Westward Bound (August, 2o14)

Humble apologies in advance for this rather boring post,

I just felt the need to post an update regardless of

the little amount of entertainment gained from reading it.

However, the usual will resume some time soon.

With or without procrastination.

This one is coming out....about half a year late, however, due to severe laziness (which I shall miserably attempt to cover and instead blame lack of time), there is now so much to ramble on about, that several mugs of coffee will have gone cold before I even get halfway through with this post --- alright, this might be an overstatement, I do not drink that much coffee.

I am well aware of the fact that it has been a very long time since the last post, I had honestly told myself I would keep the blog more active once I would have left the comfort of my home (about time I left the nest).
The problem that occurred though, was that after my arrival, I installed myself a bit too comfortably. It happens... Right?

A quick addition before I commence:
The whole story shall be divided into more parts --- for mine and the readers' convenience, as well as what some may call "energy efficiency" on my part. This is merely the update on my journey.
Furthermore, as a note to that one stalker spying the blog for whatever reason:
'sup, kiddo :)

Now, without prolonging the introduction any further, let us get on with the story!

Memory, I challenge you!
(Good luck, me.)

*incoming long post*

Going back in time to July 2014, things had piped down considerably, providing the occasion to enjoy the breather to the fullest. Everything related to the departure had finally been settled, no more paperwork, just some scavenger hunting and other chores here and there left to do.

My friend had found a job, so she was unable to abuse hang out as we normally would, therefore I glorified those days by wasting them on my favourite MMORPG while chance still allowed, and pestering the people in the guild that I belong to, especially since this old brick of a laptop of mine would not cooperate if its circuits are not in the mood.

Mid August. The time was finally upon me.

Unlike previously, the stay would be much longer than six months, therefore preparations had to be made --- to my conclusion --- as if for my last day in this world. Come to think of it, it certainly felt that way, especially for my family, considering how frequent disappearances off the radar for days or weeks were among my favourite activities, long before all the commotion with the departure. I had no clue as to when I would return for a visit, but certainly not anytime soon, and surely not for the winter holidays either.
I had to do what I had to do...

Hopping over to the last 24 hours before the flight, at about 1 A.M.: the check-in opened, so I logged onto the website to check in and get the printable version of the ticket, just like one would and should, in order to complete this certain part of the process. After the issue with the extra baggage that occurred after rescheduling the flight, I had been assured and reassured that this specific option would show up on my ticket after completing the check in.

Nothing showing up on anywhere.
Here we go again!

Now I do not know if this one feeling named "panic" is something anyone else in my situation would have experienced, so call me paranoid if I overreacted on this one. It was less than 24 hours before the flight was due and there was no sign of my problem having been solved as the support staff had specified.
I messaged them directly on facebook as soon as I noticed the existence of the problem, however, despite it supposedly being available 24/7, the reply only came around noon, while I was still busy  burning the floor, nervously walking in circles in my room for a rather extended period of time.
Finally, it was only two or three hours later that the solution was provided, and that was under the form of an e-mail with a measly .txt document as proof of the extra baggage option having been purchased. For my own peace.

Ticket printed.

Final preparations done.

Considering the amount of hype despite lack of sleep in the past 24h+, I rushed my luggage downstairs and into the car, and got on the road... maybe a bit too early. By about two hours or so. Two hours of my life that were wisely spent in the car, listening to my mother's husband's snores, while watching two girls chase each other round their parents' car, occasionally stopping for a few selfies, after which they would resume their late-night/early morning energetic activity.

Airport check in. Final goodbyes.

Airplane.

Sweet.

Keeping in mind the fact that the flight would be an astoundingly brain and bottom-numbing three hours, I brought a book along. A small one. And with its own history. A rather sad one for a book, if I may say so, as I have bought it about three years ago, on the recommendation of one of my teachers from my previous university. Started reading it in February 2012, while on my way to an exchange in Poland, left it aside for the entire six-month stay, then,  I wished to refresh my mind and re-read the beginning of the book, I obviously started reading it again. But never got back to it after my return home. Same applied in the current case, just a rather different reason for abandoning it the way I did, but I saw it coming.

As soon as the plane took off, I casually took my book out to continue indulging myself in the world so neatly created within its yellow pages. Next to me, sat a woman and her husband --- an adorable old couple from Bucharest.

At first she asked me a few questions regarding my travel purpose and destination. She then proceeded to tell me about herself, her husband, and how she was on her way to the U.S. to see her son who was getting ready for his wedding. In those 3 hours she told me --- and repeated at least once or twice --- every single detail about her son's career ascension, his personal life starting with his first relationship, as well as occasionally pointing out her husband's bad habits and making fun of him whenever he would ask the flight attendant for seconds, or even extras. All I could do was to absently nod and at least keep up the appearance that I was following what she was saying (to my utter surprise, out of all that flood of personal information, I remember about 80%).

To be honest, about the time the plane landed, my perception of the general mentality of my co-nationals was preventing me from thinking they would so much as say goodbye, however they warmly wished me good health and all the luck in my plans and dreams, hugged me, and went off on their own journey, and I went off on mine with an honest smile.

I pulled my luggage down the airport hallways, to the train station, and onto the train, till I arrived at my destination. What was left for me to do was to go to the agency to pick up the rented room contract and the keys, then go settle.

