And so it is-

It's getting bad again.

Things to remember

Brush your teeth with warm water when it's cold outside, it will make you feel less empty
(at least for a few minutes)

Try to go outside at least once a day, even if it's the last thing you'd want to do.

Empty is not good. Empty is not good. Empty is not good.

Stop expecting so much from others. Expect more from yourself.

Things are not as horrible as 4 a.m. makes them seem. You are not as bad as midnight makes you believe.

The dull ache in your chest will go away. Or you'll stop noticing it. Either way, it gets better at some point.


...maybe.

Friday Morning Insomnia

But not that type of insomnia that keeps you awake just to mess with your head because it's bored and needs someone to come out and play. Instead, I got the kind that buzzes in your ears and doesn't let you rest until you smack it against the wall and leave a bloody trail in its wake. [If mosquitoes fed off period blood, things would be much easier.] That's when you decide that maybe it's time to get up and do something productive, since sleep is already forfeited.

So I went jogging. At 7 a.m. Through the Opera Park. Through the fog. Through people in suits hurrying their morning away and students with frowns wishing they were still in bed.

And it felt good.

   

          

Life Updates from Late-October

I opened this and then left it here for several hours days. Nothing creative happened. No spark. No divine inspiration. All I felt was a little tired and with a backache. Writing is hard.

I've mostly stuck to paper lately, but even then, even there, the words come out gutted and crippled, dragging on until I end up drifting away somewhere. Anywhere. Preferably not here-and-now, but there-and-then. If the past and the future move fast enough, the illusion of some sort of present is created. The faster you go, the more things you do, the more you get to live suspended in this illusory now.  

I've decided to force myself to write, even if I don’t have anything to say. Especially if I don’t have anything to say. This void takes up more of my mind than I’d like to admit, and if the room is especially dark and quiet, I can hear my own bloodstream sloshing about in my ears. [So much for a great inner voice.]

In a week I’m supposed to start writing a novel and finish it in one month. This task was easier when I was still living in Vienna. The tiny, solitary-confinement-type room at the second floor of an all-girls dorm was the ideal recluse. This year I’m living it up in a noisy house with activity and laughter. That’s the last thing I need when I write. Contentment. Ugh.

.Time to fall asleep watching American Horror Story.

((New) Beginning) Rinalda's Adventures in Bucharest

1. After four days of loitering in my aunt's house, I finally moved into what will be my residence for the following year. It's nice but the dog is menstruating so there's blood on the porch.
2. It's been raining incessantly for three days now. If it won't stop, I'll have to start building an ark around me. Or at least learn how to swim. (Both options are equally unapproachable.)
3. My right hand is cold. So is my nose.
4. I feel lonely.
5. And hungry.
6. I skipped the opening ceremony because of adverse weather conditions.
7. The armchair I'm currently sitting on is worth more than my laptop.

Before I Leave

I'm leaving again.

Not sure how many books I should take with me. Not sure how many winter coats. Not sure how many sweaters. This time I'm going way further than before, a 14 hour train ride from my hometown. And I'm nervous.

I replied to my 8 penpal letters instead of packing. I don't really want to pack *sigh*

I still don't know where I'm going to live. This is a bit stressful. I'd like it to be a nice place, with light and warmth and nice people. I'd like that.

Roşia Montană, underground folklore, Plai. We're waking up.

Our country's hymn clearly urges us to wake up; well, it's finally happening. The angry youth is out on the streets, the even angrier elders are joining in. Children are rattling bottles filled with coins, adding to the chorus of voices demanding to be heard. The only ones who stay silent are the journalists, the filthy media who once more demonstrates that silence is golden. Isn't it, though. Our revolution is silenced by the media but flourishes on social sites, on independent blogs and in people's souls. The protesters were called hipsters just because they were wearing clothes that they felt would resonate with the movement. They were deemed unworthy of protesting by people who were sitting on their fat asses in front of the television while these so called hipsters who don't understand were taking over boulevards and reclaiming the country. They were mocked and still are, because many think that this is not important, that it will blow over and that "nothing would have happened anyway, gosh." "Calm down, no need to make such a fuss." "Why even bother?" Why bother? I'll tell you why fucking bother. Because this is our land. Our fucking land that we fought to keep, struggled to maintain yet slowly leave it to rot in the hands of even more rotten people. How does this not make you angry? How can we be so passive when there's still something to save?

