FROM LONDON WITH LOVE

Giving in to January

2012-01-23T14:43:00.000-08:00

January is named after the god Janus, who is usually depicted with two faces looking in opposite directions – one into the future and one into the past. This unique viewpoint makes January a great time for learning lessons from your past and applying them to the future (The Independent).

So here I am looking forth and looking back... With a little bit less confusion than in previous years but confused nevertheless...

Not sure what exactly is the problem with January but I feel like I've been poisoined: with ill humour, bad temper, annoyance, loneliness (oh, loneliness, old friend, you found me again!), insomnia, tiredness, depression (could it be?), boredom...

I'm asking myself again the questions: why am I alone, am I in the right career, what do I really want out of life, where is this all going, why, when, what for, why not??

All these questions. I feel like I have to find an answer right here and right now, make decisions, change things, do, don't do, punish myself, push myself!... Just to end up exhausted and more confused.

It's not the first January I have to go through. Yeah, they're terrible little bastards: cold, miserable, skint, dark.
And because I've been through it before, I always try to avoid feeling like I'm feeling now and yet every year I end up in the same place. Because maybe that's the point of January. You can't be looking back and looking forth without a bit of a headache, I suppose. It's gotta be done! Just accept it, don't struggle, lie around if you must, watch soapy films, eat frozen pizza, get a bit annoyed, feel a tiny wee miserable and then get it over with! As long as you accept it for what it is and don't try to get all the resolutions sorted within the first month (like myself: joined tango course, joined Portuguese course, sorted out ski trip, planning Argentina trip, sorting out my papers for permanent residency, training for half-marathon etc etc) then it's going to be ok. Not everything has to be achieved straight away.

I've got a whole year ahead of me and I've survived many Januaries before. It will be spring before we know it!

2012

2012-01-08T05:44:00.000-08:00

2012 is the year of the Dragon, according to the Chinese Zodiac. I'm sure I wasn't the only one who wake up in the dawn of 2012 and felt happy, as if a really good year was ahead of us. Whether that's true or just an illusion, we are yet to see, but generally speaking we live what we feel, so I am sure it will be a good year. After all, the Dragon is the ultimate auspicious symbol signifying success and happiness. London's going to be an even more special place as this year the much awaited Olympic Games are taking place and many more celebrations and opportunities to declare 2012 a truly great year!

It is also my 32nd year of life on this planet. And what a ride these 32 years have been. I kind of lost the appeal to celebrate my birthday by getting drunk and trying to make a big deal out of it, instead trying harder to be grateful that another year has passed and I am still alive, healthy and happy and surrounded by good friends. But in all honesty, being in my early thirties is the best thing ever. A survey conducted on 1,500 British women, found that 38 per cent who said they felt most attractive in their early thirties attributed it to the confidence gained from experience, an active love life and eating and drinking sensibly*. Which thakes me to the subject of setting up objectives for this year, but not before looking back at 2011.

They say a great method of progressing is by looking at previous year's achievments and failures.

In terms of achievements I think one of the most important one is the charity trekking that I completed in Ethiopia at the beginning of the year. And as much as the trekking was a physical challenge, even more exausting and at the same time rewarding was the fundraising part. Why this has been important to me? Because I have never done anything of the sort and by achieving my target I set up new standards of self esteem, which helped me progress through the year. Also because it was ten times harder to achieve £3000 without a corporate sponsorship and I owe it to all my friends who made it possible. Another success to note: the quality of all the people in my live!

2011 was also a good year professionally. For the first time in a very long time I am in a place where I feel like I can stick around. I was beginning to worry that there was something wrong with me by wanting to change jobs all the time. Phew, it wasn't! But another lesson has been learned in the process: it takes two to tango. No matter how good a team and management you may have, it takes a bit of effort from yourself too to make things work best. And the other way around. Anyway, I consider myself lucky to be in a good place right now! So there, another tick!

I am also pleased I made an effort into filling up my free time with useful things, such as the Styling Course I am about to complete.

2011 was also the beginning of a healthier lifestyle. Since from about September (following the most severe hangover of my existence), I took working out seriously and it has now became an imbedded part of my life. This new commitment brought in a serious decrease in smoking (I am now oficcialy a social smoker only!) and moderation in drinking. I still do have a big night once in a while but far more seldom than in the past. And not only that I feel healthier, but, in my humble opinion, my looks have also improved and I can't imagine my life now without a toned body. And yes, now I can do press-ups. About 15 of them if I really try.

And since you're all wondering I'm sure, yes, my lovelife has also taken a step upwards by stagnating a bit in 2011. Because it really needed a break! And a slap on the back! Now it may be allowed to get out of confinement. If it behaves. that is. I spent most of 2011 making small mistakes and adjusting course along the way, not punishing myself for them anymore, loving myself more than before and valuing myself for the real qualities that I have, have always been there, but I was too blind to see, by enjoying my solitude, making the most of it and not complaining anymore! Because I finally understood every stage in life is precious and it should be enjoyed!

To be honest, 2011 has indeed been a great year for me (much unlike 2010 which was a tad bitter). So I found it rather hard to see failures. There were of course of few. Such as falling out with people in a nasty way and not being able to let go very easily. Or getting upset more than necessary about little things. Or not having put that much effort into things as I should have done. Or not having been in touch a bit more with people. Or having been too judgemental sometimes... But these are all good learnings, which I am planning to implement in 2012.

So here it is, a small list of what I want to achieve this year:

Health plans: stick to my gym routine and add at least one challenge: I am thinking about a half marathon. Go to at least one surf and one ski trip this year, do more climbing, take tango lessons.
Career: keep progressing at work, get more involved, add more value, improve as a professional, but also start doing something with my styling as a free time activity.
Culture: make a point of doing at least one significant cultural thing a month and go to the Opera at least once every three months.
Learn a new language: I've decided it will be Portuguese!
Writing: so I can get my writing to take off, this year I must attend more writers' meetings and participate to a couple of short stories competitions. I also can announce that a character has been born in 2012 and she is a mix between Bridget Jones and Lisbeth Salander. Watch this space!
Personal development: stop judging others and jump to conclusions, be more tolerant, love more people, spend money more wisely, give back to society, be happy most of the days.
Love: just give it without expecting anything in return. One day it will come back to me...
Travelling: this year I have two destinationsin mind: USA and Argentina. I am fantasising about a Thelma and Louise road trip through America (or at least a long week-end to New York and another one to Vegas to start with) and a week of tango-ing my way through Buenos Aires!

And that should be more than a handful! :)

Peace and love in 2012 everyone!

What if I just skipped Christmas?...

2011-12-12T15:12:00.000-08:00

What if you can just say to everyone: 'Sorry, there'll be no Christmas cards from me this year, I won't buy any presents, I won't be putting up a Christmas tree and I won't spend Christmas Day with my family eating myself to death, so please just skip me this year!' True, you may miss on the office Christmas party but there'll be other occasions to drink like a fish and make a fool of yourself in front of Jane from HR and Tom from Finance by calling them 'lesbians'. Sure, everyone will think you've gone crazy and try and talk you out of it but only if you stand by your decision, maybe you can feel liberated by the fact that you don't have to become a victim of the Christmas season and follow all the other zombies sweating around Topshop in search for a present for your teeange cousin who you haven't seen since she was in diapers...

Ok, maybe I'm a bit harsh. After all I do have a family who I love spending Christmas with and I do love making a fool of myself at the office Christmas party. I also do like the lights on Oxford Street (though this year they are a bit disappointing - I mean umbrellas? really? what's that got to do with Christmas?...) and man I do like a nice Christmas turkey (or pork, if I'm in Romania, for that matter!). But what I hate about it is that Christmas has become an almost unbearable marketing pressure. To wear the best outfit, to buy the best presents, to get the perfect roast, the loveliest decorations, the best tree, the most prestigious looking Christmas cards, a boyfriend to visit eachother's families with etc etc.

I don't remember when I stopped liking Christmas. Maybe during the only year my dad brought home a real Christmas tree and we decorated it like all the other families do. Because after that year I felt we ought to have Christmas like everyone else. Only it never happened again. My parents got divorced, we moved away, I grew up, left my country, spent many Christmases away from home, some of them working, some of them just alone in a London which gets eerily quiet on Christmas Day... I guess I spent too many Christmases that didn't match the marketing picture perfect I always thought Christmas should be to care anymore. I became numb to Christmas! But somehow, without realising, I kept trying. If only I tried harder with each passing year, if only I went home often enough and had my Mum put up a Christmas tree for my sake, if only I did a good deed on Christmas Day, if only, if only... But everytime something went missing. Either a cancelled flight, or a cold house, or a party I didn't belong to, or a guy I was waiting to get a call from... Somehow Christmas was always going wrong.

But not this year. because I finally realised I don't care! I don't care about Christmas, because it is not me. Sure, I go along with it, but I don't feel it belongs to me. My life so far didn't have a lot of Christmas in it so this is me: somebody who'd rather run away to a hot place and sip on pina coladas while others are waiting for Santa and play in the snow. I'll let you in a little secret though: the moment I stopped caring, my life just filled up with all the Christmas in the world! Despite not planning to go home this year, a friend offered me the opportunity of a free plane ticket and it looks like I will, after all, spend Christmas with my Mum and perhaps the rest of my scattered, crazy but adorable family. Despite toying with the thought of being true to myself and skip this whole Christmas business, my lovely flatmate who is the most passionate supporter of the holiday season I've ever met, set up on a mission to get me all Christmassy and I find this very sweet.

I think perhaps, besides it all, I am a Christmas person. Because it's not about the marketing of it, the decorations, the Christmas cards, the office party, the Christmas tree, the perfect setting and the perfect family affair etc, it's about the people in my life and yes, I can say it now, this is probably about the best Christmas I've ever had!

A healthy bit of sadness

2011-12-08T10:29:00.000-08:00

Source: creattica.com

I wonder if sometimes we're not meant to be a bit sad, if there isn't a healthy level of blues we just have to go through in order to function properly?... Have I been too busy keeping myself positive and energetic to the point that it is actually wearing me out? Am I too afraid of being sad?...

Ever since my teenage years. I've been a victim of my own mind, my own anguish, my own worries, my volatile self-esteem. Until now... Until about a year ago when I discovered that I have the power of controlling how I feel and I decided I would only feel good about things. And this is what's I've been dilligently doing: pumping my levels of positivity like an athlete getting ready for the Olympics, relentlessly, thruthfully, continously. Even when I ought to feel sad, I won't allow myself to be so anymore, because there is no way I would go back to feeling depressed and demoralised.

But when against my best intentions and my efforts, a diffuse sadness still creeps in, I wonder whether I shouldn't just let it happen. My body starts aching, my energy levels are low and yet I still refuse to surrender. I force myself to keep up with my exercising schedule, to attend all the social events which holiday season forces upon us, until I realise my body is sending me signals. That perhaps I should stop. Just feel miserable for a little bit, feel the holiday blues, or anything of the sort. Yes, the nights are longer and the days are shorter and, yes, a little bit of sadness is okay. And being tired of having to go out everyday for some social comittment or another is also okay.

Clearly one extreme won't compensate for the other, so as long as I don't allow too much sadness in my life, I'm sure that an okay bit of it would only do me a world of good. So maybe I should listen to my body, spend a day in bed, take in al the vitamins I can take and wallow in it as much as I can, because, tomorrow is another day and I know I will smile. After all, it's only a healthy bit of sadness...

Ho ho ho...ouch!

2011-12-07T07:07:00.000-08:00

Source: http://www.crabtree-evelynblog.co.uk/

New research has revealed that less than one in 10 UK adults feel 100% and on top of the world in the winter, with nearly 6 out of 10 saying that they regularly feel tired and low in energy compared to any other time of year. Shockingly, a third (32%) admitted that they have previously missed out on a Christmas or New Year’s Eve party due to feeling run down or tired. With people looking forward to some much-needed Christmas cheer this year, it would be shame for people to miss out because of their health. Or so they say...

To tell the truth I've been feeling really run down lately. More sleepy than usual, I find it i increasingly difficult to wake up in the mornings (even harder when I am going to the gym before work!), to avoid coming down with a cold and to fight the hangovers the pre-Christmas period is so abundant in. On top of these, my body decided to punish me with a pain in the backside which is preventing me from enjoying what Chirstmas season is all about... Not to mention the stress that December is for everyone: shopping, hair appointments, party wear shopping, Xmas cards, parties, look fabulous, face the cold, juggle social engagements, ice skating, work (yeah, that too!). Call me old, but I find it harder to deal with all these than I used to. I really have to pace myself down or I will end up being one of those 32% missing on all the fun and games...

Due to my presence to several Christmas parties and catch-up drinks being in demand (or at least I like to think so!) I must keep my spirits high and my physical self up to the highest standards. So I decided to start an experiement and take Bimuno Immunaid for the whole of December. I would normally take some vitamins but I came across this health supplement which promises a healthy colon and vitamin C intake. And if you like weird tasting Haribos, like myself, you will also like chewing on the Immunaid pastiles.

It's supposed to contain a prebiotic which unlike some probiotics (‘live’ good bacteria ingested as tablets or in probiotic food stuffs), is not digested in the stomach or small intestine, but reaches the colon intact where it apparently can be of maximum benefit. It also promises to reduce the numbers of harmful bacteria. Well, I'll try anything once!

I started taking it on December 1st and will continue to do so until December 31st. My target is to stay healthy and fabulos throughout the month of December. Nobody wants to miss a Christmas party and certainly not me! Ho ho ho!

What's so special about Goa

2011-12-01T09:05:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to write a post about my holidays in Goa for a long time now. First I had to get over my jetlag. I might have to blame it on the winter too, but I have to struggle to stay awake past 9.30pm these days. So most of all my blogging has been on hold.

I really wanted to write about Goa not because it is a wonderful exotic destination - which, despite its understated charm, hardly is - but because during this trip I've learned a few very valuable life lessons.

First of all, going to Goa and hoping to find the idyllic beaches and hospitality of Thailand, is a huge mistake. A mistake which I made. A second mistake was trying to tell myself that I wanted the same thing from a holiday as my friend who I was travelling with...

Some people go on holidays to rest and reflect. I go on holidays to be active, try new experiences, new cultures and reflect, all at the same time. I know it's important to be able to allow yourself to stay still and become one with the Universe (call me a cliche, but this is what I thought I'd do in India!) but not when you've gotten into an exercising schedule and a comfortable routine, it's not ideal to let go. Unfortunately for me, apart of swimming there wasn't much to do in Goa...

What I learnt about myself two days into my holiday, in a very quiet and rural part of South Goa, Patnem, not being able to stay still and 'beach' myself the whole day long, was that my active nature needs to stay active, that I love my daily routine, my morning cup of coffe, my jogging by the Thames and the hustle and bustle of London. I learnt that I actually love my life!

What a shocking conclusion. I remember the times I used to go on holidays to run away from my life and instead of enjoying my days away I would fear the moment I had to go back. I would wrap myself in holidays blues for weeks and weeks after I'd gone back.

Anyway, so here I was, a few days already in Patnem wondering what was all the fuss about Goa. Not much, I thought... Not after you've been to Thailand... Despite its flocks of annoying tourists and increasingly even more annoying backpackers (the kind that bother you with questions such as 'Don't you wanna get shitfaced??'), Thailand's reputation is well deserved. Friendly locals, excellent food and out of this world beaches...

The other thing that makes Goa so different from Thailand is that local men seem to be particularly interested in European girls and will not make an effort to hide it. We've experienced local male attention from the owner of our resort and his brother, until it became clear that we had to leave. To be fair, for 2000 rupees a night (which is a lot for India) all we got was a dark and wet room which made it impossible to stay up after dark and where I showered on a few ocassions with a frog.

After a fleeting adventure in North Goa (assuming that all beaches were as nice as Palolem, we risked going up to Candolim beach), I became convinced that Goa wasn't really the land of beach hopping but more the land of stay where you feel safe. Candolim was a sight from Independence Day with people lounging on the beach while on the sea you could clearly see the profile of several huge oil tank ships. I would have taken a picture of that impossible sight if I wasn't too busy crying with frustration and disappointment. So back to Palolem we went. This time in a different beach huts resort serviced by Nepalese people - all in their best behaviour!

Sunset in Palolem Beach

My second week in Goa was as serene as this image. Because I finally let go of the frustration that there wasn't much to do, met some lovely people, learnt where the best places to eat where (believe it or not I couldn't wait to get back to London to have a nice curry), started a routine of swimming every morning, discovered the only place where you could get real coffee from and started appreciating that I was in fact in Goa.

What makes it so special then? The dolphins (the do exist and some lucky people even swam as close as 5 metres away from them), the silent parties, the English restaurant (Ourem88), the laughter with friends you've just made but feels as if you've known them all your life, the perfect weather, the two old toothless guys who sell pineapple and coconut, Sonia, the funniest and most gifted sales lady in Palolem, the guy from the corner shop who sold us cheaper water, the tuk-tuk driver and his dog Happy, the sunsets (oh the sunsets!), the lime and mint juices, the sound of the waves, the night sky adorned with palm trees tops, stars and a full moon.

What makes it so special is what you make of it. This is the most valuable lesson I've learned after Goa: that despite all the little annoyances one might encounter on holiday (and it is of course a valid lesson in everyday life too), it's really up to us in the end to see the silver lining and make the most of it! Don't be put off from going to Goa. You may discover your own life lessons...

When did I turn into a cynical feminist?...

2011-11-30T14:54:00.000-08:00

Source: leeraloo.wordpress.com

'...as women have climbed ever higher, men have been falling behind. We've arrived at the top of the staircase, finally ready to start our lives, only to discover a cavernous room at the tail end of a party, most of the men gone already, some having never shown up – and those who remain are leering by the cheese table, or are, you know, the ones you don't want to go out with.' (Kate Bolick: why marriage is a declining option for modern women, The Observer, Nov 2011)

Today I woke up feeling annoyed. Not lonely, not sad, not victimising myself, just annoyed. I suddenly realised it was terribly unfair for a girl like me, with all the qualities that one could possibly want (and a few flaws which only make me more charming, of course), to be alone. Alone for so many years, despite all the efforts, all the positivity, all the trying and all the dating I have possibly invested in being able to share my life with someone. I think I may have been more succesful if I planned to kill a person than to find someone to love and share my life with. But that's not the most annoying thing about it. The most annoying thing is that I have grown as a person, I became perfectly capable of dealing with my emotions, I matured in a way that only rare wines can, while all the men around me have remained the same, or in some cases even regressed.

First of all, let's all shed a tear for all the men that had their hearts broken... Get over yourselves! I have had my heart broken more times than I can possibly remember and, still, I pieced it back together and went back into the world with more hope than ever before. Do not talk to me about not wanting to get hurt. Talk to a professional!

Secondly, let's all feel supportive of the guy that hasn't learned that manners can be very useful in society. Such as: 'It was nice seeing you!', 'Thanks for a lovely evening' and 'I don't know what's gotten into me to kiss you when I have baggage to sort out and, hey, I am not even sure I can talk about it so I am just going to leave and never talk to you again!". Even that would be better than nothing.

What I find really annoying is that I get it. I get exactly what's going to happen with every single guy I meet. There is no surprise, no expectation, no mistery. I can count on each and every one of them to blow it. Some sooner than others but the result is always the same. And it hurts me that I even reached this conclusion because I realised today that I turned into a cynical feminist. I swear I didn't mean to...but I did. And I feel sorry already for that poor sucker with the best intentions who won't even know what hit him just because he is a man... Shame.

To say or not to say...

2011-11-24T08:26:00.000-08:00

Source: http://www.diabolika.posterous.com/

Him: 'I'm still not over my ex. Don't think I am ready to see anyone at the moment'

You (Trying to be really cool and pretend not to care, because nobody likes a hysterical woman, right!?): 'No worries. I totally understand...'

What you really want to say: 'You inconsiderate prick! Winding me up with hundreds of explicit text messages that were supposed to lead somewhere, wasting my precious time only for you to realise you are so vulnerable and don't want to get hurt!! What about me, you moron? Did you think that maybe I have feelings too???!

Him: ......................... (Total silence after having chased you around to go on a date and you finally agreed)

You: ......................... (Total silence because you don't want to seem weak but it's eating you inside)

What you really want to say: 'WTF!!?'

Him: 'I just didn't feel there was a spark...Sorry.'

You: 'Fair enough. Nice to meet you anyway.'

What you really want to say: 'And when were you going to tell me that, you dick? Before or after you went missing? In fact, thanks a lot for not bothering to tell me. I sooooo love going on dates and not hearing back!'

Him: 'I am actually seeing someone at the moment and it wouldn't be fair on you.'

You: 'Thanks, I appreciate your honesty.'

What you really want to say: 'And you went out with me because...?'

You: 'Are you not having a good time?'

Him: 'No, no I do. Well, maybe not the best night i've ever had...'

You: 'Let's try to make the most of it then, shall we?'

What you really want to say: 'Prick!' and leave

To say or not to say... This is the question... When is it a good idea to say what you really think?

I mean, the result is just the same isn't it. Whether you say anything or not it doesn't change the fact that many of these people do not consider the fact that their actions have consequences and that yes, they may affect you. After all, you are a human being. You do have feelings. Feelings that need not be repressed...

Call me crazy but I've been saying what I think for a while now. It hasn't necessarily changed the situation to my advantage, nor did it suddenly made the other person realise how inconsiderate they were and apologise so I felt better. None of that crap. Some even became really defensive and had a go at me.

You'd think people should be capable of realising that any feed-back is valuable feed-back and that if sometimes you project a certain image, intentionally or not, and get comments about it, it means that perhaps you can adjust your attitude to improve that image. No need to take things personally. I like feed-back, I love becoming better, be a better me. I wouldn't know how to do that if I didn't listen to people telling me what they felt about me. I think it's only fair I should do the same. But I don't cease to be amazed by how many people out there are so full of themselves and take any criticism as a personal offense.

Not sure if it makes me feel better telling someone that their behaviour hurt me and that it really wasn't cool. I suppose it does, because it is the truth and it helps expressing feelings into words so you can then let go of them. The other person may even be evolved enough to take it as positive criticism. Yes, it may not be as dignifying as ignoring the situation and leaving the scene in solemn glory. But until I am capable emotionally to let go of a situation without feeling the need to express my anger or my frustration I will continue to do so. To say, I say!

When in Goa

2011-11-09T10:11:00.000-08:00

I clearly haven't been on holiday for a long time. It's taken me about 2 days to get over the home sickness if anyone can believe. I organically missed London and my life balance that I've finally managed to obtain. And here I was in India, in a tropical paradise, not being able to sleep at night...
I've clearly forgotten how it is being away learning to trust a new environment. Everything seemed threathening and the usual London background noise that I've grown so accustomed to suddenly has been replaced with scary bird cries, dogs howling at the moon and helicopters (random, I know!). All these in a wet and mucky night where mosquitoes and strange night creatures rule.
We are in Patnem in South Goa, an area known for being the quieter sister of North Goa. It's also the beginning of the season when shacks are still being built and the beach looks almost deserted. It takes time to adjust to this quiteness, it's almost like a rehab retreat. It took us a couple of days to discover Palolem beach and realize that relative civilisation was in fact only about 10 minutes away.
It's nice though. Probably the best time to come. Prices are still lower and there are very few rowdy people to spoil your mood.
What I really like about this part of the world is that people are not just nice, they're absolutely hillarious. Shopkeepers are pushy and yet so funny that you're happy to buy what they're selling, take their picture and learn their names. The tuk tuk drivers are having a laugh when they see how scared you are that they might run over the cow parked in the middle of the street. The yoga teacher is happy to do some free meditation as it helps him practice too. And the 'resort' people are all running inside the bungalow to catch the frog that scared the pants out of me when I was in the shower. It's the little things that suddenly made me feel like home in Goa. And now I can sleep well and wake up early tomorow morning for my yoga class and who knows what else tomorrow brings...

It's all about coffee

2011-11-02T07:41:00.000-07:00

Italian coffee outside Spanish Steps in Rome

Coffee at Le Pain Quotidien at Borough Market

Really bad coffee at my desk...