Weather status at destination:
Windy. Cloudy. Windier.

I managed to find my way to the agency and found myself in a queue consisting of a number of Asian students with luggage and backpacks the size of their body or larger, with clothes or stuffed toys' heads sticking out. I buried my face in my phone and calmly awaited my turn. Apparently the key to my room as well as to the apartment were still with the cleanup crew, therefore I was kindly asked to wait there until they would return. Out of curiosity, I inquired the lady behind the desk about directions on how to reach my accommodation. The directions provided implied going in the totally opposite direction than the one the all-knowing Google Maps indicated.

Very well.

Two painfully long hours later, when my phone was starting to get tired of me and I was getting slightly irritated due to lack of sleep, nourishment, and caffeine, as well as a place to be relieved of physiological needs, it dawned upon me to pretend that I knew nothing and so I went to ask again, however, not the same person as before. Which I did...

The key had been there all along, it just took a more thorough search. What is more, the apartment indeed was located where Google Maps had marked it, and not where the first lady pointed to,

Now to get off the university campus (good luck with that)

I stepped outside the agency building and began the final part of the journey to the place which would provide me shelter for the following year, For the first time, I can say that I had no clue as to which way to head, therefore my will was conquered by my lazy side when the urge took over, to go right for what I thought would be a shortcut --- to avoid going around the main university building and all.

A few drops of rain decided to fall right on my face. Then a few more. And then some more.
I was pulling my luggage down the alley that goes along the back side of the building, when the frustration occurred: gate. What made things worse was that I felt downright teased at the sight of the pathway that would lead to the main street which would ultimately lead to my new home. And no, there was no way to pass through it. Nor around it. The gate was locked shut, and that's that.

Yippity-yay.

Fine then, time to go around the building, and like it was not enough, the rain had intensified and so had the wind. By the time I reached the main entrance of the university, on the other side, I was making my way through a downpour, barely able to look up and see ahead. Yet I pressed on valiantly. And I pressed on whilst listing in my mind all profanities known to mankind, and even came up with new ones.

I finally arrive at my accommodation, in front of the door. I put the key in and attempt to turn. No success. I do so again whilst pushing the door in hopes it would open. Again, no success.
Five minutes and one bent key later, the door was finally unlocked.

Dragged my luggage upstairs, into my room.

7 P.M.

Crash face-first in bed.

Sweet slumber <3



Yes, dear reader, this took me a little over five months to write, and two more to edit and post, and yes, there is more to come, just not now. No idea when.
Just not now.

I've been off coffee for days now, including the time spent writing this post. Somehow I am not affected.

~ more to come ~


late edit: never mind about the coffee part

Last minute improvised speech on lack of ideas.

We all run out of ideas. Some of us every now and then, and some... quite often. As a student, one encounters this issue far too many times. It so happened that one of the worst possible times for me occurred when I was faced with the colossal task of having to pull my brain cells together and put them to work for a measly speech my friend and I needed to write together for an exam.

There was more than enough time: we were told from the first class of the semester that, as an examination, we would have to present a speech on a free choice and style, just as long as we kept within the boundaries of politeness and proper manners. We were kindly asked to leave zeal aside and to not exceed 2-3 minutes in presentation, because our teacher, contrary to popular belief, actually has a personal life, and there already were a lot of us, even grouped up. As short and to the point as possible. Plain and simple.

Obviously my friend and I forgot all about it right after we were told about it --- or simply didn't give it importance from the very beginning.

Uhm... whoops...

One semester of hellish boredom meticulously interwoven with sweet slumber later...

Right before the exam. Test. For a different course, but still a test. I finished long before the time was up, and since my friend was still not done and considering the mutual, unspoken agreement that we wait for eachother to finish and leave the room together, I got bored. Really bored. My drawing skills are far too poor, even the personal satisfaction of having passed time in any way, therefore I started --- and finished --- a speech for the exam in less than half an hour. One on lack of ideas.

Initially, this was supposed to be just me complaining to myself on a sheet of paper, until my friend would be done with her test, but it turned out to be just perfect for the exam. It's an improvisation, I am well aware, but the teacher said she really liked it, and we got more than just a passing grade, so that's all that counts, right?

This is how it turned out:

_________________________________________________________________________________

Intro: There's times and times when you have far too much inspiration for your own good. In your mind, nomads are warring against yellow-spotted, rainbow martians, somewhere in an ocean, inside a hippo-shaped submarine... and... times when ideas just fly past you and you can spout words or phrases no brighter than a toddler's. Well, we found ourselves in the latter situation, with no ideas whatsoever, and just couldn't think of anything better to write.

Me: I sit at my desk, a week or so before the exam, to get started on a speech. I take out some sheets of paper, pick up a pen and attempt to write... Just one problem: I have no clue as to what subject to write on. Not even a single idea. Not a fragment of thought... Nothing! I call my blonde friend, maybe she's thought of something. She rejects my call and messages me to... message her. I do as told.

Friend: Me... I was relaxing in front of the TV, enjoying life while watching my favorite show. My friend calls me, and I reject her call. I text her, saying that I'm still looking for inspiration. How? By watching my favorite show, of course! Don't worry, gurl, there's still time, we'll come up with something for Friday!