(c) Vlad Petri

Romania has a history of being an integral part of its valleys, mountains and forests. We are a people who knew how to respect the land, and that land loved us back. We have rich folklore and wonderful tales, great music that is lost as time passes. If this country's youth would only realize that what we have is powerful we might redeem the years of aimlessly floating through a nothingness characterized by lack of identity. Romanian is not a bad thing. Repeat after me. Romanian is not a bad thing. I'm only writing this in English because the narrative of minorities should reach beyond the borders imposed by language.

We're slowly waking up and with us resurrecting our old folklore.

The art:

The music:



The traditional clothing:

The festivals:

Plai 2013

FânFest 2013

This is our National Renaissance and I'm proud to be living through it. 

August Randomium

1. I only feel nice when my toes are painted turquoise.
2. My room smells like dying cat.
3. Banana split is the best split.
4. I can now (semi-)proficiently ride a bike, complete with turning corners without falling.
5. I've been reading a lot of Eliade lately, and I feel misled.
6. My phone got stolen in Bucharest on my birthday, but I got a better one instead.
7. Lemonade beer.
8. Oradea is actually a nice city.
9. A neighbor got killed by a tram this morning.
10. I wish I could draw better, yet I do nothing to improve it. This bothers me somewhat.
11. I'm leaving in two hours, but not looking forward to the sticky warmth of the train.

I hope your August doesn't make you want to hide in a basement.

P.S. Here are some of the lovely letters my penpals sent me in the past month <3

From England

America

India

Thoughts About

I haven't written a blog post in quite a while, fact for which I apologize (mostly to myself, because I'm fairly sure nobody else cares.) I'm currently staying over at my aunt's in Bucharest, our lovely and immensely dirty capital (which I hate with all my little heart,) preparing for an upcoming MA interview that I'm scared shitless over. *takes deep breath* *listens to girly music and stuffs self with more chocolate*

Here's a short list of things I hate, in no particular order:

• doormen
• guards of any kind
• doctors
• especially dentists
• feeling unsure
• having to worry about the future, when life is supposed to be simple and beautiful and free

I'll go do some yoga and pretend I'm an heiress.

Stream of Unconsciousness

I am unhappy again. And it's better when I'm not happy. Everything moves in all the right ways in my brain, for once I'm not a static thought repeating itself until the walls of my head are scribbled with the same line over and over again like the blackboards from old classrooms. I will not lie again, I will not lie again, I will not lie again, All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, All play and no work makes Jane useless and unfuckingsatisfied with her pathetic life. 
Is it really that pathetic though? What is so cringe worthy that you can't deal with anymore? What are the monsters under your bed and why do you love them so? Is it because the nightmares are more tangible and less likely to forget? Is it that the good things are becoming so far apart that the hiatus between the moments in which you are happy without thinking or doubting it are a wasteland of forgotten thoughts? What if you could write all of that down? What if someone could hear that little voice in my head loud and clear until the things eating away at my core would worm themselves through the eardrums of the listeners until they all understood? Could they take it?
Everyone is a rotten apple in this fucked up garden of Eden, and we all have bad things worming their way in and out of us, like as many bad fucks on a prostitute's cross-out calendar. Crossing out the days until you don't really care about your birthday anymore - or about weekends, or about holidays, Monday Tuesday Wednesday become words that hold no meaning, empty carcasses of what they used to signify, why wake up and why go to work and why in God's name waste away your Thursdays Fridays that blend into one long workday just to get to the Saturday and Sunday of your miserable week that soon becomes a miserable month and sooner than you can say 9 to 5 you have a full year of Mondays and no way out.
Brave? Who has the time to be brave anymore? It's all go go go, run, if you don't run you won't keep up, if you fall then crawl, anything just keep moving. Never stop, why stop, there's no reason to stop, hurl yourself towards the grave, free-fall from the clouds that once held your dreams until your face is planted in the cold Earth that holds nothing but more worms for that rotten apple that you have become. Gravity took you and physics decided you were too old to believe in anything higher than yourself so you fell from that tree, covered in layers of knowledge that only made you heavier and sadder and you were hurled to the ground like so many others before and after you. You are not a seed, worthy of planting. You are a rotten apple and the garden is ugly and there's graffiti on the inside of my skull.
Sad is better than numb. Sad is better than nothing.