Happiness

2011-10-21T08:15:00.000-07:00

Happy to say I have a new mindset and I find myself these days living in a state of an almost permanent beatitude and enjoyment. As if I was permanently high without the next day headaches and lows.

I confess it didn’t happen overnight - it took roughly about a couple of years of intense training of the mind – but I am amazed at how one day it simply just took off and I am now blissfully enjoying the benefits of having a ‘spotless’ mind without having do anything about it but rejoice.

I have been living all my life in a self built cage and raged around about the limits of my humanity, about how much I wanted to achieve in my lifetime and how little I was given to fight with, about how other people have more than me, about how I can’t find love and how I am the ugliest and fattest girl on the face of the Earth etc etc. You name it and I would have complained about it. Loving to hate is an incredibly attractive feeling which I grew terribly accustomed to…Because complaining was easy, it justified my being miserable.

And aren’t we miserable perhaps because that’s what we have been trained to do all our lives? How we’ve been taught to dream about achieving things and suffering when we fail to do it within a certain timeframe, about how we SHOULD look, feel, talk, think, exist, but we always somehow fall short?...

Not sure about you, but I grew up with a sense that tragedy was waiting for me just around the corner and when I least expected it would come and suck me into a deep black hole and if only I kept looking out for it, being constantly alert and aware that it might happen any minute, I could at least congratulate myself that I saw it coming when it did indeed occur (not occurring wasn’t a valid possibility in my mind).

Until one day when you wake up feeling you’ve had too much to eat the same dish and decide to make a change. When that happened to me, I started reading a lot of self-help books and although, at first, they all sounded like unrealistic babble, one day I stopped thinking ‘this is not what real life is about’ and started feeling. I still think a lot of them are written in a metaphoric/childlike way that don’t always resonate with my logic, but having forced myself through various I did find that I could extract the main ideas and apply them to my own life. You’ll never find the exact same situations to exercise your new found inner skills, but extrapolation is a powerful tool. The moment you start feeling the effects of the positive mentality on your own life, you bring it to the next level and good things just start happening.

When I say that I don’t mean I suddenly became filthy rich, found a gorgeous man to whisk me away to a tropical paradise and marry me, of course, wrote a book, won a Booker prize and successfully launched my own styling business. Although now I am convinced all of the above WILL happen one day because I decided they will, I don’t live my life waiting for the day when I will finally start living. I am happy right now because I am living right now and enjoying the ‘right now’. Whether it’s sunny day or a cold and rainy day, I stopped judging, I just acknowledge what is and enjoy what I can from the ‘what is’. It works miracles…

I learned a very important lesson: happiness, as much as unhappiness, is a matter of habit. And I am grateful I forced myself into the habit of being happy.

But as I was writing this, I received the ‘bad’ news that my Indian visa application was returned and that I had to re-apply within only two weeks to my departure (whoever tried getting an Indian visa, and especially as a non-UK citizen, knows what a pain in the backside this process is!). Naturally I got very annoyed and almost been put off going at all, however I decided that the fact that my application was retuned is still just a fact and that it is up to me if I decide that I ought to get upset and make a big deal out of it or just acknowledge it for what it is and just go down there again and re-apply. I decided for the latter and within minutes my whole body relaxed and I felt incredibly calm. It's common knowledge that there are things in life outside of our control and influence but knowing that indeed I have the power over what I feel about it, does indeed make me carry on this happy feeling day, after day, after day....

And as Abraham Lincoln said: 'Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.'

The day my ass was grabbed twice

2011-10-17T16:00:00.000-07:00

The most notable thing about last Saturday is that my behind received a lot of unwanted attention.

Setting no 1: a young couple - very close friends of mine, who recently bought a house and renovated it completely (with a modest styling contribution from myself) - were hosting a housewarming party/barbeque where I was the only unmarried lady. As to be expected, a compact group of children were playing in the background making the usual noises sometimes covered by shrills.

The day was lovely and I was getting drunk on champaigne. Rather than being tedious, I was feeling great and slowly slowly let my guard down, being my usual loud self. Almost unnoticed at first, one of the guests, a dad to be more precise although not sure where the respective mum was as I never asked, started flirting with me quite obviously and soon I started to feel slightly uncomfortable. Despite my habit, I decided to play with the children and - believe it or not! - I found that jumping around, going in circles holding hands until one falls, screaming and picking them up to the sky can be incredibly therapeutic. I was having a lot of fun until the dad came sniffing around like a wolf catching the scent of pray and asked me if I didn't mind giving him a tour of the house. Not wanting to be outraged by something that was yet unconclusive, I agreed and started walking up the stairs when suddenly I felt his hand on my behind. I turned around and said: 'And what exactly is that supposed to mean?' only for him to answer sheepishly 'I thought it was the bannister!' Well, I never thought my ass looked like the bannister!

Setting no 2: the same day, somewhere in club in Shoreditch. The usual Saturday night crowd, loads of drunken kids and very loud music. I went out for a fag break and started up a random conversation with a very loud Aussie who just descended into town. I guess I have the misleading habit of being ironic in a subtle way, as I think he took my irony for interest in hitting it off and became brave enough to grab my ass. 'Honestly?' I said, 'what was that for?' 'That's because you didn't want to be in the picture' (his friend had just taken a snap and I had covered half of my face with my hand). 'I have no desire for my face to appear all over Facebook on people I harldy know profiles, if you really must know' I said and turned around. A few seconds later I felt another touch of my bum. 'And what exactly are you trying to achieve with this?' I asked exasperated! 'Nothing, speak to you later!' and he disappeared.

After last Saturday, I have only two things to say: 1) my intense going to gym must have paid off!; 2) I really wonder why do men feel the need to grab your ass and can't even explain why?...

Other than that, a lovely autumn day with falling leaves and sunny spells.

Life in a date free world

2011-09-29T10:03:00.000-07:00

Life in a date free world is better than I ever thought it would be. It's almost as if, as often New Age philosophy claims, when you stop resisting a certain situation, the very same thing that frustrated you in the past, just disolves before your eyes.

I don't remember the last time I felt so carefree and so pleased with my life. Having no romantic expectations whatsoever definitely really pays off. No more a la Bidget Jones nightmares in the middle of the night of me as an old spinster, devoured by Alsacians.

I hardly ever check my phone anymore because, hey, there's no guy I am anxiously waiting for a text from, I have time for my friends, I don't do hangovers and I am enjoying my Power Plates sessions more than I used to enjoy a good Mojito and a cigarette on a hot summer night. It's pure bliss.

In fact, I do believe that things happen in a certain way to stear our mentality onto the right direction and perhaps I did have to reach dating bottom to finally get to this conclusion: that nobody can ever give you what you can't give yourself!

I find it increasingly interesting though how many people are fighting the same demons. I thought I may well be the only unlucky girl in the world that has to go through awful romantic situations while the world around me rejoices in honeymoons, houses in the country and dogs, children with embarassing names and plump cheeks, engagement rings and Facebook relationship status updates. But it turns out that there are many like me. Some still trying hard until it kills them, others accepting their shelf life, other just publicly laughing about it on Bad Date.com. Even Stylist featured a few pieces on the subject, sign that it is indeed becoming a generalised issue and, perhaps unfortunately, a bit of a norm...

I recently came across this hilarious blog of a really cool girl who is writing about her internet dating experiences. Check it out, it's brilliant: The Racontourist!
I must say I admire her enthusiasm but it may very well be due to the fact that she is still only 25. I am on my way to become a 32 year old with a toned bottom and a bag full of 'I can't be bothered anymore'. That is because I really can't be. I've done it already, I embraced the possibilities of Internet dating, pub flirting, club pulling, I tried every weapon in my arsenal until I ran out of amunition. And you know what, I am truly glad I did. So I can spend my time on better things!

Like going to the gym and taking pleasure in it rather for than doing it because it will make me look better for others (it's because I want to like myself!), looking in the mirror and not seeing myself as someone who has failed to comply with the rules of society but as someone who has succeeded in surpassing them, enjoying every day come rain or shine, and being able to look at a handsome guy and think 'So what!'

Can't get better than that? ;)

Why not colour?

2011-09-20T14:56:00.000-07:00

I have a problem with colour. Or to be more precise with the lack of it...

Despite the growing trend of bold colours in fashion this year, I still sense some kind of apathy in people when it comes to embracing colour in their everyday look. I remember noticing one day at work that there were a few people in the kitchen all wearing black from head to toes, including myself. I found that depressing. Why is it that people find no courage in introducing colour in their wardrobes, that they always play it safe? It's boring... Just look around on the tube and count how many people are wearing colourful clothes. Look in your own closet and take out all the coloured items you have. Let me guess: not many...

Why is that? Well, for one - and this is one of the most frustrating thing - colour is not readily available. High street brands have a remarkable tendency to only market a limited set of colours each season, with grey and black being promoted almost exclusively by popular brands such as All Saints. I am also one of those people who are a bit obstinate against wearing uber fashionable items (including colours) as I have an egoistic intention of distinguishing myself a bit from what's too 'in', so I generally avoid the hype colour of the season, unless it's a neutral. Sometimes I give in though, especially if it's an item of clothing/colour I've always loved and which becomes popular and available to buy. I wish I could make my own clothes though... It would make my life so much easier.

Anyway, going back to colour. It's widely known that each colour of the spectrum has a certain psychological association, meaning, feeling about it. For instance blue has been know to have a calming and cooling effect and aid intuition, green is the symbol of renewal and harmony, yellow symbolises optimism, orange stands for happiness and social interaction, purple is a deeeply spiritual colour and red stands for life, energy, enthusiasm etc. We are all different people and we all have a different message for the world around us but I wonder why do we all keep choosing to say the same thing over and over again? Black, grey, brown, black, white, black, black, black, grey, brown...

In a world where colour is abundant (nature is known to have a magnificent display), we, busy people of the 21st century, still shy away from it...

But perhaps in the human world, when it comes to colour, it's like everything in life. Some people prefer a background role and they tend to pick neutrals to camouflage themselves in the environment, while others are not afraid to show off a bit, like Christina Hendricks in Mad Men. I am not sure which one of them I am... Colour still quite scares me... All these years of living in the background I guess...

Dating myself

2011-09-13T16:02:00.000-07:00

I am one of those people who's been on lots of dates. Most of them bad dates. As dates tend to be. Bad...

I am aware that the planet is full of individuals that never had to go through the 'experience' (it's a word I decided to use after intense deliberation) of dating: people who through some kind of miracle meet people without having to date, or link one relationship to another seamlessly and effortlessly as if it's the world's easiest thing to do. I've not been one of these lucky people. I've always felt like I had to struggle to get into a relationship. As if I had a bloody civic duty to make it happen...

Ever since I became old enough to be interested in boys, I got it into my head that I wasn't attractive enough so I had to make myself more appealing. This slowly developed into a habitual reaction of over-functioning in the presence of a man I was interested in and brought along rejection. And with every rejection I tried even harder. I've been a prisoner of a vicious circle I have been working hard at creating myself for years.

Countless bad dates and the same empty feeling later, until one day when it all became simple and clear due to the world's worst hangover.

It all culminated with the date where the guy took me to a strip club, suggested renting a hotel room and, after I refused, told me I've got issues. And that was just after the guy who didn't bother to let me know he didn't feel the spark. And he followed the guy who interviewed me at Starbucks over a mug of peppermint tea and concluded the date by telling me he would have a think and let me know. And then there were the no showers, the late cancellers, the 'let's just say I'm not having the best night of my life 'guys and of course the time wasters.

But I took it all in with a smile on my face and just tried again, with boundless enthusiasm. Until the most recent fiasco which was followed by an intense and unbearable hangover. That hangover must have been a divine intervention as it sort of brought me back to reality. The moment I managed to sleep off that horrendous feeling, I decided I will no longer date anyone but myself. Simply because time spent with myself it's always time well spent and because I seem to be the only one who treats me the way I deserve. And since so far dating hasn't brought me anything but hangovers and a general feeling of self loathing, I put together an emergency recovery plan which includes weekly alcohol intake counting, regular exercising and healthy eating.

I've been doing that for almost two weeks now and it's been great. My general well being has improved dramatically and no longer feel the need to try too hard. I no longer feel the need to try at all. Dating myself is really easy, I have nothing to prove: I already know how great I am!

Split friends

2011-08-25T11:29:00.000-07:00

It's a new expression Kenny and I came up with recently. Like split ends, but with friends. Those friends that 'split' over time and who you need to cut out of your life.

Of course, it's a natural process and not even a sad one. Aren't we all just passangers, we hop on and off stations in life? Sometimes we can be friends with people that happen to be in our lives at a certain stage in life and we must let them go when the time comes. Nothing wrong with it. People accept this natural process without thinking. There aren't many main characters in one's life, the vast majority of people surrounding us are extras and secondary actors.

With split friends though, it's never easy. They always like to remind you how much they've done for you during your so called friendship and how much you still owe them. You can't just cut them off - you really have to struggle. They will keep coming back to your life and ask for their money back. As if friendship is something you can measure.

People have different ways of showing friendship and that's basically what it's all about. The meaning of friendship is that is represents a selfless relationship between two people that feel affection towards eachother and share common beliefs, attitudes, styles and opinions. The moment someone puts a price of friendship they split!

I used to fall into the trap of split friends and tried to make a mental list of things that I had also done for them, until I realised that it is absolutely besides the point. All you really have to do with split friends is take a big scary scissors and cut them off!

I take it back...

2011-08-21T08:25:00.000-07:00

I sometimes get carried away with writing about something that's on my mind at a certain moment in time. It takes a certain combination of circumstances to make me reach one conclusion or another. After writing my last post, I got to thinking about it... And I realised I got it all wrong...

I got it all wrong when passing judgements about one kind of man or another because the only one who thinks that is... ME. Yes me, I am making this a reality in my own mind.

At the end of the day, the 'didn't feel a spark' guy is probably right. What's the point of wasting one's energy? If there ain't, then there ain't. I somehow always believed that there should be some courtesy between daters. I've always thought about things too much, decided to give people chances just because they seemed nice and that maybe the spark would come later etc etc. And things ended up with me placing them in the first category and not understanding why the second category was acting the way they did. So I kind of want to take it back. There is no such thing as categories of men, there are only bad decisions...

'I didn't feel a spark'

2011-08-17T13:07:00.000-07:00

My recent dating experience revealed that there are usually two types of men you are more likely to encounter: those you can't get rid of and those who 'don't feel there is a spark'.

Those you can't get rid of have been quite blessed by nature with the ability to observe just quite how much of a gem you are, what amazing woman just landed in their back yard, how talented and how cool you are, and by associating themselves with you, they hope that some of that 'coolness' will rub on. They are of course intelligent men with a lot of common sense, however, they lack that manly energy that any woman of any kind find irrestible and attractive. They bear no mistery and would do anything they are told. They do not know how to crack a flirtatious joke and they possibly have a slightly lower self esteem than their counterparts. Their fashion sense does not excel but they somehow manage to put on a decent outfit a woman would be inclined to ignore if unable to admire. They can be bearable for a while, until they become exasperating. Eventually, they will have to be let go and do some work on themselves.

The 'I didn't feel a spark' type are even worse. They are usually tall and well built, good looking lads with strong genes. Not necessarily extremely cultured, but quite performant when it comes to body building. Inclined to listen to the instinct of natural selection, the woman would be willing to close her eyes to a flaw or two as long as they act decent and they make her feel desireable. But surprisingly (or maybe not!) these kind of males do not know how to make themselves pleasant. They go by the rule: 'If she ain't perfect, why bother!' and - possibly - feel minimised and emasculated by the woman's intelligence and wit. They always prefer the back door at the end of a date and never ever get back to you after the date is consumated. When prompted, they have the barely minimal decency to reply 'I didn't feel there was a spark'... In these circumstances, some women may feel inclined to carry a box of matches or a Zippo lighter in their purses in an extra effort to bring a spark to a date. It seems that it is not enough for the woman to be reasonably pretty and proportioned, funny and charismatic throughout, always ready with a joke and an adventure story because the 'I didn't feel there was a spark' guy needs a bloody bonfire.

Or at least these are the results of a few months' survey, concluding that rather than going on a date, a woman is better off with a good book and a bottle of Shiraz! Resigned with the thought that clearly there aren't many men who have been endowed with charm, good looks, intelligence and common sense all at the same time, she is better off staying away from the dating jungle for a while. At least until that exceptional person (if he does exist) finds his own way into her life.

I heart London

2011-08-10T10:09:00.001-07:00

'If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put foundations under them.'
Henry David Thoreau

It is not for me to judge what happened. Don’t get me wrong, I do judge the people that provoked this abominable destruction - their acts are profoundly immoral and unacceptable in ANY society - but I do not feel entitled to propose a theory regarding why they did what they did.

Some say it’s pure vandalism, some say it’s because the looters come from underprivileged background, some say we should blame the Government for closing their eyes to an ever growing social problem, some say it’s the lack of proper parenting and education or even human rights abuse. Whatever it is, it happened and it did teach all of us a few lessons.

When I first came to London, I was overwhelmed by its diversity. I found it almost scary back then and it took me many years to grasp the fact that despite its apparent heterogeneity, London has a huge soul shared by the millions who chose to live here, in probably the most amazing city in the world. Despite the tragedy we all experienced in the last few days, Londoners came together to stand up to the revolting, senseless riots and looting, cleaning up our streets and standing together to protect the city we deeply love and respect. We all backed up our Police officers in an effort to put a stop to what seemed to get out of rational control and people like the old woman telling the looters off outside Debenhams in Clapham or the Turkish men in Dalston fighting the looters away to protect their shops really brings back the faith in the humankind. I saw hundreds of messages on the Malaysian student Ashraf Haziq, who got robbed when injured, Twitter page: #getwetllsoonashrafhaziq.

And that really means a lot. It means that together, any wrong can be turned into good.

It is not my place to say what needs to be done. There is a lot to be done by the Government and we should make sure this happens. We should all not let this lesson get by unlearned. We should do whatever we can, united, to keep the spirit of London alive. And as Mahatma Ghandi said: 'We must become the change we want to see.'

Last tango in Paris

2011-08-07T13:55:00.000-07:00

The (in)famous Bertolucci, 1972, film with Marlon Brando and Maria Schneider.

The story without names. It's all about living the moment, really living it. No need for history and personal stories to take the mind away from the present. The history, the baggage is ignored, it has nothing to do with te liberating (or enslaving?!) power of nameless sex. When names are asked, guns are being shot. It's all about the mistery. Once the veil is lifted, reality doesn't match the fantasy.

I am obsessed with the soundtrack and can't stop thinking of Jeanne's outfits. It was 1972 and her yellow mini dress, her fur collar white coat and fedora hat are more timeless than ever. And so are all her other outfits. There's a sordid and yet alluring sexiness about this film. So very Paris, so very noir...

Exciting new designer: Zelia Horsely

2011-08-07T12:47:00.000-07:00

I only came accross Zelia Horsely's jewellery when I was working on one of my styling assignments. I had a brochure from London Jewellery Week and started browsing through looking for inspiration. As expected, not many designs stood out for me - I am quite difficult to please when it comes to jewellery, I have a tendency to dismiss pieces that do not break some kind of rules and yet obey the rule of estethics - but when I saw Zelia's chain collar, I knew I'd stepped over a gold mine.

I instantly used it in my assignment - it was a mood board for one of my favourite characters, Elizabeth Bennet of 'Pride and Prejudice' - and decided to find out more about this exciting designer.

And what I found was to take my breath away. In all her unique pieces, Zelia manages to create a happy marriage between industrial and finesse, between bondage and femininity, between the ego and the alter ego. There is a dominatrix and a Lolita in each and every piece and every single one of them has a story to tell. I have a feeling Zelia has found a way to talking to the woman of today, the woman who increasingly needs to be all in one.

Bitesize Rome

2011-08-07T09:14:00.000-07:00

One day

2011-07-29T06:09:00.000-07:00

I can honestly say that no words can be enough for 'One Day'. It's made me laugh out loud without embarassment (I always thought laughing on the tube while reading a book can look a bit ridiculous so I am a little self conscious about it, but really it's like pretending you don't like snogging in public until you're with someone you really like and then you don't care who's looking) and it's made me swallow down tears and curse that my station's up and all I want to do is keep on reading, and reading and reading.

I like to think of myself as a select reader. I don't pretend to like a book just because it's a classic or because it's in. I only like books with soul, books that talk to me, that are telling me something, that are making me laugh and weep inside as if I was made or words, and ink and paper.

I also like to think I'm one of the fortunate people who's life has been blessed and enriched by a number of exquisite, beautiful and impactful books. 'One Day' is well high up with the best of them. From classics like Charles Dickens and Dostoyevski, Gogol and Hugo, to wonderful and incredibly talented contemporary authors like Salman Rushdie, Milan Kundera and Khaled Husseyni.

I must confess that despite being reluctant at first to read books that have sold millions of copies worldwide (I am yet untouched by the Stieg Larsson trilogy, the Harry Potter phenomenon or the Da Vinci Code - although mind you I do like the genre as I devoured 'Foucault's Pendulum' of Umberto Eco in a matter of weekly commutes) , I have fallen hopelessly in love with some of them. Probably the best example is 'Shadow of the Wind' which I read with an unsatiable hunger and the thought of finishing made me very very sad. I also really, really loved 'The Kite Runner' but after reading 'A Thousand Splendid Suns' I felt even more adoration for the person capable of putting such a tale into words. I was bewildered by how a story can be so excruciatingly tragic and yet ever so tenderly told.

'One Day' is even more special because in a very deep sense it talks a lot about me. I know we all see pieces of ourselves in the characters we love, but I am still shocked of how much of Emma Morley there is in me...

I've always worn spectacles and dreamt about making the world a better place. I have always been clever and even a bit arrogant about it, but with no confidence in me as a woman, whatsoever. Like Emma, I've been a singleton for almost all my life, but a good friend to have around. I've always fancied being a writer and like Emma (or maybe an earlier version of her than the accomplished writer she became later) I started a lot of projects and finished none. Like Emma, I like to think that I am funny and I believe I was blessed with an excellent self-deprecating sense of humour. Like Emma, I can just decide to go to Paris if I so wish but never do...

Anyway, like I said, we all see pieces of ourselves in the characters we love. But there's more to Emma than pieces of me... So if you haven't read the book yet and decided to sleep with it under your pillow too, get to know Emma. She's an amazing woman and a faithful friend...

Amy, it's not even cool...

2011-07-24T03:32:00.000-07:00

When I heard the news yesterday, I was a bit shocked. Just for a split second. It's like receiving some news you're expecting. There's a moment surprise. But then it's gone...

And that's the saddest thing about it I guess: the whole world knew it was going to happen one day. It's not even cool anymore. The world is tired of another talented young person killing themselves in drugs, pills and alcohol. It's so uncool that I am struggling to feel something about her death. I can't... How come other celebrities with amazing voices manage to be successful and lead perfectly normal lives. Being rock'n'roll these days is not a pre-requisite to being famous.

What are these people even angry at? What's the trauma that they are fighting to drown in drugs and alcohol?

I've been thinking about this for quite a while now and it's not a great surprise that our generation is drowing itself in drugs and alcohol. It's because we have never done anything extraordinary, have never been through something terrible, have never had to struggle, fight a war, live in poverty, worry about food and shelter, you know, this kind of things... Our generation is desperate to feel something... Or at least that's my theory. And when I look at Amy's life all I see is a beautiful girl with heaps of talent and nothing but a bright future. How did she get where she did? We all know the story, it's been all over the papers, but the real question is why did she allow herself to get there? Low self esteem, bad influence, the need to feel something?... I don't know, all I know is that this just isn't cool...

I will give her a moment of thought and will pray for her soul. But the one before the horrible tatoos and the bad skin, before the missing teeth and the breast implants, before she lost all her curves and dignity... For the beautiful Amy we would have all loved if only she stayed...

O Roma mia!

2011-07-21T14:46:00.000-07:00

It's safe to say (and hardly anyone could argue) that Rome is the most beautiful city in Europe. It lives, it breathes, it's been there almost since the beginning of time. It's almost scarily beautiful.

