Kurwing around

In view of its success among a few of my acquaintances, I’m proud to introduce to the world my coined term (copyright pending) kurwing around.
Probably any Pole will easily identify its meaning; but it might not be so obvious for those of my readers who aren’t familiarized with Polish people: the term refers to a very common pattern of behaviour among Poles (mostly men) which consists in starting their speech, inserting in it, or simply exclaiming, the pet word kurwa (lit. “whore”), often ejaculated so repeatedly and loudly that it overpowers any other possible message meant. Needless to say that, when in groups or under alcohol effects, they sensibly increase the frequency and volume of the interjection.
Kurwa was the first Polish word that ever reached my ears, uttered by an inmigrant in my high school classroom; and kurwa will very likely be the first Polish word to strike that traveller’s ears who flies to Poland, hours before reaching the country: in the check-in queue, in the boarding gate, in the airplane…
Some months ago, when living in Warsaw, this behaviour suggested me the term kurwing around, which many of my acquaintances there have found utterly expressive and descriptive, and even qualified it as “a masterpiece of our behaviour’s description”. I’m sure it will be of some use to some readers, or give a chance for reflection to some others.

Writers and readers

As a writer, there are two ends in the range of literary concern: when you mainly think about the reader, and when you mainly think about yourself. And, as most things in this life, none of the extremes is good. Those writers who are too concerned in pleasing the reader with their work, in form and/or content, take the risk of devoiding their stories of a true temperament, the necessary strength, an appealing soul. Those, however, who just focus on saying what they want and on expressing themselves, may very soon bore the reader and lose his interest.
When we write, we should have both things into mind and keep a balance: on one hand, it is not the stories (however interesting) that the storyteller tells what make them so fascinating (and him such a parsonage), but the personal spirit he insufflates them; on the other hand, neither the excellence of a literary style nor the the rich innner life of a writer will, by themselves, suffice to make him successful unless he has, besides, something to say that interests the reader, which somehow needs to get involved in the story or, at least, not be utterly excluded from it.

Affording the truth

And it’s true: most of what we do in our social life, if not everything, is conditioned by our desire, is targeted to make us desirable, to look nice and appealing to women; and the fact of already having one, or five, doesn’t change anything, because in this struggle, as many other struggles in the mind’s battleground, what matters is not so much the fact of actually getting the women, but the notion of being able to get them. Besides, who said that we should be contented with one, or with five? What I’m saying is nothing new: it’s Mother Nature fundamentals.
So, fool ye not, my fellowgender men: the movements we make, the cloths we dress, the job we want, the places we frequent, the car we drive, the food we eat, the house we buy, the haircut we get, the book we write, the art we create, the trips we take, the countries we travel, the things we study, the music we listen to, the money we make, and so on and so forth… Everything!, and certainly, certainly the words we say (including this very same blurb of mine!), all of this is meant to draw an image of ourselves that we deem, and hope, might be a successful one for attracting the other gender.
Some time ago, a fledgling I met in Al Ouatia (Morocco), a nice young German who was travelling the country on a bike, merrily rebuted this opinion of mine by argueing that he was doing that bike trip along the desert just for himself, for his own self satisfaction, looking for solitary places, for being in contact with nature, totally deprived of any intention of meeting women whom he could please. Certainly -I replied- you’re not looking for women now, but with this trip you’re building, or trying to build, a better yourself, you’re trying to accomplish a goal and to make a more mature and experienced person which, subconsciously, you deem will be more successful when you’re back in your own European world; and there is where you’ll try to make the most of this investment you’re doing. I bet you’ve already seen yourself, sometimes, telling about this trip to some nice auditorium, haven’t you?. Would you have ever started this trip if you knew, with total certitude, that you wouldn’t be able to talk about it to anyone? Of course he couldn’t but admit that I was true. Me, the wise cynic.
And this is our real nature, which we can hardly escape: our sex drives us. And with such a nature, who can behave with honesty? Who can speak his truth? We can’t reasonably demand wholesome sincerity from people under these conditionings. The only ones who can possibly behave and talk what they really feel and think are the children and the elderly. That’s why in all cultures and civilizations the advice of old people has always been valued and praised: not because the experience they’ve accumulated along their lives, but because, lacking any more gender desire, only them can afford the truth.

Greediness (a Polish anecdote)

Today I’ve been to the shop round the corner.
My purchase amounted to 18,86 zl.
I handle the cashier a 20 zl banknote.
The change is 1,14 zl.
Does the cashier round it up in my favour and return to me 1,15 zl?
Of course not. The idea probably doesn’t even cross his mind. The change is just 1,14 zl.
But for small change he only has 10 cent and 5 cent coins, and just ONE 2 cent coin. He can’t make 1,14 zl.
He asks me if I have a 1 cent coin.
I haven’t.
Under these circumstances, does he reconsider the change, think of losing 1 cent, and give me 1,15 zl?
Nope. The change is just 1,14 zl. He can’t lose 1 cent. So, what does he do?
Poker-faced, he gives me 1,12 zl and pretends the thing is settled.
That’s Poland.
So, poker-faced, I tell him I want my other 2 cents.
He has to stop his work, go to another cashier and ask for the 2 cents he owes me.
I take my change and, on my way out, I throw the 4 cents to the litter bin outside the shop. Don’t want misery weighing on my pocket.
That’s Pablo.
(1 zl cent amounts to 1/4th euro cent, and it’s worth approximately 6 seconds of a cashier’s time. He took around one minute in returning me the money. Therefore, the loss for the shop is almost ten times bigger than the 1 cent they wanted to save.)

Who cares?

There is not much credit in loving what of lovable there can be in every person.
Our beauty, our goodness, our joy, our kindness, our wisdom, fortitude, skills, success, talent, niceness, courage, patience… All these are great values, and for sure everyone should love them, because it’s good to reward the virtues by bestowing our love onto them; but we wouldn’t have much grounds to be proud of our capacity for affection if that were all what we’re ready to love in others. Because anyone can love that. It’s just too easy.
Now, what about our deffects? What about our wrongs, our temper, our jealousy, our weakness, fears, whims, fits, clumsiness, uglyness, our evil side? This is the true test, the quality check of our devotion. Because he who can learn to love us for our deffects as well as for our virtues, he who can empathize and forgive our bad points, he is the only one who may get all the credit for his loving capacity, the only one who proves the size of his heart. It’s by learning to forgive and even feel affection for what there is of unloveable in our dear ones how we truly show our love for them, and our wisdom.
Now, the problem is – who actually cares so much about love and wisdom?