Rainbow Child

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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Take me for example: I don’t learn from my mistakes so I repeat them over and over again. I haven’t changed in these last six years. Yes, I wear more skirts and dresses but that’s a superficial change: I still have the same ideas, the same likes and dislikes, the same stubborn thoughts. And because of that I’m somehow stuck in the past, can’t really let go of it, I want to go back to it, the future is not my thing.

I always complain that we don’t get out more but I’m the one who can hardly wait for my working day to be over so I can go home. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have a home here, that I lived in a rented place with someone else’s furniture, with ugly tiles and small rooms because in that case I’m sure I wouldn’t rush ‘home’. But it’s MY place, it’s MY furniture, MY books are here, uRMa is here – how can I not rush back to the place where I feel safe, where no one bugs me, where everything is just how I want it to be?

I don’t want desperately for something to change, I don’t want to change, at least not now. I still have 5 1/2 years for Change to occur. I just want to relax more, to stop clenching my teeth at night, to take more film pictures, not to rush back home every day after work, to start working on my MA paper not because I have to, but because I want to, to eat more ice cream, to cook again, to stop drinking Coke, to eat more fruits, to be someone else.

…cause it might come true. All that complaining about having too much time on my hands and not doing anything productive turned against me. At least for two months I will be going to work from 9 to 5 or from 8 to 4, depending on when my MA classes start. I know I’m not the only one in the world doing this but it feels like such a big deal to me. I’ve never worked 8h/day and I’ve never commuted that far (hello, northern part of Bucharest!).

I know I should feel more excited but right now I’m still panicky. I’ll have to pack food with me; I’ll have to run from one place to another; I’ll have to remember new faces, new names; I’ll sit in front of the mirror very early in the morning thinking whether I’m wearing an appropriate dress for work or not. I am scared!

I’m starting on Tuesday so I still have one free day. Tomorrow I’ll be a nervous wreck. Maybe I’ll feel better after I actually start going there. At least I’ll know what to expect and what’s expected of me. Until then, I’ll just bite my nails and read Terry Pratchett (when in doubt, read a book, any book).

Exactly one week ago I was waking up in Geseke, a small German town in der Nähe von Dortmund. Martha‘s mum is originally from there and we spent the night at one of her sister’s (such a nice lady!). In the morning we walked around the town and I fell in love with it! It’s one of the most charming places I’ve seen. I couldn’t live there (way too small for me), but I’d love to have the opportunity to visit it again

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24 and overwhelmed by what my friends gave me for my birthday.