It`s a bit passed 12 am and what better way to celebrate the fact that I`m turning 23 than to smoke a Dunhill Finecut Blue cig, drink some coke, listen to an Amy Winehouse song (followed by the Holy Trinity of pop music - Beyonce, Adele and Gaga) and post something on a long forgotten blog.
I am alone now, but the past 2 days have definitely been a celebration I will not soon forget. I have already ackowledged you guys, but I want to take the time to express a more extended thank you for giving me a 2-day celebration before my actual b-day.
So thank you for last night`s activities and drunken moments. I have to say though that I appreciated most the moments after I got sober. I always wanted to wander through the woods at night, so thanks for giving me that... I always love waking up together, having our morning coffee in my living room and spending the day horizontally on the ground, grass, coach, beds doing nothing, talking, laughing, having good food and making stupid jokes.
Also, not to seem unsociable, but I guess turning a new age by yourself, gives you a bit of time to reflect on what you`ve done and what you want to do. That`s always scary but it`s healthy.
And something I never seem to have the courage to do is to actually thank my mom for all that she`s done for me, for the way in which she`s brought me up and for loving me as much as she does. Thank you mom, I love you. Maybe I don`t always or ever say it. My ways are wrong, but you still love me for who I am and I could never ask for more. In return, I promise to do the same...
So my being a bit emotional is slowly going way, and I will shortly return to my impervious self and as such I will push the post button before I change my mind.
Last but not least, thanks to the Romanian government for declaring my b-day a non-working day. What they need to do next is declare 18th June National Sleep Day, and we`re all set...
Sunday 14 August 2011
Wednesday 13 April 2011
back...and silent
So I landed in Romania. After, we obviously didn`t sleep, because an early flight at around 7 am, had us leaving the house at 4 am (4 am is still too early to go to bed for me and Bolo). This was the first uneventful tip to/from Manchester. I fell asleep in Munich airport on some chairs while watching the first Harry Potter film (I think I saw it in 5 parts, always falling alseep during the course of several days). Being home, I slept like a freak during the first day, and then I got back to my usual schedule.
Up until now, Romania seems to be welcoming me back. First night out, I went out with some very good friends. They took us to a place we hadn`t been before - it was this boring restaurant, where they played live Romanian music and whatnot. The singers looked like they were about to die on stage. The upside of the evening was me and Liana deciding to sing a couple of songs. We were almost booed off the stage, if it hadn`t been for Bolo saving us (she can kind of sing pretty well). In the end, we won a bottle of complimentary wine...for our awesome performances. It was pretty lame actually, but no one knows me...so..who cares? I met Teo during another night, and then went clubbing in a club in Ploiesti. While it is true that Ploiesti clubs don`t compare to Manchester clubs, we managed to get drunk, and had a lot of fun, despite some fat people dancing around our table. Anyway, getting drunk always helps make things around you look more beautiful. Other than that my social life is just visiting old friends and family, enjoying the pubs and cafes I grew up in and enjoying this mythical space that Ploiesti represents for me.
On the lonely, meditative side of things, I have been fully enjoying the forest near our house, taking long walks with the dogs and thinking about whatnot. Everyday, like clockwork, I take the dogs and sometimes my mom and go out to walk in the woods. Spring is not fully here, so the forest still looks like it`s waiting to burst. After the woods, there`s only one thing to do - go to the river, sit on the banks and throw rocks in the water and play with my dogs. Then a silent cigarette while contemplating the flow of both consciousness and water..then on my way back home...
Apart from that, I dug in the garden. My mom decided she wants a small vegetable garden. So we dug to replace the soil with some high level soil that would enable vegetables to grow. Everything is pretty silent to be honest...and I don`t mind it.
Silence is good..