It's my second time in Rome and I am grateful I got the chance to see it again and still keep my convictions. Despite the 'Roman centurion' tricking me into taking a photo with him for 2 euros or the Romanian woman asking for money on the pavement in Romanian (!!) it didn't spoil it for me. Because I hardly did any of the touristy stuff and I think that's important. Otherwise Rome is reduced to the same thing - a race agaisnt the clock to tick all the sights on the list which I believe makes her majesty the city of Rome frown a little bit down on the little bit too zealous tourists.

Instead I took pleasure in strolling aimlessly when I had the chance and eating. It may almost sound like a cliche (especially since I read Eat Pray Love already twice) but the food really made me close my eyes and imagine I'm in heaven. And the cold limoncello. And the cheap squares of pizza from the take away shop. And the gelatto (did you try the pistacchio one next to Fontana di Trevi - well you must!!), and the espressos and the Monte Negros. And even the tramezzinos from the coffee shop downstairs for goodness sake!

Somehow unexpectedly though, this time I didn't imagine myself living behind one of the windows with a charming display of fresh washing in Trastevere. See, I used to do that a lot. Everytime I went somewhere on holiday, especially in hot climates, I would try to imagine myself how it would be to actually live there. And on my return I would linger a bit on the idea that maybe one day I'll go back there for good. And despite the freezing cold waiting for me back in London, I didn't even get upset. I don't know what happened but I somehow came to the conclusion that every place has its share of misery. At least I got a bit numb to the level of misery I experience in London and that's these days pretty bearable. If I'm honest, the only way we could probably avoid the misery would be living everywhere for 3 months at the time. Before the misery settles in... The misery of rain in London, the misery of being way too hot and the traffing being a bitch in Rome, the misery of being too busy in New York, the misery of being too quiet in my home town... You might as well stick to the misery you're used to. So no, I didn't fantasise about living in Rome this time but I did plan to go back. Hopefully over and over again...

There are many films featuring Rome, but somehow my favourite is "The Roman spring of Mrs Stone" - the old version with Vivien Leigh and Warren Beatty. There's something there: something which starts like a promise and ends up in misery... When I found myself in front of the Spanish Steps I could almost imagine her somewhere on one of the roof terraces embracing Rome with all the heart. Let is be a while until misery settles in...

It's all in the details

2011-06-28T15:35:00.000-07:00

I noticed that I write less and less frequent on the blog. What started as a self-therapy and a very personal blurting it has now become something else all together. Mainly because I feel less and less the need to talk about personal issues. Surely because my personal issues have been replaced in time by personal goals and personal interests.

I would love nothing more but to talk about these newly found passions but to be completely honest they keep me very busy. So I find it very difficult to gather some time and write and when I do I want it to be something of substance and something that the readers will benefit from. And that's why I would like to give this space a bit more structure and a bit more thought. It kind of started as a public journal about 4 years ago but I see it now as more of a way to share my ideas, interests, passions, things I like and things I am good at.

So I would like to declare as a kind of manifesto that this blog will still be a journey of public self discovery, but on more levels and layers.

For now, suffice to say I volunteered to help a friend decorate her new house and I am very excited about it. This may actually be my very first project and I like nothing more that browse around for wallpapers, furniture, chandeliers, mirrors, paints and fabrics.

For now I will finish with sharing this amazing wallpaper from Dedar Milano - www.dedar.com - which I just happened to come accross. Will be very happy to share more of my project as it progresses. Keep you posted :)

Family ties

2011-06-11T02:47:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time I have been living on my own. It's been many years I have been living in London, away from my country, away from the little family I have left there. All my visits have been usually short and tempestuous, hardly ever benefiting from spending quality time with my closest. But these days I have been reminded about all that I have been missing all these years...

My mother and my cousin (to whom I am so close that I often and fondly refer to as my little sister) visited me for the first time since I took up the challenge of living abroad and granted me one of the most rewarding experiences of my life up to date. Because I have been unable to share the everyday realities of my existence in London with my closest and dearest, I have always felt like a huge bridge that was between us needed to be crossed in order to align the two worlds I have been living in almost simultaneously for the past 8ish years...

I have been given an amazing gift and their visit has been heart filling. From the fact that I saw my mother enjoying every moment of it to the cuddles and the jokes we've shared, from their daily discoveries of a city I adore to the night to the Opera where my mum and I went to see Tosca, I have been experiencing joy and laughter and an incredible feeling of peace. As if they have given me blessing for the life I chose to live. My life and my choices have been validated and all my efforts compensated. But above all, I suddenly stopped feeling alone. If every once in a while I get surrounded by sadness and loneliness, I now realized I am not and will never be alone. I do have a family, I indeed have been blessed and even though the road to getting where I am now hasn't always been smooth, I am truly grateful for everything I've got and profoundly happy that being a daughter is yet another thing I am unable to fail...

I thought it would be stressful but it has been accomplishing. The two of them are getting along so well and have enojoyed their London experience so much that none of my initial worries materialised. In fact, now that they are on the plane back to Romania, I can't help but cry a little, missing them already, and start making plans for when they will come again. And who knows, perhaps one day, I will have my family with me and all these lonely days will have become a thing of the past, a thing of the past I will look back upon and smile... Because everything happens for a reason and every experience is what makes a life.

Womanity

2011-05-15T04:59:00.001-07:00

I was recently astounded by how good Madonna looked at the Met Gala this year. Wearing a long figure hugging Stella McCartney dress, she looked amazing. Why was I surprised? After all,Madonna is and has always been a beautiful woman...
Well, because it's the first time in a very long time she has embraced her femininity. Sporting a lovely slightly fuller figure and a beautifully retro curled hair, she showed what she really is: a beautiful woman in her 50s.

There is no shame in that. I love how some women grow old gracefully assuming the time that has passed and taking pleasure into showing the world a few wrinkles, a few streaks of white hair and even a few extra pounds. They wear it all with pride. I absolutely love every time I get to see someone like Sophia Loren or Helen Mirren. This is why perhaps I was so struck by Madonna's last appearance. She has finally decided to show the world who she really is and the world seems to like it.

Back in 2009, at the same event she came flaunting a much younger Jesus Luz and a Luis Vuitton outfit (as seen on the catwalk), which unfortunately, didn't become her in the least. It seemed as if she was trying so hard to be and look younger that it actually enhanced the fact that she is an older woman who ought to act her age.

Perhaps we should all take some learnings from this. Most of the times, it is ok to embrace your womanity, love what you hate about yourself and allow yourself to feel and look what you really are. If you don't believe me, judge for yourself.

Here's a selection of few of my all time favourite ladies:

Christina Hendricks of Mad Men

Always demure Helen Mirren

Timeless Elizabeth Taylor

Iconic Marilyn Monroe

Amazing Meryl Streep

Sensual Kate Winslet

Mediterranean beauty Sophia Loren

Ageless beauty Audrey Hepburn

Easter thoughts

2011-04-25T14:24:00.000-07:00

I tried feeling miserable. I really tried. I tried looking at all the loved up couples having picnics in the park and feeling like the one left out. I tried thinking about how lonely I am and how it is Easter again. I tried looking in the mirror and noticing my wrinkles (they are there now, can't miss them even with my poor vision).
I really tried to feel miserable. I wanted to soak in my own misery and feel like the one girl who's never going to find love and happiness because sometimes it's just easy to feel like that. Sometimes it feels that putting on a brave face and constantly repeating positive mantras is just so energy draining. It feels that once in a while it's ok to feel like the ugly duckling and imagine a lifetime of loneliness because you simply can't see how the opposite will ever happen. But you know what - I couldn't! I just simply couldn't! Because feeling good about myself is simply not a difficult task. It's not something I have to force upon myself, but a state of just be. And being by myself is such a blessing that I sometimes look forward to.

In fact, because I do lead an extremely social life, I find myself yearning for some time alone. However, whenever I get it, I become restless and confused. But once the confusion dissipates, I embrace loneliness and just stay with it. Because there is absolutely nothing wrong with the choices we make. It's nothing wrong to want to ditch a party for a night in and a glass of wine, nothing wrong with making mistakes because they are the one who turn you into who you are, nothing wrong with not being who everyone else expects you to be.

Somehow, no matter how much I want to just indulge in self pity, the reality is that this is just not going to happen.

Change of seasons

2011-04-19T14:55:00.000-07:00

Spring has made an appearance quite early this year. It arrived with a plethora of colours and plenty of sunshine to already justify the floral prints and straw hats, the jugs of Pimm's and picnics in the park.
This feeling is suprising and refreshing as it feels like only yesterday we were all wearing black and grey and cursing the winter than didn't seem to want to leave.

I find myself these days looking at people on the street and realizing how much better everyone's outfits look. I for one definitely have far nicer summer clothes than winter clothes. For all I try, I can never really pull a jumper right. I am pretty heavy chested and jumpers will never look on me as they do on the catwalk. I also hate cold and will never be able to walk on the street in a remarkable outfit with an open coat and no scarf displaying some state of the art necklace as I risk freezing to death before arriving at my destination. Every winter I get rid of jumpers and buy new ones, always as bad as the ones before. And somehow the only ones I do like happen to be wool ones which inevitably end up shrinking in the washing machine as I have never been the kind of person who follows washing instructions on the label...

Anyway, happy spring is here. In fact so happy that I went on a shopping spree. I felt my wardrobe needed some colour, a yellow tee, a cream mac, a coral dress, a couple of jumpers (a size bigger so they don't make me look fat), definitely a pair of denim shorts (which I didn't buy yet), a couple of scarfs (I happen to have bought nine when in Ethiopia) and many many very important other things.
As it is to be expected, my wardrobe is bursting. I have so many clothes that sometimes I get upset I can't choose which one to wear...
As much as I became really good at not buying bags and shoes anymore, I am still a sucker for buying clothes...Not to mention I really must have the 'it' skirt of the season, the pleated skirt. In fact, if I remember well my mum still has pink one in her wardrobe which I might attempt to steal rather than ravaging through vintage shops...

I blame fashion. I blame fashion for coming up with new things every season that everybody must have. And yet all we do is coming back to old trends. I get rid of so many clothes only to regret having done so a few seasons later. I am honesty pissed off about that. I wish I can just wear the things in my wardrobe over and over again until they can't be worn anymore.
I blame myself for being so much into fashion. I am scrutinising men's outfits/shoes etc. and I can be easily turned off by a pair of unappropriate shoes... I can be also easily turned on by someone wearing a trendy outfit. I am such a fashion whore...

However, this may not be the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I do like wearing nice clothes and I am into image. So I started a Profesional Styling Course which at least justifies my guilty pleasure. And who knows,maybe one day instead of spending money buying clothes for myself that I DO NOT need, I might be satisfying my thirst for fashion by dressing up other people.

For now, I like the change in seasons and will try to take it easy. After all, it's all last season's clothes anyway!...

And you call yourself a writer

2011-03-31T15:51:00.001-07:00

I used to ask myself this questions numbers of times. I used to doubt myself more often that I used to trust myself. I have always wanted to do things, be things, but would always kind of push it somewhere aside. Procrastitation was my middle name.
But guess what - now I can call myself a writer! Because I will get published. Don't get too excited,nothing fancy. Just a boring healthcare article in a Journal about to be published. But yes, this journal will be published and people will read it and yes somewhere in a corner there will be my name.
I have decided a few weeks ago to stop procrastinating. Just like that. Just do it!
I am definitely up to a few more projects, but there is a slight superstitious side of me that wouldn't like to talk about it until there's something to say.
In the meantime, at least I can call myself a writer.

Why don't you settle down?...

2011-03-13T16:10:00.001-07:00

Funny how slowly all your Facebook friends are starting to sport pictures of their children as they profile photo. Before you know it, you're the only adult left on what seems to become a kindergarten social networking site.

I was just talking about it the other day with one of my best friends. We just concluded that we were perhaps amongst the last few left from our generation who haven't got married nor given birth and who basically running around in search for adventures and fun. A couple of days later she called me in complete shock to announce her younger sister is pregnant... I think I was even more shocked. The reason behind our shocked reaction is that it's happening closer and closer to home. At first, children springing around wouldn't really affect me as they were somehow far away in a different universe - friends and friends of friends that I didn't get too see nor speak to very often. I guess that if I am completely honest with myself, I have even developed a sort of rejection towards these friends, keeping contact to a minimum. I mean, don't get me wrong, they are still my friends and I love them dearly, but as soon as children were involved, I was kind of stepping out on the back door. But as time takes its toll, more of my very close friends are getting ready for or enjoying parenthood making it more and more difficult for me to run away and hide from the evidence.

Pregnancies closer to base are haunting me these days. It is a cruel reminder of the fact that I am no longer a youngster, hell I ain't even in my late twenties no more. I should have bred long time ago according to Mother Nature. But all I am thinking about is how to avoid reality, how to keep myself busy with all sorts of other things like doing charity treks and fantasising about becoming a writer, or at least a peace activist. It saddens me to realize that time is passing and not only my head is full of grey hair (thankfully, skillfully died) but I am no longer young at heart. I am utterly exhausted of putting up a fight.

And the final blow came from my own mother today who, despite the fact that she's always been supportive and never questioned my lifestyle choices, suddenly asked me why I am not settling down, why am I not looking into having a baby, having a family, do what NORMAL people do!!! It hurt more than I expected because I didn't expect my own mother to give in to the pressure...

I mean, who is there to say what people should do with their lives? Who is that superior instance to say we should all get married and breed? We are human, not animals. We defy the laws of nature and do all kinds of un-natural things. Why living as a late-teenager in one's 30s is suddenly a crime?? Is it really wrong of me to wanting to do other things with my life?...
All through my 20s I had the feeling of running out of time, still too young to understand that not everyone has to be set on the goal of achieving a husband, a family, buy a house, get a dog etc.
Since then, I have spent a great deal of effort into convincing myself that it's ok not to have all that and we can still have perfectly fulfilled lives even when we're 31, single and childless. And then suddenly, I am bombarded from everywhere with this pressure again...
I hear around me things such as "You're not young anymore, you should be happy with what you get etc etc." My blood is boiling. I try to be calm and find out what is it that really makes me so upset? Is it the fact that maybe I do want to have a family but fail to admit it to myself, that perhaps I was designed to do something else and the rest of the world doesn't understand me or that I may be actually going trough a quarter life crisis and I really need to find out what is it that I REALLY WANT...?

One thing I know for certain is what I DON'T want: I don't want to live an amputated life just because everyone else says so.

Sometimes things are just said though. Fortunately, my mother loves me enough to grant me that I may just not be like other kids and take me for what I am. I was HER choice, after all!...

The charity 'business'

2011-03-02T14:55:00.000-08:00

Back for already over two weeks from my charity trekking and yet my efforts are not over. I didn't realize how much vital energy this has taken from me - mind you I needed almost a week only to be able to phisicaly recover. Once I started to feel like a normal person again,I realized that I still needed lots of energy to carry on fundraising.

Despite having received lots of donations from many generous hearts and despite having contributed myself a great deal already, I am still to achieve my target. I am extremely proud and grateful to all my contributors for having reached 73% of my target up to date, considering I have not received any corporate sponsorship (although I was expecting some initially...), but unfortunately my fight is not over.

I must confess I feel drained. I feel drained from reminding people about it and from having to explain myself all the time what is it that I am doing, what is it that I am trying to achieve...

I have a distinct impression that people have mixed feelings regarding charity work and why shouldn't they?... After all, what is charity but a business in itself?...

People feel robbed by the fact that some of the money that are being donated end up paying for the charity workers' salaries. Or, as in my case, paying for some of the expenses of my trip... In fact this is true, but isn't it as true that without the effort of these people, things wouldn't happen...

How can you turn the £5 you have donated into a month's fresh water supply for a village in Africa without the system that has been put in place by a bunch of enthusiastic people working for a charity? And after all, we all agree that they have to make a living too... Oh, wouldn't we all want to help the less fortunate, not pay any rent, not need to spend any money, feel good and generous and rich both spiritually and financially? But the reality as we all know it, plays by different rules. The truth is that if we want things to do happen, some investments need to be made.

It is true that I did the trek to Ethiopia because I wanted to. I could have paid for my trip, go there and come back without the hassle of raising money, which I must admit has been 10 times more exhausting than the trek istelf. But I chose the hard way because I felt that something had to be done, that I had to do something. And it's because other 9 people have decided to do the same that the charity we are supporting has raised enough money to implement a few very important projects in Africa. A small and dedicated charity that doesn't flaunt children pictures or panda bears, but does its job. As non-glamorous as this may sound, it saves hundreds of lives every year.

So let me just conclude with this: if it wasn't for the 'business' of charity and for the few crazy people ready to go through difficult tasks to raise the money, very few things would be achieved. So if you feel you may have misjudged the charity sector or simply feel generous, I am still taking donations on Just Giving so, click here to donate.

Ethiopian Portraits

2011-02-13T03:35:00.000-08:00

Unspoilt Ethiopia - trekking through the Simien mountains

2011-02-13T01:36:00.000-08:00

Situated inland in the horn of Africa, bordered by Somalia, Eritrea, Sudan, Kenya and Djibouti, Ethiopia is a fascinating land than many know next to nothing about. Also known as the cradle of humanity, due to the discovery of Lucy, the oldest human skeleton aged 3.2 million years, Ethiopia is mainly "famous" in the Western world because of the famines, especially the one between 1984 - 1986, which affected more than 8 million people. A predominately agricultural country, Ethiopia is still at the mercy of rainfalls.

However, the richness of its culture and the breathtaking natural sceneries, more than make up for its possible lack of modern commodities which may very well put off the over spoilt today's travellers.

Which of course wasn't the case of our charity trekking group, ready to face any challenges the country, the weather or our own limits may have thrown at us.

Day 1

Arriving on a Saturday early morning after a 7,5 hrs overnight Ethiopian Airlines flight, we were quickly introduced to the hustle and bustle of Addis Ababa (meaning New Flower in Amharic, the most widespread Ethiopian language), which, at first glance, seemed to be a bit too much to take in... Busy streets, mules crossing the streets, a little bit too Communist buildings, people sleeping on the pavement, lots of local "entrepreneurs" selling their merchandise off a blanket on the sidewalk, many half finished constructions and above all the dust and the heat.

The visit to the market in Addis was a bit of a scary experience, overcrowded,smelling of fumes and spices, almost a huge creature with millions of heads and pumping hearts, ready to eat you in, never to be seen again... But most interesting it was the things that they were selling at the market, including empty plastic bottles and used raffia sacks, used spare parts, chains and lots of plastic crockery... Not much that I would have bought to bring back as a souvenir... I must confess that my second visit to the market, on our last day, was less of a shock and more of an enjoyable experience as I had grown to like these Ethiopian people so much that watching the people going by or getting rid of the two lads selling me African toothbrushes (which literally were carved wood branches used to refresh the smell and clean the teeth) was actually a heart filling thing to do.

I must admit that it wasn't much I knew about Ethiopia before my visit. Perhaps only that the Emperor Haile Silasse was the one who inspired the Rastafari movement in Jamaica after his visit there and that Ethiopia was considered the sacred land, the Zion for all the rastafari followers. Perhaps faint rumours of the Queen of Sheba and king Solomon reminded me a bit of what used to be Abyssinia and that the Simiens were apparently a must see. Other than that, a lot of ignorance of my part... I wouldn't recommend going to Ethiopia without a local guide. They seem not only extremely knowledgeable but also very excited about sharing as much as they can about their country, which they all seem to be very proud of. The Ethiopians are proud of their heritage, of their glorious past and of their independence over the years. They have a huge smile on their faces which is extremely contagious, but above all, they are rare beauties. Both men and women have a specific face bone structure, with high sculptural cheek bones, big brown eyes and a skin colour to make anyone green with envy. They are all slender and athletic as if born to be strong and ready to achieve excellence. I also became interested in learning about their history, their brave and majestic kings such as Tewodoros, Yohannes and Haile Sillasie and about their overwhelming cultural heritage, thirst which has been diligently fed throughout our trip.

Day 2

Breakfast at candlelight and packing guided by flashlight. Thank God I didn't forget anything at the hotel in Addis. Everything in my backpack was an essential item for the trekking ahead, I couldn't have afforded to leave anything behind...
Due to lack of resources, electricity cuts seem to be quite a frequent occurrence in places in Africa. Somehow I managed to forget that the same happened in Romania when I was growing up. Now, how easy it is to take things for granted...

We were going to leave for Gondar, spend another day getting acclimatised before saying good bye to civilisation for the next 4 days. A short flight with a small Ethiopian Airways plane and couple of hours later we were descending to the city of Gondar, famous for its impressive castle ruins and for being the birth place of one of Ethiopia's most famous kings, Thewodoros, who shot himself rather to surrender to the English. According to our guide, a famous armour is still displayed at the British Museum and Ethiopians want it back. I promised myself I'd go again to the British Museum and look for it.

Gondar is full of blue tuk-tuks, a rather touristic place (though still not many Europeans in sight...) and a continuous source of awe. After visiting the "Camelot of Africa", the royal palaces starting with the palace of King Fassilidas, and a wonderful lunch at Dashen Brewery where we enjoyed a pint of the freshly brewed Ethiopian beer, we went on to visit the oldest orthodox church in Gondar made surprisingly of mud and straw and holding on proudly to its original mural paintings. I am only sorry I didn't get to see an actual sermon, full of chanting and strange ceremonies as we were told. On our way out, we were lucky enough to see a loud Ethiopian wedding which strangely reminded me of the Romanian weddings...

Day 3

Our first day of trekking started with a 4 hours bumpy ride from Gondar to the Simien National Park. In Ethiopia and especially in the Simiens, roads are still being built and a feeble start of a sustainable infrastructure is being attempted. Thus, we were jiggled on the long drive over cobblestone leaving clouds of dust behind us as if we were in fact sometime at the beginning of the 20th century. This road, however, was our only access to the Simiens and after a short lunch break, we began our first day of trek from the Simien lodge, accompanied by Tash, our wonderful guide, two scouts employed by the National Park and a couple of helpers with a horse and a mule to carry extra water.
Passing through various changes of scenery, it was impossible to hide our amazement and awe. As far as the eyes can see, reddish volcanic formations were displayed to our sights' content as if they were in fact temples built by an alien civilization. They seemed so perfect and surreal, almost extra-terrestrial. This is how I have probably imagined how other planets looked like and yet, all this was now in front of me, as real as anything else.

Passing through, we had our first encounter with the famous local Gelada Baboons (also known as the Bleeding Heart Baboons) and spent a good period of time observing those interesting creatures that absolutely loved the attention.

Just before dark, we arrived at our first camp site, where our tents were already erect and our main luggage already waiting for us. After a cup of tea and a delicious dinner prepared by our resident chef, we all headed down to our tents, exhausted after a first day of walking and looking to hide as quickly as possible from the freezing cold, which did get down to 0 degrees C during the night. My first night in the tent went pretty well, managing to sleep through most of the night, but waking up with a semi-paralyzed face that only started to feel like a normal face after washing with a bit of warm water left outside by a caring hand.

Day 4

My second day of trekking has also been the hardest. Oblivious to the fact that I might be affected by altitude, I chose not to take altitude sickness prophylaxis tablets and I ended up having difficulties breathing and experiencing headaches. As we marched, the scenery changed slowly into a red dust desert-like setting and breathing became even more impaired as dust insinuated into our lungs with every step we took.
During the first part of the day, we ran into another group of baboons, minding their own business by the river, but towards the afternoon though, human presence became accentuated the closer we were getting to a village. By the time we got to the village, my lungs were desperately crying for air and desperation became greater when finding out that we were only half way through to the camp site, which became the end goal of every taken step. Skinny, dark, bare feet children of all ages appeared out of nowhere and started a “hello” saying contest. Trying to respond to all those “hellos” meant we had to give up climbing as the air was never enough… And that wasn’t really an option, as we had to make sure we arrive at the campsite before dark.
My strength was leaving me and by the time we finally managed to get to the camp, I started feeling feverish and getting cold shivers. By dinnertime, all I wished for was to get through the night. Which turned out to be probably the worst night of my entire trip…

Day 5

The morning of the next day I wasn’t feeling well. I was still shivering, wearing no less that four layers and my ski jacket. At that point I was convinced that I will fall ill but I carried on walking. Slowly and struggling, but I carried on walking. It wasn’t as if I had a choice… It wasn’t as if I could have picked up the phone, call sick and lie in bed all day, feeling miserable. All I could have done was to carry on walking.