You have a gift though, oh God you have a gift but that gift only works when you don't and you're afraid you'll either lose it or lose yourself in the process. And if that's the case, which one would you choose?

All the bad memories are coming. There's no distraction to stop them. I'm scared.

Summer pet peeves

1. When it's so hot during the day that I can't nap.
2. When I have to sleep at night, when it's acceptably cool, because I couldn't nap during the day.
3. When it looks like it's gonna rain but doesn't.
4. Having school until mid-July, thus rendering summer unsummerlike.
5. Permanent headaches due to atmospheric pressure.
6. Stickiness.
7. THE SUN.
8. OH GOD THE SUN.

Things to do on a rainy afternoon

1. Pretend you're one of the Aristocats kittens in a basket on the river bank. I used to feel safe and cozy whenever I thought of myself as a kitten in a basket out in the rain.
2. Stuff yourself with comfort food and watch a nice show while cuddled up in your blanket.
3. Read a book while listening to the metallic pitter-patter on the windowsill.
4. Be happy that your crops will grow faster and better this year, sacrifice to the gods of rain and thunder and wash your face with the blood of your enemies.

There ain't no party like a pity party

If you're ever in doubt, remember this sentence: you only see what they show you. Everyone is secretly falling apart inside one way or another, but you don't get to see that. Oh no. Unless people deliberately show it to you or are very very bad at hiding. So all you know is that you are falling apart inside, and everyone else is happy. Let me just assure you that this is complete bullshit. We're all fucked up messes that go up and down the rollercoaster until we feel sick of all the moving, so we decide to lay in bed, pull up the covers and make the big bad world go away. This isn't a solution either. Don't do that.

I can't even follow my own advice.

This Is About Anime

I haven't felt so attracted to anime characters since high-school.

I mean, how could I not? Just look at them.

My Little Monster (Tonari no Kaibutsu-kun)

I Feel Stuck Here

Honestly, all I want to do is leave.

This is what happens when I stay in one place for too long. I start being miserable. And that's how it is right now. After great soul-searching and life-evaluating, I have hereby decided that if I am not travelling in one form or another (be it in real-life, through books or, preferably, both) then I am not happy. How's that for a goal in life--keep moving or your mind stops. Fun.

I haven't had a good idea in days.

This is honestly killing me.

I need to leave.

Things I've Learned From Higher Education

1. Bureaucracy is God. Even if you have the cure to bloody cancer in your research papers, they will most definitely not care unless you also have a document signed by individuals that are never at their offices and don't own mobile phones and don't reply to e-mails. Best part? You get the blame.

2. Pretend. Pretend it's someone else's fault so your parents don't yell at you for something that will in no way add to your life experience or happiness yet is still apparently important because numbers on a piece of paper clearly show how smart you are. Pretend you know what you don't care about just to get over it faster. Pretend you care just to not get nagged. Pretend.

3. Nobody really cares. And the few that do have little power of changing things.

4. Big words are usually empty. The amount of ginormous words used is directly proportional to the % of bullshit. And just because you use them does not make you king and queen of cheese, my friend.

5. Learn by heart and do not question. What? You have opinions? How cute, now move along and listen to what we have to say about what you have to think.

6. Intelligent people can get around by doing very little. It's a thing. You do only the necessary and leave more room for what you actually like, this usually resulting in mediocre grades and higher overall happiness levels. This does not make you a failure. It makes the educational system a failure.

7. Naps are vital. For finding yourself and deciding whether the 6 page long report on sea slugs is actually that important.

