dogs

my friend brought fifteen dogs on the plane. yeah, he is set to make some serious money right there. no marketing research, no potential buyers, no, - none of that. russian arrogance does not need any of that fluff. he got a friend in moscow who basically gives these champion dog breed puppies for free. all he gotta do is bring the puppies down, - there will be a line of people to buy these beauties. he lives in the absorption center (cross between a cheap hotel and a fancy prison) in one-bedroom apartment with his wife and two sons – newborn and a ten year old. his only source of income is the government’s help to new immigrants.

the dogs need to eat well, they are going for a good price, no skimping out on them. he buys best chunks of beef and lamb to please his puppies. no problem pooping on that diet. the dogs have one room for themselves. we take turns cleaning and feeding. it’s not that pleasant, but it’s fun. this is an interesting family, i like their outlook on life. and my friend’s brother is cute. we got two neapolitan mastiffs, three great danes, four dobermans, two rottweilers, one caucasian shepherd dog, and three collies. they are just lovely.

week one passes. all dogs get bigger, no dogs get sold. they eat more, they shit more. we need to think. we make a dog seller poster and i start promoting our gems in the city center. i get to sell a great dane.

this was the only sale we made. we tried for few more weeks, the situation got unbearable. we had hard times giving the dogs away for free. general population did not care about the breed, they were more concerned about the diseases the strange russian dogs could carry. some dogs did not make it. caucasian ovcharka had to be separated from the rest of the puppies because he became dangerous to them as he grew. where could we place him? my friend found a room without light in a different town, and he took daily trips there to feed him. the dog got wild and mad in this strange abandoned room and had to be terminated.

but the things got better after a few months. the days of no food for the baby and no cigarettes for the wife seemed to pass. most of the dogs got placed on various arrangements. my friend went to russia again, this time he ventured to siberia. he came back with a great idea to start strawberry export business. bunch of neighbors chipped in and lent him cash visualizing the promising returns on their investments.

and one day my friend went on the mission. his wife, two children, and the seventeen year old neighbor apparently went with him. there are rumors that the teen got shot in odessa few years later. there are other rumors that actually it was the older son that got shot. and there are rumors that my friend himself got shot. we will never know for sure.

nannies

i am a neurotic obsessed mother. my children live on a very strict schedule. their activities are timed, carefully planned, and thought about in great detail. i am thinking about returning to work, we are looking for a nanny. right now i am finishing breastfeeding one baby, my husband is changing the other one. a candidate was supposed to show up about an hour ago, and still did not. doorbell rings. my father, who is helping out this evening, opens the door. i think i am late, am i? - the lady by the door asks. i think so, - papa answers. she blushes somewhat embarrassed. oh well, i guess i am going to go then, - she replies after slight hesitation. ok, - says papa and closes the door.

we keep looking. we see all kinds of nannies – caribbean, spanish, american, greek, russian, hungarian, old, young, experienced and expensive, inexperienced and cheap. we like this romanian girl, we hire her. she is supposed to show up the next day at 9am, she calls us at 8:50 to say that she is sick, not sure if she should come, and she is stuck in traffic. we fire her.

we keep looking. we really like this polish girl who has the experience and lives near by. but she is so expensive, we don’t think we can afford her. we like this caribbean girl, she seems really good, but she is even more expensive, there is no point for me to go back to work, paying this kind of salary to a nanny.

we keep looking. one russian candidate tells me i should stay home with my children. another russian lady starts crying about the death of her daughter’s husband. we kind of like this other russian woman, she seems ok, but she can’t say a word in english, and she says way too many words in russian.

we keep looking. a russian lady shows up – she is not young, but she seems pretty good, intelligent, has the experience we need, the salary requirements are appropriate, she speaks basic english. that’s great. we hire her, i arrange my return to work, and i start training her. she calls and says she can’t show up because her uncle in russia died. the next day she calls to say that actually it is her daughter that died and not her uncle. this day is my birthday and the day before i have to return to work. oh shit.. i think i am going to have a heart attack now. we fire her.

we keep looking. i work from home. my husband takes some time off work. we have no nanny. miraculously my cousin finds an ok russian nanny with good experience and references. we hire her. it seems to be working out. she is not bad, hardworking, likes kids, a little weird, but hey, who is not. she starts giving me attitude. i feel bad, maybe i micromanage and control her too much. i try to be easier on her. she gives me attitude. i try explaining the way things are to her. she gives me attitude. we fire her.

