DABOISASTRGLEDT (phrases) – by Ivaniel “Ivo” Georgiev

Today, DABOIS are going underground—and I mean literally. I’m wading through life’s glorious, gum-smacking chaos while binging Silo—Apple TV’s underground dystopia.

All those people live in a massive underground bunker after the world above has collapsed from over-experimentation or some other human-made catastrophe. Watching it felt oddly familiar. Each day in the real world feels like a step deeper into quicksand—another layer of mess, another buried breath. And yet, I hold on to the one remaining branch that still gives me hope: that maybe, just maybe, there’s still a way out.

That’s probably how the characters in Silo feel. They’re trapped beneath the surface, surviving, adapting, pretending. It’s a harsh mirror. Honestly, living like a mole doesn’t sound so bad. I don’t need much to get by.

Now, I won’t get into the whole plot—it’s not a plug. HBO still slaps hareder, but I have to admit: they’ve made a few decent shows, and Silo is one of them. Give it a chance if you’re looking for something that’ll rattle your perception of what’s “normal.”

Somewhere in the middle of the show, I overheard a line that completely bugged my jaw. And it’s got me thinking: life’s a bunker, and we’re all dodging each other’s quirks.

It was a simple, yet very rich exchange between the mayor and a character named Martha:

The Mayor: “You had a great marriage. What happened?”
Martha: “She chewed with her mouth open.”

That’s it. That’s the line. And boom—a marriage tanked over a slurp.

And yet—it says so much. Down there in that cold, dim-lit silo, stripped of distractions and masks, even the tiniest annoyance becomes impossible to ignore. A small habit like chewing with your mouth open can destroy something as big as love. That’s not just television—that’s the truth.

So tell me: how many people do you know whose little habits make you want to smother them with a pillow? You still love them, but… come on. (This is a joke. Please don’t actually smother anyone. Just sit them down and talk. Or if they don’t listen… I don’t know what to tell you.)

But seriously—everyone grew up differently. Different houses, different customs, different rules about bathrooms, dinner tables, and deodorant—or lack thereof. If you live in a high-immigration country or a melting pot of nationalities, the culture clashes can be hilarious or horrifying.

Believe me, I’ve seen it all: people who eat what others wouldn’t even look at… people who wear underwear that has more holes than Swiss cheese… and those who don’t bathe at all.

And yet—that’s the beauty of humanity.

I may joke, but I’ve lived with all kinds of people and accepted every quirk I could stomach—even those I couldn’t. I’m no prince myself. I used to take way too long in the bathroom—I’ve cleaned that up over the years (pun intended)—, and I’ve always taken up more space than I probably should. That’s partly why I can’t live with roommates anymore.

But here’s the point: learning to tolerate what irritates you is how society evolves. It’s about finding the best in people—even the ones who make you grit your teeth. Because everyone, no matter how unbearable, has something to offer. Yes, some don’t give a damn about anyone or anything—but even they serve a purpose. You don’t have to love them, but you don’t have to hate them either.

You just… learn to live around them. Or move out. Or the you use the nearest pillow…

Let’s unpack the absurd, laugh at the mess, and find the gold in the human sludge.

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Before I dive into the deeper reflections of today’s blog, let me thank you—whether it’s your first time here or your seventh—for taking time out of your day to be part of this community. I don’t take it lightly. I believe DABOISASTRGLEDT can become something meaningful: a space for understanding, forgiveness, honesty, and most of all, effort.

So BOIS and GALS—don’t worry if you’re feeling overwhelmed. You’re not alone. We’re all struggling, stumbling, and laughing through the mess together.

And if this blog makes you think just a little more than you did yesterday, then I’ve done what I set out to do.

Here’s a link to the last post, in case you missed it: Effect Energy; More Like SCAM ENERGY…

If you like the type of content I’m sharing here, you can definitely check out my daily newsletter for some more interesting twists about different aspects of life (and some free goodies) – Subscribe to My Newsletter.

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Oh, the European trip is going very well. We drove on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea and visited Monaco, a place called Nice—can you imagine? Then we stopped at Cannes—sadly, two months after the very famous movie festival, but the good thing is, it wasn’t crowded and we were able to enjoy its beauty. We entered Spain a couple of days ago and visited the beautiful city of Barcelona—every image I’ve seen on the internet has now become a reality, wow. Today we are in Zaragoza and tomorrow we are heading to Valencia. Will be in touch.

Now, back to the topic.

Things Are Great

I’m not even sure how to start this one.

The show—and that exchange between Martha and the Mayor—is about love. But today, I don’t feel like talking only about love. However, quirks are love’s landmines, but they’re also its spice.