Soon enough though, I started gaining strength and my ascension wasn’t as painful as I feared. The higher we went, the colder it got, so kept most of my layers on, except for the ski jacket.
Every once in a while we’d reach a peak which allowed us to embrace with our gaze most of the scenery below and no matter how often that would happen, we would still burst with amazement in “wows” and “ohs”.

I have long time ago realised that no matter how well crafted, painted, projected or built a work of art is, there simply is no comparison to the perfection of the greatest creator: Nature. Perhaps because we stand astounded at the sight of something so magnificent and beautiful which perhaps wasn’t even created with intent (think about volcanic formations, erosions etc.), we are left breathless. Perhaps because it reminds us of how small we really are… Or because we simply understand that we are part of a Universe that lives and breathes and carries on without us, if we chose to ignore it, living our lives as if there’s nothing more important than our selfish little selfs… Perhaps that’s why when I saw Sagrada Familia I was so touched – because it doesn’t try to claim the human superiority but rather kneels in front of the greatest artist of all times: Nature… To me, Sagrada is homage to Nature…
Here I was standing in front of something far greater than even Sagrada… Miles and miles of red mountains resembling ancient pyramids…
But before I was even able to take in all that, I found myself surrounded by giant labellias (beautiful plants resembling palm trees, which only grow at high altitudes) scattered across a scenery that made me wonder if I haven’t magically been transported via a parallel universe gate to a desert…

The desert soon changed into a dangerously looking path that would scare anyone with a freight of heights. I must confess I am one of those people that when looking down from a dangerous spot gets the vertigo (or at least thinks it). In this case though, I couldn’t afford that. I had to carry on without looking down and making sure my foot is grounded at every step I took. That dangerous march seemed to take forever, but before dark we made it to the next camp…

I’d like to talk to you a bit about the stars… I often wonder if we are actually on the same planet, as depending on where I am, the sky is always different. I have never seen so many stars on the sky in my entire life… The sky was made of black velvet (you could almost feel its tenderness) and millions of crystals were scattered everywhere as if the sky was the most expensive ball gown… It was so amazing that it was almost scary… I planned on lying down on my back and just look at it intently until my gaze hurt, but the cold made that impossible. I had to throw a quick glance, take yet another deep breath and rush into my sleeping bag… There was more walking to do…

Day 6

The actual last day of our trekking was planned to be an 800m climb up to the peak of Ras Bwahit (14,500 ft). At times steep and stoney, the asscension proved to be the most difficult yet. Breathing was becoming almost an impossible task and yet filling my lungs with more and more air with every step I took, kept me going. They say that during hard physical effort, people tend to talk to themselves and repeat mantras to keep them going. All I could think about was making sure to take in the next breath of air. Soon, it felt as in a different dimension, getting slightly dizzy and really starting to wonder if I'd make it to the top. We were working against a deadline and not making it to the top by 10 am, meant having to go back no matter where we were... For that we had to wake up erlier than usual and walk in the dark with the help of flashlights until the sun came up.
I really wanted to get to the top. If I didn't, all that effort meant nothing. Just one more step, just one more breath... When I finally made it to the top, I felt pure happiness. Congratulating eachother on the top of the world, I felt tears in my eyes and they were some of the happiest tears I've ever shed... It may have been the result of the physical effort, or maybe the team work that this challenge has been, perhaps I felt incredibly lucky for having experienced something of such importance, for the blessing of having set foor in Ethiopia or all at once, but I was incredibly happy.

I knew I was never going to be same after this. I knew I wanted to do even more... As much as I could...

3 days away to Ethiopia...

2011-02-01T11:53:00.000-08:00

Yes, I am officially freaking out! I am only 3 days away from flying off to Ethiopia and although I have reached more than 60% of my target, did all my vaccinations, got my visa, bought all the first aid bits, trekking boots etc etc. I am freaking out!!

It may be because I started the year in a major rush! I wanted to avoid at all costs going through the depressive state I went through last year and perhaps I went a bit too far. Perhaps January is indeed the month of wallowing, staying indoors, watching cheesy films and pledging to go to the gym, but never doing it...

I've just kept myself busy fundraising heavily, getting quickly adjusted to a new job, even to a potential new relationship and occasionally training, that I reached the point of saturation and mental exhaustion. Now, I am less than 3 days away from flying off to Ethiopia and instead of jumping up and down with major excitement, I am stressing out that perhaps I haven't done enough to ensure my overwhelming success...

Is it perhaps that I have forgotten the fact that I am going there for two major reasons: for the immense satisfaction of knowing I am helping others and for the privilege of being even for a few short days in the middle of the nature, somewhere remote and hopefully closer to God and my own feelings than I could ever be in an urban environment. I am longing for that peace that I should already be inducing myself...

But one thing I know for sure: once I decide I don't like where things are going, I am always adjusting my feelings in order to feel great.

So don't worry, I will come back with wonderful stories and hopefully amazing life conclusions ;)

Leader of the pack

2011-01-31T14:13:00.000-08:00

The leader of the pack... The alpha male... The one type of male that a woman finds irresistble and who will almost always make a woman feel weak and insecure. That is if the woman is not an alpha woman herself.

He is always fashionably dressed, speaks affablly posh, plays a very macho team sport and bosses the other guys around. Perhaps because he is a little too well built and, despite a clear evolution towards balding, he is one of the most attractive specimens nature has produced up to date... He does have issues, as he is never keen on opening up, he never admits to any sensitive subjects and plays it cool. He despises weakness and the very first sign of it makes him run away in disgust. The woman finding herself falling madly in love with him will feel for a very long time that she has horribly failed.

The leader of the pack acts like he has no feelings. He is a riddle never to be guessed. He is a sexual beast and will feed on its victims with no after thoughts. But is he really what he is trying to portray?...

I've spent years falling in love with the alpha male, crying over him not even knowing that there was no point in crying. I've spent years mending my ever breaking heart, refining the art to the very point of almost becoming a subtle version of the alpha female myself. And perhaps this is where the real probelm is...

I have decided that as a sign of maturity I will stop being fascinated by the leader of the pack and concentrate all my will and efforts towards his nicer and more considerate version. But I have reasons to believe I've managed to turn myself over the years into a kind of alpha woman myself that in the end I might not be able to find a perfect mate, unless I go back to my old ways... But I owe it to myself to keep on trying...

The singleton syndrome

2011-01-17T15:09:00.000-08:00

I didn't even realize it, but I think I may have crossed the line between being single and longing for a relationship and being single and feeling really comfortable about it.

I only just came to the conclusion that all the ideas I have been toying with about me coming of age and looking for the Nice Guy were just self-convincing statements, when, in reality, I have made such an incredible good job at really enjoying being single that I have reasons to believe that I may have become a relationship phobic.

While dumbfound by the realization that I may actually have a problem, I went on the ever reliable Google and wandered around in search of answers. I cam across this title: "The Successfully Single Syndrome" by Dr. Nancy Kenyon and thought it could be a good idea to read some of this literature that may find me some answers. It seems that the book is dealing with why people are still single and giving advice on how to find the right partner, but I am not sure many people have bothered to see that while trying hard to convince ourselves we don't need somebody else in our lives to make us happy, us single people have programmed our minds that we are probably happier alone than trapped inside a relationship that we can't seem to be able to embrace the perspective of a one...

Scared by the things I have just discovered, I have also noticed that no matter how much I rationalize it, I do, without a shred of a doubt, have a falling in love pattern and yes, it is the people that don't want me that make me want them. How pathetic. In a day and age when I thought I had it all sorted out, turns out that if I a guy is too much into me, I tend to run away as if I was bitten by a poisonous cobra. I cannot help but wonder what is it that I must do, to let go of this bad habit and simply open my heart fully to a person that surrounds me with attention and perhaps "loves me just the way I am". I am fighting battles with my own feelings and instincts and I do pray to God that I win. Otherwise, I'll be chasing dead horses all my life while wondering what am I doing wrong. What am I doing wrong is being set on some silly self imposed criteria and not being able to open my eyes and be more flexible about things. I wonder if I may still stand a chance to be cured of the Single Syndrome or is the kind that sticks with you forever and ever?...

Nobody is supposed to live alone and yet again, we have beaten Mother Nature to the polls. Take that Nature, who said we can't live single happily ever after?... Who says we can't be walking the earth in search for some sense and purpose? I mean, what else if left after I come back from climbing mountains like a goat? Just a big black emptiness... I guess.

New Year - so much to do, so little time!

2011-01-09T15:27:00.000-08:00

This would be my first post in 2011. Not because I have nothing to say, but because there is so much happening!

Christmas seems so far away already, the New Year party, being home, it's already so last year. It's been great, but as always, happy to be back home in London.

And this year I have more reasons to be excited: I have started the year with a brand new job in a great ad agency and already feeling better about the work aspect of my life. But more than anything is the fast aproaching trek to Ethiopia.

It's less than a month away and I am running around trying to sort out insurances, visas, vaccinations and above all - training sessions! I obviously have spent Christmas training pork delicacies down my throat so the need of getting in shape is stronger than ever. My motivation is high, the only thing I am short of is time. Trying to walk 2-3 hours a week-end, going to gym classes after work, getting crash-training at work as well and preparing for the fundraising party - it seems that the luxury of sleeping is no longer mine! No wonder I am knackered all the time.

But hey, the January blues are certainly not something I should be worried about! I am full of energy and high on excitement. So far, I had no time to breathe and think but got my little notebook ready and will make sure I write everything down when I'm there. I am expecting this to be one of the best experiences of my life!

A really big thank you to all the people that have donated towards my charity trekking and have helped me reach 25% of my target! I won't let you down.

If you wish to donate you can do it by clicking on my JustGiving page.

Make Christmas everyday

2010-12-23T03:15:00.000-08:00

Every year from ever since I can remember, I have associated Christmas with a poignant sadness.

Not only that I sometimes unwillingly reminisce about the cold winters back in the communist times when our main source of heating in the flat was an old electric heater which proved to be pointless when the electricity was cut off, but I also can't stop thinking about the many years I have spent Christmas away from my family until I felt it didn't belong to me anymore.

When I was a child, Christmas was a joyful celebration and like millions of children around the world I too waited for Santa Claus to bring me presents.

But he only came at kindergarten and somehow he only brought me things I didn't want. I remember once Mum asked me what did I want for Santa to bring me and I was embarrassed to tell her I wanted a toy so I said I wanted a sweater, though secretly hoping for a doll. And guess what? Santa did bring me a sweater. I was painfully disappointed. I couldn't believe Santa listened to my lie and not to what my heart wanted.

Anyway, years later and I felt the sadness on many Christmases spent away from home, especially last year when my flight got cancelled and had to spend another Christmas in an empty London with no jingle bells.

But you know what? This year I am happy either way! Because Christmas is just another day and it really should be Christmas every day!

What really is the point and spirit of Christmas? It's not about the millions of things that people rush to buy and wrap them up to put under the tree and it's not about the new dress at the Christmas party. It's about the joy and gratitude and it's about helping!

I feel blessed that, probably for the first time ever, I put no pressure on Christmas day and truly believe that the legacy of it lives in my heart every single day of the year. And this has been proven to me by so many people that have supported and encouraged me in my charity trekking fundraising and the more you receive, the more you want to give. So I say, give love everyday and make everyday a Christmas day!

I have come across a young Romanian girl that has a brain tumour and needs help and decided to write about it on my blog. They are presently working on arranging a PayPal account so people (including myself) can donate online, but in the meantime, if you live in Romania and would like to help someone who might not be able to make everyday a Christmas day without help, you can find more details on this blog "Ajutati-o pe Ana" (Help Ana).

They joys of fundraising

2010-12-21T04:12:00.000-08:00

So, after the initial excitement of “Oh, my God, I am actually doing this!” I reached the inevitable “Oh, my God, how am I going to do this?...” It looks like raising money it’s far more stressful and complicated than I ever anticipated.
Firstly, I started pretty late... It wasn’t that I was half hearted about climbing mountains, but fundraising the whole amount seemed something far more complicated. But as I always do (and believe me, it’s brought me more troubles than benefits) I just decided to go for it, either way.
Yeah, it’s easy to say, I’ll do it next year, I’ll do it when the sun will shine, when I’ll have more money so I can practically pay for it myself entirely without going through the hassle of raising money etc etc. But they are all just excuses for not doing things and as cliché as this sounds, life really is short! And, since a recent epiphany, I have decided never to leave things for later. As troublesome as this may be!
So here I am struggling. I managed to schedule a fund raising fancy dress party on 22nd of January at my flat (thanks to a few very dedicated friends) and currently trying to negotiate some deals with the local pubs for a pub quiz night or darts championship. I offered to sing karaoke all night in return for donations but they kindly asked me not to do so. They must have heard me singing before... Anyway, slowly slowly and mostly through begging or emotionally blackmailing all my friends for sponsorship, I have started to build up the necessary amount. In fact, I have reached 11% of my target, which is not too bad considering how late I have started my fundraising campaign. However, my place has been booked and half of the money (£1500) need to reach the charity by first week of January. Hmmm.... Complicated stuff, huh?...
For those of you wanting to know about how my training is going, I have disturbing news. I have been stressing so much about gathering funds, that I have actually eaten a lot of the chocolate I brought in to work to try and sweeten people up towards my case, I have been drinking a lot at the Xmas party trying to forget all about not reaching my target and when finally I took a strong direction towards they gym, I ended up with painful muscular cramps following an intense session of body pump. So apart of the regular jogging (which I must admit, is not great on ice), I am not doing a lot. Truth be told, I did a bit of surfing a couple of weeks ago which did improve my stamina but left me with a cold that doesn’t want to go away...
Anyway, just thought I’d keep you all up to date with how everything is going. In case I do get stranded trying to go home for Xmas, I promise I’ll do some working out with the shovel at the front door and maybe skip the Xmas turkey in favour or some delicious energy bars.
So, if you have not been impressed by the suffering people in Africa, I am sure that after reading this, you can’t help but wipe that tear off the corner of your eye.

Merry Christmas!!

Iulia xxx

PS. Yes, you can donate, by clicking here.

Merry Christmas from Transaid and the people they have helped in Africa (click below)

2010-12-19T15:00:00.001-08:00

Merry Xmas!

The rastafari movement started in Ethiopia...

2010-12-19T14:52:00.000-08:00

Seize the day

2010-11-22T15:07:00.000-08:00

I can't think of a better way to start this but with a reference to Goethe's masterpiece "Faust". I have been planning to write an article about my trip to Africa next year as part of a charity trekking and kept thinking of a way to express my feelings the right way. While trying hard to explain why is this so important to me, I remembered Goethe's "Faust".

Faust, a man of great wisdom and virtue, made a pact with the Devil, who promised him unlimited access to all the pleasures and all the knowledge in the world. But the Devil, as a good advocate himself, has written a clause, which stated that if at any point Faust would be happy and would like to seize the moment, he would die the next instant. As much as he enjoyed worldly pleasures and had access to everything he could possibly want, Faust didn't feel the need to want to seize the moment, until he became involved in helping others. The satisfaction he received from helping, made him, without even realizing, intensely happy.

That's because Faust was probably experiencing what anthopologists and psychologists call the "warm glow" of giving.

I wanted to lay my motives bare in front of everyone and say that yes, perhaps I too, long for the "warm glow" of giving. And that perhaps it comes a time in life when nothing seems valuable anymore, when you stopp running for succes, money, career and everything that we were trained to pursue and wonder whether there isn't something else out that will make life worthwhile.

"Ah! Now I’ve done Philosophy,

I’ve finished Law and Medicine,

And sadly even Theology:

Taken fierce pains, from end to end.

Now here I am, a fool for sure!

No wiser than I was before:

Master, Doctor’s what they call me,

And I’ve been ten years, already,

Crosswise, arcing, to and fro,

Leading my students by the nose,

And see that we can know - nothing!" (Faust, Act 1)

What do we know in fact? That somewhere in the world people live different lives as if Earth was divided in different little planets. That we know close to nothing about the other little planets, except that they need our help. We also know that abundance doesn't bring happiness and it doesn't bring the satisfaction a person longs for. But what we do know is that we can take this abundance and put it to good use - maybe plant a few seeds of hope on a poor little foreign planet. While sacrificing for it. The "warm glow" will come together with the endorfines released from climbing the high Simien mountains and maybe then, on a high peak, surrounded by greatness and silence, with the wind telling magical tales of ancient civilisations and universal truths, perhaps then, the Faust in me will want to absolutely seize the moment.

If you would like to sponsor me in my trekking, please donate on my Just Giving page.
If you would like any information about the trekking, the charity or the cause, just drop me a line.

My way

2010-11-13T16:28:00.000-08:00

In a world that keeps pushing dreams our way, it seems that living for what one really wants has become one of the biggest challenges one could encounter.
In a world that becomes more and more diverse and complex, one finds himself wondering how come that all that he has achieved up to date doesn't really hold any real value.
In a world that speeds frantically and irrationally, one has forgotten how to live.

If it was only my case, I would stand accused and say nothing, as I have always been one of those people that has pointed things out and has always complained about the wrong things in life. If I were the only one that didn't find my place and cried in the middle of the night because waking up and going to work just doesn't have any logic, I would stand accused. If I were the only one who finds herself suddenly woken up from the common dream and wondering what was life suppose to be all about, I would say no word.

But I am not the only one and the same way I stare at the wall and ask myself over and over again what is it that I am suppose to be doing with my life in order to feel the happines and satisfaction with my existence, the same way, I am sure, there are hundreds, thousands and possibly even millions of people asking themselves the same question.

In a world that is so big and yet so small, young Londoners find themselves wondering what will it take to make the life worth living... Surely it can't be the season sales, or the all inclusive holidays, or the drinking with mates, or the comfort eating, or the playing sports, or the pulling in bars, or... Surely there must be something else. That something that we were born to do and is probably just under our noses without our noticing...

One of my very good friends pointed it out for me the other day that I should stop taking whatever comes my way and go for what I really want. I stopped for a second to think about it and I realized that I have always(ALWAYS!!!) just taken opportunities that came my way. I have never gone for a job because I wanted that job badly and I would have polished someone's shoes for a year just to get it. I have just accepted offers that happened to seem reasonable at the time, never taking into account what would that offer mean to me in the long run. I just did it and moved on, hoping that the future will write itself somehow. As if I was afraid to make choices for myself, I have allowed fate to decide for me. I suppose this type of attitude is valid for everything else in my life: I have never chosen. I have simply accepted. Hence my lifelong dissatisfaction with my life.
I think the only choices I have made are my friends and my books. These are the two aspects in my life I feel strongly about and I feel entitled to accept or reject. Anything else, until now, didn't mean much...

I have worked hard with myself to not only give myself unconditional love, but change the way I look at life in order to reflect this self love. I believe that by making my own choices, I show myself love and respect and portray that person that I have always wanted to be.

I still don't know what choices will I have to make and what compromises in order to achieve my goals, but at least now I am sure that if I want to live a meaningful life, I will have to do things my way!

Trusting myself

2010-11-08T13:55:00.000-08:00

I am sure my friends want the best for me. I am also sure that sometimes they don't know what to tell me anymore after hearing my complaints over and over again and end up telling me off. Or telling me something that I don't want to hear simply because it makes sense to them.
I suppose I do the same for my friends. At first I am sympathetic and encouraging and after a period of time when things fail to improve, I suggest to them to seek specialized help. I suppose we can't blame each other because no friend in the world holds anybody else's answers. The only answers are within us and all we have to do is stop and feel.
Feelings are the only reality and the only indicator of what a person is going through. Learning to listen to those feelings is probably a person's best chance for survival. Listen to yourself and nurture your needs.
A lot of the things that I have been through recently I had to deal with myself. Don't get me wrong, I did pour my heart out in front of my closest friends, but in the end I had to deal with all my issues myself. And it works. Learning how to listen to myself is probably the best thing I have ever done. After a while, you become a doctor in your own feelings and recognize signals almost without fail. I have learned that no matter how well intentioned is a friend that tells me "I really liked that guy you were seeing two months ago, what was wrong with him? I think you might be becoming too demanding", or "I think you should get back with your ex", or "Just find yourself a nice guy", none really knows better what's best for me than myself.
I can only be with the person that brings the best in me and awakens the playful side of myself and allows me to live life with open arms. Anyone else, will just force me to live with a side of myself that is miserable and aggressive, reproachful and nasty, cold and bitter. And this is why, no matter how great someone was, sometimes their presence and solicitude provokes the worst in me. The more they would try to please me, the more I would reject them. While others, perhaps less than an obvious choice, would make me feel happy and light, funny and attractive.

Therefore, my friends, I think I have answered my own question: I have only myself to trust to make the right choices in life. But thanks anyway...

Hypochondria - the new "mal du siecle"?...

2010-11-03T10:01:00.001-07:00

"Hypochondria is a mental preoccupation with real or suppositional physical or mental disorders, a discrepancy between the degree of preoccupation and the grounds for it so that the former is far in excess of what is justified, and an effective condition best characterized as interest with conviction and consequent concern, and with indifference to the opinion of the environment, including unresponsiveness to persuasion." (Retterstol, 2007)

Hypochondria is not new, it hasn't been invented yesterday, but goes back as Hypocrates. However, after going through a terrible episode myself, I have reasons to believe that it might just be the "plague" of the 21st century.

After being asked and get my lumps checked, I started convincing myself that, although most lumps are harmless, I was the one who had the really dangerous type. I went as far as having panic attacks, nightmares and even thinking that if this wasn't the case, then I probably had some other horrible and unimaginable disease. I went so far as to get myself checked for many other diseases (which in itself it's a good thing, especially as I came out clear) and the more I got reassurance on some, I wanted to check other possibilities. But somehow this had to stop, as feeling the way I was feeling contributed to a rapidly declining state of mind, which was affecting my day to day life. And if my biggest fear was to lose my life, well, I wasn't quite living it, was I?...

After doing a quick search on the disease and finding out how closely it related to depression and schizophrenia, I still didn't understand the extent to which this apparently harmless and mockable condition could affect someone's life until I found out that so many of my friends had been through similar episodes. Close friends came up to me and confessed similar phobias, whether it was fear of heart attack, cancer or bubonic plague.

I don't base my statement on any evidence(I am sure I can find one, if I must) so you'll have to trust me on this one, but it seems that the increased awareness of certain types of diseases makes them the top of the hypochondriac's shopping list. I also tend to believe that the mounting level of information and statistics regarding deaths and cases of terminally illnesses, influences people nowadays to believe that one day it is going to happen to them...

Why do we get like that? I mean, I am sure nobody wants to go through hell and back thinking about illness and death, so there must be something more subtle at work. Based on my own experience, I believe that a certain level of stress and feeling of unachievement can easily trigger it. When happy, we don't really listen to our bodies, but when we feel low, everything surfaces. Our body reacts to the instructions of our mind.

Someone mentioned to me the other day that it might be related to the Quarter Life Crisis (I couldn't have said it better myself: Read about Quarter Life Crisis) which more and more people go through nowadays. Other will argue that we live in blessed times when opportunities are higher than ever and it's not fair for the people of the 21st Century to go through Quarter Life Crisises when they have so much more than their predecessors, including a higher life expectancy! I would probably answer to those people that then again we are brought into this world with higher expectations and not meeting them (which is probably the case of most people) makes us feel like we are failures and gets us steps closer to depression and related states of mind. Perhaps that's why we are so afraid of disease and death. Because we haven't fulfilled our mission, haven't reached our goals and we are terrified that we will leave this world without having lived up to the standards.

