanted to be a parachutist. I found out it was impossible here.

At the age of sixteen, I wanted to travel around. I found out it was impossible here.

At the age of twenty three, I wanted to have a kid without having to get married. I found out it was impossible here.

At the age of twenty four, I had had enough of it, said "Fuck you, Life!" and proceeded to do exactly as I bloody well pleased; Life, the sour loser he is, proceeded to throw annoying quantities of lemons my way.

Now, there's only so much citrus one can digest without permanently ruining one's digestive system. But the sour bastard didn't count on the fact I grew up in S(up)erbia...




When life gives us lemons... we simply pop open another beer before going back to whatever it was we were doing.

It's called "spite". We have it trademarked. Fucking live with it.