I bet there are many of your own quirk-induced side-eyes—so spill it.

Anyway, I’ll try to zig-zag through the topic, because love may be the foundation, but it’s life and all its relationships are built from bricks like tolerance, self-awareness, and maybe doing someone else’s laundry—literally and figuratively.

And sometimes, when they never start doing it themselves… Well. The door’s that way. (I don’t know which way yours is, but you get the idea.)

People always say, “Things are great.” And they are.

Until you start chewing with your mouth open. Until you forget to clean up after yourself. Until your freedom starts stepping on someone else’s.

You ask people how things are, and they can’t always tell the truth. Not because they’re dishonest—just because they don’t have the guts. Or they’ve been trained to bite their tongue, to “keep the peace,” to avoid criticising their partner, their coworker, their housemate. I get it. I really do. Some people were raised on that kind of silence.

But me? I can’t do it. If something’s off, I speak up. I ask—very-quite-gently—for a resolution. Usually… nothing changes.

Still, I believe in asking. I’ve asked for feedback all my life—on my work, my friendships, my writing, my presence in a room… and yes, in bed too (though those experiences haven’t exactly been an hour of HBO series—more like the commercials in between a sports game).

But the place I’ve skipped asking—and learned least—is probably home—though I reflected plenty… but a lot of time has passed.

I mean that’s a different story. Feedback hits differently when it comes from people who raised you. I spent the first seventeen years of my life living with my parents. Now I’m twenty-four and living with my grandparents—it’s peaceful here, with the soothing soundtrack of chickens and early morning rooster alarms. The point is those people don’t really give you feedback—they mostly give opinions (which in its own way is feedback, so…).

Here’s my advice: Leave your home.

Seriously. Get out of your comfort zone. Live with strangers. With roommates. With someone else’s habits.

Home will always be home, but staying too long turns it into an echo chamber. You stop listening because you’ve heard it all before. You take advice for granted because it comes from the same mouth it always did.

But one day, a stranger will say the same thing—and you’ll finally get it. That’s when you’ll realise: not everything they said was pointless… even if a good chunk of it kinda was.

Through all the questions I’ve asked, I’ve definitely learned a lot—but I’ve also missed a lot. I used to carry this arrogant version of myself: this “wise guy” complex, thinking I knew better than everyone else. Over time, I’ve humbled that down. I’ve landed back on earth.

Still, it’s funny: despite asking so many questions, I’ve rarely received honest, critical feedback. Unless we’re talking about my father—or that Italian restaurant I worked at, where I got nothing but passive-aggressive corrections and detailed lectures on how things are done “properly.” (Apparently, the way I did things wasn’t proper.)

I’m not saying they were wrong. But it’s clear they preferred order over freedom. Some systems thrive on control. In most other places, though, people just… smile and say I’m great. A great coworker. A great roommate. A great person. And that’s true to an extent—but again, it depends who’s sitting across from you.

Even when I snore, they don’t say anything—well, some have. Even when I mess up, they shrug it off. I’ve had more compliments for the southern departments than for my actual kissing—wink.

So maybe I am great? Hehehe. But I don’t buy into it completely.

When it comes to love—real love—sincerity is everything. Without it, you’re sitting on a live bomb. One day, it goes off. In my case, it never even got that far. No bomb. No planting. Just… disarmed from the start.

If you’re new to this blog, let me be upfront: I’ve never had a real relationship. Not because I wasn’t “there” as a person—but maybe because I wasn’t. Or maybe now, I’ve swung too far in the other direction. I’ve become too analytical, too observant. I give space… but I care deeply what the other person does with that space. And I don’t like how “democracy” is exercised sometimes. But then there’s the big question: “What the hell do I know about anything?”

What about you, BOIS and GALS?

• How often are things really great—and how often do we just pretend they are?
• Is freedom sacred to you?
• And if so, how do you deal with the reality that your freedom might shrink to make room for someone else’s?
• And when is that compromise worth it?

Quirks ain’t just habits; they’re tiny apocalypses testing your patience. I’ve wanted to yeet folks for less—loud chewing, nose-picking, socks on the couch (you name it).

Things Are Never Great

This point describes everything I despise in people—and admire them for.

Yes, simultaneously. Can you imagine?

Think of the sacrifices your parents have made to “accept” you for who you are. Well, maybe they haven’t fully accepted you. But they’re kind of trying, aren’t they? I know how many sacrifices mine have made for me. Sure, I can stand from a place of blame—pointing fingers at who they are, what they’ve done, and how I’m basically a product of their unresolved thoughts and actions. But life is more than that. Right?

The individual is responsible for what they do and what they avoid doing. And for that, we should all be just a little more careful—especially when it comes to how we act in public.