Yes, hypochondria is an expression of all that and not something we should joke about. I noticed that being part of a small community of hypochondriacs did help and I urge anyone who has ever felt that kind of desperation to give a helping had to someone in distress. An article published in the Guardian in 2007 ("How do you cure Hypochondria?") talks about methods of dealing with the irrational fear of illness and thankfully, there is hope. Apparently, receiving reassurance from your doctor doesn't remove the fear. The sufferer is trapped in his/her own mind and cannot escape without help. I hope this can help...

I still haven't received my diagnosys, but I am hoping that hypochondria is not one of them...

2010-10-31T14:58:00.000-07:00

I stopped smoking. A habit that I mastered for over twelve years and yet it's as if it never happened. I don't crave. I don't think about it. I have just erased it from my daily life.

Of course it took a great scare to force this to happen, but I am grateful it did.

It's one of those things you keep procrastinating: I'll give up smoking one day, but just not yet, I'll have children one day but not right now, I'll sleep when I am dead etc.

I went to the gynecologist the other day to find out whether it's just my breasts or perhaps there is something really wrong with my uterus as well.

She wanted to know if I was pregnant. I laughed. She also asked if I was trying for children. I laughed again. I guess that she sees more pregnant women that women in their thirties with no real gynecological issue, but the hypochondria in their head. She did ask to see if I wasn't pregnant and I found myself looking at the sample of urine wondering what if I was pregnant... I also noticed a slight disappointment when the confirmation came. No, I wasn't pregnant...

I still don't have the official confirmation of what's wrong with me, but it seems that my lumps are of hormonal origin and the result of me not having had children yet. I guess that there is something really wrong with the world today... Socially, it is becoming more and more of a normality to see single childless women in their 30's and even 40's, however biologically, we are being told off...

Yes, I do find myself looking at children on the street and yes, maybe I did give up smoking thinking about the child I don't have yet...Apparently I have a nice womb...

Carpe Diem

2010-10-24T15:55:00.000-07:00

Fear... Fear is the worst enemy of humanity. Of my humanity...

Fear eats me alive and makes me sick to the point of throwing up... I contemplate death and the idea of my non-being scares me to madness. As a human being, I realize how irrational I can be.

A couple of days ago, I decided to go and get the doctor to check some strange pain I felt in my breasts for a couple of weeks. I was sure he would just tell me there was nothing to worry about and just send me home with some paracetamol. He looked at me blankly and said I had lumps on both sides and that I should get them checked. Although that was probably the most reasonable thing to say in the world, I felt as if he was signing my death sentence... I went out of the clinic's door and couldn't shake off the idea I was going to die...I went to work and everything felt surreal. I wasn't there... It was Friday and all I thought about was how was I going to live until I get checked... To try and calm myself down I went to the yoga class at my gym but everything went from bad to worse.

I went to the gym, took off my clothes and started to fold them nicely as in a very important ritual. I suddenly had an image about my uncle's pijamas when he was in the hospital, before he died and I remember thinking that soon the pijama will lie untouched as he will no longer be around... A fear overtook me and I started to cry in the middle of the changing room. I looked at my clothes and a sinister idea took shape. I tried to ignore it and went into the studio. As I was performing down facing dogs and warrior ones, I looked at my body and felt an incredible love for it. I contemplated my hands moving in the air as if they weren't mine and wanted to squeeze them tight, kiss them and hold on to them for as long as possible, as if I had to say good bye to them...

On my way home, I saw a woman with a baby in a buggie. I felt I ran out of air and dashed out of the tube hyperventilating and crying at the same time. I felt I was going to die right then and there... I cried thinking that I was going to die and I was going to die alone... It wasn't until later on that night when I managed to recover a bit of my rationality.

I was told that I was probably still dealing with the sudden loss of my uncle. I remember that I had bought some parsley while he was in the hospital and kept it in water. When he died, the parsely was still in the glass of water. I remember thinking that even the parsley lived longer than him...

I guess I am dealing with a very strong irrational fear. I strongly love life and I would do anything to hold on to it. But then again, who wouldn't?... We would all give anything to live, we would all realize we would have wished to live our lives better, more intensley, more importantly... Carpe Diem has become almost a cliche and we all live away telling each other over a glass of wine "Life is short!" but how many of us really believe it? We all bloody think we're going to live forever...

How do I deal with my fear? I do what I can... I pray... I go out and see my friends... I go to the Opera. I go climbing and I make sure I reach the top even though I am scared of heights. I try and be brave and tell myself I will be all right against all my irrational instincts that almost make me faint of worry... I tell myself that if I am given the chance to life, I will make sure I will waste no time and love every minute of it.

I have never really liked my breasts. Too big, to heavy, not perky enough. But you know what, I love them more than anything right now and I pray for them. I promise to never think a bad thought about them ever again!

Oh, and one more thing: fear made me stop smoking!! So maybe there is something good out of this after all...

Being single

2010-10-17T13:50:00.000-07:00

I have been single almost all my life. With the exception of a 4 years long relationship, which ended almost 3 years ago. But that's probably the exception that proves the rule, as they say.

In high school, I never had a boyfriend. I told myself I was a bit of a misfit and preferred to spend my week-ends reading literature than going out to the local disco (which, truth be told, was a real dump). I didn't lose my virginity in high school, which is probably a good thing. Not that it changed much - I was a bit of a naive late bloomer by the time I was in my twenties. Perhaps it would have been better if I started the dating game earlier. I would have been more equipped and probably looking back I would have been easier on myself, cutting myself some slack on the account of having been really young and immature.

But in reality things went a bit in a different way. I found myself in my twenties, knowing next to nothing when it came to boys. All I knew about them was that I liked them. Thank God, I was no lesbian! Everything else, was really wrong! I couldn't see bad news coming my way, even if they had it tattooed on their forehead. I was so blissfully unaware of the fact that things didn't happen like in fairy tales and that there were dating rules to follow and a commonly agreed coding system, that I truly believed that if a guy liked me, then he probably had the noblest intentions. And I suffered! I suffered profusely every time I got hurt. And I kept asking myself what was going wrong, without the faintest clue...I had such a bad impression of myself that I was terribly grateful to anyone that found me attractive. I didn't recognized my own power, even if it hit me in the face with a hammer.

So I remained single for most of my early twenties, until somebody decided I was girlfriend material. I didn't quite have a say in that, I just accepted it. For some reason, I used to think that things should just happen to me and I should just take them. Not for one second, did it crossed my mind that I could have a say in my love life.

After a few years, I realized that I wasn't quite happy and decided to take a risk and be single again. After all, I was in my late twenties and I should have known better by then. A couple of years later and I found myself making the same mistakes I used to make when I barely knew how to kiss. So it turned out that many years later, I was still as disabled as I was in my teens. Staggered by a string of disappointments, I kept crying myself to sleep and becoming less and less hopeful. I thought I would end up alone...

Strangely enough, I have spent such a long time being single, without learning how to be single and enjoy it. Having a conversation and a mouthful of chocolate with one of my closest friends the other day, I had a revelation. Actually two: 1) that too much chocolate can make you sick and 2) that I have only really been single for a year. Yes, that's right. He suggested that I have been single for two (not too mention all the other years before that) and that only in the last year I started to want to have a relationship (so beacause I wasn't supposedly looking for a relationship before, it doesn't count as being single!?), when in reality, ever since I have known myself, I wanted to be with someone. It was the idea of being in a relationship (some kind of childhood trauma, I am sure) that excited me, rather than being with someone because of who that someone was... Does it make sense? I was chasing a dream, a chimera, a notion. I wanted it so badly and at the same time, I wanted it to come my way, nice and easy. And all this time, I have forced myself to get something that was virtually impossible.

In fact, for about a year now, I have really started being single. I have given myself time, thought, care, I spent time with myself, I thought a lot, I got to know myself, I did things I enjoyed, I spent time with friends that are dear to me, I have improved the quality of my time, prioritized, went up in my career, travelled, exercised, ate goo food, went to see good movies, laughed a lot, flirted, enjoyed. Anything that came my way. And only since then, I realized I was ready to share all that with a special someone. And I have also realized that I am in no hurry. I want to find that person that will take me as a whole and live life with me, without pressure, with fun and excitement and peace. And I am giving myself time. Time to be single.

I'll take the Nice Guy!

2010-10-14T15:03:00.000-07:00

It's only when really important things happen in your life - like re-watching an old episode from Grey's Anatomy - when you realize how much you've changed.

I was deeply involved with watching an episode when Meredith has to choose between McDreamy who broke her heart and Finn, the vet that made her feel special, and she ends up choosing McDreamy. "Why, Oh, Why", I cry nearly choking on my thai curry. "Choose the Nice Guy!", I shout, still fully aware that not only I am watching a TV show (not real! d'oh), but I am watching an old episode and everything has already happened. I also remember that the first time I saw this particular episode, I was happy she chose Dr. McDreamy Shepherd. Because at the time, I believed in passionate love and butterflies in your tummy and some other pain inducing self-delusional crap.

And for those of you who also know a thing or two about Sex and The City, the same happened when Carrie had to choose between Aidan and Big. I cheered for Big all the way in the past, but now if I had to give Carrie a personal, honest and life changing advice, I'd say: "Go for the Nice Guy! Go for the guy that keeps you warm at night and makes you feel like you are the most important woman in the world and hurting you for whatever reason is absolutely inconceivable..."

But out of the TV drama and back to reality. Truth be told, it's probably the first time when I notice this shift in my attitude. I used to find nice guys boring and unsatisfactory. Because I used to dream about totally unrealistic and romantic stuff like: stargazing with my lover and talking about the meaning of life, reading poetry to each other naked, riding into the sunset on a motorbike, falling sleep under the stars, making love on the beach and all sorts of other semi-cliches, half nonsense projections. None of this idiotic daydreams ever happened, however plenty of unmet expectations and disappointment have come my way. And only because I was looking for the Bad Guy, the guy that was making my inside flutter and made me feel really special... for a day or two.

It's been a while though (thank God) since this type of characters have made an impression on me. I am pretty knowledgeable these days (nothing can beat experience, ey!) to be able to avoid them as much as I can. And as much as I am avoiding the "Look at me, I am so cool" type of character, I get more and more drawn towards the guy in the corner, that says nothing but means a lot!

And yes, you do get sometimes a combination of the two (or maybe a fake Nice Guy?...) and, yes, you do make a mistake thinking he was for real, because dating the Nice Guy isn't supposed to make you feel insecure and bad about yourself... And yes, there is nothing wrong with that since once again you are convinced that only the Nice Guy is the real thing... Because the Nice Guy will only take out the best in you and love you (as Darcy nicely puts it in front of Bridget - yes, another film!) just the way you are...

Breathe away

2010-10-03T15:17:00.000-07:00

I light another cigarette and breathe the smoke deep into my lungs. I know it's not good for me. I also know I badly want it. As if I try to punish myself for something. Or as if I am trying to reproduce a cliche, maybe a scene from a movie. It all feels wrong but, hey, there are so many wrongs in my life that a lousy cigarette won't make a difference.

Guilt creeps in instantly because I remember the pleasure of breathing. I remember how I tried to concentrate on my breathing the night before and joy filled me together with the air coming in and out of my lungs. And then a sense of peace overcame me and for a few minutes I forgot my silly worries. I remembered that I was alive and that a whole future was still laid in front of me, unwritten and inviting. I remembered that no matter what, I am part of a plan that will take shape with or without me worrying about it...

However, now I am drinking a Mojito and really craving that cigarette. While I am puffing away, all the wondering came back and became stronger and stronger. What if, what if...

I throw the cigarette butt away, wanting to do the same with these stupid thoughts. I start wondering what colour my lungs would be by now... Then I think about "what if" again. Then I decide to think about something really trivial to take my mind off things and realize it isn't working.

I start breathing consciously and my lungs, my heart and myself really become one... I really wish I took more care of this precious body I was given. It really isn't mine to trash... I tell myself, yet again, that I won't be touching any more cigarettes from tomorrow!

Why would you get a cat if you really want a dog?

2010-10-02T06:12:00.000-07:00

I came across a very old post the other day about dogs. It was a funny post about me always seeing myself as an Eglish Bulldog kind of person and my annoyance at the fact that a dog compatibility website recommended me cocker spaniels and papillons (which I found at the time to be very ugly).

I have always loved dogs, I have loved them almost as frenetically as they love people. With dogs there are no hidden meanings, no ulterior motives, no reasoning, no arguing, just pure love. The kind of love that needs no justification and validation.

At this point though, I feel the need to explain a bit the term "love" and why I chose to use it in certain context. Some people might argue that Love is an absolute notion and it is what it is. Such as the love that a dog is feeling. It just is. Based on the fact that humans have a twisted way of "loving", I have decided to use the same word (and I apologise, as it is not entirely correct) - "love" - to describe a relationship between individuals (usually of the opposite sex, but not limited to) that have feelings of "love" (and now I am talking about the absolute notion) towards each other, but different other emotions associated with, such as fear, jealousy, too low or too high self-esteem, cruelty, distrust, desperation etc.

I have always wanted a dog because I am attracted by how dogs love. Their love is unconditional, pure, wholesome. I looked back at my old post feel amused by my superficiality towards Papillons. A dog is a dog...

Quite often I see myself trying to transfer my "dog love" into the human world and being remarkably unsuccessful into attaining what I am looking for. Is is perhaps because, as Miguel Ruiz was metaphorically wondering in "The Mastery of Love", if someone really wants a dog, why would they get a cat?...

I know it to be true (and more often than not I am completely blind to the obvious), but I would end up wanting someone who is not the person I imagine him to be and that will never change. I am just obstinately trying to train that person to be the dog I want him to be and getting really frustrated when that wouldn't happen. I would blame everything and everyone (but especially myself) for having failed, when in reality all I was trying to do was to change a cat into a dog...

Autumn smells of irreversible change

2010-09-26T13:31:00.000-07:00

I don't know when this summer has gone? I don't even know when September has gone...

All I know is that the air is getting crispy and, should it not rain, it is actually nice and refreshing. I like wearing woolly scarfs and big knits and smell the spicy air that suddenly reminds me of the change in seasons.

I always associate autumn with nostalgia and this season nostalgia is even more poignant. I realised that my life as I knew it until now has gone... Even when I compare my life now with how it looked merely a year ago, I am amazed by how different it is...

I used to take things lightly and lived only for nights out. These days I am worn out, I work a lot more and go out a lot less.

I do less with my week-ends and many of my friends are not accessible anymore.

Last year my family was still the same way I left it, this year we are one member short - my uncle passed away.

Most of the people I know are settling down or going away. I haven't yet managed to settle down nor went away.

I live in a different house than last year, but surprinsingly, I have the same haircut as I had around the same time last year.

I am finding it hard to say goodbye to my old perspective on life, but it seems that I can't fight the change. It is taking over...

Last year I found it difficult to spend a week-end without something to do or somewhere to go. This year I spend most of my free time alone, going to the cinema, window shopping or daydreaming by a mug of cappuccino. Not sure if it's necessarily a good thing, but I am getting accustomed to being by myself most of the time.

Last year I didn't think about Christmas, now I dread it. Unless I'll be home for Christmas, which is a question of snow and airport authorities.

Perhaps I learnt to let go since last year. I learnt to be a bit more patient and let things happen. I also learnt that I can't spend my life complaining.

The only thing that seems to stay the same year after year is the fact that I am by myself. With my only real love in life so far: my books...

(Which reminds me, I had a sad revelation on the tube the other day when I saw an ad for one of the E-books which said: "Think about the book you want to read and read it"... A book that it's only a touch of a button away...Not only that the pleasure of holding a real book might soon become history, but the idea that you can read any book you want at any time, appauls me. Where is the pleasure of going out there and get a book? Searching through the hundreds of used Amazon books and waiting for the postman to bring you the book you so wanted. Or spending hours in Waterstones marvelling at the books that look at you with a life of their own, feeling like a kid in the candy store...)

It smells of wet leafs and Lemsip. But I can't complain. I had a good year.

Perhaps change is not such a bad thing after all.

Remember the forgotten

2010-09-18T16:08:00.000-07:00

Forgetting...One of the most merciful qualities of the human being... If we didn't forget, we would carry around millions of images from the past, making us drag through our days distracted by the heaviness of memories.

But what do you do when you are trying to remember. And more importantly, what do you do when you are trying to remember something that you wanted to forget and buried it down in the subconscious? What do you do when you are shovelling through layers of memories and realize that the past almost has a life of its own that is no longer yours...

I woke up in the middle of the night a few nights ago and startled at remembering certain things. I realized then how hard I tried to bury all of them somewhere where nobody can ever find them, especially myself. I wanted to forget and start anew but something always triggers them coming back to life and haunt me. They say we all have certain patterns and by identifying bad habits and avoiding them, we may be able to escape the curse of falling in the same traps over and over again. But scooping back through memories is a hard task especially when youbelieve that no matter what you do, there's no avoidance falling in the same holes. As if it's already been written in your DNA.

Being in denial however, doesn't put a stop to making the same mistakes. I used to be completely oblivious to the implications of bad habits that root from deep inside our beings. When I realized that I had to take trips into the darkness of my own undesired memories, I took a great step towards a possible redemption. But being in the process of identifying the triggers and looking for possible solutions is a scary place to be. I might decide I want to forget all about it...

Walking the line

2010-09-02T15:37:00.000-07:00

I don't suppose it's totally abnormal for me to go back and re-read my own old posts. I sometimes lose faith in what I have said in the past and need to refresh my position.
It is certainly not easy to walk the line every single day. It is instead so easy to get distracted from the clear goal of your existence and start believing all those rumours in your head. I know, I do it every day...
I tell myself sometimes that I am not happy when I have absolutely no reason not to be. I also tell myself that I am not smart enough when all it takes is just a bit of concentration. I tell myself some days that I don't look pretty enough when all it takes is a large smile and a bit of make-up. I sometimes believe that I don't like certain people when they haven't actually wronged my in any way. It's all those rumours in my head. It's all those voices I hear everyday and that I chose to listen to.
That's why it's not unusual for me to seek guidance from my own words. I do believe that we are not necessarily the owners of our ideas, but a medium through which they come alive. And it probably takes a certain frequency of thoughts to be able to receive the great ideas and a clean soul to express them as accurately and as beautifully as possible. Perhaps today is one of those days. When I chose to listen to my heart who is kind to me and forgiving. Perhaps it's a cry for help and by expressing it I already find the power to keep walking the straight line. I can only hope to keep forgiving my mistakes, making less of them and adding more inspiration to my stream of thoughts.
If anyone out there finds a bit of good advice in here, then you're not the only ones: I do as well... And I don't even find that strange at all...

The mathematics of existence

2010-08-23T15:58:00.000-07:00

You know you have made an important step towards happiness when you can slow your pace down and even let go of things... One of the principle of Buddhism is to avoid getting attached to things/people as we are not the owners of them. We are only the owners of our feelings towards that thing or person and the only thing we can do is enjoy and rejoice in its memory, once it's gone...

Milan Kundera said in Slowness that speed is directly proportional with the power of forgetting and that slowness is directly proportional with the memory. We live in world where the speed is a sine qua non quality, but does this makes us a generation of amnesiacs?... Quite possibly so.

He calles this relation between speed and forgetting, and slowness and memory the existential mathematics and I tend to believe it is true.

In order to ensure the balance of the life equation we must foremost take things slowly, breath into the present (like in Yoga) and rely on the the stability of the memory rather than expect things to turn a certain way to avoid disappointment.

I noticed that most of my past frustration was generated by the impatience I was treating every situation with. I wanted answers right then and there, I wanted things to happen then and there, I wanted results there and then. Nowadays I have learned that it is far more pleasant to place the seeds of future circumstances and pick the riped fruits only when they are perfectly ready to be enjoyed, at their peak.

I noticed that the level of my patience is directly proportional with the satisfaction I get afterwards and I found out that I finally learned to let go. I can always rely on the strongest memories and indulge in them really slowly...

Where the truth lies...

2010-08-12T14:46:00.000-07:00

The truth is that after turning 30, I started seeing the world with different eyes... It wasn't that before I wasn't aware of my surroundings, but as if by magic, I was able to look at my life objectively, as if stepping out of my body and contemplating it, rather than being stuck in it.

There is a lot of scientific evidence to explain the reasons why it happened and I am also not falling short of mystical ways of coming up with conclusions.

Reading this week's Stylist, I came across an interesting article about "quarter life crisis" and why so many brilliant musicians died aged 27. It seems that turning 27 can mark a turbulent time for people, with the brain going through an interesting transformation around that age. According to Dr. Daniel G Amen quoted in the article, a process called "myelination" occurs and nerve cells are being wrapped in myelin to provide insulation. If the process is disrupted with drink or/and drugs, the person is more vulnerable to depression and impulsive actions. Which brings me to the subject of depression...

Depression is a disease, a biological condition that affects the brain and it can be triggered by events, lifestyle choices, or genetic factors (though not very commonly). Sometimes it is something that builds up over time and it can, why not, start during childhood and erupt when the person is already an adult. Depression has been treated lightly and generally people have perceived it as a weakness rather than what it really is: a disease. The subject is, in certain cultures, quite a taboo.

According to the Toltec Master Don Miguel Ruiz, we are born perfect, happy and intact, but from the moment we learn how to speak and understand the power of the words, we start building up a "tree of knowledge" in our brain, that is made of common beliefs fed to us by parents, relatives, teachers, public figures etc. These common beliefs are not necessarily true (the author actually calls them lies) and we use them to make sense of life and produce judgements. So far it doesn't sound so bad, but the main concern of believing in the Tree of Knowledge is that it comes with a distorted image of the self: we should be like this, but we're not. We grow up with the image of perfection of what we should be and we're not, denying the reality that we are already born perfect.

Many cases of depression are triggered by this "I should be happy, but I'm not", "I should be rich, but I'm not", "I should be beautiful, but I'm not", "I should have children but I don't", "I should be married, but I'm not", "I should be free, but I am not" and the list is infinite.

This is the territory where science and mysticism meet. Depression episodes can be treated with chemicals, but the long time management of this fearful enemy, must be handed in to the people preaching inner happiness as a sine qua non condition for living a long and depression free life.

I have been depressed on this blog one too many times. If I hadn't, I probably would have ended up taking anti-depressants sooner or later... If I am to believe myself (though according to Don Miguel Ruiz, we shouldn't believe ourselves as we tend to proliferate lies from the Tree of Knowledge), I will reach this conclusion: I have suffered from depression for a very long time, with many lapsing episodes, probably ever since I was a teenager. Depression has been one big constant in my life and, due to my understandable ignorance, I have always blamed external factors (things I didn't have, not being in a relationship, not having the perfect job, being a foreigner in this country,,the weather,anything I could have thought about really) for my mood swings and lack of living enthusiasm. Luckily I've survived through all that and being able to complain about it on this blog has proved cathartic, perhaps it even saved me from far worse scenarios. If I am to believe myself, reading and being spritual had given me a completely new perspective and perhaps I don't exaggerate in saying that it has offered me a second chance to life. Perhaps my brain stopped producing myelin as well and that, combined with an improved drinking habit, may be the reason why turning 30 has actually completely shifted my perception on life.

Or maybe none of the above. Who knows where the truth really lies... I may be full of lies picked up from the Tree of Knowledge. I know one thing to be the truth though: I am perfect!...

You are here and this is now

2010-08-06T16:08:00.000-07:00

One of my favourite books is "Life is elsewhere" by Milan Kundera. I love many authors and I hold many books dear, but Kundera has a really special place in my heart. There's something effortlessly elaborate about his digressions, about the way he not only raises important life questions, but it does it in a way that is neither simplistic nor too precious.
I felt attracted by "Life is elsewhere" straight from the title, almost as in a Jerry Maguire "You had me from hello" kind of way. Because the moment I saw that book I understood what was it that effectively drove me across Europe, what was it that made my decisions for me and what was it that made me see life in a blur when I could have seen it crystal clear from the very beginning. It was the fact that I have always believed that life was elsewhere...