Up until now, Romania seems to be welcoming me back. First night out, I went out with some very good friends. They took us to a place we hadn`t been before - it was this boring restaurant, where they played live Romanian music and whatnot. The singers looked like they were about to die on stage. The upside of the evening was me and Liana deciding to sing a couple of songs. We were almost booed off the stage, if it hadn`t been for Bolo saving us (she can kind of sing pretty well). In the end, we won a bottle of complimentary wine...for our awesome performances. It was pretty lame actually, but no one knows me...so..who cares? I met Teo during another night, and then went clubbing in a club in Ploiesti. While it is true that Ploiesti clubs don`t compare to Manchester clubs, we managed to get drunk, and had a lot of fun, despite some fat people dancing around our table. Anyway, getting drunk always helps make things around you look more beautiful. Other than that my social life is just visiting old friends and family, enjoying the pubs and cafes I grew up in and enjoying this mythical space that Ploiesti represents for me.
On the lonely, meditative side of things, I have been fully enjoying the forest near our house, taking long walks with the dogs and thinking about whatnot. Everyday, like clockwork, I take the dogs and sometimes my mom and go out to walk in the woods. Spring is not fully here, so the forest still looks like it`s waiting to burst. After the woods, there`s only one thing to do - go to the river, sit on the banks and throw rocks in the water and play with my dogs. Then a silent cigarette while contemplating the flow of both consciousness and water..then on my way back home...
Apart from that, I dug in the garden. My mom decided she wants a small vegetable garden. So we dug to replace the soil with some high level soil that would enable vegetables to grow. Everything is pretty silent to be honest...and I don`t mind it.
Silence is good..
Thursday 7 April 2011
the brat prince or kafka?
I`m holding my laptop on my lap, behind the screen I can spot my newly bought brogues which i decided to wear with coloured socks patterned in blue, red, and yellow squares. I can also spot my grey black carrot pants. I haven`t decided what top I am going to wear. I am a bit light-headed, my bags are packed, the rest of me is not...I`m on the green couch in the living room, sitting on my back, I have a tired look on my face. I am not sure if it`s melancholy, tiredness, sadness, exictement, depression or a combination. The one thing I know is that the corners of my eyes are downward pointing...and I have a feeling of anxiety...
The decision was made long ago. Kafka has to come out in my writing...In short, soon, I will tell a story...
The decision was made long ago. Kafka has to come out in my writing...In short, soon, I will tell a story...
Sunday 27 February 2011
When there is no noise inside the tin can...
I overslept today. I was supposed to be part of the Manchester IV, but I overslept today...
So I slowly rushed to the Tin Can when I woke up. Looking outside the window, the sun was spilled all over pavements that I was not going to chase. Talking the shortcut, I reached the bus station. The feeling that I had even before I had left the bed was stillness, and still it was. I saw the bus in the station from the moment I took a turn for Wilmslow Rd. Usually, I run for the bus. Today it was not the case. I would not run. As it turns out, the bus waited for me...
When I got inside the tin can, no noise. Everyone was inside their rooms, debating. And there I was, all alone, wandering the corridors of Uni Place. I walked around the first floor; no one was even in the rooms. I went to the third floor, where I decided not to interrupt any debates, and sat down in front of one of the doors listening to a debate about the internet in totalitarian regimes. I did not get much out of it, because the activity inside the room was not enough to disturb the nothingness around me. I got up, meandered for some more, and stopped in front of the large window facing Oxford Rd. The most silent that floor has ever been since I came to know it in September was at that particular moment. Outside, a guy was playing with a ball while crossing the street, only one bus, a couple holding hands, and the sun above Manchester, and the clouds circling the sun...
When the round had ended, the hustle and bustle of the usual tin can started again. It was too late for me I'm afraid. The whole day I was still, ignoring most people around me, sitting alone most of the time, without any fears of looking awkward. I watched some debates, and actively refused to judge or take any social roles. I was pretending to observe, when in fact all I was doing was in fact, rejoicing the lull instilled in me earlier. When the first day of the tournament ended, most people went for the Font Bar in Fallowfield. I followed...and sat in my non-caring awkwardness, only talking to the occasional passer-by and mostly lingering around Rugile, my Lithuanian friend, only talking when she talked and only replying when needed...
