Rainbow Child

I know I should be more diplomatic, but I can’t. I know I should’t let my voice tone get all high-pitched when I’m talking to a stranger, but, again, I can’t. Thursday, as we entered in our train compartment, a lady came rushing in from another compartment and wanted to know what beds we had. We told her the numbers. Then she asked if one of us wanted to move in the compartment she had come from because she was traveling with her daughter, who turned out was our age, and they got beds in different places. Well, I guess a normal person would have realised we were together and it was silly to ask such a question. Nonetheless, the lady was a bit… stuck on the idea of sharing a compartment with her daughter. She had asked the other lady who was there if she would move. The second lady was obese. The first lady wanted her to leave her bed, which was down, and move into the upper bed in the second compartment. How stupid can one get? And this wasn’t the end of it. We bought the tickets for the four-bed compartment, but there were six beds in it. There always are six beds, but only four people sleep there. So, the lady wanted her daughter to sleep with us and I quote: “It’s fine with everyone. It’s just us here.” No, stupid bitch, it wasn’t just “you” there, we were also there. We bought the more expensive tickets because we didn’t want to cram in a six-bed compartment. We paid more than that tickets are worth just to be able to move and breath in the bloody compartment. I’m sorry you didn’t buy your ticket in time, but it was your own fault and we should’t suffer because of your stupidity. She was so offended we I told her all the above in a decent way that she refused to look at us for the rest of the ride. And she even called someone to complain of our incredible behaviour. Some people are just plain stupid and think they deserve everything.

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I remember that last year, in the same period, I could still ride my bicycle to uni and I didn’t need to wear three bloody sweaters inside. This year we went directly from wearing T-shirts to wearing thick jackets. I feel like I’ve been robbed of the only part of autumn I enjoy; no walks in the park, no cardigans + scarves, no nothing, just rain and darkness and cold weather.

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And I can’t believe we don’t have heating yet. I don’t know what they’re waiting for. It’s already bloody cold, under 10 degrees each and every day. Come on, people, help us out here! When I sit at my desk I wear, like I’ve said, three sweaters, two pairs of thick socks and I wrap myself in a blanket. I would put on gloves if I could type with them… I don’t remember ever being this cold, not even when I was 11 or 12 and we got a new heating system and it wasn’t ready in time and it was cold outside and I had to stay with my parents in one  room and we had some kind of a electrical heating device in the room and that was all. It was freezing cold in the rest of the apartment, but it was warm and nice in that one room.

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On the bright side, I’m using every possible reason to turn on the oven and sit in the kitchen so yesterday I baked brownies. Oompa gave me an awesome recipe. I’m thinking of baking only brownies and muffins from now on; no more experimenting.

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And on an even brighter side, we’re going to Dublin. Yup, last night we booked the plane tickets and a hostel room. I wanted to give up traveling for a while, but Mum called and said that BlueAir had this great offer and when I checked their website and saw Bucharest-Dublin I couldn’t help myself and booked the flight. We’re going in November, from the 13th until the 16th. If you have any tips & tricks, please share them with me.

I’ve been living in this block of flats for 4 years now. I own the apartment (well, I co-own it with Mum, but that’s just a technicality) and I know I’ll be here for a long, long time. I’m not very keen on interacting with the neighbours more than it’s necessary: always saying ‘hi’, holding the door for them and having a chit-chat with the more friendly ones. It’s just common sense.

However, in the last couple of months I’ve been really pissed because of a neighbour. We have this middle-age couple living next door and for some time their son lived with them. He is in his early thirties, some kind of a worker by the overalls he wears when he comes back from work, and incredibly rude. In the beginning, me and Eddie always said ‘hi’ when we saw him and he barely nodded. I even said ‘hi’ first when I saw him, although I know it’s polite for men to greet women and not the other way around (it has nothing to do with sexism, it’s just that I like some things to be they way they’ve always been). Anyways, after a couple of weeks I got tired of being the polite neighbour and him not giving a crap so I stopped greeting him.

The thing is that this guy always smokes in the hall, in front of our door. It doesn’t matter that he opens the window, there is still some smoke coming inside the apartment when we open the front door. And he likes to call his friends while he’s enjoying his cigarette so we have the audio to go with the odor. Aaaaand, sometimes, he is in his underwear. Yup, as casual as that. You come back from the city and there he is, in a loose T-shirt and his boxers, smoking and talking. He totally owns the hall!

I’ve been wanting to ask him to stop for some time now, but I admit I was afraid. He looks quite strong and I don’t think he’s very bright and you know how these people tend to react when they are criticized… well, actually, you never know how they react so it’s better not to say anything. And that’s exactly what I did: I’ve been holding it in for the last months. Until tonight…

Eddie cam from work today and the moment we kissed I felt he reeked of cigarette smoke. I asked him if his colleagues smoked again all day and he said no, it was the stupid neighbour again. I didn’t even stop to put shoes on, I just rushed outside the door. He had already entered the house, but before I knew it, I was knocking on his door. He opened it:

- Hello, sorry to bother you, but I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a very long time. You know, I really don’t like it when you smoke in front of my door. The smoke gets inside my apartment and it’s not nice at all.
- What do you mean it gets inside your apartment? I always smoke with the window open.
- Yes, but you smoke in front of my door. I’m not a smoker and I’m really sensitive when it comes to that. So I would really appreciate it if you didn’t smoke in the hall again. Thanks.
- Yeah, whatever. I don’t even live here anymore. I’m just visiting my parents now.
- OK, I just wanted you to know that.
- But you know, how come you ask me such a thing when every time you see me you walk past by me without saying a thing?
- Excuse me?! I had no idea a woman was supposed to greet a man first. I thought it was the other way around. And, besides, I used to do it in the beginning but then it was just me doing it so I stopped.
- And what about the guy who is living with you? Why isn’t he greeting me?
- He is my boyfriend and he used to greet you but you never answered.
- I don’t care what he is, we’re both men so he should greet me.
- Whatever, that’s not the point and it’s not my problem. He can do what he wants, I didn’t come here for that.