When I was around 20 years old I invented this notion called "Authentic Moments". I realized back then that not all moments in life have the same intensity. Most of our days are dull and uninteresting but sometimes, when everything is right, when all the characters and the settings are aligned, when the planets are coordinated in such a way that you happen to be in the middle of it, right there and then, the moments become full of meaning, intense, there's a sense of plenitude and happines about those moments and they become authentic. I was quite proud of myself for having realized that and after reading a lot more since, I also realized that my idea of authenticity is not entirely new, it relates to the Existential Truth, the Idea, the pure notion of what life stands for, that is to be found in many philosophies and spiritualities.

The way this discovery has influenced my life is not without significance. From the day I reached this conclusion, I have set myself high standards: I expected my life to be as full of Authentic Moments as possible and I would get easily disapointed if that wouldn't happen. I started blaming my country and have decided, without a trace of regret, that life (with her plethora of authentic moments) was definitely elsewhere. And I set off looking for it. And the journey lasted for 7 years. It may very well be a magic number as, once the 7 years passed, I felt the pressure lifted off my shoulders and suddenly (perhaps suddenly, but surely not out of the blue, as I started reading and studying a lot about balance and inner peace quite a while ago) I realized I have been looking for life in the wrong place.

Life is here and now and it's not going off anywhere else. I won't find it on an exotic island more that I can find it right here in (windy these days) London. Life is always with me, wherever I go. It's not going away and it's not staying behind. It is with me all the time and by realizing that, I finally started living.

No wonder I was torn between going home and coming back to London without a resolution. I have always expected something to happen at home and put my mind at ease as much as I eagerly awaited the return to London in the hope that this time something great and magnificent was going to happen for me... The good news is: it doesn't matter. I can be anywhere in the world and life wouldn't be elsewhere - it would be with me.

And to prove that I mean every single word I am writing, is that, probably for the first time ever, I am not complaining about the London weather and I don't feel that I want to spend every day off in a different country, with different people, under different auspices. I am staying at home, quietly, with no pre-plans for the week-end and absolutely enjoying every minute of it! And my life has as many Authentic Moments as I want it to have, I can make myself as happy as I want and I am more excited about being alive and doing mundane things than I probably ever was. I can watch a romantic movie feeling warm and fuzzy inside instead of cynically thinking "that is never going to happen to me" and really looking forward to spend half a day tomorrow in a cafe all by myself with a large latte and a book of Spanish grammar. Life couldn't be closer than here and now!

Out with the old, in with the new

2010-08-01T11:57:00.000-07:00

There are periods in life when nearly everything changes. I have recently been through a gigantic "out with old, in with the new" stage and it feels as if I changed skins or refreshed my blood. It wasn't all pretty, some of the stuff were quite hard and I am surprised how well I coped with it all and somehow emerged stronger, calmer, wiser, healthier and, against certain circumstances, happier.

You normally expect this type of things to happen with the New Year resolutions period, but you never know when it hits. Perhaps when you are mentally ready to take the plunge. For me, everything was set, as if by a superior being, in such a way that every single step I took was a natural follow-up of the previous one...

First I changed jobs. I have felt an unsettling urge of such a change ever since the year started and I began feeling that professionally I wasn't going anywhere. As much as I loved working in my old place, I had to listen to my instincts and my gut feeling kept telling me I wasn't going to make it too far there. I changed jobs in May and, though heartbroken, I survived the shock of moving from an extremely fun environment and from an office in the vibrant Covent Garden area to a small office, on a residential street in Hammersmith, practically on the other side of the city. By changing jobs I took a bit of a industry change turn and I had to struggle to pick up on the specifics of the pharma and healthcare... Yet another sector I knew next to nothing about to add to my varied portfolio... Three months later and I am still trying hard to settle into everything but my objectives are much clearer now and I am grateful I managed to train my mind into putting things into their real perspective, rather than expecting an immediate satisfaction.

Then I had to move house. I calculated that in seven years of London, I moved house 8 times. So a little bit over a house per year. Apparently, according to some studies, moving house is one of the most stressful changes in a person's life. It is common knowledge also that the place where you live has to be a sort of a sanctuary where a person feels safe and enjoys moments of relaxation and calm, a retreat from the craziness of everyday living. 8 houses so far and none of them has been a real home to me. I find myself puzzled whenever on holiday whether it is worth me buying a souvenir I would just carry around London moving houses for the rest of my life... A need of a home is growing stronger by the day and I finally decided looking into buying. I don't know where to start yet and when it will be finished but I have finally agreed with myself that, in all fairness, London is my home now and I might as well have a home here after all...

In the meantime, I have found a lovely place to live, which ticks all my boxes (quiet, central, clean, modern, en-suite shower, great flatmates, safe and with an outside patio). Looking for a place to live was as expected the nightmare from hell and I felt much under pressure as moving out date was drawing closer, until I decided that compromise was not an option. I had to temporarily live at a friend's house until finding the right place and being able to move, but it was worth the wait and the effort. Luckily, I got by with a little help from my friends.

They say personal issues come from childhood and, though in the recent years I have learned to love myself and forgive myself and accept myself for what I am, perhaps residues of my self-inflicted self-loathe were still to be found floating around my molecules and decided to take a journey back to childhood and see what I would find. When back to Romania in July, I took a try and surrounded by familiar objects and the specific energy of the place, I lied on my back, closed my eyes and went back in time... I found a scared little me in a grey knitted suit (I remember that suit from a Polaroid photo taken many years ago in a hotel by a German tourist, which my mum had knitted for me) crying in the corner of our old apartment by the Black Sea, thinking that the future will never look bright again... I mentally took the child version of myself into my arms and assured myself that the future does look better and that it will all be all right. With tears running down my cheeks I have made peace with the past, allowing the present to unfold at its best.

Last but not least, a family medical emergency introduced me to the stress of being in and out of a London hospital, of looking the suffering in the face, and watching the painful spectacle of the human being deprived of dignity by the sickness. I had the chance to look around me and realize how incredibly lucky I am and stop looking at my petty worries as if there was no tomorrow...I know I should have done it a long time ago, but there is no better way of acknowledgment as seeing it with your own eyes... I also had a chance to reflect a lot about the algorithm of suffering and eventually I could only reach one conclusion: there is no logic to why some people suffer more than others, why some live happy fulfilling lives and others have nothing to eat, why some live to see 100 and others die of cancer, and the only way to fight this "injustice" is to properly celebrate every single day of life for what it is - a miracle and a blessing!

So this is me now, with a new vision and a new plan. To be happy! No matter what. To look at my life and say: I did all right! To look at my problems and say: will I really care about this a few months from now?... To acknowledge what I want and patiently wait for it to come my way without being frustrated for not having it on the spot. To spend more time with the loved ones and tell them more often that I love them. To love. Everything and everyone around me. It's the only way...

When asked recently how do I manage with so many changes I stopped a bit and thought about it. Then I said: I got used to change...

Ghosting with High Fidelity on The Beach

2010-07-28T15:25:00.000-07:00

My favourite reads of the last few months have probably come into my life with some kind of reason...

It started with The Beach of Alex Garland, which I have read after coming back from Thailand. I didn't devour it as it was dense and tense, and rough and spicy, and exotic and random, and funny and cruel... But I loved it. I specifically remember the bit about the amnesic effect of the beach (when you are in paradise, you forget all about the world, all about your family and friends, all about your normal desires and it all becomes a needless state of beatific reality) and how little it had in common with the movie.

Accidentally, High Fidelity of Nick Hornby fell into my hands and filled my commute with laughter. I read it with a bit too much haste, but I couldn't help myself. It was as good as a cupcake with a large latte. Actually no, make it black coffee with no sugar - a bit of bitter sweet unromanticised love drama... Nothing to do with the movie at all...

I found Jennie Erdall's Ghosting in the Pound Shop. Thought that would be a random buy. But it turned out to be a good book, which reminds me of my own aspirations to write... It is a beautifully written tale, with deliciously chosen words, which unfolds as a unobtrusive melody and really make me think of how little I know about writing still...

I wonder what do they all mean in my life?... The Beach talks about a spoiled paradise and how futile is to believe in recreating a perfect society in a dream location, advising us to just go back to living our normal lives - we're better off. Hugh Fidelity talks about settling/or not in a relationship... And about music and a lot of pathetic stuff. Ghosting talks about writing and how everyone should write for themselves. I am still to find out their meaning in my life. Perhaps there isn't any. Perhaps they are just wonderful books that make my life a little bit better!...

When everything is starting to make sense

2010-06-28T13:12:00.000-07:00

I find myself sometimes thinking about things. Surely spending time alone has helped. It was the kind of period when I kpt on cleansing myself. Sometimes when life's too busy, you realize you carry so much waste around, simply because there is no time to discard it and with people always around, it's a hard thing to do. These days I feel like I'm going through all sorts of stages and every day brings me closer to where it want to be.

I now look back at my life and realize I am the kind of person who believes in one great love, the kind of person that truly believes in a life long relationship and wants it with such a passion that it sometimes seems unreal, the kind of person that has always wanted that. Some people marry young, due to circumstances or simply because they didn't know any better, and by the time they're in their 40s, they want out of that marriage. They secretly wish to live the single life, unattached, sleep with different people anytime without a sense of responsibility, they want to taste life for themselves, they want to find out who they are. Ever since I can remember, I wanted to be in a relationship, I wanted somebody by my side, to make me feel less ugly, less undesirable, less disatvantaged, I suppose I secretly wanted a father figure to give me the sense of security I've never had when I grew up. Somehow, I never got what I wanted, but the kind of life other people may wish for: freedom and total flexibility (they only things I own are my clothes and my shoe collection..). I now find myself at 30 years of age looking at other people and wondering how do they do it? How do they meet? How do they decide they are made for one another and decide to share lives? I am dumbfound by the mistery. And even after so many years of going through a lot by myself, of having proved to myself that I am capable of being my own father figure, I still look at young couples on the street wondering how come they found eachother the same way I used to look at other kids' fathers thinking how come they were so nice...

I try to believe that my hippie existence has a higher meaning and that I must use my flexibility as best as I can, but all I secretely wish for is a lovely little house and a bunch of kids... Oh but I bet that once I have that, I'll be running away to South America to try and save the rain forest, or at least what's left of it... By trying to bring the stability he has never offered me into my life and not finding it, I am afraid I have become my father. A restless soul, never happy, never really free...

(Disclaimer: these recent posts are a mix between reality and a study for future writing. Do not take it all seriously, don't call the ambulance, I am not mad :) not yet... )

Tonight I'm staying in!

2010-06-25T13:27:00.000-07:00

It's Friday night and London's been blessed with amazing sunny days. On an amazingly warm Friday night, one would just about look forward to the end of the working day to hit the nearest pub and have late night with friends or workmates.

I must admit that I felt terribly inclined to do the same. Despite the tiredness of the past week (packing, moving, cleaning and, oh, on top of that, working!), I fancied the idea of going out drinking this Friday night and carry on with an activity that has since long become a habit or perhaps even a lifestyle. When I realized that feeling the need to go drinking, getting attention and messing about has become something of a necessity, I decided it was time for detox. That's right, a Friday night in all by myself, watching TV, writing or even dinking a cider, while writing in front of the TV, nevermind; reflecting upon all the things that make me feel needy, and insecure, and unstable and jumpy, and incosistent. I decided it was time to lock myself up and try to exorcize all the demons that have haunted me lately, get a bit of hold on myself and regain control upon my actions and feelings.

I still feel that I want to be out there, bantering with people I know or total strangers, be flirty and outrageous and do things I will surely regret the next day. So what if I have one too many drinks? - it's Friday! But tonight, I'm staying in! I am not sure I don't want to be out there, but I am sure I must do something about mental integrity. Changing job, moving house, hasn't been quite easy on me and I felt really restless and highly insecure. Drinking hasn't helped in the least. I am taking the mature way out of insecurity and try again. I hope to emerge stronger. I have no choice...

Living with Death

2010-06-22T15:17:00.000-07:00

I keep my side of the escalator, holding tight to the gripping rubber. Sometimes at the rush hour on your way to work, you don't have much time to think about. You have to appreciate the posibility of sneaking into the Central Line overcrowded carriage just about the time when everyone else has already given up and mentally calculate how many minutes you'll be late today. You feel rather cheerful that you might be late actually only about 5 minutes, which is an achievement. Being constanly late at work is a sign of lack of excitement and I already know it in my heart that I ain't looking forward to much. Not even that large Costa latte as I am again obviously late.

I am keeping my side of the escalator looking at the faces passing me by in the opposite direction. Somehow I get to thinking that all of these people passing in front of my eyes will all be dead one day. It almost smelt of fresh corpses... I stopped for a moment to think of why in the world such thoughts occur and what I realize is that I am filling my lungs with air (to be fair, not the freshest air but air nevertheless) and try feel that air coming in and out of my lungs as if that would ensure my immortality. These days I find breathing a wonderful way of reminding myself I am alive.

I think of all the people that may be filling their lungs with the same or at least similar air and perhaps with the conscience that their future is a matter of days rather than a matter of years. How do you do it then? How do you carry on living when you know you are going to die? How do people think when Death is imminent?... I have always found conforting the fact that the future may be yet an unwriten page and I wonder what do you do when you know your future's been already written?...Perhaps by a doctor's hand writing down a diagnostic... What do you do first? Cry, scream, be angry, deny it, start running, fall on your knees, pray to
God, hope?...

It's funny how we don't manage to be able to acknowledge death.. Death has been given to us at birth and somehow we live our lives as if we are supposed to live forever, as if one day things will turn out the way we want it and all we have to do and sit around and wait for that amazing future to happen. What if it doesn't? What if we wake up one day and notice our time's up? Do we regret not having spent our lives better? Not having made fools of ourselves and pursue our silly little dreams, send those flowers to that person we are in love with, not having told the loved ones enough times how much we love them, not having closed our eyes when breathing in an out and be paralized with the happiness of being alive.
I keep my side of the escalator and look blankly at the advertising passing by. One day, different people will buy different things. For now, we are the ones alive!

Hunting for life

2010-06-20T14:15:00.000-07:00

Flat hunting, job hunting, dating, it's all the same. Important, terribly exhausting and unsettling. Whether you're looking for the perfect job, the perfect match or a decent room, it's all about whether you'll just take whatever comes your way or keep looking until you get what you want. And, boy, I have plenty of experience in all of these aspects. Though lately I have consumed all my energy on viewing rooms and coming home to the point of exhaustion that I am telling myself before going to bed that I can't possibly look at any flats anymore and tell the story of my life for the hundredth time in a row, I know I have no choice but to keep on looking. And sadly it's the same in all the other aspects, though sometimes you simply feel you just have to give up.

The truth is no matter how much you liked a place a people that live in the house, you'll be waiting for a call back from them the same way you might be biting your nails waiting for that guy you really liked to follow up on your date. Or it may be the case that you get desperate calls from a household asking you to make up your mind and move in as soon as possible, the same way you are trying to convince a guy to stop pestering you. Or it may be that as much as the flat is nice, you just don't like the area and, the same way you had to refuse a job in Leeds a year ago, you'll have to pass on this one as well. And when you thought the sky will collapse on you and you'll find yourself on the street with a million boxes that basically summarize your life so far..., a friend or two step in to give you shelter while you are still looking for that place which you can call home, even if it's just for the next 6 months or so...

They say a person's happiness is somewhere in the middle of a perfectly formed triangle where love, job and home/social side meet. No wonder I've been feeling so strange these days: I have a new job which I am still adjusting to, no place to live and, unsurprisingly, no man in my life. No wonder I am unsettled considering I am running around in circles in the middle of nowhere, not even close to the life triangle, not to mention in the middle of it...

But thankfully, I have friends to get support and help from and, though the road keeps getting bumpier, my vital engine keeps getting stronger to make sure I'll get there someday. And if I have learned anything since I've started wining on this blog is that worrying is useless, things will work out one day, one way or another. You just have to keep on hunting. For a room. For a job. For love.

It's nice to be in Nice but it's so much nicer to be back...

2010-06-13T15:29:00.000-07:00

Before starting this new post I wondered why google posted links about products that help with smelly feet... Sure that nothing I have written before had anything to do with sweaty soles, I decided to plunge into the subject o fthe day and start by saying it's nice to be in Nice, but God I am thankful that I live in London.

There has always been something about the French Riviera that has fascinated me since I was a child. From Brigitte Bardot movies and the decadent 70's style to Louis de Funes and his Gendarmes series, from Nice to Marseille and of course, Saint Tropez and Monte Carlo, that part of the world has played quite a remarkable role in the way I define my style today, altough I only set foot in Nice for the first time on Thursday this week.

Not that I thought I would find streets paved with gold and coquette mademoiselles wearing a head scarf and oversized Chanel sunglasses while driving a convertible, but Nice of today had nothing to make me go wow! What I found in Nice was that people had an annoying tendency to shush us everytime we had a conversation that could be heard, that restaurants hosts don't feel the need to explain why they let us waiting for 10 minutes before bothering to ask what we needed, that ocassionaly shoe shop assitants gave us the frown when asked to bring a shoe in a different size and that the beach is covered in pebbles that in all honesty hurt your feet so much when walking that it makes one forget all about the ice cold water.

However, what else I found in Nice was that in good company, every place in the world is a joy, that the plat du jour is undoubtfully the best meal choice, that my French is actually pretty decent, that the sun can be really pleasant even when lying on stones and that generally speaking I am absolutely grateful to be living in London, the city where you never get shushed, the place where you have the luxury to complain if you don't get served the way you should be, where people are generally friendly to people with an accent and where from I get to go away to the French Riviera everytime I feel like it and bring only the best back with me...

2010-05-15T14:25:00.000-07:00

For a very long time, I felt that I had so many issues and so much unfinished business with myself that I had to write it down and put it on this blog as a form of possible therapy. These days, I feel that I have made peace with myself in so many ways and somehow this helps my disposition to writing. I think that since I kind of managed to be in control of reality, I may be able to start making fiction...

Nostalgia

2010-05-11T13:44:00.000-07:00

This week I started a new job. It is a really lovely place with really lovely people and I feel that my life there will be a very good one. I know I have made the best career decision and I know that since, after just two days, I am hands on with one of my accounts.

Still I can't really explain the tears that just won't stop running down my cheeks, smudging my make-up and blocking my nose to the point of making my breathing close to impossible. I am crying for a very long time and when I think I am ready to stop I remember what made me cry and I start shedding tears all over again.

This is a post I am dedicating to Hogarth, the company I have just left. I can't stop crying because I remember that in this company I was genuinely happy. It is without a doubt the first place in my entire working life where I was truly happy. I did enjoy waking up in the morning, putting on something nice to wear, meticulously applying my make-up and feeling like a million dollars every day while walking down Shaftesbury avenue from High Holborn, sometimes stopping to pick up a cappuccino on my way and walking on air, feeling fabulous. I did enjoy the company of so many wonderful people which I dare to say they are my friends and if there is anything I can do about it, they will stay this way. I did enjoy the feeling I had of looking forward for every single day.

I cry because I am ultimately an extremely social being and Hogarth has provided me with the best social environment and has made me bloom and boost my self confidence and repossessed me with a new thirst for life and love for people.

Yes, I cry. I cry because it finally kicks in that it is now over and I can never turn back the time. I cry because I am fully aware of my decision of accepting to go somewhere else and I stand by my decision, but I guess that I need to mourn a bit over what were the most happy 10 months of my working life and I guess it is not as easy to let go of memories as I thought. I am human after all and still amazed by how time is something that just keeps on running and sometimes it leaves scars. Or really wonderful memories...

Here comes the next chapter

2010-05-01T16:14:00.000-07:00

It came sooner than I thought, sooner than I even planned. After only nine months in my curent job, I have received another job offer and before I knew it, I was saying goodbye to all the lovely people I had the blessing of working with and making it all official, I realized there was no turning back. Not that I wanted to turn back but an ending chaper always requires a moment to take it all in, a few embarassing tears and that split second thought of, what if I am no doing the right thing. Somehow I trust my lucky star that no matter what I am doing the right thing. Not even once I had taken a job regretting it afterwards, nor did any of my jobs represented anything else than a step forward.
I gave myself a few days in between to get my mind set for the new chapter and after serious debating with myself I reached a serious and very important conclusion: instead of running away as I always do whenever I have a few days off, I decided to stay in London and come sunshine or rain, make the absolute most of my time before starting the new job. I am pleased with my resolution and I am pleased with my mind set. It all kicked off today with a pub crawl in Camden under pouring rain, which, believe it or not, was a fun thing to do and, despite me being completely soaked, I did have a wonderful time and still got home before midnight. In normal circumstances I'd find this pretty depressing, but it certainly looks like a new and improved version of myself is getting ready to write the next chapter. Bring it on!

The Nature speaks

2010-04-19T15:18:00.000-07:00

Eyjafjallajokull sounds like a Scandinavian deity. Actually I have no idea how it sounds like but they way it's written makes me think of a God with mad eyebrows and a scary frown. The famous Icelandic volcano that put a stop to flying in the last few days makes me think of how sometimes Nature decides to show us who is really in charge on this planet.
We forget that flying planes is a luxury that allows millions of travellers to wander around the world and take over. Planes are to blame for the herds of post-hippie wannabe travellers that I so loathe, planes make globalisation possible and have brought the world into the crazed pace that has finally been stopped if only for a few days. I feel sorry for all the people stranded somewehere in the world, maybe in a place they want to leave behind as soon as possible or maybe in a place where they had a wonderful time but is no longer welcoming. Everyone is trying to get somewhere simply because it is possible. If flying wasn't an option I wonder if we didn't prioritize our lives differently, if we tought it would be that easy to leave everything behind and just leave somewhere, anywhere...
The way the world is structured today it makes it impossible to live without planes, internet and mobile phones. It makes you wonder what would really happen if we didn't have them anymore. Would we still manage, would we be more creative, more attentive to the world around us? It may be that it is all about the journey and not the destination...

The real New Me

2010-04-14T14:18:00.000-07:00

I find myself in a New ME. I don't know when it exactly happened and I don't know why but all I can think about is that I am most grateful that I have finally put on the methaporical clothes of the New ME.

It is a New ME, but it's the newest of them all. I've had many New MEs especially lately and each and every one of them added new layers of good to my aura and scrapped away little by little the residues of sadness, shame, cowardice, disappointment, tears, fear and insecurity. Every New Me smoothed the path to the Newest ME, the one I am today.

The ME I am today suddenly feels that she no longer has needs and expectations from other people or from the outside world, but she makes things happen. She finally understands that unless she knows herself and accepts herself with all the wonderful things that are within, along with all the shameful and regrettable things that belong to her as well, she will never be able to truly love and enjoy life. She feels full of forgiveness and understanding. She feels sure of what she knows and no longer afraid. She knows that life is purely what you make of it and she wants to make it a blessing. She wakes up in the morning being grateful for her health and her luck and walks away thinking of how to make things better.

The New ME is no longer suffering and sees things with an incredible clarity. She is not afraid of not meeting the right person because she is perfectly equipped with recognizing him. The New Me is happy with the little things in life and trusts that her destiny will be fulfilled at the right time and knows that things in life sooner or later fall into place. I like the New ME.

Looking for the exotic

2010-04-13T10:14:00.000-07:00

The famous "Beach". When I saw this movie back when it was first released, I didn't even dream there will be a day I'd actually be stepping with my own feet on that white sand and actually be in that exotic world that seemed as far away as if almost on another planet.

But truth be told, the exotic IS on another planet.The Exotic has always represented that romantic dream of the "civilised" yearning for that land that is not only different than anything else, but perhaps bearing secrets the same way Fantasia did in "Neverending Story" or helping people discover things about themselves they never knew they existed. The Exotic is that place (sometimes I ever wonder if it's real or just the fruit of our imagination) that puts us in touch with our divine core and make us think things that make everything suddenly feel real and wholesome.

I saw "The Beach" for the 5th or 6th time last night. I watched it after coming back from Thailand first time two years ago and I have seen it now again. I have been looking over and over again at the holidays photos and now I feel compelled to see movies like "The Beach" to keep the exotic alive.

I am stepping on concrete sidewalks and breathing the fumes of the passing by cars, while trying to remember the sensation of the sand on my bare feet and the salty smell of the hot air caressing a skin that's never been happier. I am wearing high heels and fashion seems as useless as a paper hat under pouring rain. I am trying to find ways to keep myself happy in an urban world, but all I am thinking about is how to get away and reach the Exotic.