we keep looking. i don’t want russian speaking nannies anymore. we find a nice colombian girl from london two blocks away from us - educated, polite, with experience and references in the uk. she is willing to work for the salary we’re offering. we have to apply for her work visa, we have to pay a lot of money to the agency that represents her. we go for it. we want the best for our children. there is a storm in our neighborhood on day one of her employment. she can’t come to work because there is a hole in her roof. she gets a bleeding ulcer on day five of her employment. she is crying because she is breaking up with her boyfriend. she is back together with the boyfriend but she has to stay home with him because he brakes his leg. his grandpa dies, she gotta go to the funeral. she has so many problems, she is barely showing up to work. she has to text so much, she does not have time to care for the children. she damages a disk in her back, she can’t lift the children. we fire her.

we keep looking. we are looking mainly at russian women, they prove to show up. i don’t have the tolerance talking to all these ladies. my mother is prescreening them for me. one lady seems not bad. we hire her.

to be continued?

dream

how do you feel when something you were agonizing about for ages turns around and makes you happy? when after the accustomed hollowness you suddenly find love and total understanding in the deepest, closest, and scariest place? does it make you feel wise? does it make you feel proud and brave? does it make you feel empty? does it make you feel overfull of joy so much you don’t know what to do with yourself? does it make you cry and feel sorry for yourself for the eternity of doubts? does it make you want more? does it make you hurt even more because nothing real can ever satisfy the dream you created?

do you think that at the end you will feel what you always felt, you will doubt what you always doubted, and you’ll be scared as you always was because it makes you be what you are?


что ты чувствуешь, когда то, о чем ты агонизировал веками, разворачивается, и делает тебя счастливым? когда, после пустоты, сросшейся с тобой, ты неожиданно находишь любовь и полное понимание в самом глубоком, близком, и вечно пугающем тебя месте? ты чувствуешь себя мудрым? ты чувствуешь гордость и смелость? ты ощущаешь пустоту? ты чувстуешь переполнение радостью до такой степени, что ты не знаешь, что с собой поделать? ты хочешь плакать и жалеть себя за вечность сомнений? ты ощущаешь желание хотеть большего? ты ощущаешь еще более сильную боль оттого, что никакая реальность никогда не cможет удовлетворить ту мечту, которную ты придумал?

ты думаешь, что в конце концов и после всего, ты будешь чувствовать и ощущать то, что ты всегда чувствовал и ощущал, ты будешь сомневаться в том, в чем ты всегда сомневался, и ты будешь бояться, как ты всегда боялся потому что это делает тебя тем, кто ты есть?

circle of buttons and socks

finally i got away to do some shopping. excitingly, i managed to find a pair of pants that i liked and that fit. obviously, it’s the last pair (in all the sizes). i try them on, i buy them, i leave. they have six decorative buttons in front. i get home, i open the bag – one button is missing. that’s just so sad. i can’t find the button online. it would be pretty difficult for me to go to the store again. what should i do? ok, let’s get mama to go to the store, and ask them for an odds and ends button box. but mama is scared, she does not think they would help her out in there, they would just be rude to her and make her feel stupid and sad. ok, let’s ask my dear husband, who runs his life on such a schedule that an extra sneeze is an inconvenience, to stop by there. he goes there the first time, and the store is getting closed for the day, and they tell him to come back. he goes there again, and they mesmerize him with a bag of lost buttons. he looks for the button - so many shapes, so many colors. an interested shopper starts helping him out, the sales girl is trying to help out. there are so many buttons.. they don’t find the matching button for my pants. he brings them home. i look at the pants, i remove all the buttons, and i put four of them back. this looks perfect, it does not look any worse than the indigenous six buttons this story began with.

i live in the dorm. i do laundry very rarely. today is the lucky day. i put my laundry in the machine. i am going to visit my friend now. hold on, what am i going to wear? i got no socks, they all are drying right now. oh well, i’ll have to put on the sheer hosiery looking socks instead of my plain cotton ones. but wait, i can’t wear my sneaker looking shoes with these socks. i gotta put the dressy shoes on. this legware now requires an appropriate clothing to match. so i put on a nice shirt, and nice pants. obviously a face makeup has to follow this attire. i ring my friend’s doorbell. what happened? – she asks, - where are you going? i am just visiting you, - i reply, - but i washed all my socks.


