The Most Horrible Comment in My 8-year Experience as Amateur Blogger

I started blogging about 8 years ago in 2009. I was a complete beginner to blogging and writing in general. I was 17 and English is my second language. I wrote about personal things which had almost no value to the reader. My writing style was a bit long-winded and some sentences make no sense to me now. One of my oldest posts from 2011 is about the purpose of movies and has been viewed over 14,000 times. It was informative but written really badly. So badly that I got the following comment from an anonymous visitor:

Horrible Comment 03.03.2013

I was shocked. On the bright side, negative attention is better than no attention, right? A few days later, I re-wrote my blog post which is presently generating the most traffic to my website and hasn’t received further abuse.

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The Day I Graduated Frоm High-School

May 20, 2011
The day I graduated from high-school is a day I will never forget.

The celebration starts at 12am when I and my class of 2011 arrive at the main entrance of “Ivan Vazov” High School of Mathematics and Science in Dimitrovgrad (Bulgaria) carried by two 12-seated minibuses. I have to say a few students arrive in a carriage pulled by a horse. As usual, the school principle holds a lengthy speech, gives awards for achievements in different fields and salutes all high-school graduates. Each of the four classes of 2011 has the chance to present itself to the people attending the event (students and parents). All graduates shake hands with the faculty members who have been their teachers for the last four years. I remember the words of my philosophy teacher Mr. Todorov, “Vladi, I wish you luck on your way to success; I wish you fulfill the goals you have in mind and I am absolutely certain you can do that.” Then, we hear the school bell ringing and attend classes for the last time in our high-school education. The form teacher of my class invites us in a classroom where we see a presentation about our four happy years at high school.

What follows next is the thing I am writing this memory because of. I haven’t experienced anything like it and I am thankful I had the chance to be part of it. I hope you are imaginative enough to get a picture of what I am talking about.

Me and my class get on a big orange lorry with a carriage large enough to accomodate us (27 people). The truck departs and I hear yells, cheer, whistles blowing and “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, wooooooooooooooooooooow”, meaning we have completed the grades from one to twelve. I’m absolutely excited because I could sense the beginning of a new chapter in my life, and begin to celebrate the fact that I will continue my education abroad.

Class 12b in The Truck

Class 12b in The Truck

The truck with its 27 students in the rear moves slowly through the two neighborhoods of Dimitrovgrad city. It’s fascinating to see streets and people from such an open elevated pespective. I see many people while the truck follows its route. I mostly take notice of the way they react upon seeing a big lorry full of students waving hands in the rear. Some pretend not to see the truck and hear the yells; others get surprised at the view; third, smile and wave their hands as if remembering the time they were graduates; fourth, seem annoyed by our undertaking and frown; fifth, genuinely consider us crazy. A lot of drivers blow the horns of their cars while passing the lorry and many pedestrians make pictures or videos. While still in the truck I am certain this moment shouldn’t be forgotten and decide to write it down when I return home. And I do it.

At some point in our journey through the city a policeman stops the truck and orders every student to get off. The yells cease. Then I realize the danger of traveling at the back of a truck – if the truck changes its speed abruptly, someone might fall of the carriage. The officer’s face looks firm and slightly angry. I say to myself, “Well, if this is the end of it, fine! I am extremely happy of what I experienced so far.” The classmate of mine who arranged the lorry gets off to talk to the policeman. Ivan Zlatev, whose father is or used to be, I am not sure, a powerful figure in the city’s police station, explains to the officer that no one is drunk and that the carriage is too deep for one to fall off.

Class 12b in The Truck2

Class 12b in The Truck (2)

What? The officer allows us to continue. For the first time in my life I feel happy I live in Bulgaria, because I assume that the officer made a compromise since Ivan Zlatev’s father is an authority with a lot of contacts and I am not sure if such compromises happen in other countries.

We continue our journey through Dimitrovgrad. My excitement reaches a new level. I start to feel like the Pope because of the way he travels in a special vehicle and waves to crowds of Catholics. I realize the difference between me and the Pope, and become even happier – I do not have to fear someone aiming a gun at me.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, WOOOW!”

At some point I begin to feel uneasiness in my cheeks. I realize I haven’t smiling for a long time; my mouth craves water, too. But the journey hasn’t concluded yet, I feel obliged to continue to fuel the euphoria with some more yells.

An Empty Drawer, a New Life

I am tidying up my drawer – useless old papers, scratch notes and notebooks redolent of the last four high-school years I prepare for recycling.

I have no desire to think of the school and educational system I see as more tradition than innovation-oriented – a system more likely to perpetuate your mistakes than your small steps toward success.

Score reports and unsuccessful admission letters catch my eye and send me back in the past. I suppress memories of failure to invoke the ones of great life-changing lessons.

And smile.