Me: Fine. Two days later I pick the pen up again, and after a while of blank staring, in hopes that maybe the wall would provide me any ideas, a multiple toothache brought me to the realization that I had been chewing the pen for God knows how long. I put it down, look around, crumple the paper, throw it, and absently watch it as it bounces off the wall and falls on the floor.

Friend: Not a single idea. None. Zero. I'm fretting. I sit at the desk. The desire to write is coming from the bottom of my dear, little heart. I really want to get it over with once and for all. Seriously, how hard can it be?! In the end it's a free subject, right?! Oh, hush, surely I'll get an idea soon... or maybe my friend already has one? Meh, there's still time.

Me: I'm thinking... and God, am I thinking...! The exam's tomorrow. But still... maybe 9gag or Youtube shall be my source of inspiration. You'd think that by now at least some idea must've buzzed through this head of mine. Guess again! Hours pass as if they never even came, and I realize that it's already evening. Frustrated as I am, I message my blondie that I have no idea whatsoever and that I'd write a speech on... lack of ideas. Obviously, she finds it amusing, but in the end it turns out that... lack of ideas constitutes the subject of this speech, because, honestly, we had no idea what else to write about.

Friend: Isn't that so? All other subjects were either already taken or are far too overused. Clichés. Oh, God of Inspiration, I humbly thank you for illuminating our minds and guiding us toward actually writing something for this exam! It's true, we've mostly complained about it, at least we could've had a fixed subject, so we'd blame the teacher for giving us something difficult.

I do consider, however, that even lack of ideas... is an idea!

_________________________________________________________________________________

I really know this isn't much at all, but I felt like sharing it, maybe it will one day save a student's mark, just like it did mine.

What I don't know is what went on in my head while writing it. Boredom struck again, and my, did it strike...

Furthermore... I don't know what more to add as a side commentary to this so-called speech.

Anyway.

ICE CRE----I mean hiiiii :D

Update.

Long time, no post!

It's been a while since I last showed any sign of life at all, I've been pretty much inactive on all social networks that I have an account on (to make a mention here: even if some people behaved as if I had ceased to exist, I've been here all along. I really wish it was that easy to vanish, sorry to disappoint).

Anyway, I've been neglecting my online social life (if you may call it that way), as well as other things about myself, for various reasons. There is not much that I can say here about that, without possibly upsetting any of those who may be involved and happen to stumble upon this blog of mine, so I shall do my best to stay silent about some things, at least for a while, and certainly on this post.

As the situation currently stands, I am sitting here, with another mug of coffee about to go cold. In full summer. Newachievementforspacingouthasbeenunlockedformypersonalrecordyaaaaay!*deep breath*

If you've read one of my older posts (something about mistakes and sometimes having to turn back), this will be the so-called update *slash* continuation of it, so here goes:

Even though a different wording was used in expressing a certain promise of mine, what I said was pretty much that even if I were to crawl on all fours, I would keep my word. A good few months later, and I am proudly announcing that I am finally preparing myself for departure in three weeks from now. Unslept nights ahoy!

Skipping the above mentioned promise thing for the moment, and giving a quick recap/overview of the situation, things went the following way: I applied for a Master's programme that I would've been accepted for, at least in my country, which reminded me the hard way that different countries have different standards for pretty much everything, including, apparently, entry requirements for study programmes. Don't say it. I know. I really do. Just don't say it.

I'm unable to walk down the path that I wish with my current studies, so, as it happened that I haven't talked about in that previous post, is that after being turned down, I finally calmed down and got a good grip of myself. I applied for three Bachelor programmes that I considered would be of more use, and at the same time suit me better and be an enjoyable study. Turns out three really is a charm and all my applications were accepted right away.

I decided on one --- quickly got down to business. This is where the adventures start.

Coolio.

Looking around for more info on what more could be done at that time to avoid getting too crowded later on, I found that it was possible to apply through this certain agency for accommodation --- and I took the chance. It goes without mention that as required in pretty much all formalities nowadays, I entered an account name and password, then my name, age, gender, address, phone number, e-mail address, university name, marital status, underwear size, whether I'm sane and have all vaccines, parent's name, a contact person's details, private and non-private, and finally the desired period of my rental.

By the sound of it, it's not all that difficult, and should proceed smoothly.

Ha. Nice one.

"Dream away, dream away,

Let imagination light your way..."

Sure, I looked around to gather all knowledge possible on the subject, and there was some mention somewhere in a hidden digital corner of the website that the university you were accepted at decides the renting period for their students who apply through that agency, but being... I don't know... February (?), the info was outdated, so I entered a date at my guess. The application was accepted, meaning everything was in good order. Right? Not really.

Let's just say this agency is notorious for not being... not necessarily serious, but for not being that well... organised. After having the application accepted by both the agency and the university, I was given permission to search for a room. Okay, I'll just blame myself here and say that maybe I didn't properly look for info on how to rent in my case --- but nobody told me why they kept rejecting my application either, so this went on for quite a while.

I mailed them to see what was wrong.

Two weeks pass and no sign.

Fine.

I mailed the university and got a reply two days later that my message had been forwarded. Thank you kindly.

I got a reply from someone from the agency the next day, as well as a reply from their client service center two days later.

Alright, I was doing something wrong.