Somehow sitting alone in the corner, feels as comfortable as it is weird and lonely...So, today, I celebrated my socially weird moments and ignored all and any small talk.
...because the tin can felt good being quiet..
So I slowly rushed to the Tin Can when I woke up. Looking outside the window, the sun was spilled all over pavements that I was not going to chase. Talking the shortcut, I reached the bus station. The feeling that I had even before I had left the bed was stillness, and still it was. I saw the bus in the station from the moment I took a turn for Wilmslow Rd. Usually, I run for the bus. Today it was not the case. I would not run. As it turns out, the bus waited for me...
When I got inside the tin can, no noise. Everyone was inside their rooms, debating. And there I was, all alone, wandering the corridors of Uni Place. I walked around the first floor; no one was even in the rooms. I went to the third floor, where I decided not to interrupt any debates, and sat down in front of one of the doors listening to a debate about the internet in totalitarian regimes. I did not get much out of it, because the activity inside the room was not enough to disturb the nothingness around me. I got up, meandered for some more, and stopped in front of the large window facing Oxford Rd. The most silent that floor has ever been since I came to know it in September was at that particular moment. Outside, a guy was playing with a ball while crossing the street, only one bus, a couple holding hands, and the sun above Manchester, and the clouds circling the sun...
When the round had ended, the hustle and bustle of the usual tin can started again. It was too late for me I'm afraid. The whole day I was still, ignoring most people around me, sitting alone most of the time, without any fears of looking awkward. I watched some debates, and actively refused to judge or take any social roles. I was pretending to observe, when in fact all I was doing was in fact, rejoicing the lull instilled in me earlier. When the first day of the tournament ended, most people went for the Font Bar in Fallowfield. I followed...and sat in my non-caring awkwardness, only talking to the occasional passer-by and mostly lingering around Rugile, my Lithuanian friend, only talking when she talked and only replying when needed...
Somehow sitting alone in the corner, feels as comfortable as it is weird and lonely...So, today, I celebrated my socially weird moments and ignored all and any small talk.
...because the tin can felt good being quiet..
Wednesday 9 February 2011
How I am not a Murakami character, even though I wish I were
I am full.
Apart from one tutorial, all I did today was eat. I started my morning off with some Nutella and went on to pleasure myself with tuna salad with sweet corn, continued with chicken in tomato, garlic and just a spoonful of yoghurt sauce. In the end, Bolo suggested we cook something sweet and so we did some meringues. This was not enough...so a cake with cinnamon, bananas and other randomly mixed ingredients is waiting for us in the oven, two cakes to be more precise. So yes, I am full. Why is it that I feel such trivial things become paramount under the influence of my burning tongue covered in indian snaks? I don`t know. Does it matter? It does not.. It`s just that the smell of a possibly good cake is bursting out of the oven, and at this point I just feel that the sound of wallnuts cracking in your bare, bruised hands is finally worth it. We`re students, we can`t be expected to have anything as sophisticated as a nutcracker...
This day of eating reminds me of the novels of Haruki Murakami. Often times, his lonely characters resolve to eating as much as they can. They describe the process, they describe the ingredients, the cooking, the infusion of multiple flavours on their taste buds. These characters are usually standing on the verge on stepping in another world, that is not readily comprehensible, nor is it human in nature. This alter-world usually invades the individuals in their isolation. Since they are taken by surprise (and yet they don`t know that they`re slowly overstepping boundaries), they have to cling to anything that is worldly to them.
The above paragraph does not describe me, even though I sometimes feel I imerge myself in my own alter-world. By all means, this is not something that I would describe as being negative. Not even by a margin. By definition, we have to go away sometimes and then return upon having had our own epiphanies. But my day of eating has not been a step towards an epiphany. It was just a short break from the hugely commercial life that I am leading (by pure choice, true satisfaction and hedonistic desires and not by outer stimuli).
