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Sometimes the photos are pretext for the words...sometimes the words are a pretext for the photo

I've always been a big fan of hope. I mostly live on it...and criticize myself for being like that, but (ah, the wonderful "but") it's possible to fly.


A skirt

I will start with the bright side. I was at Diana Krall's concert last night. ...I'll let the music speak for itself.

Her voice sounds like Joan Mitchell a little in this song.

She made me laugh and cry.

If you've read at least one or two blog posts of mine (and if you haven't, here it is) you should know that, as my colleague from university told me today, " you are soo deep", meaning I interpret and think (and thus) write about issues that are more of a symbolic, moral and maybe sentimental matter. I am telling you this because today the non-symbolic, not moral and not at all sentimental aspects of life bit me by the ass.

So today was different. I started wonderful with a sweet sms from someone that woke me up. Put on some very nice clothes and went to school. Got a little late to the seminar and so I threw my jacket on the hanger right outside the classroom (which was actually the only place to hang them). In the middle of the seminar the cleaning lady opened the door and asked "who forgot the jacket outside". I , a bit surprised and annoyed said, "It's mine, but I didn't forget it there, I put it there!". She then proceeded to tell me that it will get stolen (this in the middle of the seminar. everyone had stopped to listen to this). She finally left and the opinions in class varied but only a little. Some wondered what the hell was I thinking when I left it, some were not so surprised about it but that I should go take it . I annoyed the teacher a little bit (who, by the way, thought that even thought I am in a very serious institution, on the 3rd floor, in the last class of the building, someone would still come and steal it). And she was almost right. When I came out the jacket was gone. I stormed to the secretary who sent me to the gate keepers where, by what I call a miracle, I found it. Someone had left it by the staircase. Very mysterious. Have no clue what happened.

My point is that everyone thought it might be stolen (except me. I was really cool about leaving it there. Really didn't think twice), everyone!! I found no exceptions in 40 highly educated people (who by my best guesses did no live, or have ever lived in Pantelimon or some very bad neighborhood). I expected them to be a little more pampered or as naive as I am (being the same age). With that sock in mind we went to the next class of the day in another building.

On the way we got hit and hit on. A gypsy with blinding blond died hair was running and since he had nothing else to do he hit my friend when he passed by her. In about 5 seconds another person with the same skin color started hitting on us wih disgusting remarcks about our legs and something. I tried to ignore it.
For the first time in my life, and this is no joke, I just wanted to move the fuck away from this country. I realize what happened today was definetly not a big deal. Minor incidents, but so many on the same day and I must specify and underline this happened on one of the best streets in the city. I mean it doesn't get anymore central than this. The top boulevard !!!!

We were a group of girls minding our own business, not even dressed too sexy, casual casual clothes, walking on a sunny afternoon to school and this happened to us. We were skirts, I was simply a skirt. Of course there was a stupid office building in construction on our way and the workers turned their heads and objectified us in their minds. Again, it seems not a big deal but as a person I felt defenseless and threatened. This country feels unsafe every step of the way. It sinks in our minds since we are young that nothing is guaranteed, not your safety, not your money, not your investment (in anything, from money to education since you might not get a job even if you are super qualified), not in politics...not in anything. I usually think to myself it is worth it because it's home and memories and such orange sunsets in Bucharest (from all the pollution by the way) and smell of cherry trees everywhere and people and friends...

I suddenly see all these things someplace different. I dunno.

I've been falling towards this side of the argument (to stay/to leave) since I've been living on my own and most of all since I've dealt with the state in making documents for different things. Nothing seems to change and nothing seems to work for you, you always work for them, an they give you nothing in return.

Si apoi iar ma loveste o dragoste..discutam azi cu un prieten ca romanii nu reusiesc sa faca poze bune in Romania(sau se plang de asta) si vine un strain si face niste shoturi de te lasa cu maxilarul in pamant.


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