this one goes out to all the time hyperboliacs

when i found out who my mom was, early in infant-hood, i was thrilled. cause she's an awesome mom.  she's pretty, fun, caring, artistic and a freedom-giver. not much more i could ask for, except for a nose that twitches and makes cool stuff appear out of thin air. which i have, but probably they were closed that day. 

but my mom, as awesome as she is, has a serious problem with time. and not in a metaphysical way. she is what i call a "time hyperboliac".

let's say it's 9.15 and i want to order pizza.

i'll say, mom, i wanna order pizza.

she'll say, you know it's 10 o'clock, they don't come so late.

i'll say no, it's 9 (that's how an average joe who wants to have pizza ballparks 9.15. it's common).

she'll say, yeah, it's 9.30. 

i'll say no, look at the time, it's 9.15(in an attempt to be true).

she'll say well, it's 9.20. 

she has cooked up her own time and i have to bargain with her about it. which is more absurd than ionesco. please! maybe you feel like it's 10 or you would like it to be 10, but if the clock shows 9.15, not even xkcd can prove it's 10.

i wanna put all the clocks in my house to sleep, they must be getting tired.

gramps

back home, i'm doing lots and lots of digging. mostly through the hundreds of pictures. plus, i'm using this open source application to build up a genealogical tree. it's called gramps.
for now, it is my pleasure to introduce my great-grandma.

great-grandma, this is everyone. ;)

girl and her radio and the cherries

me, the girl. orange box making funny sounds in front of me, her radio. aspiring little red fruits in a jar, the cherries.

it's like romance. i even lit candles. mainly because my mom thinks my light bulb is too powerful. has she become nagging or she just likes to offer me romantic evenings with myself, we cannot say for sure as my mom is like a kindle book with password protection, you can't read her so easily. that or it doesn't really matter for the plot of this post, because there isnt any.

the girl and her radio and the cherries story is not a story. it's more of practicing typing. chances are a monkey wrote this. and if a monkey would be typing infinitely it could end up writing all this. statistically, this is very unlikely, but mathematically there is a 0,00whatever chance that this can happen. also, we all know if i had a super power it would be shifting probability. 

and i have cherries. i like having cherries because they look pretty. they look pretty and i eat them in haste. when i was younger, but shorter, and used to pick them from trees, i was really scared they might have worms and my solution was to eat them at 1.1 mach in super-cruise. and old habits die hard. and now cherries come in plastic wrapping, even though my height and aerodynamics are perfect for picking cherries. although, please!, aerodynamics for picking cherries? then you must need a bucket for speed.

my weird friend rudchil taught me it is best to share cherries but keep all muffins to yourself. if i'd known him better i'd think he doesn't care much about cherries. but i know him well enough to say his intentions with muffins are real.

"on really romantic evenings of self i go salsa dancing with my confusion."

Happy Birthday, Anna Streiter!

Dearest Anna,

I actually wanted to send you a big awesome gift from India, and I even had the right ingredients for it, but by the time i got home it was already late and no fairy came to visit me although she could have, i mean, if they really existed they would totally know how much i wanted to send you that gift and how much you wanted to receive it, then my mom called me for dinner and afterwards i fell asleep and i woke up late today and realized it's your birthday. so i said screw the fairies, i'm moving to plan b. 

That's when the movie came into play. I decided to make you a movie. a movie is always nice and gives a personal touch like nothing else does. and i had this awesome idea and i had even found a song, you know, the perfect song that says in a funny quirky way that you're amazing and a friend i love so much and i wanted to make it really personal but if i did that then i couldnt post it on those social networks, and you have to post it there, otherwise people won't acknowledge what an awesome person you are for receiving such beautiful and touching messages from afar. and that's 50% of the deal. so, being the perfectionist i am, i could not accept that. No way. 

Of course, pressured by time and by the need to make an amazing contribution to your birthday happiness, i panicked. I had some pasta to calm down and then i took a nap, i read somewhere it helps you relax and come up with solutions and when i woke up i was still drowsy so i knocked down some vase my mom had next to the bed so i had to spend around 2 hours putting it back together and i got so angry cause it took so long and it wasn't good enough and then i remembered that fuck, i didnt do anything for anna's birthday. so i thought, ok, last resort, an awesome e-card. it will send the right message and it will get there in no time. but before i got to the computer i realized that i couldnt just go with the first pick and once i start looking through all the cards available i will get even more confused and distracted in my search for the perfect one for you and i would have eventually ended up browsing like crazy through thousands of e-cards and choosing none. NONE.

And you might think what kind of perfectionist does she thinks she is if she doesn't finish stuff and can't even send me an e-card on my birthday or even that awesome gift from India? But you know, Anna, I really dont need you to get all judgmental on me right now, and plus, that's exactly what a perfectionist is, someone who is unable to complete a task to perfection just because perfect is unattainable. It's like Sisyphus. Sort of. So thanks for all the pressure you put on me today. Thanks. Really. And I know now you're thinking, OMG, she's so whiny, why am i even friends with her?

You can imagine I spent the rest of the day contemplating my failures and psychoanalyzing myself quite a bit, as a consequences of my hypothesis of your judgements on me. So you know what? Screw birthdays. 

But happy birthday.

And really lots of love. :)

it's not about being pretty

it's about people thinking you are pretty.
maybe you knew that, but for me it was an epiphany. i got it today, along with a sandwich.

my card wasnt working, i was worried i wont be able to eat anything in the 5 hours of stop over in london, then i think i should give it a chance, i go to a cafe, pick out a nice cheese and pickle sandwich and a bottle of water, go to the register and say: "i dont know if my card works", and the reply comes as "i dont know either". boring, but after one or two "belissima"s, one "multumesc" and one "cu placere", he gives me the stuff and i ask, with surprise, "did the card work"? and he replies full of glee "who cares?".

viva la subjectivity!

a mango week

i'm down to my last week in india. for now. it's sure that i'll come back, but just as girls with big hair and ugly denim jackets that no one thought would come back in style but did sighed when the 80s were over, here i am, on a balcony in delhi, thinking it's the end of an era. and sighing. regularly.

so even though i'll come back, i'm leaving now, and this makes me sad. so don't tell me to enjoy this last week as much as possible, cause it's hell. i shed a tear everytime i think of that 20 seconds of walking inside the airport. and as much as i dont want to leave, i really want it all to be over as soon as possible.

i know so many people who have left and i know all the symptoms, all the things that you could possibly miss, all the pain and joy that you can feel, all the flashbacks that can haunt you when you think you're happy to go back home.

and i'm not ready for any of those. i'm not ready to leave. the pocket where i keep all the people and places i love is getting too heavy. seriously. how do i say goodbye to everything? to all the awesome people who are still here, to all the awesome people who have left but somehow are still so much connected to this place that deserve a proper goodbye?

mm, ok, maybe a theme party and a poker face.