From time to time, I will resort, however, to clingging. This may seem as a rupture. It`s not one. I will keep on hanging on to the shaky floor in the Ritz and to the smell of beer that lurks around the upper floor. How could I not let the music in Tiger Tiger get glued on the clothes I so much love. It would be amoral not to allow alcohol destroy at least 50.000 neurons every time we meet. It would be stupid not to indulge myself to the night bus and to put it bluntly I could not give up the smoothness of Dunhill Finecut.
So now, while sipping on chocolate milk after having eaten half a mango, I realize that it is true that I do the clingging, but I could not be further away from a Haruki Murakami novel. If characters tend to hold dear to their hearts common actions, it seems that here, the common actions hold me dear to their hearts...
Apart from one tutorial, all I did today was eat. I started my morning off with some Nutella and went on to pleasure myself with tuna salad with sweet corn, continued with chicken in tomato, garlic and just a spoonful of yoghurt sauce. In the end, Bolo suggested we cook something sweet and so we did some meringues. This was not enough...so a cake with cinnamon, bananas and other randomly mixed ingredients is waiting for us in the oven, two cakes to be more precise. So yes, I am full. Why is it that I feel such trivial things become paramount under the influence of my burning tongue covered in indian snaks? I don`t know. Does it matter? It does not.. It`s just that the smell of a possibly good cake is bursting out of the oven, and at this point I just feel that the sound of wallnuts cracking in your bare, bruised hands is finally worth it. We`re students, we can`t be expected to have anything as sophisticated as a nutcracker...
This day of eating reminds me of the novels of Haruki Murakami. Often times, his lonely characters resolve to eating as much as they can. They describe the process, they describe the ingredients, the cooking, the infusion of multiple flavours on their taste buds. These characters are usually standing on the verge on stepping in another world, that is not readily comprehensible, nor is it human in nature. This alter-world usually invades the individuals in their isolation. Since they are taken by surprise (and yet they don`t know that they`re slowly overstepping boundaries), they have to cling to anything that is worldly to them.
The above paragraph does not describe me, even though I sometimes feel I imerge myself in my own alter-world. By all means, this is not something that I would describe as being negative. Not even by a margin. By definition, we have to go away sometimes and then return upon having had our own epiphanies. But my day of eating has not been a step towards an epiphany. It was just a short break from the hugely commercial life that I am leading (by pure choice, true satisfaction and hedonistic desires and not by outer stimuli).
From time to time, I will resort, however, to clingging. This may seem as a rupture. It`s not one. I will keep on hanging on to the shaky floor in the Ritz and to the smell of beer that lurks around the upper floor. How could I not let the music in Tiger Tiger get glued on the clothes I so much love. It would be amoral not to allow alcohol destroy at least 50.000 neurons every time we meet. It would be stupid not to indulge myself to the night bus and to put it bluntly I could not give up the smoothness of Dunhill Finecut.
So now, while sipping on chocolate milk after having eaten half a mango, I realize that it is true that I do the clingging, but I could not be further away from a Haruki Murakami novel. If characters tend to hold dear to their hearts common actions, it seems that here, the common actions hold me dear to their hearts...
Tuesday 1 February 2011
Studying and drinking out of the suitcase
I woke up at 5 pm today. Unlike november or december, the day has already started to get longer and there was still some sunlight outside. Bolo claims that she only likes to get up from the bed when streetlights are on. Like it or not, that's the case, with me too, I suppose. Haven`t had time to eat, or was not in the mood to eat, and I am sort of starving now, but I find it that my inspiration for posting only comes when at least one need is not satisfied (in this case, my need for food), in other cases the need to splurge, or to go out, or even the need to pee. The more disatisfied needs, the grater the inspiration to write...
So here I am, a bit dizzy due to lack of food for more than 15 hours, my fingers slowly shaking from the caffeine and nicotine intake, but not in the mood to solve these problems, not yet at least. As it is with me, I have become addicted to Rihanna's S&M song and have been listening to it for the past several hours. The fact of the matter is that I`m still recuperating after the past 2.5 weeks.