But let’s be real. People are nasty creatures. Sometimes too nasty. We’re still animals, no matter how much we dress ourselves up or pretend otherwise. And some animal instincts are just impossible to scrub off.

As the old saying goes: “A primate is a primate, even if you put it in a suit.” (I don’t know if that’s been said by anyone, or I just came with it… so if you haven’t seen it anywhere else and decide to tweet it, then make sure as hell I’m tagged).

Anyway, I still catch myself scratching where the sun doesn’t shine or picking my nose—not proudly, not publicly—at least I try—, but it happens. Maybe it’s instinct. Maybe it’s a habit. Or maybe it’s just a poor excuse for my lack of discipline.

Yet, even those people can be brilliant. Just take Germany’s former football coach—Joachim Löw. (I know, random reference, but follow me.) The guy led one of the greatest national teams in the world and won the World Cup. Yet during the tournament—watched by a billion people—he scratched his ass and then sniffed his hand. On camera. Completely inappropriate. Utterly human. Still a World Champion.

So what about love?

Those of you in long-term relationships: what is it about your partner that drives you crazy—but you’ve learned to live with anyway? Or maybe more accurately—what do you hate, but love them enough to let it slide? Not because it’s unimportant, but because what they give you is irreplaceable.

Let’s circle back to Martha from the show. She leaves her wife—stern, analytical, maybe pees straight lines—but over something like… how she chews? Really? That’s the hill? (Okay, maybe it’s symbolic. Maybe it’s not the chewing part. I get it.) But it is wild how people can throw away love over trivial things while holding onto pain over much worse.

Still, if you’re with someone who disrespects you—repeatedly—and makes no effort to change, you should walk away. Unless you’re into S&M… then you might be into exactly that. (Imagine being tied up, gagged, blindfolded, left wide open, only for them to do the exact thing you hate right in front of you. Okay, maybe I went too far. Sorry.)

The point is: things will never be perfect. The world never has been, and never will be. If you’re chasing perfection, you’ve signed up for disappointment on day one.

Martha clearly still loved her partner. That came through. And maybe, in a different life, she would’ve gone back and tried again—despite all the words, the wounds, the toast arguments. But by then, it was too late.

So here’s the real question: Why do we wait until something’s gone to realise we wanted it?

My dad gives me advice he picks up from the internet or TV, and calls it life-saving. For a while, I believed him. I followed some of it. Ignored other parts. And honestly, he wasn’t always wrong—just… fragmentedly right. Because eventually, you grow. And when you grow, you start deciding what fits your truth. Doesn’t mean your choices are healthy. Just means they’re yours.

So do your research. No matter where you heard something or who you heard it from, triple-check it. Even the best mechanics miss something on the first inspection—get a second opinion.

I’ve lived with all kinds of people:

• The ones who eat chicken and toss it on the floor to feed ants.
• The ones who don’t flush after the Number Twos.
• The “fifteen-degrees-is-perfect” gang.
• The “I need the fan at all times” crew.
• The midnight karaoke rockstars.
• The hairdryer-anywhere-anytime folks.
• The drunk-dancers-at-2 AM squad.
• The “leaving dishes like modern art” fellows.

Endless examples. One truth: People do what they want.

Love’s a circus, and we are the clowns in it. I’m half-enlightened, still dodging my own flaws—snoring like a lawnmower, sprawling like I own the sofa.

So tell me, DABOIS—Is this just one of the struggles of life?

Or is this the most fundamental one—The fight to accept others as they are, when all we want is peace?

Things Will Be Things

Silo’s bunker strips masks; real life’s no different.

Whether you like it or not, things will always do what they want—especially the people you live with for a shorter period. The process of adapting to someone new is long, slow, and requires more deprivation and willpower than we’d care to admit.

And often, it’s not because we want to adjust—but because we care. Because we don’t want to lose them. Because we’d rather bend than burden.

But no matter the situation, people will disappoint you—daily, if you’re tracking closely enough. If you’re fixated on the small things, every day can feel like a letdown. So don’t be petty. Accept that things will be things.

I used to hate certain habits—itching, loud chewing, talking with a mouth full of food. Still do, to an extent. I especially hate empty chatter… and the repetition of it… and the repetition of it…

But over time, I’ve tried to let go. Not because I’ve become more forgiving—though I hope I have—but because I’ve found a bit more peace inside myself. And once you understand your own rhythms, you start to hear the music in others. Not all of it is pleasant, but it’s human. You stop demanding change and start listening for meaning.

Maybe I’m still confused. Probably. But this perspective—this tuning out of control and into self-awareness—feels worth offering.