Apparently I had to search through a different option. I did as told, and my room was reserved, with mention that I would get further guidance in two months or so.

My accommodation issue being solved and not receiving any further notification/instruction on that, implies that there was nothing wrong anymore, that my rental was officially agreed upon, by everyone, and from all points of view, till I'd be requested to pay the first round of money --- also meaning that I already knew the day my contract would start. So now that that's taken care of, time to book my flight!

I decided not to go with my national flight company, due to their famous delays and various other issues, and instead booked with the company of the country I'm headed to. Like any normal person wanting to be sure everything is crystal clear, a few questions arose for me here and there, so I set out on a pilgrimage on the company site to seek enlightenment, having to resort in the end to asking the gods themselves. The answers were given with the typical disgust of the middle-aged women in charge of providing information to the less bright clients like myself. It's alright, I understand the frustration of being disturbed from a highly important solitaire tournament.

Accommodation rental and flight booking were finally scratched off the list for the time being.

Weeks went by, I slowly got ready with minor things here and there, while waiting for updates. Time was drawing near. Slowly, but surely.

End of May. The accommodation agency mails me that there would be an increase in rental prices due to whatever regulation changes they mentioned in there, and also, I was to soon receive further instructions towards making my rental request definite. That's what I wanted to know.

Two weeks later, they finally sent me the long-awaited mail with the last directions before arrival, and I proceeded precisely as required.

And then I see it.

The starting day of the rent had been moved to three days later. So had the ending date. Sure, I didn't really mind having the end date moved, but the problem was that the flight had already been booked and changing the departure date meant pretty much paying for the flight again. The changes made without any notification whatsoever was the main frustration here. After all, they had accepted my application, and I saw nothing changed on my account online.

Fine.

Mail the agency.

A week gone.

No reply.

Mail the university.

Receive reply. Not really satisfying. All they said was that the university decides the rental period for their students who apply through that agency. Period.

Alright. Time to change the flight departure day. What more could possibly go wrong, right? Right?!

I went online to my booking details, made the necessary modifications. Received notification that I had to contact them to have all purchased options transferred to the new ticket, so I did. I got reply that my changes had been transferred.

Sip of coffee.

A few minutes after the confirmation, I decided to check the ticket out of plain curiosity. Nothing had changed.

Another sip of coffee.

Thinking maybe the changes would occur later, I checked a few hours afterwards. And then a few days later. Nothing.

I mailed them again to see what was wrong and was told in the same diplomatic disgust as the first time, that the changes had been transferred and that I should stop insisting (even though I had only contacted them about it once before), so I just told myself to wait a bit longer. I did. A month later there was still no change to my flight details online.

To keep it short, I resorted to their facebook page, in hopes that someone would be of more help than the delightful people who I had previously contacted. I explained my situation and humbly asked to be enlightened. Being the nice, actually helpful people that they are (probably because the rest of the internet could see that short exchange of replies, therefore their reputation heavily depends on appearances at least), they aided me, and I received my long-sought answer, so now I can rest calm and continue sipping my coffee with a lower chance of choking or spilling it.

Come to think of it, I did spill it just yesterday. That's another story. Good thing it was cold though.

Going back to the promise I made... Look at me, I'm nearly there, after such a long time. However, time was unkind, and sadly things have changed a lot in the meanwhile, therefore the effect, if any, will no longer be the same, and it pains me greatly. In the end, it seems like now I really am dragging myself to fulfill those words. I hope it still means something to you...

All that's left now for me is to wait and see what will be next. And obviously hope for the best. Until then, I'll go get some more coffee. I get the feeling that I'm nowhere near the end of it, so I'm enjoying the breather while I still can.

The Chronicles of Boredom [part 2]

Since nothing worth mentioning at all has really happened lately, I'm only putting down the few relevant things that have occurred over an extended period of time.

Here's part two of my Chronicles of Boredom!

Monday, March 3rd, 2014

I've somehow managed to make it past the last two weeks. I swear I have no idea how. I really don't. But I did. Miraculously.

Today, I was supposed to not go to the first class and instead start from 10am. Guess what? They decided to change the schedule. Again. Sure, I don't mind, the classes themselves haven't been moved. Just the location. All classes but one have been moved into the same room, so in order to grab a decent seat, where I'd be sheltered from the teacher's eyes, I was forced to show my sleepy mug starting with the first class. I still benefit from the convenience of a strong wifi signal and I don't need to move around a lot, therefore I shouldn't complain, but sometimes it all just gets too hard to put up with, that not even my faithful phone can save me any longer.

This blissful morning, we were shown a documentary of another author. Somehow, someone had tampered with the projector settings, so we were forced to watch it in a blue tint. I leaned on my friend and watched. In fact... I looked - after all, watching implies actually paying attention, and I was oh so far from that, just like everyone else in that room, including the teacher herself.

Then. It happened. I snapped out of my trance right when a picture of a certain writer came up. I shall not name him, but honestly, he looked like he had been on drugs and was suffering from sleep deprivation (like us students, come to think of it). What's more, in the blue tint of the projector, he looked even funnier, that I couldn't help myself and ended up making half the room choke when I said he looked pretty blue, both literally and figuratively. He really did, if you ask me.