The moment I landed in Amsterdam for my layover, I opened up my laptop and started reading for one of the essays (since I had lost my connection and was earth-bound for more hours than supposed). I got home, after 2 almost crash-landings and started reading and writing, without even considering to unpack my suitcase. This routine went on for almost 2 weeks, and after 2 weeks my bags were still unpacked on the floor of my room. Of course, saying they were unpacked on the floor is just an understatement. I needed clothes, and various items from the baggage, so one by one my clothes were removed. The closet was unfortunately full of other messy clothes, so no other place to put dirty stuff other than the floor. Slowly, but surely, the floor in my room disappeared under the heaviness of many items. Obviously, my study-mess extended to the rest of the house. The living room was covered in lecture notes, lecture slides, articles, graphs, ruined pieces of paper, broken pens, and stashes of cigarette ends, empty bottles of coke, empty mugs (previously filled with green tea or coffee), post-its. I will not even mention the kitchen. Needless to day, things got worse on a daily basis. My brain was slowly melting with formulae, graphs and economic theories to the point where no more economists could fit my brain. After 3 exams, I was more exhausted than I had ever been after any given 3 exams. For the fourth one, I simply lingered on the lecture notes and on the textbook until I memorized the most important things without much understanding of the things in it. As was the case with me, Bolo was on the verge of extinction with great wisdom tooth pains (it`s ironic how her wisdom pains started to get stronger when she needed her wisdom most). Going to bed, every night I was only dreaming of the things I was supposed to learn. I did have one of the few dreams in my life where neither me nor people I know were the main characters. It is true though, that the action took place in a house resembling my own. I was dreaming about a family of bank robbers whose actions were obviously questionable, and in response, their neighbours took revenge on them by installing a device that was only audible by them and made them go crazy. It should be clear by now that the sound making the lead characters go crazy was the mere ringing of my mobile phone trying to wake me up to start studying again...
After 2 weeks of such maddening things, all had come to an end. Destroying my body was not close to an end though. After 3 hours of sleep, the only thing I could think about (especially since it was Ilai's birthday), was dancing and intoxicating myself with alcohol to wash up whatever economics was still stuck in my brain. So, we had a few guests, cooked 4 large pizzas and had pre-drinks before going to a club in lovely Manchester. At the club, the spluring went on, and I can proudly say that I did not get sick, I got merely dizzy. While this was going on, the floor in my room was even more covered in clothes, and the 4 suitcases on the floor were sinking even more in my world. Not too much sleep, and then clubing again. This time it was salsa time, and after that, a party till 5 am in a student hall. The third night of Ilai's b-day, was only rummy, beer and several good laughs...
Now, that everything is cleaned up, that some clothes are clean and that the room is sort of clean, after twelve hours of sleep I can only think that all of this was okay "cuz I may be bad, but I`m perfectly good at it".
So here I am, a bit dizzy due to lack of food for more than 15 hours, my fingers slowly shaking from the caffeine and nicotine intake, but not in the mood to solve these problems, not yet at least. As it is with me, I have become addicted to Rihanna's S&M song and have been listening to it for the past several hours. The fact of the matter is that I`m still recuperating after the past 2.5 weeks.
