the kids aren't alright...

babies, babies, babies everywhere. worse than in natasha bedingfield's video. everyone around seems to be either expecting or just had offspring. not really my concern except for the occasional thought to the global population boom. but what is my concernc is when the question comes up "and you? when are you going to have a baby?".

O_O. pardon me?!?!?! i never realised that was anyone's business but mine. so my answer is usually "never, if i have any say about it." which in turn, triggers two main type of reactions: either a condescending smile and a you'll-see-you'll-change type of attitude (when i grow up, when i meet the right person, or even more stupid, when i'll eventually have the kids o_O); or else, a shocked expression and "what? but why? don't you like kids?" errrrm. nope. not really.

the pregnancy. i hate the sheer idea of it. the thought that something actually grows inside of me is disgusting and scary at the same time. ok, maybe i could handle stomach worms... but a human being is definitely more than i can handle. also, i don't want to see my body do stuff to my mind; i don't want to see it change beyond my control; i don't want to have emotional reactions triggered by it. pms is bad enough as is, thank you.

the birth. errrrrm.... ouch? i freak out when i need to go to the dentist or having a blood analysis so caesarian section is out of the question ('sides, it's not good for the kid either; emotionally speaking) from the start. i suck at handling pain. and having this... thing come out of me, with people staring up my cunt to take it out... errrrm, pardon my french but... why?!?!? don't give me the 'rewarding feeling' and the 'joy after' bullshit, i'm not swallowing.

child rearing. if there's one torture in this world that sends me climbing up the walls in less than two seconds it's gotta be toddlers crying. (dogs crying does it to, but that's not the issue). and it doesn't wake any nursing feelings, sorry for you, folks. it's... anger, for lack of a better definition. no "oh, what's wrong with the baby, let me ease its distress". it's more like "shut the fuck up, you idiot critter or i'll smash your head against a wall". and in all truth, i think i would be quite capable of doing it. you've got no idea how i feel when i hear that. presuming i ever got so far as to have a kid, the best thing would be to take it out of my reach and quickly. i don't want to spend the rest of my life in jail for infanticide.

little kids. "oooh, myyyyy, what a sweeeeeet little baaaaabyyyyy". sounds familiar? what the heck is it people see in babies? they're not sweet, they're ugly. they're a wrinkled pinkish (we're talking caucasian here) parcel of skin that pees, shits, drools and makes noise. horrible noise. the above mentioned drying. what's sweet about that? tell you something... i've had my share of diaper changing and i hope to never ever EVER! have to do it again. and don't tell me it's not the same. shit is shit no matter what. feeding the child... are you nuts? i'd end up taking my eyeballs out with that plastic spoon before i'd make the kid swallow something.

kids. whims. cries. wanting this, not wanting that. doing the opposite of what they are told. constant supervision. demanding 24/7. needing stuff. growing up to be unthankful bastards until it's too late... should i go on? i guess i am the ultimate selfish person... but i want a life for my own. i want to sleep when i want to sleep, eat when i want to eat, use any language i want in my own home, watch any tv programmes i like, go out in the evenings when i like, travel unhindered and so on and so forth. and yes, i know i won't stay young forever. but frankly, any person out there who thinks of kids as their support in old age is (1) extremely selfish, since you don't make kids and programme them to be your crutch and (2) extremely naive thinking that they actually will be there.

hell, i can't even take proper care of a dog, i am ashamed to admit. and that when a dog demands much less and gives back so much more. i just don't want kids. i am not the right person to have them, either. if by some stupid mistake i did, i'd end up hating them and balming them for never having the life i wanted, even though it may not be their fault after all... but i'd still feel like they stole away my life. and this is not how a child should be brought up :( why ruin their life along with mine, making them live up to expectations they never could fulfil, hating them for their sheer existence, making them feel unwanted, giving un-proper care or no care at all...?

any rational and emotional analysis leads me to the fact that the sane thing to do is not have a kid in the first place. it would be wrong, both for me and for that presumed kid. which leads me back to the first issue. why is this so unacceptable by most? why is my way of thinking less normal or moral or whatever than that of people having kids even though they are just as unsuited as myself for being a parent? why am i the oddity in this freak show, when all i actually do is prevent ugly stuff from happening...

thank you... i'll stick to dogs. one day i gotta do it right :(
'sides, dog pups actually are cute.

losers weepers (5) the rose thorn

and there are no finders. you don't know what you got till it's gone. and sometimes you know, and you can't help it going away.

