Rainbow Child

I am still amazed how I can go from being happy to being depressed in 2 minutes. How I let every fucking single detail ruin my day. I am over sensitive and I’d like to feel nothing for a change. I’d like to be immune to external stimuli…

Also, I am very good at fucking things up. I was so happy that autumn has finally arrived! I was walking down the street with this huge smile on my face and I couldn’t get enough of that cold crisp air promising new adventures and good times. I was bursting with joy! And then today… oh, today it was horrible! After I had finally mustered up my courage to go to my boss and ask for a 2-day leave from work, I had my mind set on buying an autumn coat. It was a complete failure! I had seen some very nice jackets online but they were so different IRL! Disappointingly different… I don’t get it: it’s an autumn jacket, it means it should protect me from the cold. I don’t need a pretty expensive thiiiin coat cause I don’t want to freeze to death! Also, I don’t want to wear my winter jacket from late October to early March cause that would be too depressing. I want something in between! And also, who the fuck wears fur on their collar??? Anyways… I’ll give it one more try tomorrow, otherwise I’ll just wear my very old jackets. Too bad that I don’t know any good second hand shops here and I don’t have time to go to BM and shop there…

17 more days till we’ll be on a plane to Köln! It will be quite a trip getting from the airport to the hotel (we land at midnight) but we’ll manage somehow. After that everything will be more than words can say: the concert, the girls, the city, the wandering around, the pictures… This is going to be my 4th autumn trip abroad. I like this tradition and I should do everything to make it happen year after year. Every trip abroad is more than a breath of fresh air… it’s normality. I need it!!! I want it!!!

Sometimes I feel like I’m on autopilot: get up, go to work, be productive, come home, waste time, go to sleep, start all over again next morning. Most of the time I want to break this ugly ugly routine but almost every day I return home without having taken a picture, without having stopped by Cărturești, without doing anything nice! I am so mad at myself for that… In order to make things better, I’ll go to a book release tomorrow and on Friday I’ll go to the cinema. Bloody small things, how you can’t live without them!

Every Saturday morning I go to the market. Although I seldom cook, I need to know that I have fresh vegetable in the fridge. So we went shopping and on the way home I saw a woman who was selling blueberries, or so I thought. Anyways, I bought a bag of blueberries (she confirmed they were the right fruits) and went home.

I put the groceries in the fridge and proceeded to wash the blueberries. When I tried one I was shocked to find it had a core. Wtf? I tried another one: didn’t taste like a blueberry and it still had a core! I was getting angrier and angrier. I called Mum, told her about the core, about how they look like blueberries but they’re not, how that woman lied to my face and sold me something else! She laughed and told me that what I had bought are some cheap good for nothing berries. FUCK!

So I grabbed the bag and stormed out of the house. The anger had now reached its peak, I was literally fuming! I got to the lady who sold me the blueberries and we had a surrealistic talk:

- Hello, can you tell me what berries are these?
- Yes, they are ???berries.
- But I specifically asked you if they were blueberries and you said yes.
- You can make jam out of them or liquor!
- That’s not the point! I wanted blueberries and these are not blueberries!
- No, they’re not.
- Then why did you tell me they were blueberries?
- Have you tasted them? They are good! You can make jam out of them or liquor!
- I WANTED BLUEBERRIES!

In the end she agreed to give me back my money and I gave her back her fucking berries. On the way back I calmed a bit but I still can’t get over the fact that people would do anything for money. Or maybe she was just deranged and thought that I just wanted berries, no matter if they were blue or not… And again, I am so pissed that people think they can fool me. They look at me and probably see a teenager and they think that I don’t have anything to say, that my opinions don’t count, that they can fool me and I won’t do anything against it… I should lock myself inside cause I hate what’s going on outside!

I have a theory: in order for all the working people out there to stay sane and not lose it during all those years of working from 9 to 5, a three-day weekend should replace the inefficient two-day one we have. Hear me out: Friday evening is for going out, having a nice dinner, drinking a couple of beers with friends or staying at home and watching a relaxing movie. Saturday is for shopping, cleaning, cooking, all those chores we hate but we have to do. Sunday is for going out again, photowalking, going to a concert, whatever. And Monday (yes, the day we all hate) is for ourselves: sleeping in, reading in bed, cooking a delicious breakfast, uploading your blogs, doing whatever you feel like it. So who’s with me on this one?

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On most days I hate Bucharest. I hate the crowds of ugly people, smart-asses, people who hit you with their bags, step on your foot or push their way out/in the metro without caring, without looking back and, of course, without apologizing. I try to stay out of their way, to find a corner in the metro and read and ignore them but I can’t. I can’t because they don’t let me: they always talk loud to each other, bump into you, look at what you’re wearing, how your hair looks etc. They don’t let you be! One day I’m going to lose it and… and… I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be pretty, that’s for sure!

On other days I am at peace with this city. No, I don’t love it anymore, it’s more like a medicine I know I have to take in order to stay alive but that doesn’t mean that I enjoy taking it. It’s sour and it makes me feel bad but on the long run it keeps me alive.  It’s a necessary evil.

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Well, Vio came and went. We didn’t get to spend very much time together and I’m a bit upset about that but in the end it’s still OK: we got to talk late in the night, something which I hadn’t done in a very long time. I think I give the impression that I care more about my friends who are far away, which is not true. It’s just… well, I don’t get to see them often and when we meet it’s great! We have so many things to say to each other, so many stories to tell, so much gossiping to do Even if I don’t meet my friends who are here as often as I’d like to, I know I can count on them and we can always meet when we feel like it so that thought comforts me.

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