Marcus Aurelius, whom I’m reading again, once wrote: “We should focus only on what we have control over.” Epictetus went even further, claiming that all suffering stems from trying to change what we cannot. Lao Tzu, on the other hand, said, “To know others is wisdom; to know yourself is enlightenment.”

I often mention these same people in my posts—not because I lack imagination, but because some truths just… stick. And thankfully, someone had the sense to write them down and pass them along.

You don’t have to be a Stoic. You don’t have to be spiritual. You’re free not to care. But you should know—you’re living in the freest time in human history. You can wrestle with anything you want… just don’t expect to win.

The ego? Oh, it’s the most toxic wrestler of all. It ruins love. Destroys friendships. Kills understanding. And ironically, we often perform the loudest ego plays while pretending we don’t have one at all. Try to rid yourself of it—not by force, but through acceptance. Of yourself. Of others. Of what is, and what isn’t.

Even if you want something with every cell in your body, it doesn’t mean it’s yours to take.

You can teach someone something, but unless they’ve suffered with you, they might never truly listen—and even then, there are no guarantees.

People are people. They grow—or they don’t. They carry the weight of what they’ve been taught, and the burden of who they’re trying to become.

You won’t like everyone. And you won’t be liked by everyone. But you still go to work to earn money, don’t you? So ask yourself: what are you earning through your interactions with others—the ones you see daily, or those you barely know?

We all have something to give. The only requirement? The willingness to receive—and maybe sacrifice a piece of ego in the process.

No matter how many times I think about it or say it, the truth is worth hearing more than once—more than anything else, no matter how many times.

This isn’t about forced positivity. It’s about giving yourself—and others—a real chance.

• So, what do you think, gang?
• Is it easy being a human being?
• What does your freedom cost?
• What are you saving those you love from—and what aren’t you saving them from?

If you’re unsure, ask. Ask the people you love. Ask the ones you barely know. They might surprise you.

Don’t be afraid. That’s the first and final step. We build better societies with honesty and courage—not silence.

I still believe we’ll get there. As always, the price is the same: our lives. Let’s just hope fewer generations have to pay it in full before we learn the lessons that keep whispering in the background.

History says otherwise—but hope says maybe.

I happen to understand that life’s a hell of a mess—so I gotta embrace it. I’m not chasing perfect; I’m chasing real. However, I got so confused throughout the years trying to fit in “here” and “there”—and now, where exactly do I fit, hm? I’m trying to be myself, but that seems the hardest path of all—and often I’m all by myself (though not feeling lonely) just observing and experiencing the world however I can… or let myself do.

My ego was my trap; love’s my laugh—and likewise.

BOIS and GALS, I think we’ve had more than enough food for thought today.

Let’s talk about it. Let’s disagree, even. Let’s do something.

Embrace the weird, keep the love. Be aware of what others say, but know you aren’t your grudges.

My congratulations to all those who try—and to all those who dare to try.

Thanks for your time!

Sincerely,
Ivaniel “The Demanding But Not So Demanding” Georgiev

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P.S. Oh, I almost forgot. Here’s today’s poem—this time is a pair:

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Everything Is Wonderful… Until It’s Not

One day, he was born somewhere—
an ordinary man with neither guilt nor shame.
But soon, his senses begin to change,
and like a beast in lavish robe, he rose to claim.

He began to scrutinize behaviours in those around,
yet forgot that others are watching him too.
He searched for their faults; every move and sound,
but words require deeds to proof them true.

Then anger swelled, irate ire set aflame;
no ear was able to catch the passion of his plea.
Why he’s the sole one using his brain,
while all around seemed content to simply be?

So he withdrew from every face and insult,
tired of being angry by the constant strifes.
Leaving behind what he sees as peasants,
he sought a solitary peace to live his life.

But one day, truth might break the trance—
that he is no scapegoat, no unique exalted hero.
Like a potato roasting in the furnace,
burned by ego’s fire, he may learn regret is zero.

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It’s Never Too Late to Try

Even one who’s stumbled through a life of wrongs,
can shift the course with one determined leap.
It takes but little—life’s an anecdote, a road of hope;
though trying wounds, it’s how sorrow we relief.

To see anew what you so often missed,
to embrace others with compassionate understanding;
to find the truth that hides within the mist,
let the past renew like spring—never-ending blooming.

For every tale, though brief, leaves so much unsaid,
secrets buried deep like silent, ancient metaphor.
The voice of yesteryears; like father’s silent sins felt,
whispers truths that call us to heal once more.

So cast aside the suspicious, narrowing view—
for even flawed souls nurture hidden blooms.
Choose to see the good in every of the hues;
simplicity adorns those who choose the good.