The more I think about, the more it feels like I am an amateur esoteric reader trying to find the philosophical stone that even the wisest of alchemists weren't able to grasp. I think of a world where nature is pure and unspoilt and the herds of stupid travellers don't exist, but the reality is that countries that posses the Exotic must survive by allowing these herds into spoiling the magic of it... I dream of a world where I can go and feel complete and free and new, but the reality is I will be exactly the same wherever I will find myself in this world and I MUST keep myself as happy as I can possibly be in the absence of the Exotic, even if by this I will have to pretend I live in a different place, even if I must construct my own Exotic bubble and walk the concrete sidewalks wearing a thai jasmin scented aura while remembering that superb feeling that took me over while passing my bare feet through the whitest sand I've ever seen...

Sunset on the sea

2010-04-07T15:06:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago I was lying on one of the very civilised chaise-longues on Kata Beach in Phuket when I decided to lie there a little bit longer and watch the sun set. It was still weird watching the sun set at 6pm...
I read a few pages of my book and suddenly I saw it all happening. The sea was particularly restless that day, wavy and unsettled, singing its ever admirable song while caressing the sand. I found myself dumbfound while looking at the flaming disk attempting to approach the sea with an impossible slowness. I concentrated all my senses to carve that moment in my memory forever: I tried to look intensley at the falling sun, listen to the humming of the sea and the birds chirping in the background, smell the salty air and try to figure out why I had tears in my eyes.
I had tears in my eyes because I suddenly felt inundated by a deep happines that came from inside my being, from a place I didn't even know it existed, and realized that the most magnificent things in life are free.
There was a mixture of pure happiness and difuse sadness as I still heard a voice at the back of my mind reminding me that I was going to go back to London and not be able to enjoy a little something like a glorious sunset on the sea...

Bangkok

2010-04-05T14:45:00.001-07:00

I came back into Bangkok armed with patience and the knowledge of someone who's already been tricked. I was going to spend two days in Bangkok and give it another chance. I owed it to myself.
It turned out to be quite a smooth and pleasant experience. Not only I managed to avoid all the taxi touts at the airport and made my way one level down to public taxis, but the hotel where we were staying was nice and located on probably the nicest street in Bagkok - Rambuttri Street, just a few minutes away from the noisy Kao San Road.
Although I still didn't manage to see the "Big Budha" this time around either, I did enjoy a nice boat trip down the Chao Praya river an its canals, went around the Temple of Dawn and actually managed to fall in love with the city as it was, noisy, crazy, hot and somehow still very friendly. This time around I managed not to fall sick at the orgy of smells invading the streets and actually had a pad thai from a street vendor. Would I go back to Bangkok? It is definitely a city of hidden treasures which I can't even dream of having uncovered...

Post-Thailand / Pre-Easter thoughts

2010-04-01T16:21:00.000-07:00

I wondered for a while why it took me so long to write it all down. I guess I needed a few days to shake off the jet lag, get sadly reacquainted with the famous British weather and generally give myself some time to understand the kind of revelations the Thailand trip has offered me this time.

There were a lot of thoughts going through my head every day while I was out there and I even managed to write some of them down on a notebook I was carrying with me, but right now I don't wish to go into details (this will probably be discussed in a separate post). What I really want to communicate is that I returned from my trip "enlightened", liberated, wise ( for real this time) and with a clear mind set.

I owe some of this to the conversations I've had with Kendra. A lot of personal issues have been resolved either side and a lot I have learned while trekking through Chiang Mai forests, sleeping in a village with no electricity but items for sale, riding on the back of an elephant or kaiaking on the calm Andaman Sea under a red setting sun. I have asked myself a lot of questions and prayed for help to find the answers and maybe because it's Easter or maybe because it is simply the right time, but I feel that so many of these questions have found an answer already or at least it feels like I know which way to go to find them.

New Approach to Life

2010-03-10T15:15:00.000-08:00

I think that the new approach to life I was talking about on one of my Facebook statuses hit me like a falling star right in the head today while on the phone with my Mum, trying to convince her that I didn't know how the rest of my life was going to look like and that I needed some sort of something to call my own now before I completely lost myself and my mind...
It struck me! It struck me that this may have been my problem all along. That I have been picturing my life somehow taking the shape of a fairytale sooner or later, that I have always believed that one day I will meet my soulmate and that we will be happy ever after, that we will buy a home, and make babies, and travel, and do all the things families are supposed to do with other families, barbecues, dinners with friends, celebrate Christmas and Easter and Valentines Day and all those cheesy things that two people are supposed to share and make their own. In reality, who is there to guarantee me all that? On what sort of solid evidence do I base my expectations? Today I realized that I base all that on void and that I may actually end up alone...
For the first time in my life I looked Fate in the eyes and instead of falling apart with grief that all my dreams may never become true, I felt a huge relief. Some sort of inner peace took over me and I was finally able to let go of that self induced pressure I have been inflicting on myself all these years. I am not talking about ultimate surrender but essentially about the acceptance of a quite possible scenario. Instead of tormenting myself over when I will find that phantomatic soul mate (that I am probably just imagining) and finally start living, I can choose to look at my life and think: how can I make the most of it with what I have right now? I know some people will tell me that this is how they have been telling me to look at life, with no expectations, but let's be honest, as cynical as they want us to think they are, deep down, they crave for the same things as the rest of us.
I will have to look at my life as if I only have a few basic ingredients to make a consistent meal out of and really evaluate my chances to happiness if I were to spend the rest of my life alone. Right now, I wish I can find a solution to spend more time with the only person in this world that would give her own life for me, my Mother, to have a child (I am considering adoption), to have a home (this will be a tricky one, but I am sure I can find a way somehow) and really enjoy every day the way it is given to me without accusing myself anymore for having failed my own expectations, without scolding myself anymore for having made mistakes, without expecting something that may never happen... At least now I know what is my new approach to life and I didn't yet have to go far away to find it. It has been within me all along. I just had to listen to that feeble voice inside.

For all you wonderful women out there!

2010-03-09T15:31:00.000-08:00

8th of March - International Women's Day...

"International Women's Day (IWD) was honoured the first time in Austria, Denmark, Germany and Switzerland on 19 March 1911. More than one million women and men attended IWD rallies campaigning for women's rights to work, vote, be trained, to hold public office and end discrimination.
...
IWD is now an official holiday in China, Armenia, Russia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Bulgaria, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Macedonia, Moldova, Mongolia, Tajikistan, Ukraine, Uzbekistan and Vietnam." (Source www.internationalwomensday.com)

In Romania, 8th of March is also the unofficial Mother's day (most of the European Countries have a designated Mother's Day, but we seem to have failed to absorb this particular holiday). No longer a celebration of women's rights and power, 8th of March is nowadays more a celebration of femininity (if we can call it this way) when women expect flowers from their partners and some sort of manifestation of appreciation...

Sadly, this day (along with many other Romanian celebrations) means nothing to me anymore and I would have probably not mentioned it if somehow I didn't stop to observ how many wonderful women I know that have really not much to celebrate at all on 8th of March or any other day.

Needless to mention that I am part of this fabulous group of women, however I feel compelled to think about a few friends who have reached a certain age at the same time with me and who, as well as myself, have failed to fulfill their feminine nature: did not yet establish a family (nor even a partner/husband at least), go to the same job every day constantly wondering what is it that still keeps them going, don't have a home of their own, are beautiful, smart, cultured, funny, cynical and possibly hopeless, wonderful and magnificent as only women know how to be.

It is true that the opression of women having to start a family at a very young age, work day and night to care and provide for the family, live without affection from the little too fond of drinking husband, not looking after themselves, not knowing who they really were are far gone now. And we women of today do appreciate all that the mondern world is now offering... It only seems thought that essentially not much has changed... Today, having a family is harder that flying to the moon, finding a husband more difficult that performing brain surgery, afford a house as a single person (by the way, is it just me or society has not been made for single people?) more complicated that engineering it, having a say in the world as a single voice, more challenging than communicating through telepathy.

I am not going to say I hold any answers, or that I found the secret to successful living because I am comfronted with the same fears everyday myself. All I can say is congratulations to all of you wonderful women out there who put on a dress, and make up and a pair of heels every day and keep on walking, though the road is bumpier than any of us thought at first, when we all thought we had it all figured out, when we all thought we had it all planned and somehow the plan just didn't work out...
Keep on walking!

2010-02-25T15:23:00.000-08:00

Funny how each day has its own destiny. Some days you wake up and you know you have a miserable journey ahead and some days you just know it's going to be glorious. It's as if life is being staged following a gigantic script and you're only an actor that must perform. You simply act and react to a cumulus of stimuli and you end up being amazed by how things unwind right in front of you.
Today I had a good day. The type of day when you feel fully awake, aware of your surroundings, like a scout on the look out, ready to react and make things happen. There is some sort of energy that it had been lent to you and you must try and make the most of it. And you do. Today I had one of those days and I wanted to make the most of it to the very end. And I did, and it will be a day that I will always remember as a benchmarking for the days when I will be asleep and will want to be awake as I am now even if it is almost midnight.
It hasn't rained all day until the evening when suddenly water started pouring down the city as if there were too many sins that needed to be washed away. People looked afraid of venturing out in the rain even under umbrellas, but I opened mine and started walking tall. Even in the rain, with my face half obscured by the umbrella, I would look at men passing by and give them an outrageously flirtatious look because I felt I could do it. I passed a guy and a girl each holding a newspaper above their heads and trying to hide next to a building. I could see his face, but the girl was totally buried under the wet pile of today's news and she looked like she wasn't having a good day. I looked at him and smiled, he smiled back. I had a thought right there and then: just because I was having a good day, he probably could find me seductive, but if he only knew how close to despair I was just a few days ago, he wouldn't even see me passing by. Or is it the other way around? Perhaps when we feel good, we spend more time over ourselves, being completely aware of our presence and somehow sending out signals to everyone else around. Or is it that when we are particularly interested in looking around, we notice people noticing us... One will never really know.

Nobody's wife

2010-02-24T15:41:00.001-08:00

She waited in the cold for the bus for a very long time. Started to wonder if the bus was ever going to come. Came to realize that saving £40 a month by using just buses wasn't such a good deal as she was wasting a lot of time. Pfff! What else would she do with her time though?...
The bus finally came and she went upstairs, found a seat and just blankly stared outside the window. Didn't feel like reading. Not tonight. The pain in the lower back was becoming more and more intrusive and the rain was pouring more and more agressively, furiously licking the bus windows. She tried to avoid thinking about it. Rain was becoming like the song that one hears so many times that it is not audible any longer. The only thing that made her aware of the rain was the fact that she was carrying a wet umbrella and a constant state of depression.
She had thought many times of what could be the cure for depression as sun wasn't something a Londoner could rely on and the only answer was someone in her life. Following some unwritten rules of society she had avoided thinking, expressing or admitting the fact that life was no longer worth living alone. Or maybe it was the society itself which was not designed for single people. Everything was achieavable as a couple, singles had to fight twice as hard. They even counted less in credit scoring calculations. Pfff!
Suddenly she found herself wanting to caress the man seated in front of her. He had dark blond short hair and quite an adorable pair of ears. She couldn't see his face but could easily spot the big bouquet of flowers he was holding with care. She felt as if her hands reached out and started to touch his head gently, and then she would move the tips of her fingers on the margins of his ears and... And if only she could release all that love she was holding inside even if she had to hand it in fully to a total stranger with an unknown face. She remembered how once she had caressed a guy's face and enjoyed that more than the actual sensual kissing they were comitting together. What a waste, she thought. What a waste. One day she'll burst and die... With nobody to give her love to...
The lower back pain moved mischiviously up the spine and settled in the muscles of her shoulders. At least the physical pain was taking all the attention. The silent heartache was there to last and she could get back to it later. For now, she'll have to go home, take a hot bath and try to massage her shoulder muscles (or at least the ones she could reach by herself) with some anti-inflamatory cream. And hope she won't be woken up again in the middle of the night by the loudness of her loneliness. The rain keept on pouring and the night seemed blacker and blacker. People's faces bore no expression. The end of another day.

Time is (not) on my side...

2010-02-23T15:07:00.000-08:00

Sambata seara am fost la O2 Arena la mult asteptatul concert Depeche Mode. M-am multumit ca am prins bilete la general release cu 35 de lire, desi locurile nimerite erau cocotate in fundul salii la altitudine datatoare de vertigo. In timpul concertului nu am facut decat sa ma gandesc la ce impact a avut asupra mea sa-i vad in urma cu 4 ani la Wembley si la cat de putin eram acum implicata... Nu erau cu siguranta doar locurile situate mult mai aproape de scena in 2006 (pentru care am platit atunci fara sa clipesc 75 de lire), albumul mai bun sau calitatea sunetului. Era cu mult mai mult. Era febra de a fi la un concert de asemenea valoare emotionala, era infatuarea, erau fanteziile pe care le aveam pe atunci cu Dave Gahan, eram o alta eu care traia momentul cu intensitate. De atunci a trecut mult timp si intre timp eu am devenit altcineva. Recent am fost la un concert The Editors si am constatat ca de-abia asteptam sa se temine deoarece mintea mea era preocupata de alte subiecte. Ma simt in ultima vreme de parca gonesc catre ceva si nu mai sunt capabila sa traiesc momentul fiindca stiu ca momentului ii lipseste foarte tare ceva.

Timpul. Timpul slefuieste si toceste in acelasi timp, timpul e o entitate controversata, datatoare de paradoxuri. Timpul finiseaza gusturile, opiniile, dar limiteaza placerile, imbogateste experienta, dar si cliseizeaza, timpul erodeaza corpul si ascute mintea.

Notiuni care pareau definitive, acum nu mai au aceeasi greutate. Pareri ce pareau de neclintit, pot fi acum contestate. Sperantele nutrite si visruile conturate, devin acum nulitate. Timpul aduce cu sine o liniste care nu vine din intelepciune, ci din constiinta esecului si acceptarea ratarii...

Concertele nu mai sunt o placere. Iesirile nu mai sunt o surpriza. Intalnirile nu mai constituie o emotie. Stilul nu isi mai are rostul. Efortul nu se mai traduce prin satisfactie. In final, in viata nu avem decat scopul primar de a asigura supravietuirea speciei si fara capacitatea de a-l indeplini, nu suntem decat insule plutitoare si perisabile. Timpul. Trece in timp ce scriu.

A serious case of bad Monday

2010-02-22T15:41:00.000-08:00

I open my eyes in the morning and I instinctively know it's going to be a dragging day. I know I will get out of bed, brush my teeth, have a shower, get into the clothes I prepared from last night, apply some make-up and drag myself to work with what it seems to be the last drop of energy I have left in me.
I know I won't do it straight away, but will linger a bit more between the sheets and will eventually erect myself knowing that if I spend one more minute in bed I will be late to work beyond the expected reasonable time. I also know that it is raining outside and it will be one of those London days when rain make good friends with a cold wind and I know that I will be cold no matter which one of my many coats I decide to wear.
I know I will get into work, open my Mac and while it loads all the settings I will go into the tiny kitchen, boil some water and make myself a coffee with the absolute knowledge that coffee will not wake me up. I know my work mates will ask me if I had a nice week-end and today I will actually say that I had a crappy week-end and won't make the slightest effort to be nice. I know I will be cold in the office as it is always so on a Monday but I also know this time I won't care as I can't be bothered anymore to demand/hope/expect.
I know that today is going to be the day when I have given up fighting, opposing. I know that all the positive thinking in the world is not going to change the fact that I am painfully lonely and that the neon lights in the office hurts my eyes. I know that tonight I will come back to a cold room with an empty heart.
I know that the more I fight it, the less it is going to give in so I finally get out of my bed sheets and go to the bathroom while emptying my head of any thoughts and preparing to take in the Monday waiting in front of me. I know.

Post-Valentines

2010-02-15T15:38:00.000-08:00

Ca un facut, azi am fost sunata de un tip pe care l-am cunoscut acum vreo 4 luni la ambasada republicii Zimbabwe (din toate locurile din Londra acesta este probabil cel mai random loc in care m-am trezit intr-o seara de vineri) si in timp ce incercam sa imi amintesc cu cine vorbesc, am primit un mesaj de la un altul care se plangea ca l-am uitat.

De parca odata trecuta inutila zi de Valentine's, toti s-au trezit la viata si au inceput sa caute prin agende. Mi se pare intr-un final un fenomen cat se poate de simplu: iarna aduce cu sine hibernarea si pur si simplu apropiata sosire a primaverii pare ca trezeste spiritele la viata. Pana si eu ma simt lipsita de dorinta de a initia vreo intalnire si nu pot sa exclud vremea rece din motivele care ma fac sa am o atitudine refractara la a cunoaste pe cineva nou.

Ma frustreaza totusi ca nu am nici un control asupra anotimpului friguros. As vrea sa fie totul atipic, sa nu existe amorteala asta generalizata pe care iarna o instaureaza asupra oamenilor fara drept de apel, sa facem exact ce ne trece prin cap indiferent ca afara ninge sa soarele straluceste pe cer. Dar se pare ca suntem tributari unui soi de ciclu natural si suntem la urma urmei posesorii unor corpuri care raspund conditiilor de mediu.

Citeam in nu stiu ce revista sau pe nu stiu ce website ca perioada cea mai propice de a cunoaste pe cineva este sfarsitul lunii februarie iar explicatia o constituie faptul ca multi si-au petrecut Valentine's Day singuri si au decis ca e cazul sa puna capat singuratatii. Vom trai si vom vedea si oricat nu-mi place sa cred in statistici si fenomene ciclice, se pare ca ele chiar influenteaza vietile fiecaruia dintre noi...

Valentine's Day again

2010-02-14T11:26:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Day was meant to make sigle people feel miserable and people in a relationship pressured... I hate Valentine's day, I hate the fluffy bit of it and I hate all the anti-Valetine parties, it is all equally designed to denigrate love and put more pressure on people to find it and/or keep it.

It'a yet another year when I am finding myself in no relationship whatsoever and with a feeling that I have lost the battle already. If in 30 years I haven't found anyone, I absolutely doubt it will ever happen. I am fully aware of my qualities, I know I am an appealing girl, but maybe I am one of those girls who picked a losing ticket. I absolutely wonder how people find one another... I wonder how they stay together. I wonder how love happens. I wonder why I am wondering about all these on another Valentine's Day in London...

I really didn't care about it. I went out for lunch with my friend K., went for a walk around Angel and then had a lovely coffee. But I keep on asking myself what is the matter with the world as, since I have recently established that it is not me, it's them, I have't yet convinced love to come my way...

2010-02-09T12:30:00.000-08:00

Settling for Mr. Right Now...

2010-02-09T11:47:00.000-08:00

Apparently after 30 women produce only 12% of conceiving eggs. Apparently a woman wrote a book called "Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough". Her name is Lori Gottlieb. Apparently we all want the same thing, we are all as scared as anyone else and as much as I do not want to agree with the idea of stopping to look for the One just because he is a myth who has never been scietifically proved, I must say she had me thinking.

I will probably marry Mr. Good Enough in a somewhat near future because I feel I want a child to validate my life and I want my child to have a father. I will also do that because there is as much loneliness as you can swallow and as much "fun" as you can have. I will probably wait for a miracle to happen so I won't have to settle for Mr. Good Enough, but I doubt that after waiting for 30 years, a couple of more years will make any difference.

I have met men that I liked but they didn't like me, I have met men that liked me but they were not even close to Good Enough (or they haven't made the effort to come close at least) and so on. All my life has been a quest for a reasonable person (I have never had impossible standards - never asked from a man something I can't offer myself!) and still all I got in return was "Not Even Close", frustration and a loveless life! Of course I am going to keep looking, but all I am scared of is that I will end up lowering my standards so much in the light of the harsh reality that Mr. Right hasn't been born yet or is already dead, that I will end up settling for Mr. Wrong!...

You never know what's around the corner...

2010-01-31T05:31:00.000-08:00

Or so they say.

I have noticed that most achievements of my life have been preceded by long periods of waiting for something good to happen. I don't remember having at least one spur of the moment thing such as: winning the lottery (it's true that I don't play the lottery but let's say somebody else plays for me and I win :), encountering love at first sight, getting the perfect job after just one CV sent etc. Now that I think about it, it looks like most people's lives. Yes, people, life is like that! You have to wait a very long time for it to happen!

However, once in a while there are stories of people that reach my ears and I am perplexed by how fast things are moving for some people. I am 30 and don't really feel that I am running out of time, but I feel I am running out of things that I enjoy doing... I guess my life needs an upgrade, a major change to bring me back into the "awake" mode. I felt like that when I started my new job last year. Now I just feel "sleepy"... And I can't just blame it on the weather.

Well, so far, what's around the corner is this: a ski trip, a trip to Thailand, a long week-end in Istanbul, 2 weddings this year (soon I may become a professional wedding guest) and hopefully many other things that I can only dream about.

Ce fac eu in ianuarie...

2010-01-23T10:58:00.000-08:00

Dorm mai mult decat de obicei si nu mai reusesc sa ma trezesc de dimineata decat in ultima clipa si intarzii la serviciu cu consecventa. Imi amintesc lunile in care ma trezeam cu o ora inainte, luat si micul dejun si imi beam si cafeaua inainte de pleca la munca...

Citesc foarte mult. Recuperez zilele pierdute in care nici nu am binevoit sa deschid vreo carte.

Merg la sala ca o nesatula. Drept urmare m-am propcopsit cu cea mai dureroasa febra musculara din istorie. Ma tem ca mi-am rupt vreun muschi...

Din cand in cand scriu. Nu scriu chiar doua pagini pe zi asa cum mi-am propus initial, dar macar e un progres.

Fac economii la sange si constat ca nu e imposibil.

Ma pregatesc de o noua vacanta in Thailanda. De data asta mai pregatita, ma avizata, mai avida de informatii. Vreau sa fac "the most of it" de data asta. Si stiu ca asa va fi. Am o partenera de calatorie grozava!

Mi-e foame tot timpul. M-am rotunjit. O vreme mi-a fost indiferent, dar acum vreau sa fiu in forma asa ca, indata ce-mi trece febra musculara ma avant iar la sala. Cred ca varsta, nu mai am nici o scuza sa nu fac eforturi sa arat bine. Timpul nu iarta.

Visez la o familie... Cam atat...

"Train to Trieste"

2010-01-22T16:18:00.000-08:00

Mi-a sarit in ochi numele autoarei, Domnica Radulescu, in timp ce cautam o carte sa citesc spre Canare. Am luat-o din raftul mini-librariei de aeroport WH Smith si am decis s-o cumpar. Cumva ma asteptam sa ma regasesc in povestea Monei Maria Manoliu care a fugit din Romania in anii comunismului si apoi s-a stabilit in America.

Ma asteptam la o poveste despicata in profunzime, la o drama de proportii asemenea cutremurului din '77 care e mentionat si el in carte, ma asteptam sa umple niste goluri dar m-am trezit in timp ce-o citeam ca pufnesc intr-un ras ironic sau imi dau ochii peste cap gandind in sinea mea "vezi sa nu".

Se vede treaba ca autoarea a scris-o direct in engleza si e plina de referinte adresate cititorului neavizat la adresa lucrurilor specific romanesti gen "mamaliga", "visinata" sau "mal, copil, mosneag" - cuvintele romanesti de orginie dacica - care rup naratiunea si, mai pe romaneste, pica precum nuca-n perete. Nu stiu, ceva din felul in care a fost scrisa ma face sa cred ca a fost gandita in romaneste si scrisa in engleza. Pe alocuri are imagini puternice si simbolistica precum scrumul de tigara luat de vant care atrage atentia intr-un moment de intensitate etc. Dar sunt rare, foarte rare. Imi place totusi utilizarea imaginilor olfactive, da sens emotiilor personajelor.