one thing i lost very early on is the full enjoyment of success and my respect for poor losers and their envy. it's the former i regret, not the latter. because success is most often hard worked for and deserves something. at least unspoilt delight at achieving it. but... it's lonely at the top.

i was in the first grade. at the end of it, to be precise. i was seven years and almost three months young. it was a hot june day. probably around the 15th of june. last school day of my first year at school.

everybody wears festive clothes: teachers, parents. we are gathered in a small square yard, with broken asphalt, white and reflecting the sun. the walls of the school rose around us. at the first (and only) floor, there was a covered balcony-like thing - it linked all classes there. i can see the windows from my classroom from where i stand. the first one is the window i sit by, second or third desk. light green paint peels off the reel of the the balcony. but that's not what i see when i look up there. i see my parents and my granny. i wave to them.

we are meant to stand in rows. in groups - class A, class B, class C. the taller ones in the rows in the back. i get second row. there's a girl in front of me named astrid. there are several desks in the front. there are books on them. and some papers. i have a flower bouquet in my hands. almost every pupil has one. they will be handed to teachers and then they will pile up on the desks. it now feels like an oddly solemn ritual... we offer flowers and the mighty teachers smile down benevolently upon us and give us books in return. it is warm in the uniform. i hate the school uniform. i also hate the white band holding back my black hair but it's school regulation.

we get prizes according to our end of the year mark. first prize, second prize, third prize and some runners-up. i have straight A's. i'll get the first prize. me and about five others. it's the first grade after all. i switch places with astrid. i wave at my parents. i am proud and keep raising my thumb, signaling that i got first place. as if it is something of tremendous importance. for seven years old me, it is. from the first day i went to school, i had the fix idea that i am not allowed to get bad marks. that getting a 4 will get me punished. don't ask me why or how i got the idea in my head. i think i might have already explained it on the blog.

the teacher comes over. she says astrid and i must switch places. "go to the second row, astrid. let d. come in the front." so it's not about height, like in gym class. front row is for the ones who got the best results. i switch places with astrid. i keep waving at my parents. more discreet now. but astrid isn't happy. and i am finding that out on my own skin. literally. i hear a muttering behind me and it sounds grudging and angry, in a cold way. "d! always d! always in the front". and i feel a sting in my arm. i turn around to look at her. i am shocked at the reaction, the sting hurts and i am puzzled as to what exactly i had done wrong. she holds the thorn of a rose in her hand, that she has torn off one of the roses in her hand. that's where the sting had come from.

the rest is a blur. i got up front when my name was called, i gave the flowers to teacher as had the ones before me, i received a couple of books and the diploma. they didn't give me a flower wreath to put on my head as i knew they did in some schools. but it didn't matter. nothing mattered much. my parents were happy and proud. i was happy and proud... sort of.

i don't know if it was a coincidence or not, next year i got second prize. 9,97 instead of 10. but then again in the third grade and every year after that i ended up being the best in my class. not many more straight A lines, but still the best. up to graduation in the 12th grade. and that sting was always there, in one form or another. even though it never took the shape of a rose thorn again.

Thorn by Tishounette

tearing myself apart

it seems i have developed this thing into a hobby recently (there, nearly wrote 'hobbit' instead). cutting and tearing away little bits from me and systematically destroying them. i am cutting away people, places, habits... i burn bridges behind me, but fail to move on. what will i do when i set fire on the very bridge i am now, suspended mid-air? i have no wings to fly; i have no one to catch me should i fall. i was merely using this bridge as a swing, idly relaxing on it between here and there above a chasm.

i keep on severing more and more ties. i started this quite a while ago and quite unaware. getting rid of all the driftwood... every single relationship i got nothing back from. or not enough. and they were quite a few. maybe i'm too demanding, who knows? and who cares? maybe i'm just sick of playing give and take without the take part. and i don't care about being polite about it, either.

i am cutting away things i used to do that aren't fun anymore. i can't wait for this stupid project to end. and it sounded like so much fun in the beginning. i simply don't care about it and how it turns out, though i occasionally have a twitch of conscience. at the end of may and the project, i plan to rid myself of any contact with the organisation and its actions. also, i will formally resign my position in the other organisation, the doggy thing, as well. and come to think of it... it's five years of my life that i've invested in these things, with energy and emotion. to no avail.

i will finish my master's degree this summer. i couldn't care less about it, honestly. it's all about the paper :(. and it started from their point of view. well, if all they want is my money, all i want is their paper. a pity. also, i have gradually retreated from my moderating activities. it just takes its toll on me. i hate being in the middle of conflicts. i hate being involved in conflicts. i hate having to solve them between other parties. i hate making decisions.