8. Why. You will ask this question a lot. Why sit in class while an almost defunct teacher reads outdated theories out loud for you to write down and memorize word for word. Why attend any class that has one-way communication. Why accept opinions instead of challenging them. Why allow your mind to become so dull that conversations about the weather will seem like a good idea. Why.



I'm just very upset today, and not even coffee and denial will change it.

My Dissertation

Or how I can't seem to focus enough to actually write more than a paragraph about something I really like. Because who does things when they're supposed to? Not me, no sir. The theme I'm working with is dystopias. I just really like dystopian books, so why not write about something cool, right? Well, it's way harder than I originally thought. I don't have the necessary will to sit down and do something analytical as opposed to something purely creative.

The yield for tonight: 1 paragraph
Cups of coffee: 1 (so far)
Toothache: persisting

The paragraph is about Cloud Atlas.

Motto: “Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies…”

And stories cross genres like in no other work before it. Cloud Atlas is baffling and chilling in its implications, ambitious to the extreme in its language and, ultimately, a meta-novel of the highest form. Six intertwining stories told in six different styles weave a tale about what links us all together  in a truly detective style, in which the reader gradually discovers the key to the biggest mystery of all: what happened to Civilization as we knew it? From the language of a 19^th century epistolary novel to the slurs of forgotten words in the post-apocalyptic future of ‘after the Fall’, Cloud Atlas promises and delivers a journey of the best kind: a journey through language and stories. Forward and backward we are taken through time, backtracking and completing the circle drawn by David Mitchell with precise and masterful artistry. 

Ideas That Come at Night--

--are always the best ones.

I was unable to fall asleep last night so I wrote down a few drawing ideas that have now materialized, mostly because I'm an active procrastinator who won't start working on what needs to be done academically until literally the last day before the deadline.

Hope you like.

Lies I Heard This Week

Lie #1: Wisdom teeth aren't that well grounded and probably don't even have strong roots anyway.
Bullshit. Mine were burrowed deep into the recesses of my fucking skull, reaching for the fucking mines of fucking Moria for all I know, and the roots became coiled whips of pain and torture once touched by human hand and/or tool. You little shits.

Lie #2: If it didn't hurt me, it probably won't hurt you.
Fact: It did fucking hurt me, you inconsiderate egocentric bastards! It hurt me so much I felt the screeches of my healthy tooth being torn to pieces by metallic drills long after it was brutally pulled out of my traumatized gums.

Lie #3: You'll be able to eat after three hours.
Are you fucking kidding me? It's been three days and I still eat mashed bananas and soup. Why? Because it still fucking hurts, that's why.

Fuck.

So About This Mars Thing

Want to spend the rest of your life attempting to colonize Mars? Are you unafraid of unknown radiation? Do you have the following traits?

The prime attributes Mars One is looking for in astronaut-settlers is resilience, adaptability, curiosity, ability to trust and resourcefulness. They must also be over 18.

Then click here and sign up for what is probably the most mind-blowing project you'll live to see. On national TV. From 2023, on HD screens near you.

To be completely honest with myself, I think the fact that we are starting to spread out on other planets is as disturbing as it is cool--who would have thought that we'll get to see humans living on Mars in our lifetime? Not only that, but completely adapting to a new planet that is basically a red dust rock with weird radiations and a 38% gravitational field and then being unable to return to Earth due to said changes-- well, that's a bit extreme. Yet the applications are pouring in and people as young as 19 are eager to leave Earth forever in order to pursue their dream. SPACE.

...

Fuck, who am I kidding, this is creepy as hell.

Things I Worry About (always at 3 a.m.)

1. I'm going to be 30 in 9 years
2. Paper-cuts
3. Life doesn't seem to have any other point to it other than being happy, yet I do all these things that I don't particularly like just because it's expected of me, and I feel like I'm wasting it all away on nothing.
4. My food spoiling on the balcony because I don't have a refrigerator
5. Failing
6. The fact that I didn't spend enough time with my grandparents
7. Everyone I love will die one day
8. And so will I.