Ceva din povestea de iubire o face neverosimila, nu reusesc sa inteleg intensitatea pasiunii dintre Mona si Mihai, trecerea granitei pare mult prea usoara, eroina pare sa dea numai peste oameni de bine care vegheaza asupra ei, la nici un an de la sosirea in State preda Engleza pentru refugiati si colac peste pupaza il intalneste pe Tom care o invita la o seara dansanta si apoi o ia de sotie, culminand cu intoarcerea in tara si regasirii cu Mihai. Nu contest ca poate fi o poveste adevarata, insa nu-mi suna a realitate. Eu insami sunt o emigranta si ma aflu de aproape 7 ani in UK si inca n-am dat peste nici un Tom care sa ma ia de nevasta la nici o luna de zile. Instrainarea de Tom nu e veritabila, pana la sfarsit n-am inteles de ce a divortat de el, sincer parea un tip foarte de treaba. Singurele personaje de care m-am lipit au fost cei doi copii ai ei care m-au facut sa ma apropii un pic de ea si sa nu mai fiu asa aspra. Nu stiu, e ca o mancare nemestecata bine care nu iti pica tocmai grozav in stomac.

Trebuie sa recunosc insa ca pentru o scriitoare neexperimentata, autoarea a urmat o linie narativa oarecum omogena si a avut elemente care au dat pe alocuri consistenta prin repetitie, dar putea sa transmita mult mai mult...

Ma rog, nu vreau sa fiu prea virulenta, la urma urmei ce imi da dreptul?... Nu e ca si cum as fi scris eu vreo carte mai grozava.

Insa vorba ceea: cine nu stie sa scrie, sa se faca critic!

Jocul ingerului

2010-01-17T11:57:00.000-08:00

A doua carte a lui Carlos Ruiz Zafon pe care am citit-o (am primit-o cadou de la Zoe si mi-am inceput cu ea seria lecturilor cartilor primite cadou de ziua mea) si care mi-a staisfacut setea aia inexplicabila de a citi ceva de esti pur si simplu indragostit.
Am mai citit carti bune care m-au lasat rece, n-am reusit sa ma apropii de personaje, sa le simt, sa le iubesc, sa le compatimesc. In cartile lui Zafon gasesc un univers pe care il credeam pierdut, o lume magica ce imi aminteste de cartile pe care le citeam cu nesat in copilarie.
Jocul ingerului nu aduce nimic nou fata de Unmbra Vantului: aceeasi Barcelona pictata in cuvinte care parca te proiecteaza acolo, aceleasi intrigi intricate de roman politist cu accente de supranatural, acelasi limbaj savuros pana la limita insuportabilului. Insa satisface un gol lasat de Umbra Vantului, la terminarea careia proape am suferit, vroiam mai mult. E ca o mancare absolut delicioasa pe care vrei sa o mananci pana cand simti ca-ti explodeaza stomacul.

N-am sa vorbesc despre finalul cartii. Sincer, m-a lasat cu ceva intrebari si nelamuriri si chiar nici nu conteaza daca m-a satisfacut sau nu. Adevarata savoare a constat in citirea pagina cu pagina, scena cu scena, a fost ca o hrana zilnica ce valida o zi mohorata si o facea demna de a fi traita.

Bilant de ianuarie

2010-01-14T14:53:00.000-08:00

Ianuarie este luna in care s-a demonstrat statistic ca au loc cele mai multe departiri, divorturi, incercari de sinucidere etc. Nu stiu cum s-a intamplat dar pe mine m-au ocolit toatea astea in 2010. Imi place sa cred ca va fi anul meu norocos.

Nu traiesc chiar un inceput de an demn de a fi trambitat pe Broadway, dar comparandu-mi starea de spirit cu cea de anul trecut, se poate spune ca sunt in al noualea cer. Insa ma inconjoara drame si probleme si incerc sa le fac fata cu stoicism si sa dau sfaturi nascute din nou descoperita mea intelepciune existentiala (ma aflu momentan in stadiul binecuvantat no love = no drama), incercand sa fiu si intelegatoare dar si realista. Mi-am dat seama ca e foarte greu. Mi-am dat seama ca daca poate eu m-as fi aflat in situatia de fi parasita/inselata de partner poate as fi reactionat irational, mi-a fi cautat propria vina si m-as fi dat peste cap sa aflu de ce a facut-o.

Ei bine, da, eterna problema: de ce a facut-o? Din pozitia mea de observator, incerc sa fac o analiza din care sa beneficiez si eu. Mi-am dat seama ca am un psihic sucit, in loc sa ma gandesc ca imi voi gasi partenerul ideal si vom trai fericiti pana la adanci batraneti, ma gandesc cum sa fac sa fiu pregatita si sa trec mai usor peste soc cand mi se va intampla si mie acelasi lucru. In esenta, am ajuns la urmatoarea concluzie: daca s-a comportat repropabil, este cu siguranta un om de nimic de care e mai bine ca ai scapat. Incerc sa cred ca imi voi spune si eu acelasi lucru si voi crede in el, ma voi iubi si respecta pe mine insami intra-atat incat sa trec peste episod cu demnitate si sa-mi traiesc viata cat pot de bine. Insa nu stiu in ce masura voi putea sa lupt eu cu asa ceva. Momentan ma aflu intr-o perioada fericita si lipsita de drame, si, desi singura, ma bucur de viata mea asa cum e fara sa-mi fie teama ca partenerul ma inseala sau se pregateste sa-mi dea preaviz. Ma intreb insa... odata intrata intr-o relatie, presiunea de a o pastra nu devine mai mare decat presiunea de o gasi?...

Un an bun!

2010-01-12T15:13:00.000-08:00

Anul nou n-a inceput rau deloc. Oricat de superstitios ar suna, cred ca fiecare an isi are magia sa, incarcatura sa emotioanala, energia sa. Anul asta l-am intampinat cu un soi de liniste nu tocmai specifica mie si pana la ora actuala ma uimesc singura de progresele obtinute.

Am decis ca anul acesta ma voi concentra pe 3 aspecte primordiale: sanatatea mea (deja m-am lasat de fumat de cateva zile, m-am reinscris la sala - intre timp am facut yoga acasa deci nu e pe principiul "ma inscriu dar nu ma duc", gatesc aproape zilnic si incerc sa mamanc cat mai sanatos, iau vitamine!), planificarea temeinica a calatoriilor (daca da Dzeu, anul asta ajung si-n Asia, si-n America de Sud) si scrisul. Ei bine, da, dragii mei, m-am apucat in sfarsit de scris. Si nu merge rau deloc. Nu merge nici stralucit ce-i drept, dar incerc sa aplic o disciplina si sa scriu macar cateva randuri pe zi pana devine o rutina si pana ma voi obisnui sa scriu mai mult in termen volumetric, caci la calitate se simte fara doar si poate o imbunatatire.

Asadar, un progres considerabil. Am toate motivele sa cred ca, fie si numai din aceste puncte de vedere, am in fata un an deosebit de bun. Am toate motivele sa cred asa ceva si fiindca ma iubesc mai mult pe mine insami, ma respect si ma apreciez si am ajuns in sfarsit sa nu-mi mai pese daca un barbat care nu ma merita nu ma mai cauta (desi mai devreme sau mai tarziu o face tocmai fiindca nu-mi pasa!).

Azi am avut si evaluarea la job si in ciuda inerentelor, "there's room for improvement", am primit din partea sefei mele niste aprecieri sincere si ceea ce mi-a placut cel mai mult a fost ca mi-a zis ca am calitati pe care si-ar fi dorit si ea sa le aiba si mult curaj si m-a mai numit "sunny personality" ceea ce nici mai mult nici mai putin m-a uns la suflet.

Simt ca posturile mele s-au simplificat si nu e neaparat un lucru rau ci pur si simplu urmarea naturala a faptului ca din ce in ce mai putine frustrari ce se necesita exprimate intr-un mod plastic mocnesc in mine. In ciuda obiceiului meu, am decis sa formulez acest post mult prea prozaic, dar uneori lucrurile simple au nevoie de un limbaj simplu pentru a fi exprimate...

Schimbari...

2010-01-10T12:56:00.000-08:00

Constat de la o vreme niste schimbari comportamentale pe care nu stiu daca sa le pun pe seama unor furtuni hormonale, varstei sau stresului.

Constat ca ma enervez foarte repede, ma aprind usor, trag concluzii pripite si imi trece la fel de repede pe cat ma instig ca si cum as aprinde un chibrit care se stinge in cateva secunde de la inflamarea exploziva. Constat ca ma afectez foarte tare de cate o istorie amoroasa si pana pana a doua zi uit complet de ea. Am senzatia ca incep sa dezvolt un soi de crize emotionale din ce in ce mai dese si mai de scurta durata. Chiar ma intreb de unde provin. Cine stie, la urma urmei o fi luna plina sau poate am glicemia scazuta...

Un ianuarie printre carti

2010-01-07T13:47:00.000-08:00

De ziua mea am cerut sa primesc carti. M-am bucurat de fiecare si le-am cercetat cu interesul celui care primeste nu atat cartea care il reprezinta pe el ci pe cel care i-o daruieste.

Zoe m-a pus sa-mi aleg. Mi-am ales o carte de Salman Rushdie deoarece nu am apucat inca sa-l cunosc si cumva am fata de el o admiratie nejustificata logic sau cu argumente literare cat mai mult instinctuale si Jocul Ingerului de Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Stiam c-am s-o citesc cu deliciu la fel cum am savurat si Umbra Vantului, cu riscul de a ma simti ca si cum citesc in continuare aceeasi carte, doar ca personajele se numesc altfel.

Azi citind-o in autobuz in drum spre munca m-a traznit ideea ca (scuzati cacofonia dar nu am nici o sansa sa o evit) cartile bune sunt legate intre ele printr-un fir nevazut, ca si cum ele impartasesc o substanta magica ce se extinde de-a lungul timpului si spatiului. Citind Jocul Ingerului am flash-uri de memorie cu Pipa Lee si alte carti ce m-au marcat emotional. Citirea unei carti proaste nu-mi trezeste nici o amintire, nu-mi provoaca nici un extaz si nu reusesc sa fac nici o legatura intre lucruri si idei. Cred ca e vorba de un fluid puternic ce se propaga de la scriitor scriitor ca si cum geniul se transmite sau se impartaseste. Sper doar ca intr-una din aceste zile sa ma atinga si pe mine.

Absolut random, am avut o discutie azi cu Andra pe messenger apropo de carti si am convenit amandoua ca femeile nebune din literatura (ulterior sinucigase) precum Sylvia Plath sau Virginia Woolf nu sunt pe gustul nostru. Am fost acuzata in trecut de o fire depresiva si in ciua acestei trasaturi pe care reusesc cu oarecare succes sa o suprim in preioada recenta, nu pot gusta sub nici o forma scrisul depresiv si dezlanat care nu duce la nici o concluzie decat ca personajele sufera de lipsa dorintei de a trai si trebuie s-o impartaseasca cu cititorii.

Aveam in trecut ambitia sa termin cartile fie ca imi plac sau nu. Mai nou nu o mai fac, am lasat cel putin trei carti neterminate recent si, in ciuda faptului ca unele carti isi dau pe fata valoarea de-abia la sfarsit, am inceput sa ma incred mai mult in instincte si sa cred mai tare in principiul dragoste la prima vedere. Pot perora la infinit pe tema a ceea ce imi place si ce nu in carti si vorba unui mare intelept, cine nu poate scrie, critica.

Oricum, un ianuarie incredibil de frig la Londra (se pare ca e cea mai grea iarna din ultimii 50 de ani - sper sa avem si o vara pe masura ca deh, iarna nu-i ca vara) petrecut printre carti si regasindu-mi pofta de literatura nu e unul tocmai rau.

No time for afterlife

2010-01-04T16:08:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I feel like I love being alive so much, that the thought of non-existing one day scares the hell out of me. I remember worse days when I would fall into deep depression and ignore the blood running through my veins thinking as if I was both dead and alive and it meant nothing to me.

The more you love life, the stronger you feel about being alive and in control of your life, the more scared you are of losing it. Depressive people may be scared of life, but they sure as hell couldn't care less about dying. That's what' been worrying me latley. I feel that I have got so many things to do and so little time and I can't waste anymore of my precious time with getting depressed, upset or annoyed.

I don't know when this has happened, but it has. I have become imune to disapointment. Well, maybe not completely, but I get less and less disapointed and I take it as a good sign.

I know I can do more than that if I want to use my time well, but so far I will not be putting any pressure on myself. Just live like crazy. I have no time for afterlife.

Demistficarea Craciunului

2009-12-25T13:53:00.000-08:00

Citeam deunazi un articol despre o profesoara care a fost data afara de la scoala unde lucra in urma unei plangeri inaintate de mama unui copil pentru care profesoara s-a oferit sa se roage. Mama copilului s-a simtit lezata intrucat famila lor era atee si profesoara a jignit-o prin comportament.

Craciunul este in ultima instanta o sarbatoare religioasa care a devenit motiv de marketing de-a lungul celor 2009 de ani de traditie. Asa cum anumite obiceiuri de Craciun, desi fara nici o legatura cu religia, sunt oarecum placute si nevinovate, altele au devenit pur hedonistice si si-au lierdut complet miracolul initial.

Din cate mi-am putut da seama dupa aproape sapte ani de Marea Britanie, Craciunul este ziua in care fiecare de aduna cu familia pe care o are, mananca peste masura si asteapta sa treaca ziua pentru a reveni la rutina normala. Zilele premergatoare Craciunului sunt un motiv de sarbatoare, insa Craciunul in sine pare a fi ziua care toata lumea isi doreste sa se sfarseasca cat mai repede.

Azi n-am simtit absolut nimic special. Imi amintesc cum in copilarie simteam ceva mistic in ziua de Craciun, de parca fiinta imi era deschisa la miracolul nevazut si ma bucuram in mod pur de ziua respectiva cu entuziasmul care i se cuvine. Pe masura ce timpul trece, constat ca devin din ce in ce mai nereceptiva la mistic. Ma intreb daca acest lucru se datoreaza faptului ca traiesc intr-o societate in care sacrul este proscris.

Am fost la o "petrecere" cu niste amici si din toata experienta am realizat: 1) ca nu mai sunt o adolescenta tarzie, 2) ar fi grozav sa am o familie, poate as regasi sacrul pierdut undeva in aburul a ceea ce a fost candva copilaria mea; 3) ca de-abia astept sa plec maine acasa. Stiam ca Londra e relativ depresiva de Craciun, dar parca uit de la an la an si simt cumva nevoia sa-mi reamintesc.

Nu sunt deprimata, doar nostalgica dupa o stare de magie care pare ca s-a evaporat pe veci...

Xmas eve

2009-12-24T17:59:00.000-08:00

This time in life, there's no more pressure. I don't any longer put any pressure on myself to spend the perfect Christmas, look for the perfect man, have a great Birthday and have amazing fun on New Year's night. I just take things as they are and I started wondering whether it's an age thing. I am starting to believe that turning 30 is probably the best thing that could happen to me. I'm finally making peace with myself and the world around me.

I'm having quite a random Christmas this year. As I was denied spending it at home, I tried making the most of it in London. Tonight, on Christmas Eve I was invited to a Polish dinner by some friends and had so much to eat that I thought my stomach can't possibly strech anymore and thought to myself: hey, I am not alone! Tomorrow there will be a duck lunch between me and Magda and maybe some drinks in East London with other "orphans". It's not the fairytale Christmas from the movies, but it's great anyway! I am happy.

I decided I will go home after all. It's better to go for things than not doing them and end up regretting not having done them. Or at least that's what I'm telling myself. Either way, I know a great year is ahead of me, I've learned from this year's mistakes (and hopefully all the other years before) and know what I'm expecting to get from the future. I can make each day a day to remember.

Bring it on!

Xmas in London after all

2009-12-22T17:07:00.000-08:00

For most of us Christmas is a family affair, is the time of the year when everyone is going home (wherever that may be...).

I had planned carefully this year to go home for Christmas, took time off from work for a reasonable amount of time, meant to spend Christmas with the family at friend's villa in the mountains and had planned this major party for my 30th Birthday on the 30th of December. It's been months I have been thinking about it and the closer it got to the moment of actually going to Romania, I realized I didn't have a Christmas turkey dinner this year and still missed on the nice cosy pub nights with friends for having working so long hours during December and by leaving, I was leaving behing a lot of "unfinished" businesses and many friends I hadn't seen in a very long time with whom I didn't manage to catch up and wish Merry Christmas to.

Something was still missing when I left the house to go to Gatwick and catch my flight. Deep in my thoughts I completely forgot that London's been snowy these days and major delays were bound to happen. As probably predicted, I had problems with getting to Gatwick and when I thought it was all just a matter of time before getting to Bucharest, I had the surprise of finding out that, 3 hours later after boarding the plane, our flight got cancelled due to adverse weather conditions.

Somehow it's happening every year. For 10 minutes of snow, several flights got cancelled and many others delayed. After a painful wait for luaggage, explanations from the airline, train and bus, I finally got back to my London home at 11 pm, after being away for 12 hours. I called the Customers Services Line next day and only got an alternative flight on the 26th. Funny enough, other people I know managed to fly out yesterday and today by flying either different airline or from a different airport. It seems that I wasn't meant to go home this year.

It seems that home isn't home anymore. From this year on, London is my home and funny enough I am actually quite glad I got to spend Christmas here together with all the other expats that don't have a family here nor they are going home for the holidays. I am being posessed by a very weird feeling: do I even want to go home anymore?... I wish I can just bring my mum here to be with me and have friends visiting as I am really tired of going home and trying to recover a feeling that is long lost and to realize every time that life just goes on on both sides and that there is less and less tieing me to my own place of birth. I started to love being in London, the specific Christmas atmosphere on the streets, in the pubs, in the shops, anywhere, the food, and don't even miss the Romanian food nor anything else for that matter...

I know it's not nice to say it, but I kind of felt relieved that I don't have to go home this time. I am enjoying the days off, my own company or the friends that are still around and planning for the New Year. I do miss my friends back home too, but I seem to be in the impossible situation of combining both worlds...

I am not sure yet, but my whole trip to Romania might just be cancelled... I am still debating it with myself and even though my 30th Bday is just a few days away, this time I don't even care. It's just another day and most importantly I am happy enough as not to put all the pressure on a simple day when I happened to be born 30 years ago. I can make each day a celebration of the fact that I was born and that I am alive...

Ganduri desperecheate

2009-12-20T10:58:00.000-08:00

N-am mai scris de mult. Am si uitat cum sa scriu. Scriu cu maini inghetate de frig. E foarte frig la Londra de o buna perioada de vreme. A si nins.
Maine plec in tara sa petrec Craciunul acasa si am planuri de ziua mea. Inca nu ma simt in holiday mode. In ultima vreme, mi-am trait cea mai mare parte din viata la munca. Am trait mult si am scris putin. La un moment dat m-am simtit ca imi pierd identitatea. Stiu ca nu e adevart. Ma simt mai in control ca niciodata asupra vietii mele.
Uneori ma intreb insa de ce fac anumite lucruri si le iau ca atare, fara sa mai auto-torturez. E ok.
Craciunul a aproape. Nici nu-mi vine sa cred. Nu ma plang, dar luna asta a trecut fara sa simt ca am facut prea multe.
Pe curand, sper!

My little black book

2009-11-12T15:34:00.000-08:00

Am constatat ca, pe masura ce petrec mai mult timp in avioane, mi-e din ce in ce mai frica. E o frica incontrolabila si nejustificata atunci cand acest miracol al tehnologiei moderne trece printr-o zona de turbulente. Obisnuiam sa le tratez zborul cu avionul cu oarecare indiferenta si chiar o oarecare placere, acum am dezvoltat o frica de zbor care pare sa se acutizeze cu varsta.

Citeam absorbita o carte (pe care apropo, o recomand cu acelasi entuziasm cu care am recomandat mai demult Umbra Vantului: Emily Barr - Backpack - recunosc, e mai de impact pentru cei care au calatorit sau intentioneaza sa calatoreasca in Asia, dar las recenzia si opiniile vizavi de carte pentru alta data) intr-un avion al Easy Jet pe ruta Las Palmas - Londra si in ciuda cartii absolut captivante, in momentul in care am trecut printr-o zona cu turbulente, m-am pomenit cu mainile tremurandu-mi si respirand adanc si cu zgomot de parca eram intr-o criza de hiperventilatie. A fost probabil cea mai notabila reactie in zbor de pana acum si, desi am hotarat sa trec printr-o perioada de abstinenta alcoolica sa incerc sa practic macar pentru o vreme un regim deviata mai sanatos, am constatat cu amaraciune ca doar alcoolul sau un pumn de calmante m-ar ajuta sa mai fac fata zborurilor cu avionul.

O sclipire de inspiratie si mi-am scos micul carnetel negru din geanta sa-mi notez proasptele descoperiri. M-am trezit absorbita sa incerc sa dezvolt doua idei care m-au preocupat recent, in lumina unor proaspete lecturi (desigur, nici o idee, oricat de revolutionara pentru mine, nu e nici pe departe noua si totusi gasind-o emisa de alticineva, ma face sa ii confer mai mult sens si aplicare in propria viata): ideea ca a scrie despre viata e aproape imposibil in lipsa trairii sale efective si a trai viata te impiedica sa scrii (nu-i de mirare deci ca aflata in valtoarea lucrurilor m-am trezit deodata ca nu am mai scris un rand de aproape o luna de zile) si ideea ca oamenii puternici nu pot gasi compasiune pentru cei slabi si ca cei care nu se pot ajuta singuri, isi merita soarta (am gasit atitudinea asta mentionata de cateva ori in literatura si n-ar fi avut probabil prea mult sens daca n-as fi experimentat-o si eu - nu sunt si nu voi fi niciodata un om rau, dar imi lipseste uneori intelegerea si rabdarea fata de cei carora nu le lipseste nimic sa razbata in viata decat curajul). Important e ca cele cateva zile in Gran Canaria m-au ajutat sa ma regasesc pe mine, cea contemplativa si auto-iscoditoare, si m-am gandit mult la multe lucruri. Mi-era teama ca ma pierdusem de tot si ca o viata mai mult decat prozaica, desi notabil hedonistica si placuta, mi-era cu neputinta de sustinut pe termen lung in lipsa teoretizarii sale masive dupa cum imi e natura si obiceiul. Cert e ca numai absorbita de asternerea pe hartie cu un creion bont (ramas mosetnire prin geanta de la Ikea - ma intreb oare de ce nu am un pix decent in geant avand in vedere ca detin o mostenire generoasa de la Western Union) a ideilor de mai sus si a altora de alta natura m-a facut sa nu imi dau seama ca avionul se zgaltaie din nou in aer...

"Citesc o carte despre o calatorie in Asia si rememorez cumva calatoria de anul trecut din Thailanda. Cu cat ma gandesc mi mult, cu atat realizez ca natura unei calatorii, cel putin in ceea ce ma priveste, depinde de cel/cei cu care calatoresti. Incep sa imi doresc din ce in ce mai mult o calatorie in care sa fiu singura. Ma intreb ce natura va avea aceasta calatorie si daca voi fi un bun partener de drum..."

Gripa existentiala

2009-10-15T14:20:00.001-07:00

Gripa porcina, gripa aviara, gripa existentiala... De cateva zile zac in pat cu febra si frisoane, incercand sa imi revin la normal. Gripa e oribila, dar mai rau decat sa zaci in semi-coma, imbibata in propria transpiratie, e sa te confrunti cu gandurile pe care gripa existentiala le provoaca pe fondul imunitatii scazute.

Gripa ca si celelalte incercari mai putin placute ale vietii te confrunta cu lipsa unei persoane apropiate care isi stea alturi, sa-ti faca un ceai si a carei prezenta sa alunge gandurile negative. Imi amintesc de un episod din Sex and the City in care Samantha suferea de gripa si pentru prima oara a inceput sa planga de singuratate. Imediat ce s-a vindecat, si-a revenit la sentimente mai bune.

Spre marea mea fericire, gripa mea da semne de retragere. Si eu, asa cum era de asteptat, revin incet incet la sentimente mai bune. La o adica, imunitatea existentiala mai scade si ea, dar o doza masiva de vitamine si optimism ar trebui sa ma puna pe picioare.