and now... we come to the closing chapter. once i've cut off all the bits and pieces of this thing called my everyday life that i can do without... why not face it head on and break it? well, because it's a decision. and i'm about the worst decision maker you could have. i can't even decide whether to have rice or pasta with my chicken for lunch. in the end, i go with the flow, or toss a coin, or do whatever feels like less effort...

i've taken all this in stride because it felt like it was better for me, selfish as it may sound (oh yes, underneath it all and an apparent generosity, i am also one of the most selfish persons i know). however, i was fine with cutting away all these useless (as it now seems) limbs because the process and the pain involved affected me in a bearable manner. i could apply some sort of local anaesthesia to make the spot numb. but now... it will hurt like hell. it will erase virtually all i've known as "my life". and the people it will affect in the process... their pain will affect me too, more than i like or care to admit. add to that the anxiety of radical change.

telling myself that it's better in the long run has no soothing effect. i am killing others and my self (as in who i am now) in a gamble. not taking a stance in this however equals a decision in itself, the decision to stay put until it is too late to move on even if i wanted it. it is, psychologically speaking, one of the worst positions i can find myself in. and i perceive it as an utterly unfair thing to ever place me in such a position. so god or fate or whatever it is that pulls the strings out there, eat this: i fucking hate you for every time you screw with my mind like this.

desolated by breathinglesson
torn apart by manfromsun

a dreamer... who would've thought? :)

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i'm losing it...

... or that's what a friend claimed. but here's what my D&D character said. and i quote this:

Thorn looked a few moments at Angy.
"You're still a kid, Angy. You ain't seen nothing yet, I'm afraid." He paused a few moments. "I mean neither to scare you, nor to hurt your feelings (he frowned here) but it's better you're prepared for whatever's out there in your path. My vengeance upon my so called friend in Calimport wasn't terrible, as you put it. I just served him back what he would've brought upon me... One day, you'll be past your grief and you'll discover the anger that has built up. You'll go mad with rage. And if you survive that... though others may not (he grinned)... well, then you'll cool down and maybe discover who you are and where you're headed. Just maybe. People get stuck along the way all the time."

He got up and shook the snow from his cloak.

i can only say... wow! i love the guy.

hmmmphs

... ilya, i was just browsing your blog and i read your profile text for the umpth time... though the first i actually did it. and i seem to have a serious problem :-s "arrogance and malice are my dislikes". hmmmmph. i indulge in both. and funnily enough i take pride in both. hmmmmph.

well, moving on the thinking blogger award that ilya nominated me for (thanks :D). hmmmph again.

1. postsecret. because we're all so human. and personally, i for one tend to forget. good to be reminded of it.
2. jason's blog. because i still am grateful to be proven ironically wrong, with every post. and because there is so much more to life than complaining. i tend to forget that too.
3. vis urat. yeah, it's in romanian and yeah, you probably got sick of hearing of the dude. i didn't.

that's about it. i read several other blogs but for entertaining purposes only. or because it mocks idiots and that gives me a sense of enourmous wellbeing (like blur feeding pigeons and sparrows in the park - that was a subtle hint to the lyrics of parklife in case you were wondering) and does justice to my arrogance and malice that ilya actually dislikes. hmmmph.

lables

hey there. as you might have noticed, i've introduced labels to the blog. it was just growing over my head to keep track of what i had written and this seemed the obvious solution. of course, they are just as chaotic as the entries here and maybe not the most relevant you could get, but anyways.

a musing: a-musing - things that should make you smile (quite a pun i've come up with, huh?)
a musing: forever black-eyed - things that make me sigh (not necessarily you too, that is. the depressive stuff; the label is a reference to black eyed, the placebo song)
blog 'n' stuff on the net - entries related to this blog, updates, etc., as well as stuff i've found while browsing that i consider worth sharing
everyday stuff i do - stuff that happened to me or that i've done; little glimpses and updates from my uninteresting life
fantasy stuff - unicorns, dragons, books, movies, games... you name it
losers weepers - a mini series i started longer ago without realising and that i plan to continue under the form of the last entry with this label
music - this is self explaining, isn't it?
muttered under my breath - the stuff that pisses me of :D
readings and viewings - entries triggered by stuff i read and watch, book and movie related musings
stream of consciousness - joyce's skin would crawl at this... but it's basically just me rambling on (the majority of this blog, really)
test and quizzez - because i am a fan of such :)