The teacher hid her face in a book, probably trying to hide the fact that she was laughing as well. I lazily leaned back on my friend and slipped into my trance once again.

Class ended.

Abandon ship!!!

Wednesday, March 19th

I mostly attend this class for the sake of the teacher. She's just too adorable. Today, however, this one unexpected detail ruined everything. French Culture Week. Nobody saw that coming, and for sure neither did me nor my friend.

We were told the class had been temporarily moved to a different room. About fifteen or twenty minutes after the class was supposed to start, our teacher casually showed up, carrying snacks and refreshments.

Smirks began to bloom on our faces as our minds were trying to decide what delights we would go for. Don't judge! 8:20am. We were tired and our stomachs were getting ready to play us a few serenades. And because cookies!

She told us to arrange the desks in a certain way, provided us plates and asked us to put the snacks on them and then on the desks, every here and there. Our smirks died like a beatutiful dream on an early Monday morning. Something doesn't feel right here...

Still, we did as we had been asked.

Then we were told there would be an activity. Okay, no problem, we can deal with that...

They added that the media would show up.

Everyone for themselves!

I regret every minute of it. When I finally arrived home, I fell in bed flat on my face and slipped into Dreamland for the next hours.

Friday, March 21st - This isn't exactly boredom-related in any way, I just felt like sharing this experience in a post

Nothing's worse than having your day off taken away from you, but what has to be done, has to be done, and that's final. To give you an idea as to why I had to leave the divine comfort of my home this fair day, I wish to mention that I am enrolled in a pedagogy course, along with the rest of my group from university. I am currently undergoing a teaching practice module, which sadly implies actually holding classes.

Last semester, I held English classes for 6th and 7th graders, and they were flawless. This semester, I have to hold French classes for 10th and 11th graders. Yay...

For today, I prepared my lesson ahead, just like I should've. Exactly one hour and a half before class though, I got a panic attack and broke down. Luckily, I recovered, but I was more nervous than ever before. I arrived in time, leaned against a wall and went over my notes again. We are taught not to show any weakness when in front of the class, and as far as I realised afterwards, I trampled all over that. I told my mentor that I was very, very nervous. She encouraged me with a pat on the back - more like a slap, if you ask me - and sent me into the lions' pit.

Let the fun begin.

I could only introduce myself to the class and say that I would be their teacher for the next 50 minutes. Then, I got stuck. I know more French than that, but words don't come to me that easily. I dropped my notes. Picked them up. Attempted to give them instructions in French, but I failed, so I switched to our native language to make things easier. In order to hide myself as much as possible, I gave them such tasks that they spoke more than I did, by using the vocabulary lesson I had to my advantage.

I was shaking the entire time, but the class was more than nice and understanding, so they went along and didn't ruin things more than my own nervousness had already done. They were an awesome bunch to work with, they even did their best to help me calm down with a few jokes here and there, so by the end I had managed to regain some of my stability, which was lost again when they gave me a round of hearty applause.

All I could do was turn red and hide my face in my papers.

Thank you, guys, you were great!

Also, many thanks to my mentor who helped me out a lot, knowing that I do not wish to pursue a career as a French teacher. I hugged her when the class was over.

One more class to go, and I'm done with this module.

No coffee for now, I'm off to sleep.

Monday, March 24th

So. While waiting by the window in the hallway for our pedagogy mentor to arrive, these less-than-bright, snot-nosed primates that other may consider gentlemen, were smoking on the other side of the window, and noticed my friend and I. With all their masculine grace, they pushed the window open to engage in a mating attempt.

"Pssssst! Pssssst! Hey dolly! No, no, no! Please don't close the window on me!"

After which they would push the window open once more and resume their mating attempts.

The teacher came. Looked their way. They disappeared like they were never there. They probably crawled back into their holes somewhere nearby.

Adorable <3

Not really.

I want my coffee. Hot or cold. Doesn't matter.

The Chronicles of Boredom [part 1]

First off, pardon any typos that I may have made. I am writing off my phone. Normally it hates me, and I hate it just as much. However, I'm grateful that from time to time, it feels my pain and bears with me.

I'm incredibly bored, and the semester that's just started announces to be the worst ever. So here, I am now opening the Chronicles of Boredom.

Here's a change in atmosphere for this blog!

Monday, February 17th, 2014

Having massively ditched classes in the past semester, my friend and I decided to stay put this time (or at least for the next two weeks). We had last week off. Instead of working on my degree, for fear my coordinator would strip me even of the little shred of dignity left in me, I've spent my entire time either moaning for various reasons, learning Dutch, or just wasting my time...derping around on an MMO. I didn't even write, as I normally do when the music I'm listening to, gets to me and makes me break down in tears. I did feel the need to write, but my mind was stuck on "Waiting" mode. Idle. For days.

So much for the week off. The second semester kicked off in the worst way possible for us students, whether we like to study or not:

Monday: 8am - 6pm

Tuesday: 8am - 6 pm with a 2-hour break

Wednesday: 8am - 12pm

Thursday: 8am - 4pm

Friday: -

It couldn't get any wor--I mean better. No. Wait. It really couldn't get worse. Thank you, whoever made us this schedule. But hey, apparently they've changed it! Not much of a change anyway. Right? Right. There goes the hype.