наконец-то, мне удалось вырваться на долгожданный шопинг. полная радостью, я умудрилась найти штаны, которые мне понравились и даже подошли. конечно-же, это последняя пара (во всех размерах). я их меряю, покупаю, и сваливаю из магазина. на брюках шесть декоративных пуговиц. я приезжаю домой, открываю мешок – одной пуговицы не хватает. как печально. я не могу найти нужную пуговицу на интернете. мне будет очень проблематично ехать в этот магазин снова. что же делать? хорошо, давай-ка я попрошу маму поехать туда, попросить коробку с найденными пуговицами. но мама боится, она не думает, что ей там помогут, эти продавщицы будут с ней невежливы, и только расстроят ее. придется просить дорогого супруга, который живет по такому рассписанию, что лишний чих причиняет неудобство, поехать за этой пуговицей. он честно едет, но магазин закрывается, и ему говорят приехать опять. он едет повторно, его очаровывают мешком найденных пуговиц. он ищет – как много цветов, как много размеров. заинтересовавшаяся покупательница тоже становится помогать, продавщица пытается помогать. так много разных пуговиц.. они не находят пуговицу от моих брюк. муж приносит штаны домой. я смотрю на них, отрезаю все пуговицы, и пришиваю четыре из них назад. это выглядит замечательно. это выглядит абсолютно не хуже, чем те шесть пуговиц, с которыми начался этот рассказ.

я живу в общежитии. я стираю крайне редко. сегодня моему грязному белью посчастливилось. я кидаю стирку в машину. теперь я пойду навестить подругу. секунда, что же я одену? у меня нет ни пары чистых носков – они все в машине. чтоже, придется одеть прозрачные гольфы вместо простых хлопковых носков. но как же я одену мои каждодневные удобные туфли с этими носками? придется одеть нарядные. этот ножной наряд теперь требует соответственной одежды. я одеваю красивую кофту и брюки. конечно же, лицо надо накрасить соответственно. я звоню подруге в дверь. что случилось? –спрашивает она, - куда ты направляешься? я просто зашла к тебе, - отвечаю я, - но я постирала все носки.

haunt

i am a joke in your eyes. i am an idiot in everybody’s eyes. why did i let you do that to me? why did i let you in? did you really think i was not going to be loyal? you betrayed me. you say you are different, you believe you are different, i believe you are different, but i know you are the same. you are the same, i am the same, everything changes but the truth remains constant. i am a joke, i am an idiot. laugh at me.

outsider?

a group of loser-looking individuals perform strange to describe activities in a gated empty room. these maneuvers are supposed to wake up a musical instinct in your child. you are a parent who wants the best for your child, so you are willing to try it out. it does not matter how weird it looks to you. you hope your child sees it differently. you don’t want to give up something that’s widely accepted as educational for the children. you give the money in, you give the child in. yes, let’s do that, let’s try it out. you already gave up so many initiatives on yourself, you are bound to make up for it with your children.

i take dance classes, i take chess classes, i take fencing classes, i take sawing classes, i take jewish dance classes, i go swimming, i take english classes, i take classes at a gym, i take yoga classes. i feel foreign everywhere i do. it does not matter if i like the class, it does not matter if i do well. it does not matter how long i’ve been attending the class. it does not matter if i get to socialize with anyone in the class. i don’t belong there. i am an outsider.

ghosts

you dreadfully want to dial the number. the number is ingrained in your memory forever. the flock of tiny needles randomly sting you in the chest. what are you going to say? who are you going to speak with? is anyone there? do you want to talk? do you need to hear? what can you really say, and who will understand it? can you do anything except ache? will you hear anything back? would it help you if you did? was there something you could do?

we live surrounded by ghosts. we love ghosts. we talk to ghosts. we live for ghosts. we get hurt by ghosts. ghosts judge us. ghosts hate us. ghosts love us.

every relationship creates a ghost. it does not need to end to produce a ghost. you don’t need to die to become a ghost.

i am your ghost but it is not me.


тебе невыносимо хочется набрать номер. этот номер высечен в твоей памяти навеки. стая крошечных иголок беспорядочно жалят твою грудь. о чем ты будешь говорить? с кем ты будешь говорить? там кто-то есть? ты хочешь говорить или тебе нужно слушать? что ты можешь сказать и кто это поймет? ты можешь делать что-то еще, кроме испытывания боли? ты услышишь что-то в ответ? тебе бы это помогло? у тебя была возможность что-то изменить?

