Rainbow Child

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…

I will never be a real Hausfrau because when it comes to sweets, I suck big time. The recipe is amazing, the result is awful. I wanted to bake some tea cookies today and ended up with burnt cookies They are horrible!

I am so disappointed, I really am!

Baia Mare, oras mic de provincie in care nu se intampla nimic, oh ce plictisitor e aici, ce lejer e pe strazi, ce de biciclisti, ce fain te poti da cu bitza – am tot spus blablaurile astea si chiar le-am crezut. Pana azi.

Biciclesc in Baia Mare din primavara si mereu mi s-a parut un paradis al biciclistilor. Ii vedeam cand pe strada, cand pe trotuar, facandu-si singuri regulile. In Bucuresti nu mi-am permis niciodata sa trec pe bicicleta pe la vreo trecere de pietoni, nici daca avea semafor. Stiu cum sunt soferii acolo si imi era frica. In plus, regulamentul spune clar ca atunci cand vrei sa traversezi, biciclist fiind, pe la o trecere de pietoni, trebuie sa te dai jos de pe bicicleta si sa mergi pe langa ea.

Dar in Baia Mare nici vorba de asa ceva. Biciclistii sunt ba pe strada, ba pe trotuar. Nimeni nu-i claxoneaza, li se da prioritate, ce mai, conditii super de biciclit. Iar daca pana acum ma dadeam jos, cel putin la trecerile marcate, dar fara semafor, uite ca am nu am mai ascultat de partea mea nemteasca si m-am lenevit, trecand ca o floare pe bicicleta la orice trecere de pietoni.

Azi bicicleam linistita in drum spre serviciul mamei, ascultam Nouvelle Vague si fredonam, cand am ajuns la un bulevard relativ mare, pe care m-am hotarat sa-l trec pe bicicleta. In fata mea erau niste pietoni, asa ca venind de pe straduta am pedalat repede ca sa-i ajung din urma. Normal ca m-am uitat in dreapta, dar masina aia alba era asa departe de mine, aveam timp sa trec. Si cand eram la jumatatea trecerii aud frane si vad cu coada ochiului cum masina alba da in mine. Cad jos, ma ridic repede; traficul era oprit, nu se auzea nici un sunet, cel din masina a coborat incet, dar pana sa ajunga la mine deja erau vreo 3-4 neni acolo: unul mi-a dat ochelarii, unul mi-a ridicat bicicleta si unul a vrut sa-l bata pe sofer. Noroc ca a aparut politia si a rezolvat situatia.

Inca nu intrasem in starea de soc asa ca am putut sa le spun ca nu ma doare nimic si ca a fost vina mea. M-au dus la Urgenta pentru ca trebuia ceva constatare de la medic pentru procesul verbal. In masina politie mi-am dat seama de ce s-a intamplat de fapt si am inceput sa plang. Nu am nimic rupt, nu m-am lovit la cap, m-am julit doar la picior si la cot si inca ma dor muschii de la piciorul stang, cel in care a dat masina. Ma consider cat se poate de norocoasa.

Politistii s-au purtat foarte fain cu mine, mi-au spus ca am gresit, ca nu e voie sa traversez pe bicicleta, m-au incurajat. Nu credeam ca sunt asa de treaba, poate din nou am fost norocoasa si am dat peste un echipaj cu suflet. La sectie am dat declaratie, am tot semnat chestii, am facut si o schita a accidentului, iar la final am primit doar un avertisment. Norocoasa din nou.

Nenea care m-a lovit cred ca era si el in stare de soc; cert e ca nu s-a uitat deloc la mine si nu mi-a adresat nici un cuvant. Stiu ca eu eram de vina, dar ma asteptam macar la un “esti bine?” din partea lui. Repet, el nu avea nici o vina, dar cred ca nici atent nu era. Erau oameni pe trecere, avea vizibilitate 100% asupra ei, iar pe mine m-a lovit cand deja eram cu jumatate de bicicleta pe cealalta banda. Nu il invinovatesc cu nimic, ci ma gandesc ca daca ar fi fost el mai atent, ca eu sigur nu am fost, as fi scapat doar cu o injuratura. Dar dupa cum mereu imi spune mama, eu trebuie sa ma pazesc, sa nu astept sa ma fereasca soferii, asa ca rau am facut cand am crezut ca macar o data o sa ma fereasca si ei.

E clar o lectie pe care trebuia sa o primesc. Daca as fi tinut inca la principiile mele vizavi de regulile de circulatie, clar nu as fi trecut prin asta. Acum nu-mi ramane decat sa-mi promit ca nu o sa ma incalc vreo regula, oricat de tare ma grabesc sau oricat de lene mi-ar fi sau indiferent de cata lume o incalca. Normal ca si traversand regulamentar se putea intampla acelasi lucru, dar atunci sentimentul de vinovatie nu m-ar mai apasa atat de tare.

Maine imi duc bicicleta la reparat (roata din spate e cam indoita), dar pana cand e gata o sa circul cu Pegasul si o sa ma dau jos de pe el la orice trecere de pietoni, oricat de mica ar fi. Azi am avut noroc, dar nu vreau sa intind coarda.

If she is not going to like my project this time either, I won’t be able to take my final exams and finish university this summer. I will be forced to have that one year off I dreamt so much about in the last couple of months, but I don’t know why that doesn’t sound that great anymore.

Scared shitless.

I woke up late. Very late. I took a shower in less than 5 minutes *a record for me*, got dressed, took the iPod and I was out of the house. When I hit ‘play’ on my iPod nothing happened. I pushed the button again. Nothing. It was empty. My music wasn’t there anymore. It must have vanished during the night, I guess, cause when I went to bed it was still there. I wasn’t pretty upset then, but I am now, seeing it’s so hard to find certain albums again. Anyways, it’s not a life-death situation, I will survive even without this song or that song.

I waited from 10 to 15 to get into the exam. It was an oral one and all we had to do was sit next to the teacher while he looked through our projects, sometimes yelled at us, marked page after page with his red pencil and told us we didn’t understand what we were supposed to do and we need to redo the project for next week. It didn’t matter that the seminar teacher told us our projects were OK, it didn’t matter that during the courses he never said he wanted this and that in the project. We tried to explain but he wouldn’t listen. He’s never wrong, you know. How could he be? He’s the teacher. He’s our own personal God. He can’t be wrong. He isn’t.

I cooked some mushrooms today, but except for a sandwich and a bar of chocolate I couldn’t eat a thing. I guess my old food habits are back. I feel like I could live on air and water. Lots of air and lots of water.

And now I have to go and study for the management exam on Friday. I told Mum I would never study economics like she did and that I hated even the thought of it, but here I am, with one economy course/semester. Life really knows how to backstab me. The bitch.

Múm – I’m 9 today (*from the album Yesterday was dramatic, today is OK)