My only consolation today is that they've fixed the wifi hotspot in the building, so I can get over the fact that I only have 21.76MB of traffic left on my phone to keep myself entertained. Furthermore, considering the fact that today's phones just can't put up with prolonged intensive usage without being plugged in, despite the full battery at first, I've also brought my charger (which I ended up sharing - surely you know the increasing feeling of desperation at the sight of your dying phone when you need it the most). Honestly, I find very hard to believe the beautiful lie of a 100% full battery. How dare I?!

Four hours in, starting the fifth out of the total of ten. This is more than a full working day. It doesn't matter. I am a student. I need to shut up and endure. I must fight the heavy boredom and the great urge to jump out the window.

Anyway.

French literature class. Movie. About Marcel Proust's life. And his death. Irrelevant. Since it was early morning, not even the teacher felt like holding the class. She gave us the bibliography for the semester and put a movie for us to keep us silent - an attempt that failed. Nobody paid attention to the documentary. A class here is two hours long, or an hour and a half, depending on the teacher, because there are times when the teacher is overzealous and decides to keep us more than the standard time allocated. Thankfully, none of my teachers this semester have this habit, so they only keep us the usual hour and a half to give us enough time to decide whether or not we want to stay for the next course.

Now going back to the literature class, for the entire duration, my dear blonde friend and I...well...we randomly slapped eachother and pulled eachother's hair, after butchering Proust's name in numerous ways.

When boredom kicks in, believe me, it kicks hard. Among other things, my friend started to laugh at some drawing she saw in the documentary.

What she said: "Look, that doodle looks like a pissed cat."

What my half asleep, messed up mind understood: "Look, that dude has a whistle in his butt."

From what she said to what I understood is a pretty long way, don't you agree? Still, the teacher ignored our childish fights and did her best to enjoy the documentary. The dear soul...

We had a seminar with the same teacher right after. I tried tweeting, or starting a conversation with a few people, but I failed miserably. Therefore, the slaps, few punches, pinches, and many other, continued. The teacher ignored us and went on with her class the best way she could, without a twitch, much less looking our way whenever we'd burst into laughter. God bless her.

Afraid my phone would give up on me halfway through this day, I plugged it into the plug behind the teacher's desk, took over the super comfortable teacher's chair, and started tapping away into this post.

People, just as bored as I am. A loud, tiring chaos of more or less crystalline voices of the females present within the walls of this class. My friend to my left - typing messages, bugging me inbetween replies, engaging me into a playful violence towards her. But I still love her. To my right - a girl. From another group. Trying to read a book and make notes. Keyword: "trying". Attempting. I seriously don't know how she managed to do anything at all. If she managed, that is.

Fifteen minutes passed, no sign of the teacher for the next class. Someone came and told us to wait fifteen more minutes because she was busy with some documents. When those fifteen minutes were up, the same person came and told us the teacher said that we could go home. Well...that'd be nice...if we didn't have two more classes afterwards. Just as boring as the first two, just as boring as the one that got cancelled. Great. Beautiful. Sublime.

Next class is here. Hyper teacher. Very. Very hyper. Exahusting. But she's a sweetheart. Here we go.

The coffee I have bought from the machine downstairs has gone cold long ago. I have been too busy typing this post.

There, coffee's gone in one gulp. Smiley face.

Repost from some forgotten notes

It has been a while since my last post. I feel completely blocked, and I am currently facing the inability to actually write anything other than short messages. Right now there are some things that I need to sort out for myself before I post anything new, so here is an old one, which has been lying forgotten somewhere in my facebook notes for almost a year.

Here goes.

Three months since my arrival in Poznan. Two more to go. I have had much time to think not necessarily about myself, but about life in general and what lies beyond it. I could finally release myself, even if not to a full extent and I believe I have had the chance to contemplate and learn about myself more than I have previously been able to. I have been through a lot, so saying that I am happy would make me a liar, especially after the last few unfortunate events that are still haunting me the way they do. However, I have once again rediscovered my desire and maybe motivation to write and I guess I shall be grateful for just this.

Regardless of time and space, whether I am awake or asleep, I am forever plagued by the most twisted coincidences, signs, recurring dreams, and strong, sudden feelings I cannot explain - all reminding me of the past in the most painful way, subduing my will. I am on my knees as my world was thrown into chaos and turmoil. It is no wonder that it is already taking its toll on my mind and body. As much as I would like to detach myself from everything - to move on, something is forcefully holding me back, punishing me in a more violent manner than previously, whenever I dare take a step or two. I am being kept on the edge of sanity, strong enough not to fall, weak enough to not be able to stand. Some wounds simply refuse to close, so wishing for them to heal is probably too much of me to ask. Even as I am writing this, I can feel my soul scream inside me as it dies a little more. I am fading.