мы живем среди призраков. мы любим призраков. мы говорим с призраками. мы живем для призраков. призраки нас ранят. призраки нас судят. призраки нас ненавидят. призраки нас любят.

каждая связь порождает призрака. она не должна закончится, чтобы создать призрака. тебе не надо умереть, чтобы стать призраком.

я - твой призрак, но это не я.

hibernation

i am pregnant. i am so tired and sleepy. these two happy organisms inside the stomach are sucking on my energy. i can’t really breathe well when i lay down, so i can’t sleep much even when i try. i guess that is the natural way of the body to prepare to the nonstop feeding-burping-changing marathon. everybody seem to survive it, so i am sure i’d manage it somehow even with my child-like 8 hour need of sleep. i wished for this so much, i’ll be just fine.

the coworker of mine said something very profound – she said that in order to successfully manage all these postpartum issues you have to have two qualities:
- you can’t be a control freak
- you should not require much of sleep
did i quote it to you already? anyone pregnant?

sometimes we wish to be camels, sometimes we wish to be bears..


there is a survey at the bottom of the page again, so please vote by picking the option you relate the most to. hurting my feelings is always welcome.

virtual friends

i grew up reading books about real friendship. friends was the most important subject from day one of my self-aware existence. there always were two types of potential friends – friends i can attempt to get, and unreachable friends. sometimes i would win over even the ones in second category because of my loyal and truly interested in them personality. i always had good friends, yet somehow i always felt understanding them more than being understood by them. was there nothing to understand? was i that weird and tough to understand? not really. my only weirdness was digging too deep. nobody else had the interest and the desire to do that. still, it truly felt like having friends.

what when the friends become virtual friends, how does that work? well, obviously only real friends remain in that category for long-term. but what do you do with them? you can’t go out for coffee, you can’t visit each other, you can’t do anything friends do. you can’t even really talk on the phone because the time zones are different, and it’s generally not very convenient. the knowledge of their existence comforts you, and you really enjoy each other company on the very rare moments you meet . but you can’t shortly formulate to them what it is there in your soul on these instantaneous events. and do you want to? do you need to? are you still able to?

true love

have you ever experienced true love? i bet you did. for a moment, for a month, for a number of years. you completed each other sentences, you cutely disagreed on everything, you enjoyed spending time together, you could not wait to get in bed with each other, you masochistically suffered from unanswered feelings, you yelled at your partner endlessly – whatever the definition is for you – you’ve had it.

what happened? did you get bored? did the constant scene of your partner cooking, cleaning, and yelling at your children pretty much eliminated any romantic feelings? did you cheat or found out you were cheated on? did the absence of money and all the responsibilities kill it for you? did you discover separate interests and grew separate paths? did you notice a sickening irritation at everything your partner does? did you develop sense of being a secondary person in your family? did you realize that you can’t depend on your partner at all?

are you still in love? despite all that?



and this one is from travelzoo - https://www.ovationtix.com/trs/cal/2732 promo code trav1

inner peace

my friend is getting married. she is one of the first, the subject is unfamiliar and extremely important. do you really love this guy? - i ask. her answer is unexpected – i don’t think i am capable of this intense “loose myself in someone” love, you are talking about. i know i really like him, we get along great, i care for him, i respect him, it feels good to be together, and i think we’d have a good marriage. wow, i am speechless. here i am with no boyfriends, no dating prospects, and i can’t think the way she does. i can’t even enter a relationship that does not start with that mad love in the 1st place. she is so pretty and popular, and she is willing to give up the possibility of finding the love i am dreaming about. and she feels perfectly good about that. she already has her inner peace, she is not looking for anyone to complete anything for her. she is going to enjoy her life with the guy she loves being with, and i know it will work out perfect for her.


looks like yesterday’s post title was taken very literally. yes, i am not taken lightly. i like that. goes well with being subjected watching this planet terror movie that i surprisingly liked. you would too if you like kill bill.

