Make Christmas everyday

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

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)

Merry Xmas!

The rastafari movement started in Ethiopia...

Seize the day

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

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

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"?...

"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...

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

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

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!

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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...

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

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

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

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. High 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

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!

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

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

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...

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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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!