It might not be Liberal Arts education in the USA.

It might not be career-preparation education in the UK.

But the fact I have an empty drawer is enough for me to realize that I have won the battle for true knowledge, experienced rites of passage and taken a path straight to success, to happiness, to God.

A path of fearlessness of failure and of death,
A path of no surrender,
A brand-new path of realization of dreams.
A completely new life is awaiting me and I’m ready to turn over the leaf.

Lyd and Joro,
Thank you for helping me discover a better life path.

6 Verses of Break Dancing

Music in the darkness,
Bass and lights in the background,
Emotions so profound
That I start to feel dance-bound.

I become wired to the beat
And start moving my feet –
Top rock, six-step, three-step,
Windmill on my back, freeze!
The music doesn’t cease its pleasant tease.

I become mesmerized,
Fully hypnotized,
And perform moves
In accordance with the beat’s rules.

DJ changes the disk,
But keeps swaying the mix
As I show some new tricks
In an attempt to energize the crowd
And make others step on the dance floor
To continue the show.

Drugged by music and intense emotions
Which invade even my subconscious
To extend this sound drug’s effect
Long after the dancing’s set,
I gain energy and strength
To write, shoot and break
Through miserable times of great length.

Even when my life’s at stake,
I shall continue to break,
Forever and ever,
To survive in this world of fake.

Biker

I ride and ride and ride,
Till day switches with night.
Off I go without a destination,
Just craving relaxation.

As if sitting on the back of a bird,
I wander exploring the world.
Regardless of weather,
I move through hot and cold
And haven’t felt better.

Weary I often get
When riding uphill.
Descending, however,
I enter a state of hysteria,
Almost breaking the sound barrier.

My bike serves as an energy provider
As if showing respect towards his driver.
All cars look at me and grin,
I smile seeing them stand still, for I know
They haven’t had their liquid power meal.

I feel I become one with my bike.
It’s hard to describe it,
But very easy to feel it.
All you have to do is find a bike
And join me on the two-wheel hike.

Clutch at the handlebars,
Feet on the pedals;
It’s time for us to shoot some stars
Or win a few medals.

10 Minutes of Break Dancing

I am in the club. I have come to a party that is going to be attended by all students of my high-school. I hear music I dislike; the dance floor is full of people, though. I am waiting… waiting for my time. I know somewhere in the club there are my friends who are waiting as well.. the songs bore me, and I ignore them hearing only bass. I am full of hope, nevertheless; at the end of every song I look up with my eyes closed waiting for my time to come…

An inestimable period of time passes till I hear a pop song transitioning into a rap song. My eyes open, my adrenaline rises and I feel something powerful is going to happen soon. Having realized that the DJ has really played a rap song, I look at the dance floor. I see my people; I see everyone withdrawing from the center of the dance floor. Energy flows into my body mixing with adrenaline; I feel a stimulus to get on the empty floor and dance… break dance…

Various lights pass in front of my eyes, blind me for milliseconds and brighten the dance floor. I look down… the terracotta slates look dark and tired of pop fens treading on them; “they” believe it’s high time someone restored their shine and stroked them with his hands…

I hear my name and avoid registering the beautiful thoughts that come up in my mind. Folks call my name again; I understand I shouldn’t lose the chance to dance and show everyone what I got and be applauded for my performance…

I break dance… I enter a world of serenity and ebullience… I don’t hear any music or shouts or applause. Music infiltrates my mind and takes full control of my thoughts and emotions;

I am rhythm-borne now…

I perform series of moves and enjoy myself on the floor. When finishing doing windmills I kiss the floor with my left shoulder for the last time. I sense music loosens the grip it has had on me so far and I step out the empty area on the dance floor under the rhythm’s directions. Music explains to me that there are my folks waiting for the chance to step out of the crown, transform the dance floor into their self-constructed magical realms and enjoy themselves as I did. I understand…

As I get out of the dance floor to wait for my second turn, I see the vitality that sprinkles from the air stirred by music flow into the body of a friend of mine who starts dancing immediately.

And into another friend of mine…

And into another one…

I realize that the DJ who feels responsible to keep the spirits of  all attendants up stops the magic energy that springs from the speakers located at every corner of the building by changing the track. I guess it’s time pop fens to feel their type of energy and re-enter their worlds. I am happy, fulfilled, gratified and thankful to those or that who gave me the opportunity to get on the dance floor and break dance.

I am heading home now. I have no business in the club since the DJ is not going to play the music that makes me inhuman for a while, that sends me to an indescribably colorful realm and that makes me unafraid of expressing my emotions by dancing…

The beautiful moments I just had become captured by my mind. I acquire an unparalleled memory. Life seems so wonderful to me now. My feelings towards music and break dancing grow stronger.