In my constant wait for a something  - or someone I do not know, I often turn my head to the train station as I cross the bridge almost daily. Sometimes when I am not in a hurry, I stop for a short while to look at the trains... During winter the tracks were covered in snow, which has now been replaced by patches of grass here and there, and a few yellow flowers scattered around. A miracle in itself, I have to admit, for nature has its ways of sprouting life even where man has buried it under a thick layer of rocks and concrete. I have learnt that this is a city that is never at rest, not because it is filled with students, nor because of the nightlife. It buzzes from early hours till late into the night and is just as lively no matter the time.  Nobody really stops to give their bodies a minute to rest anymore, much less pause to look at the sky for a brief moment, which recently brought me to the conclusion that maybe I have also neglected myself, even though I did not notice at the time - I just never bothered to do anything about it. My soul has been yearning and my heart has been crying for a long time now but I have grown blind and deaf to my own needs. Looking at the tracks, my mind empties and I can almost feel myself beginning to float away, slipping from my body. I clearly do not wish to exist. Then I suddenly snap out of the trance and I walk away quickly. I still wonder what would happen if I let myself slip into the unconscious, but somehow, something is telling me the time for that is not yet upon me, therefore I continue to be anchored to this world against my will.

My room is on the back side of the dormitory, with not much of a view to offer, to be honest - just some gloomy houses and the top of a tower nearby. Somewhere in the horizon lies the small but always busy airport, which is 7 km from here - one insignificant detail which I really do not know why I remember. The more spectacular view is supposedly on the other side, which gives you a rather nice panorama of the "Rondo Kaponiera" - a roundabout and as far as I know, a very important point in this town. At night you can see the lights of the highway in the distance. I cannot deny that this urban landscape has a certain appeal, despite the roundabout currently being under construction... However, there seems to be something more special about the side of the building where my room is. It might not be as lively and surely not as sunny either, as the building casts a great shadow on this side, providing shelter from the bothersome heat and often too bright daylight, which I can say is perfect for someone like me. Nevertheless, it is... peaceful... the silence... the way the light of the sunset floods the rooms in some evenings... seeing the planes as they descend from the skies... it makes me realize that I am constantly waiting for someone or something, and sometimes this atmosphere gives me this indescribable feeling, like I want to erase my existence to merge with the infinite and become one with nature. There is something special even about the rain, if you watch it from here - but then again, rain has always had a special place in my heart.

Living in a dormitory together with so many people soon brought me to the point where no sound startles me anymore. Music academy students practicing till late at night, neighbors moving furniture at 3 AM, fights, parties going on upstairs, loud talking, doors slamming, plus many other sources of noise present here, not to mention the ambulances and police cars always speeding past this place... Last night though, nature decided to make me a pleasant surprise. I was woken from one of my usual dreams by some chirps around 5 AM - the same hour when oh so many other things have happened lately. It wasn't my first time hearing them, but something seemed different this time. I had always believed it was either someone listening to a recording of nature sounds, to help with their sleep, or just some electronic device. I lay still for a few minutes, staring blankly at the ceiling in the semi-darkness, listening, with no specific thought in my mind. My body stood up on its own as I absently went to the window, where I stopped for a few more moments. My hand reached out and opened the window and I realized that those chirps came from real birds. I stood there frozen, mesmerized by that harmony, my mind emptied and my heart strangely at peace. It was almost like it was orchestrated by a genius in the art of music - one bird somewhere close, singing in the lead, while a few other, a bit farther, formed a perfect chorus in the background. Just as absently, I closed the window, went back to bed and curled up under the blanket. An hour later their song had ceased. Nightingales? I do not know, I have never heard one, therefore I apologize if I am wrong by having made this statement.

I was never a person who loves the day. There is no mystery to it, the sun reveals too much, and there is no magic left at all. It is in the sanctuary of the night that I seek my refuge. Away from chaos and disorder, away from judging eyes, snug in the bosom of this time of magic and enigma. It is the time when I can finally fly away for a few hours, only to return in the morning.

Considering what has happened to me in the past two months or so, last night's event has left me slightly alarmed, feeling very uneasy. Do not ask, I cannot explain this even to myself. My senses are unusually sharp, and so far they have been accurate more than ever, so I am sure something is bound to happen soon enough. I can do nothing but wait and see what happens. In the end it is what I have done all my life - I must have gotten used to it by now... Alas, patience is not among my virtues.

I am yet to learn the true depth of myself and I highly doubt I shall ever see the bottom, but I am comfortable with this thought.

Now that I am back in my hometown, I wish I could go back. And I will. Just not back to the same town or even country. My chaotic, solitary life shall be my demise. May it be a sweet one.

Mistakes and sometimes having to go back and restart

I have always been the lazy person from oh so many points of view... Rarely learning my lesson, letting myself float as a snowflake in the chilly wind of life, not really having anything to do with what was going on around me. Whenever I set a goal, it was because I had to, not because I wanted. One way or another, in the end I reached those goals. I haven't had the happiest life, all comfort and luxury. I have had my fair share of misfortunes along the way, which ended up discouraging me or simply making me so stubborn that I saw no use in fighting any further for anything at all. It's luck that brought me where I am. Nothing more, nothing less.

Before I go on with today's reason for which my coffee has gone cold again, I wish to reveal a glimpse of my background. I am currently a BA student in my last year of English Language and Literature - French Language and Literature at a small university in my miserable hometown. I initially wanted to go to a university abroad, I had assistance always available, however - as usual - I had decided to do so at the very last moment. It was too late. So here I am, still in my hometown, while most of my ex-classmates have left town or even the country.

I had never known how it feels to be turned down, to lose years of your life, then look back, finally realise what happened, then fall on your knees and cry like a child who didn't get the candy he asked for. I had always thought it could never happen to me, I was too confident in myself. I deserve this, what can I say... But from certain points of view, I don't really regret staying here. Maybe this is just me trying to look at the bright side, or I don't know... you tell me.