The moment I landed in Amsterdam for my layover, I opened up my laptop and started reading for one of the essays (since I had lost my connection and was earth-bound for more hours than supposed). I got home, after 2 almost crash-landings and started reading and writing, without even considering to unpack my suitcase. This routine went on for almost 2 weeks, and after 2 weeks my bags were still unpacked on the floor of my room. Of course, saying they were unpacked on the floor is just an understatement. I needed clothes, and various items from the baggage, so one by one my clothes were removed. The closet was unfortunately full of other messy clothes, so no other place to put dirty stuff other than the floor. Slowly, but surely, the floor in my room disappeared under the heaviness of many items. Obviously, my study-mess extended to the rest of the house. The living room was covered in lecture notes, lecture slides, articles, graphs, ruined pieces of paper, broken pens, and stashes of cigarette ends, empty bottles of coke, empty mugs (previously filled with green tea or coffee), post-its. I will not even mention the kitchen. Needless to day, things got worse on a daily basis. My brain was slowly melting with formulae, graphs and economic theories to the point where no more economists could fit my brain. After 3 exams, I was more exhausted than I had ever been after any given 3 exams. For the fourth one, I simply lingered on the lecture notes and on the textbook until I memorized the most important things without much understanding of the things in it. As was the case with me, Bolo was on the verge of extinction with great wisdom tooth pains (it`s ironic how her wisdom pains started to get stronger when she needed her wisdom most). Going to bed, every night I was only dreaming of the things I was supposed to learn. I did have one of the few dreams in my life where neither me nor people I know were the main characters. It is true though, that the action took place in a house resembling my own. I was dreaming about a family of bank robbers whose actions were obviously questionable, and in response, their neighbours took revenge on them by installing a device that was only audible by them and made them go crazy. It should be clear by now that the sound making the lead characters go crazy was the mere ringing of my mobile phone trying to wake me up to start studying again...
After 2 weeks of such maddening things, all had come to an end. Destroying my body was not close to an end though. After 3 hours of sleep, the only thing I could think about (especially since it was Ilai's birthday), was dancing and intoxicating myself with alcohol to wash up whatever economics was still stuck in my brain. So, we had a few guests, cooked 4 large pizzas and had pre-drinks before going to a club in lovely Manchester. At the club, the spluring went on, and I can proudly say that I did not get sick, I got merely dizzy. While this was going on, the floor in my room was even more covered in clothes, and the 4 suitcases on the floor were sinking even more in my world. Not too much sleep, and then clubing again. This time it was salsa time, and after that, a party till 5 am in a student hall. The third night of Ilai's b-day, was only rummy, beer and several good laughs...
Now, that everything is cleaned up, that some clothes are clean and that the room is sort of clean, after twelve hours of sleep I can only think that all of this was okay "cuz I may be bad, but I`m perfectly good at it".
Thursday 6 January 2011
To Manchester...
Me and my obsession for certain songs... So here I am, instead of studying macroeconomics, listening to Jessie J's Do it like a dude and procrastinating on blogspot. Since this is my 4th article (in a very short period of time...2 months?) I think this might be the time to actually launch this on facebook.
One week from today I will be in Manchester again and have to say that I have already started reminiscing about my time in Romania, without having even left it. Nonetheless, I have to admit that I missed Manchester and its mancunian ways.
The Curry Mile must be waiting for us to come back. Miss shopping at Meezan and Lidl. I remember how much I hated Manchester breakfasts - same old same old for 3 months in a row. Now I am really looking forward to going back to my sandwiches for some really strange reason I guess.
The night bus is something that I couldn`t ever forget...and something that I`m looking forward to getting back to (after exams obviously). Packed with not necessarily sober students, girls wearing short skirts (despite the blizzard outside the bus), guys with beers and champagne glasses (yeah!) in their hands, packs of people attacking the bus with snowballs. a bewildering variety of languages and the funniest drunkards ever. If you`re ever in Manchester, traveling by the night bus, and you happen to see an empty seat, don`t bother going towards it, it`s probably full of vomit (just so you know). Nonetheless, it`s the bus that takes you to have fun and gets you back. Weirdly enough it`s a seperate world. During the days, the Brits are silent, while during the night, they and everybody else living in Manchester become Lady Gaga`s little monsters, or monsters of their own, but who can make a difference anymore?
The clubs and the pubs? Of course, great music, not too much space for dancing, expensive booze (sadly). The occasional girl falling in front of you (either because drunk or her shoes do not fit), the screens where you can send texts for everyone to see, the drunk people, the loud speakers, people pinching your ass, people talking to you in incomprehensible english (for me at least)...priceless.