no comments

this blog proudly survived a week of close circle publicity. you read it because you’re surprisingly interested in me and because you are interested in yourself, and you see that you and i are somewhat similar. well, we are related so we gotta be similar (friends and significant others are mentally related too so don’t feel left out). i like this voting gadget, this little tool is going to be my friend. maybe it’s not accurate at all, maybe it randomly shows headcount and results to make me feel delusional about my own popularity (nobody got bored?!), but hey, let it be so. you come here, you read this kind of a delicate stuff, and it moves you a little bit. and you are willing to do something in return, so you vote. voting is easy. it’s not like adding a ..comment.

i don’t comment. why? i don’t necessarily want you to know that i read your post. why again? because sometimes denial is more comfortable, especially for face-to-face encounters. also maybe i am not ready, maybe i don’t have words for my thoughts yet. here you are blabbing to everybody about whatever it is you feel like posting today, and i have something to say. but i can’t. not today. i am not ready to have your audience reading my opinions. i am not willing to start this online public discussion with you about something i am not really feeling up to talking about. and, there is nothing to say. you posted what you wanted and i read it. and that’s as far as it goes.

dream job

i sent my resume to the circus. i got laid off, and i was whining about having gray unpurposeful job for a while there, so it was my chance to start over.

what do i really want is to be a travel agent. that’s what i do most of the time anyway, and i love it and i am good at it. the problem is – it does not pay much money unless you are so good that you get a clientele and your own agency. but ok, i am willing to start as a plain low level nobody and work my way in the business. but the economy is shit, nobody is hiring, and the very few posts for travel agent positions require sabre and job experience. come on, it would probably take me 1 hour to gain that, but nevertheless, back to square one – no experience means no job. and am i really willing to work so hard to get this job that would pay 30% of what i am used to?

so let’s try something else – how about getting a job writing the same boring code but querying some artsy data, not the $ amounts.. nobody is hiring code writers, that’s how i lost the job in the first place, remember? i am sending my resume to all these companies that ask for something i can do, and i get almost no responses, and the ones i do get are from the same giant life-wasting-in-the-cubical monstrosities i am trying to escape. “a message from joe karcich – do you attend two huddle meetings a month? – if not, ask your supervisor” – what the hell is that?

so how about i stop doing the part of code writing i hate and learn deeper the part i actually like, how about i get certified in that part and then search for jobs doing this specific thing? how about i keep sending and sending my resume until somewhat of an interesting firm wants to hire me? maybe it will work out ?

sharing

how do you act around a not so close to you person with whom you happened to share something very sacred and personal and who really took it to heart? this is similar to acting around the person with whom you had sex the first time. you don’t talk about it, and it makes you uncomfortable until the person becomes close to you.

what if it never happens? what if there is something in that person that just makes you want to open your heart to him and at the same time you can’t learn to act your normal social self around this person at other times? when you know that this person feels, knows, and understands you like no one has, and you love that but you also hate that. you feel the inquisitive eyes of this person on your heart and on your brain, and you don’t want to be analyzed, you just want to be loved. you try your best. you try to act normal, but he does not let you because he is so much about you that he can’t act normal around you even more than you can’t do it. so you try to make him leave you alone, you purposely hurt him so he would stop intruding into your heart. but he does not let you do that either, he is just stuck on you. you give up, you try again, but you really can’t have this other person to always be there, always know what you feel, and why you feel that. you want it but you can’t handle it. so you grow, you evolve, you let the time pass, and you hope that it will pass for this person too. and one day it does.. or maybe one day it will..

как ты ведешь себя с недостаточно близким тебе человеком, которому ты случвйно открыл что-то очень дорогое и личное, и кто взял это слишком близко к сердцу? это похоже на поведение с человеком, с которым ты первый раз переспал. ты не говоришь об этом, и это смущает и делает тебя неловким до тех пор, пока этот человек не становится тебе близким.