That was a memory of mine. I am aware that you might not have experienced what I did in my past while reading my writing. The picture you would get by reading all these black colored words would have been much different if you had been in the club the exact time I was, not to mention if you had been a break dancer…

I realized something and I will tell you what it is. It relates to the sentences I wrote at the end of the memory: “Life seem so wonderful to me now. It’s about the act of returning to positive events that happened to you some time ago. I realized that when I recollect the memory of something positive the feelings I have once experienced I get the chance to experience again, at the moment of recollection. When you remember a positive incident, it affects you in real-time; you change your mood because you assume the feelings you had once experienced. It is such a healthy and cheerful occupation to think of the occurrence of positive moments in your past.

Also, when I recollected the time I wanted to get on the dance floor and break dance, I doubtlessly felt as I did in the past. However, I wanted to retain that positive memory of mine and invoke it whenever I was down in the dumps. For this reason I decided to write my memory down. I captured the feelings and the scene as influential as I could. from now on, the words will aid me in recollecting the emotions I once had. Don’t be confused if you didn’t feel anything while reading this writing because only the person who preserves a memory into written words has the ability to most accurately recollect the experienced events along with the experienced feelings.

Worry Less to Sleep Better and Live Longer

I woke up once to hear my dad speaking loudly in the adjacent room. It was after midnight when my father turned on the computer to make an important call using Skype. A lot of awful noise was being produced by my dad’s voice and the speakers which were crackling because the Internet signal wasn’t good enough. I, as I said, woke up and went to see what was going on in the next room. I mention to you about my father’s occupation, but I haven’t told you anything about my ten-year-old brother who was sleeping two meters away from my dad.

My little brother had probably reached the summit of his childhood characterized by all day long games and the constant interchange of positive emotions-joy, surprise, laughter, etc., and nothing to worry about during the summer vacation. There he was, sleeping heavily, motionless. I really mean that during the thirty-minute call of my fathers, my brother didn’t perform even the slightest change in his posture. My brother had placed a hand behind the neck and the other on his stomach. He appeared to me as if lying on a white puffy cloud having successfully escaped from his consciousness.

What did that make me ruminate on?

I started thinking more deeply about sleep and its relationship with one’s health. I compared myself with my brother and discovered a few striking differences which made me change my lifestyle.

I realized I was undergoing a lot more turbulent life than my brother was. I mean that I had more things to worry about compared to my brother who occasionally had his adrenalin slightly risen in a game of hide-and-seek, didn’t have to ponder over his future, especially his education and career choice. I was excessively emotionally insecure. I contemplated over my chance of getting accepted in an American Liberal Arts college, of winning a significant scholarship or financial aid, of surviving in the new place. These were goals I so much strived to achieve. Here is what the incident taught me.

I figured out that it wasn’t worth worrying about my future since my misgivings wouldn’t contribute to anything good. I cared about my future; however, to be pensive every single day was unnecessary and unhealthy. Not to be overwhelmed by misgivings didn’t mean I wasn’t interested in being successful in the future. It was unhealthy, because regular anxiety has a negative impact on one’s sleep and can also make a person chronically mentally ill. I can prove the previous sentence by elaborating a little.

The first example is from my personal experience. The school year was over and in the week which followed I used to wake up early in the morning, stressed to catch a glimpse of the clock to see if I was late for the first period. Truth is that during the school year I had had stressful incidents, for example, to get up early not to miss the first period because I was going to be examined. I didn’t fight with stress which resulted in a week of bad sleep at the onset of the summer vacation.

The second example says that there have been numerous cases in which retired soldiers have committed suicide in order to escape from the thoughts that haunted them. In fact, their careers as soldiers were deleterious, because the soldiers had faced an excessive number of uncertainties like having to engage an enemy or protect the camp from enemy assault. The daily stress these soldiers had experienced made them have emotional traumas even after the end of their services.

Sleep is a physical and mental resting state in which a person becomes relatively inactive and unaware of the environment. Sleep consists of two distinct states – the REM and the NREM sleep. In the rapid-eye-movement sleep dreams occur; the non-rapid-eye-movement sleep comprises 4 stages the third and fourth of which are the deepest. The two states alternate in 90 to 110 minutes.

Sleep is essential for one’s health because sleep provides the body and the mind with a rest and vigor for the next day.

In fact, the brain is a muscle and as every bodily muscle it needs a rest. It can have “a little” rest during sleep or meditation, but basically, the brain never stops working even when we sleep.

As for me, I started to think that I wasn’t feeling emotionally and physically well because of my anxiety about the future which impaired even my sleep. I was probably not able to enter the deepest stage of the NREM sleep or I entered it for a very short period of time and thus, couldn’t give my mind the relaxation required.

Do not be confused if you feel tired even if you sleep more time than you normally do. The brain works without cease.