Market street? The busiest place in Manchester where urban fashion happens. People watching in market street sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette while raining or snowing (and covering yourself with an umbrella) can prove to be quite fun. Carrot pants, skinny jeans, pattern skirts, leather jackets, boots, sandals, every colour in the world and the guy selling strawberries every day for 2 pounds...
Arndale,the largest inner city mall in europe, or so they say, or so I`ve heard. Every shop there, Bolo and I probably know it by heart. You have to fill your time with something when you`re still in the process of making friends in a new city (also known as having no friends).
Last but not least, our house. Our squirrels, Ilai and Vlad`s cries...
One week from today I will be in Manchester again and have to say that I have already started reminiscing about my time in Romania, without having even left it. Nonetheless, I have to admit that I missed Manchester and its mancunian ways.
The Curry Mile must be waiting for us to come back. Miss shopping at Meezan and Lidl. I remember how much I hated Manchester breakfasts - same old same old for 3 months in a row. Now I am really looking forward to going back to my sandwiches for some really strange reason I guess.
The night bus is something that I couldn`t ever forget...and something that I`m looking forward to getting back to (after exams obviously). Packed with not necessarily sober students, girls wearing short skirts (despite the blizzard outside the bus), guys with beers and champagne glasses (yeah!) in their hands, packs of people attacking the bus with snowballs. a bewildering variety of languages and the funniest drunkards ever. If you`re ever in Manchester, traveling by the night bus, and you happen to see an empty seat, don`t bother going towards it, it`s probably full of vomit (just so you know). Nonetheless, it`s the bus that takes you to have fun and gets you back. Weirdly enough it`s a seperate world. During the days, the Brits are silent, while during the night, they and everybody else living in Manchester become Lady Gaga`s little monsters, or monsters of their own, but who can make a difference anymore?
The clubs and the pubs? Of course, great music, not too much space for dancing, expensive booze (sadly). The occasional girl falling in front of you (either because drunk or her shoes do not fit), the screens where you can send texts for everyone to see, the drunk people, the loud speakers, people pinching your ass, people talking to you in incomprehensible english (for me at least)...priceless.
Market street? The busiest place in Manchester where urban fashion happens. People watching in market street sitting on a bench, smoking a cigarette while raining or snowing (and covering yourself with an umbrella) can prove to be quite fun. Carrot pants, skinny jeans, pattern skirts, leather jackets, boots, sandals, every colour in the world and the guy selling strawberries every day for 2 pounds...
Arndale,the largest inner city mall in europe, or so they say, or so I`ve heard. Every shop there, Bolo and I probably know it by heart. You have to fill your time with something when you`re still in the process of making friends in a new city (also known as having no friends).
Last but not least, our house. Our squirrels, Ilai and Vlad`s cries...
Saturday 27 November 2010
Dirty kitchens and boot skating...
It`s 3 pm. I just woke up and I'm happy I got to catch some light today. I`ve formed this bad habit of waking up after 4pm and this means that there are days when the only light I get is the one from light bulbs. Not that I`m complaining, I actually quite enjoy light bulb/laptop light.
So I`m up in the kitchen drinking my morning green tea and smoking my first cigarette of the day among kitchen appliances and utensils that seem to have run amok. Mugs filled with cigarette ends and leftover tea/coffee, dirty pieces of cutlery, mad mixers and blenders, something that used to be food and so on and so forth. Probably today everyone is going to play housewife and go to war against the kitchen. Probably...
[...]
Its 4:48 in the morning several days after the previous 2 paragraphs. We have indeed played housewives, not very good ones for that matter...but that was expected I suppose. But this is not important now. What`s important is that yesterday there was the first snow of the year in Manchester. It snowed with some of the biggest snow flakes I have ever seen. They were in fact so big that I might have been under the impression that they made a deaf sound upon hitting the ground. Today I skated my boots on our street with Bubi and then went on to buy thermal socks and 7 puzzles in one and strolled around the Christmas market around the city centre. Even though there were minus something degrees outside we strolled around some parts of the town that were slightly undiscovered until now and window shopped at Emporio Armani.