"manifesting displeasure" and other emotions

this blog was triggered by ilya's post on her blog, where she was complaining about her boss's attitude towards her. when someone asked in a comment whether she had confronted him on the issue, ilya replied no, but she had "constantly manifested displeasure" about it. okay, manifesting displeasure is the keyword for this post. but first... let's take a traditional detour, shall we?

it seems that last week several people have developed a soft spot for having me as a lab rat for their little psychological analysis. not that i mind much, it rather amuses me. but they were too many all of a sudden, including my mum, which is always bad. she started by asking me what i think of various groups of people, mainly minorities of all sorts - ethnic, religious, etc. then she asked me whether i felt that the university i got a degree from was useful in any way or influenced the way i see the world. for those who don't know, there's "sociologist" written on my diploma (that's the reason i pretend to work in a job that involves picking up the receiver, writing down stuff i hear and passing it on, then making reports based on that.). i said that not necessarily, it just offered names for stuff i knew was out there, tools to categorise them, concepts to name some blurry notions in mind etc. it helped organised what i knew, what i learned and what i perceived of the world. it wasn't like it didn't teach me anything. but whatever it taught, i was like... "yeah... yeah, you're right, i've seen that too."

my mum said that she always thought i had a keen people sense. that i seem to 'read' people and situations and evaluate them correctly and predict the way things develop before they actually head into that direction. i don't know whether that's logic, gut feeling or a combination of the two, but apparently people out there have a hard time grasping some things that to me seem obvious. and i admit i have very little patience with them. it is not out of arrogance (not this time), it is out of frustration. i'd rather invest my energies in something more useful (like sleeping or playing computer games) than debating the obvious.

moving on, she asked what i would have liked to study. looking back... psychology. but i unfortunately, i am accurately aware of the downside. i would've loved to learn it (just like i would've loved sociology taught by the right people and approaching the right issues... :( ), to discover things, to unravel the beauty of the human mind. yes, there is beauty and fascination even in the most grotesque of it. practice though... that would've killed me young or put me in a mental institution. as a patient, mind you.

why? because of empathy. i have it in a degree that is not healthy for me, though i am perfectly aware of appearing cold, distant and uncaring at times. i choose not to know stuff about people, especially their problems, save close friends, and then only by choice. i choose to shrug off disturbing things and to face it with sarcasm and cynism. because it affects me. empathy is not something you can turn off. if something hits me, it hits me. yes, i have said it before... there's one thing i can do and that is to turn off thoughts about a certain issue. but it doesn't work long-term and it sure ain't a healthy practice. those things hidden in a dark closet... i don't see them, but they are there and they nibble at my equilibrum, if not my sanity. so it's not that i don't care about someone's woes and worries. i don't allow myself to care. and that leaves me a statue of ice, cold and rejecting on the outside... and pretty darn hollow on the inside, yes. so far, better than melting away in a dirty puddle.

so, having stated my empathy problem, my mum said that people don't notice that. that they go on rambling and don't notice that it affects me negatively. that she onlt sometimes realises it and stops only when it's already too late. and why i don't state it.

which (finally...) brings us back to the topic of this entry. manifesting displeasure. i don't state it because i hate these "talks". as important as communication is, as much as i recommend it to everyone else, it is not a medicine for me. face-to-face talks on such things unnerve me. so i go for the 'manifesting displeasure' version. if i raise my brow repeatedly, huff and puff, mock you, roll my eyes when you start over or just fall silent and pout for hours... hell, can't you tell that something's wrong? i am highly unlikely to go "shut up, you ass!".

well, it seems some people don't take these signs seriosuly. need a written and signed declaration that this or that bothers me in order to stop? and there go scientists saying that 80% of our communication is non-verbal. so why isn't anyone paying attention to it? maybe they don't even notice. maybe they misinterpret it. maybe they don't take it seriously enough until it is outspoken (though when i get to that stage, it is usually too late). or maybe they thing it is just a mood that will pass.

well, in that case, i've got some other piece of breakthrough news. things that bother me... i don't wipe them away with a sponge. never. i may forgive, but i sure as hell don't forget. forgetting is for fools and for those intent to repeat mistakes. i am a far way from biting people's head off for hurting me (though sometimes i wish i weren't), partially because i know that they are not always aware of hurting me. but when i know they know... i can't stand it when they feel bad about it a couple of minutes or hours or days... and then do the same thing all over again. apologies don't work that way. it's not like "sorry, i don't mean it, so i can do it again". it's supposed to be "sorry, i'll try not to make it happen again". if you don't mean it, don't do it. it takes me quite a time to react to behaviour like this. which, by the way, i define as "abusing me". emotionally. as worse as any other form. and when i do react, it's usually because two things have happened.