At which point his mum butts in:
- You know, what about all the things you do?
- ???
- You’re always banging the door of the elevator. He is always doing that.
- I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but he never takes the elevator. He is always going up and down using the stairs.
- *putting the hand on her heart and making a really offended face* But there are people with big bags coming from your part of the hall and banging the door of the elevator.
- I still don’t think you’re referring to us so, sorry, can’t help you with that. I didn’t want to make a big fuss out of this but I couldn’t take it anymore and I just came over to politely tell your son not to smoke in front of my door.
- We’ll see what we can do about that.

I still feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins. It was the first time I stood up for myself in that manner and the first time I told someone that I had a problem with their behaviour. OK, so I told some people on the bus to quit playing stupid manele on their phones because they were really loud and everyone was fed up with it, but this was completely different. I think it’s OK to tell people what bothers you. You should be aware when your actions bother other people and you should do something about them. I think that respect plays a key role in being ‘happier, fitter and more productive’.

I hate it when adults treat me like shit just because I’m young. Or when they think my opinion doesn’t matter, or they think they can walk all over me and I just have to shut up and take it just because I’m 23. I have as much right as they have to use that hall and if I don’t walk around in my underwear talking in front of their door and polluting the air with horrible smells, I want them to do the same thing. As long as I respect them, I want them to respect me in return.

I’m telling you, I haven’t felt this good about myself in ages! I was polite, yet firm and I think I’ve made at least his mum feel a bit ashamed for her boy’s behaviour, which means she will think twice before she lets him smoke in front of our door again. I’m pretty sure I haven’t won the war yet, cause she is the type of person who looks through her peephole and writes down everything you do so that she can throw it in your face at one point, but I’ve surely won the battle I am so proud of myself!

Before you start throwing rotten eggs at me for saying that, I just want you to know that I have my reasons. And they are damn good reasons!

First of all, I have way too much free time. In fact, the only thing I have now is free time: no classes at the moment, no work, no hobbies, no nothing. I try reading but I can’t concentrate. I try watching Six Feet Under but instead of paying attention to what the characters are doing I am constantly checking my Twitter account and hitting the refresh button in Google reader. I cook but that takes, hmmm, about 1-2h and then I’m right back where I’ve started.

Mum is right: I should make the best of this spare time. I should try and read that Spanish course I’ve bought, I should write e-mails to all my friends, I should improve what needs to be improved. The problem is that I’m not in the mood for doing all those things that “need to be done”. I just… I don’t know what I want. Maybe I want the patience to read a whole book in one day or maybe I want to find a job and complain of not having enough free time or maybe I just want those bloody classes to start already so I can look forward to something.

The only things I’m really excited about are my friends’ visits. vio and P. are arriving next Monday and on the 29th Marianne is also coming to stay here a couple of days. I know we’re going to have a great time together and I will feel excellent for some time but until then, everything is just… blah!

And I knoooooow that I’m acting like a spoiled brat and that I have so many things that I should be thankful for but you know what, I’m human, I’m needy, I’m picky and I want everything to be OK! Anyways, I’ll go now… but, damn, I miss some action in my life!

1. Mum has a university colleague who has moved to Germany. They kept in touch and 5 years ago she insisted I go and visit them so I was at her place for 2 weeks.

2. Her boy, who is 16,  is staying with us for 2 weeks just because I like his mum and I feel like I owe them something for those 2 weeks I spent at their place. I don’t like him at all and it was just a favour.

3. When we got back home from BM, the house was a mess. He had been using our pans although Eddie had told him to buy his own pan for frying meat. There were oil stains everywhere, unwashed dishes scattered around the kitchen. More than that, his stuff was everywhere – we barely had any place in the fridge to put our own groceries.

4. The moment he came home I told him about the mess he had made. His answer: “I didn’t think that was a mess. To me it looked clean enough”. Not to mention the countless rude retorts. He thinks he owns the place and he acts like I’m the guest.

5. I started cleaning the kitchen and the moment I was finished with the cooker he wanted to fry meat!!!!! For fuck’s sake, I scrubbed and I cleaned and now you want to fuck up my work? Of course, he is a sportsman and he needs to eat heavy stuff… Now all the apartment smells of his fucking fried meat and I don’t even want to see how the cooker looks…

6. Every time I tell him about something bad that he has done, he replies that “I’m only 16″ or “I had no idea about that” or “I’m a boy, I don’t have to know how to cook”. Well, fuck you, I won’t give you private cooking lessons! Speaking of which, his mum told me today that I should teach him how to clean! EXCUSE ME??? Are you bloody insane???? You’re letting your kid move on his own to Bucharest, finishing his high school here and you want me to teach him everyfuckingthing that you haven’t taught him yet??? I’m sorry, I’m no babysitter.

7. This is it! Except friends and family and the occasional couch surfers, I won’t have anyone else stay at my place. Yes, I have a spare room, but I don’t want to be anyone’s maid. Really, it’s absolutely outrageous the way this kid talks to me! And for these two hell of a weeks he is not paying rent and he didn’t bring us anything, not even a bar of chocolate. It’s like “hey, suckers, I’m pissing all over you and you can’t do anything about that”. I would LOVE to just throw his stuff out of the balcony and change the lock. But I can’t, so IN MY OWN HOUSE I will have to put up with his crap until Friday.

Someone really hates me up there…