что, если это никогда не происходит? что, если в этом человеке сидит что-то, что тянет тебя открывать ему свое сердце, и в это же время ты не можешь научиться вести себя с этим человеком так, как ты ведешь себя в обществе? когда ты знаешь, что этот человек чувствует, знает и понимает тебя, как никто другой, и тебе нужно это, но в то же время ты это ненавидишь? ты чувствуешь пытливый назойливый взкляд на своем сердце и мыслях, но ты не хочешь анализа, ты хочешь просто любви. ты стараешься, как можешь. ты пытаешься вести себя нормально, но этот человек не дает тебе эту возможность, потому что он настолько поглощен тобой, что он не может вести себя с тобой адекватно еще больше, чем этого не можешь ты. тогда ты пытаешься заставить его оставить тебя в покое, ты намеренно приносишь ему боль, чтобы он перестал вторгаться в твое сердце. но он не дает тебе сделать и это, он просто заклинел на тебе. ты сдаешься, ты пробуешь опять, но ты просто не можешь иметь постоянно этого человека, всегда знающего, что ты чувствуешь и почему ты чувствуешь это. ты хочешь этого, но ты не можешь с этим справиться. ты растешь, ты меняешься, ты даешь времю идти, и ты надеешься, что когда нибудь это чувство пройдет и у этого человека. и в один день это происходит.. или может в один день это произойдет..

fat?

yes, my goal is to make you as uncomfortable as possible..

i am a fat girl. i can’t go to the ballet classes, i can’t go to the ballroom classes, i am too fat and too clumsy for that. i need to go to the folk dance classes so i can loose some weight and to be more graceful. “you are not fat, you are normal” – that means you are not too fat to me.

i developed this thin waistline when i was around 12. my upper body was great, even i knew that, and i had compliments. but the hatred for my legs superseded the likeness of my waist.

i used to wrap my legs in cellophane and run (that little idiotic jog was not running) because that was supposed to thin out the legs from the oxygen decrease. i put my legs together and looked down to check the amount of holes between the hips and the knees after each run. there were never any, just one big lump of fat. the more hate i developed towards my fatness, the more careless i got, and the more i ate, and the more i hated all that. i would try all kinds of diets, and of course the more i would starve myself, the more i wanted to eat later.

i was eating fatty foods because it was the cheapest, and because i did not have any nutritional education or desire to have one. come on, with the level of smoking i had, who cared about health. with the level of arrogance i had – who cared about weight, eat=fat, don’t eat=less fat, but still fat because of my fatty build

and then i was lying (not talking about that right now), stressing over every piece of lie i had to believe, and i was loosing weight. i needed suits, i needed skirts (what? me - skirts!!) and i looked in the mirrors in my new size 10 skirts and pantyhoses (what?!) and it was not me i was looking at. that was freaky. and then someone at work referred to me as the skinny girl. what was that again? me – skinny, that’s impossible, i wear size 10, but wait, it does look somewhat big, i am size 8 now. then more people called me skinny, and i got to size 6.

these people can’t tell i lost weight (that implies that the fat person became less fat) because they don’t know me from before. they just know me as who i look like now. and i want to be that.

passing moment

i was 7. i wanted to stop going to the stupid kindergarten, and start going to school where i didn’t have to stay the whole day, didn’t have to nap, where i got treated like a real soviet youngster, for as long as i could remember. and the day came, my first day of school. i went to school and then i came home and i realized for the 1^st time in my life that my goal has been accomplished. i don’t have this goal anymore. i am going to school. i never thought the day would come but it is here. what can be my next goal? i’ll be going to school for 10 more years. it seems so long. but wait, did not the time waiting for going to school seemed so long. but the time passed, the millions of moments passed, and the present is now. i am older. i am going to school. then the other millions of moments will pass and i will go to college, then to work, then retire, and then i’ll be as old as my greatgrandma basia. i realized that so vividly, i was crying for a very long time (and i wasn’t the crying type).

i am scared of the passing moment ever since. i think i always feel it. and i always remember the way i felt it that day.

this feeling becomes especially strong in relation to the babies (who are no longer babies). i feel each moment of their existence. despite of their cries, their difficult behavior, even when it gets me, i still always feel sad to part with the moment because it passes so painfully fast. and then there are many moments when i realize how much older they got, and i feel proud, and at the same time so sad..

somehow enjoying the current moment and feeling sorry that it’s going are not really the same things.

connection

this should pretty much explain why i want to try blogging – lately with the level of distraction i get, it’s often difficult to finish a thought and moreover to remember it later. writing thoughts or thinking about writing them is a good motivation to keep them there in the head. i am writing for myself, so why share it? because of this warm feeling (happiness feeling?) when you relate to someone or when you feel someone else relates to you. there are moments when someone else says something and you know you felt this exact feeling, or went through exact same thing, or thought this exact thought exactly the same way, or maybe you felt it differently but you know you now have a connection with this other person.