It was only here that I met people who truly became my friends. As a kid and teenager I was used to losing contact with my "friends" during holidays, be them short or long, so I'd end up spending my free time alone. This is sad, I know. As soon as I got to university though, I met two girls who later became my friends. Actual friends who called me out even when we were on a one-week break, just because they wanted to hang out. Summer break? I barely got away. But I enjoyed it. People get lost on the way, relationships fade, and eventually cease to exist. Not this friendship so far.

Ignoring all the literature I had to digest and those challenges to not fall asleep (aka classes), it was great. It really was. But I can't go further to what I wish to do in life. Not with my current studies. To be honest, yes, I am grateful for the language skills and knowledge I managed to gain when I was not trying to fall asleep, and I am also grateful that at the end of my BA here, I will gain (another) diploma attesting my English skills, as well as one for my French skills. It supposedly helps.

I don't see myself working in the educational field. Or with the open public. No. Just no. I want to work in an office in front of a computer, with my mug of coffee next to me. I want my peace, because I like my peace.

Coming back to what's bugging me, I decided to start early for the first time in my life and apply for a Master's programme abroad. I sent my application in, did a lot of running around for additional documents they wanted, all this to be turned down a few weeks later because I don't have the necessary previous studies. I felt miserable, but... it wasn't my fault here, was it? I have good grades, it was what I have studied that wasn't what they were looking for.

Last night when I gave my friend the news and realised by his reply that he was probably very disappointed, like never before, I felt horrible for letting someone down this way --- him especially... And to think that I had never felt bad for letting people down...

I doubt there's any other MA that I would like and that is at the same time suitable for my studies, so... I have no other choice but to restart with my Bachelor studies on a different specialisation (obviously still abroad, in the same country) so I can walk down the path that I want. One way or another, I will be there next year. I have to, and I want to.

Being the kind of person that I am, I have finally learnt defeat and taken a mouthful of sour humility. Success is a lousy teacher and so is luck. As a result I had reached the point where I was lazy and proud. A blind, arrogant fool, thinking that nothing could reach me. Let this be a lesson to me, and maybe to the random bored person who is reading this post. I am once again lucky, this time because I have noticed I have taken a wrong turn, even if three years later, I am lucky that I have seen the chance to go back, and even if I have to start my studies from scratch, at least not all doors are closed. My pride was my demise, but fortunately, this time it wasn't till the very end.

All I can do now is take this opportunity to restart and constantly keep myself up and motivated to continue fighting till I see myself where I want to be. I might revert to my lazy self later on, but until then, I don't want to let my friend down again. I made him a promise a long time ago, and I will keep it. I will be there.

Life doesn't come with a map for its twisted paths, and the only guide you have is that sometimes weak, sometimes strong beacon in the distance or nearby. Don't lose sight of it and keep going.

Special thanks to my friend who, without intending to, has made me fight in the front lines for once. I thank him for being a part of my motivation and I wish to apologise to him for having placed all my bets on just one option. I have decided to prove him the strength of my desire to be there even if I have to crawl through the broken shards of my own pride to reach that goal.

Diary entry for a snowless December day

For quite a while I've been sitting here, absent, in front of my laptop, with thousands of thoughts invading my mind, right as I'm typing here, desperately trying to grasp a few of them. Nothing new or special. Just me being myself.

My days are all the same, and I have found myself entangled in monotony, out of which, by the way, I am too comfortable to bother to escape. Not even a little squirming. I wake up - or rather I am woken up at 7-7:30am, I meet up with my friend and drag myself to classes, survive a few hours, only to return home and sink back into my usual state. In the evening, it comes to me that I am waiting not for the day to end, but for something to happen. But nothing ever does.

There are times when through this absence of mine I notice how some things are different, in a way that I cannot figure out. Either that or it feels like I'm in a totally different world than where I'm supposed to be, a world that looks and behaves exactly the same as the one I am used to. Maybe it's just me. In the end I have an imagination that tends to wander, often leaving me behind, and I end up surprising myself time and again.

I feel tired, worn out, I lack the will to do anything at all anymore. I even have trouble convincing myself to get up and go grab something to eat, but maybe I will drink some coffee. On an empty stomach. Heart and stomach issues in the horizon. So what? Maybe I'm changing. For the worse. Slipping away day by day. I couldn't care less about myself. I'm the only person who I will never be understanding with. That's right. I will never have patience with myself.

I am floating along, going where the wind takes me, no aim, nothing to motivate me. But I am hoping. Waiting... Waiting for someone to come along, take my hand again and smile at me, then lead me to where I belong. Maybe I belong nowhere and nobody will show up anyway? I do not know. My senses are screaming at me, telling me that I am not waiting in vain, but then again, let us not forget about my imagination.

So in the end I made myself some coffee. I bring it to the PC, sit down, and I space out. With no specific thought in mind, I log on my account on an online game, leave my character standing in the middle of the path, turn to my laptop, talk to a few people, check my mail, randomly browse a few sites, then I snap out of it and realize how I've basically done nothing, but barely have any memory of the past hour - or even hours.

Also, my coffee has gone cold