Ja ne nosim kacigu / I don’t wear a helmet

! This post was written long ago. What you're reading is not necessarily how I feel about things in 2017. This blog was started by an 18-year-old in 2001. Please, keep that in mind before you freak out.

When I calm down after having done something that was somewhat destructive (such as breaking that kitchen item I broke), I always think of what my friend Rebecca (who's already awesome enough for not wanting to be Becca, Becky or something, mind you) said - that things can change in a second.

This one is doing a quick tape rewind from the present time and May 2010 to some other year. It takes a sip of a situation that was already comical on its own and makes it even more comical.

If there are people whom you never told anything to, face to face and you (probably, even if you're constantly denying it), would say something in their presence and be as smart as Alice when she finally figured out that she should eat pieces of both cakes in order to get through) would, imagine if what you said would be a hysterical, loud: I DON'T WEAR A HELMET!

Does it make you think Monty Python? Well, it shouldn't. I roughly based it on a stupid situation from Branislav Nušić's Autobiography. The author tells of his toddler self and how he'd go around telling everyone he's got a new pair of shoes. He mentioned other children climbing up people's laps and sticking their shoes underneath people's faces to make them talk about it and then he added that it wasn't enough for him, and that he felt the need to go outside, chase passerbys and desperately scream that he's got a new pair of shoes.

Different people have different things they'd scream out loud in such a toddler-hysteria moment. Of course, this applies to other moments in life as well. You all know the annoying girl on some social network who goes through all of your albums to comment solely on a photo of a dog and compare it to her dog? You all know the people who only want to tag themselves? You all know the annoying character at some dinner party who needs to point out where they have been and what they have done there? You might be familiar with the person who tries to sneak religion into everything? In general, most people have a more or less annoying thing to say about themselves, the thing they consider their most priced posession or the best characteristic.

If you're reading this, most likely being someone I know in person (I hope someone IS reading this, really, I don't like talking to myself), you know that I tend to point out how I always take the hardest possible way to every single goal and how I consider my moral values to be a beautiful thing...a strange, almost masochistic thing. It's a juice of thorns consumed every day, so it could be present as that unpleasant feeling in the stomach and the rear-end even when it's an ugly day and you cannot take a road of thorns or walk on a broken glass.

This said, Jumping Into The Raging Fire might be, amongst other things, a more mature take on this subject. This one IS intended to be immature, because the moment of time it rewinds to was somewhat immature. If it sounds as if a person whose IQ dropped to the one of a mentally challenged person for a couple of minutes, that is the way it should be, that means I succeeded in mocking myself.

I never thought that a combination of breaking things and remembering the late Gilles Villeneuve would cause me to be so inspired....especially since poor man has nothing to do with this and he died even before the event that drags all the Wrong Star comparisons occurred...he even died 10 months before I was born and I only got to enjoy his son race (and mom and I totally enjoyed him...I mean, who didn't?). Perhaps that's both the beautiful and the ugly face of all the p..ms and people who write them? They come from an unexplainable fission of an exact moment they were written in, just like artistic photographs. That is why I am not too keen on editing either, despite being good both with words and Photoshop. Nothing can replace the power of a given moment.


I bio je taj dan,
i bilo je sve kao san,
i mesec je bio savršeno pun,
i snovi su dopustili da liznem krajičak,
ali jedna stvar nije bila kako treba,
nijedna kap vode ne pade s mog neba,
nisam uspela ništa da izgovorim,
a htela sam da kažem:

Ja se bacam na glavu,
pa tresnem u travu,
ne moram da tražim zvezde,
onda mi se oko glave gnezde,
jer ne nosim kacigu,
ne, ne, ne nosim kacigu!

Dobro. Ne nosiš kacigu. Pa šta?
Bože, svašta...



And it was that day,
And everything was like a dream,
And the Moon was perfectly full,
And the dreams allowed me to lick one of their ends,
But one thing wasn't completely right,
No drop of water fell from my sky,
I couldn't say a single mere word,
And what I wanted to say was:

I jump straight on my head,
And fall into the grass,
No need to seek the stars,
They're nesting around me,
because I don't wear a helmet,
no, no, I don't wear a helmet.

All right. You are not wearing a helmet. So what?
What was that...

P.S. It is unclear who gives the response to the oh-so-proud bare-headed protagonist/narrator, even to me. But it most likely isn't the person whom they felt the need to tell that.

P.P.S. Why simple present tense? The protagonist/narrator needs to point out that they're never wearing a helmet, regardless of the circumstances.

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