this person may not be your friend, it may be someone you know, and then you pay more attention to this person. what is not so fun is when you can relate to a character, not to a real person, and if it happens repeatedly. that just makes you feel more weird and lonely. but why does it happen, that we often relate to these fictional characters, celebrities, etc. more than we relate to the people around us?

well, obviously people around us are not as fun and interesting as celebrities. also people around us often have different interests. but with the characters - the characters are complete. each word, behavior, thought of a character is thought by people, corrected by them, it does not have to happen in a moment. you relate to a character because it exposes itself on many levels, it is there to be shared with you.

people around us don’t do that most of the time. people around us act inadequate (i should revisit this subject from a different angle). we talk to people mostly about day to day routine. the routine is boring, it makes the people we talk to about it boring. but sometimes someone says something and it is above the routine, and you can relate, and it makes you happy. and we should try to be happy, and i’ll try to blog.

pointless writing

there used to be two options of writing your thoughts – diaries and letters. writing a diary was very interesting. on one hand you did not want anyone to read it, and yet on the other hand the thought of writing all this profound stuff that no one can ever appreciate was very sad. you usually want to be discovered when you are at the diaries writing age and you secretly hope that there will be someone (you don’t know whom) to find this diary of yours who will understand you like nobody ever had because nobody else has this full access to your inner world. yet at the same time you understand that you are not special at all, your thoughts on paper are crap, and you will live your whole life depressed and undiscovered. so the diary writings goes on and off all the time.

then there is (was) letter writing. this could only exist if you had someone to write to, someone or few some ones who you could share all these personal thoughts with and you had to be far from them to write to them. let’s say there is just one person, and you had to be physically near that person originally and then get apart. and then your relationship evolves from relationship with the actual person who can talk back to you to the relationship with the image of this person. by the time you get (and if you get) a reply you are already in a very different place in your mind. so the letters become just a way for you to express yourself, all your personal thoughts, and unlike diary, you don’t get to keep your letters. the letters could be out there, and you are embarrassed because you don’t really remember what was in them but you know if was very private and stupid. and the person you wrote to does not exist because this is not the same person you knew, and you are definitely not the person you were and all the thought sharing was really with yourself but it would never happen if you did not have that person to write to - the person that is now imaginary person in your head. a while back, i was reading kafka’s letters to his fiancé and there was this segment in there, something like this – written letters don’t get to their destinations, the ghosts are sucking them in on their ways. and this weird phrase really got me, it was exactly what i was feeling and could not put into words.

i feel like i lived in a whole other century with all these cheap phone companies, emails, ims, chats and all the rest of the sort. and don’t forget the blog.

odnoklassniki

i recently found out that this classmate of mine (that i don’t think i’ve ever talked with for whatever 8 or 10 years we studied together) had a crush on me. wow, this brought so many thoughts. i knew some guys liked me when i was child/teenager, but all these guys were losers. my whole image of myself for so many years was that i was only worth losers liking. i always thought i would not like myself if i would be someone else. and here comes this guy, he was not a looser at all, he was actually pretty popular with the guys (not with the girls though). i don’t think i would of like him, but i would be proud to be liked by him. this info would be so needed at the time. i hear about these kind of stories happening to others, but i am so surprised it happened to me.

diarrhea begins

hello everybody and myself, diarrhea begins. sometimes i think of things that i want to share and i hate spamming selective people, so here is the common and popular solution – post it and don’t bother anybody. here i go.

i was walking around union sq the other day (such a rare event these days) and i noticed there are more simple places to eat. the food choices that are fast, good, and not expensive used to be very limited over there. we went to le pain quotidian when we escaped few months ago, and it was really nice. they did not exist before, and now they seem to have so many shops. and now i can only go there for special occasions. but you (anyone here?) can go there – lepainquotidien.com – lots of locations, i only went to broadway & 11st.

another useful info from the same one day escape subway trip is this guy erikbergstrom.com, he sells his stuff at union square, and i really liked it.

wow, i went out for one day and i found at least two things to share, you all go to the city daily, and i don’t see you posting all the crap you notice, what’s a matter with me?

now a little bit of a braintrip - thinking of making this blog - what can i write about? what can inspire me? only the same, what has always been my main interest – guessing or thinking about the inner worlds of others, but mainly myself. overanalyzing myself (and some very selective others) used to be such a constant activity, i still do it but so not on that intense level. do i miss it? no way. so why am i going to blog here? i am not sure.