firstly, several hurts of a sort have accumulated. while people might be aware of having hurt me, they are usually not aware that i keep these things inside. someone once said to me i have an elephant's memory... "you haven't forgotten, have you?". no... sure as hell i haven't. and everytime you hurt me, it goes a bit deeper. at one point it will strike deep enough to cause that reaction. "every action causes a reaction of the same force and opposite direction" or something like that... it's a law of physics. the trouble is, the reaction doesn't have the force of only the hurt that finally caused, but of the entire accumulated stuff that's been festering inside and is now errupting. and this is much easier due to the second thing that happened by now. the repeated taking in of what i perceive as abuse, intended or not, has lead inevitably to a cooling of my feelings towards the person. resentment has built up with every time or else i am either in the grey area of indifference by now, which makes it easier to hit back.

don't get me wrong. i am not zorro on a black horse, seeking vengeance against all those whom i perceive as having me done wrong. most of the times it's a very spontaneous thing. it's like a dam breaking. i spill out everything i've kept inside. people are usually shocked when i do, though it has seldom happened in a decessive manner. they never saw it coming. because instead of speaking up, i only "manifested displeasure". when i do retaliate it's because i couldn't take it anymore and i strike with thirst and usually under the belt. and honestly... scary as it may seem, it's not only that i don't regret it... i rather enjoy it. it's something like "how does it feel for you?". it hurts. i know. but when i'm there... i'm not only past forgettig, i am also past forgiving.

and after the storm... well, i just retreat back and build my statue of ice again. and i can pretend i am fine again and the world can pretend that i am cold and uncaring.

hurt by madteadparty
ice dragon by tarjcia

emo kid

schizophrenic is the key word here :))))

You're the United Nations!

Most people think you're ineffective, but you are trying to completely save the world from itself, so there's always going to be a long way to go. You're always the one trying to get friends to talk to each other, enemies to talk to each other, anyone who can to just talk instead of beating each other about the head and torso. Sometimes it works and sometimes
it doesn't, and you get very schizophrenic as a result. But your heart is in the right place, and sometimes also in New York.


Take the Country Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid

losers weepers (4) the walnut tree

and there are no finders. you don't know what you got till it's gone. and sometimes you know, and you can't help it going away.

i remember when i was a little girl, only a few years old, that we used to have a garden a couple of streets away from our block. it was surrounded by a high fence of wild, thorny growth that my dad clipped, it was really thick, no one could get in and it was hard to see through. there was a sandpit where i used to play and make forms in the sand. and i'd make a little hole in the sand and pour in water and mix real fast with a stick. and i called the muddy dark water with bubbles on top 'pepsi' and that was about the only soft drink i got to see in those days. we had various veggies there and apart from that, strawberries and raspberries. i 'befriended' two girls from the area, twins. one's name was luminita. i can't remember the other's name. i proudly showed them the garden, including the strawberries. when they were ripe, my dad caught them stealing. and there was a larger pit, maybe a meter deep, with linoleum laid out on the bottom, and there were flowers on its bank, and a little stone garden and that was my mum's sunbathing place. and at one end, there grew a walnut tree. and it grew and grew. and either it grew sick at one point, or else my folks decided there was too much shadow, they wanted it gone. i cried when they killed it and i asked them not to. it wasn't chopped down, but my dad made several cuts across its trunk and it withered and died within a week. it seemed barbaric to me. it happened over fifteen years ago but i remembered it last week. i told him about it and he said it hadn't been a walnut, but a mulberry tree.

oh, really?

What Your Soul Really Looks Like

You are very passionate and quite temperamental. While you can be moody, you always crave comfort. You are a grounded person, but you also leave room for imagination and dreams. You feet may be on the ground, but you're head is in the clouds. You believe that people see you for how you are, not how you look. But deep down, you know that's not exactly true. Your near future is still unknown, and a little scary. You'll get through wild times - and you'll textually enjoy it. For you, falling in love is all about the adventure and uncertainty. You can only fall in love with someone who keeps you guessing.

Inside the Room of Your Soul

hm

how bad is it that given the choice to save ten people or one dog, i'd go for the dog? and how bad is it that i miss a dead dog more than died or moved away family members? and just how bad is it that i don't learn the lessons there are to be learnt? :(