All in all, a productive day. Two more weeks until my mom`s coming to visit and three more weeks until I touch Romanian ground again! Oh...and happy country-day to Romania!
Wednesday 24 November 2010
Groovy fun and burglars
This is one of those posts when I know that I want to transmit something. I don`t know exactly what that is, but I know the feel of it, and I think that it`s enough to try to blog about it.
Last week was definitely one of the best worst weeks ever. We have had some friends visit for a week (well, Bolo`s friends, but I suppose I can sort of call them my friends as well now). First off I barely got any sleep and the sleep I got was not really the amount I needed, so at the end of the week I was pretty beat because during the week - we went clubbing, we got drunk, we played rummy, we played cards, charades, and what not. Oh, we also played the 'clue' game which we conveniently names BILC, we through concerts for each other, if you can call what we did concerts, we listened to old romanian tales (the ones our grandparents used to tell us), which apparently are very funny.
Anyway, the highlight of the week was our house being broken into. We quite simply left the back door open, and someone just entered, grabbed 2 watches, 2 laptops (mine was one of them) and then proceded to Eli's room who was (un)fortunately in the room. So he only stole these items, but was planning to steal our cigarettes (damn him for even considering that). He didn`t touch Bolo's laptop - but this is not particularly surprising since it`s a piece of junk (sorry, bub, but it`s the truth). So right after I get home, I dial 999 and in my panic I start complaining "someone broke into our house...bla bla bla" and a rugged voice replies "Do you need police, firemen or ambulance". Really now, if you take enough time to ask that question I might have needed all of them. The point is that no one is hurt, (apart from the data from my laptop which could have been deemed a very good friend of mine), and that my contact with the outside world is limited untill I get a new laptop whose hiding place I am not going to reveal.
And now I shall go eat something Bolo and Eli cooked...
Bon apetit!
i
Wednesday 10 November 2010
"Chez le fatal picard" no more, but still the same
Today`s there is an old end to a new day. Looking around, this room feels more and more like home. The table is full of clothes, and one book, no, two books, if you pay really close attention. There are exactly 6 pairs of shoes on the floor (12 shoes, but not sure if they make up 6 pairs or 5 pairs and two unpaired shoes), and exactly two piles of clothes on the floor, near the laundry basket (one of the piles may still have wearable clothes). The bookshelf is used as laptop support (very lateral thinking) and on of the shelves for feet support while sitting on the bed. The purple "painting" of a road we bought when we moved here would probably fall from the cupboard if it weren`t for my clean underwear (the dirty underwear is tossed all over the upstairs room) and some other t-shirts plus a small broken lamp. Most of the time, drawers should be kept shut, but not here. In this world, drawers are wide open. Ours are full of papers, cables, socks, and huge amounts of various nothings that we will never use in our lives. The night stand (a converted table) has a belt on it, an external hard-drive, a watch, and a book titled "The devil`s bible" which I always intended to read, but never got around to, a pen, a DVD (we found it in the room, so it must`ve belonged to the previous tenants), and a pair of socks. The bed is covered in blue and golden sheets, the golden are mine, the blue are Bolo's. Any stranger could see inside this room, if they bothered to take a peek through the crack in the curtains, but that doesn`t bother me - never was much of a private person.
This is my environment and it`s as cosy as is chaotic.The lights are dim. Bolo ordered online a lamp cover, which does not fit and blocks most of the power of the light bulb. We decided to install it though, but it does not look as something that should be standing on the ceiling, it looks like something that should be standing on a desk.
None of this matters, it`s the way things are done around here.
This is my environment and it`s as cosy as is chaotic.The lights are dim. Bolo ordered online a lamp cover, which does not fit and blocks most of the power of the light bulb. We decided to install it though, but it does not look as something that should be standing on the ceiling, it looks like something that should be standing on a desk.
None of this matters, it`s the way things are done around here.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)