Late to the party, I was reading an amazing book – ‘Whatsapps avec maman’

‘Sometimes I find myself on Fridays waiting for you to wish me a happy weekend, waiting for you to text me from wherever you are. I wait and hope for you to dry my tears with a humourless joke, I wait for you to craddle me like before, that you talk to me about Céline Dion, about the weather, but the truth is that now the wait is very, too long…

I love you’

[My translation]

Hiya Aliens!

Credit below

Credit below

Whatsadoing?? Whatsamedoing? A book review. Oui, Oui, a book review and it is not the only one to come. This little excerpt is from the book I have just finished (in like 5 minutes) which is titled ‘Whatsapps with mom’ by Alban Orsini.

This is a beautiful story about the connection between a mom and a son, their understanding, the little stupidities that belong to them and that make their relationship unique, and yet universal. The story that we read nosily through the whatsapps that they send to each other gives insight into the little perks of mom/son relationships. The Céline Dion drama, the fat cat, the romance and the mom overprotection, money troubles, the good morning/ have a great weekend texts, all have this empathic capacity that makes as giggle thinking “that’s sooo my mom”.

Goodreads sums this book like this:

Whatsapps with mom is the story of daily, routinary whatsapps between a mom an her son (visible on Tumblr and Facebook). Whatsapps with mom it’s a fiction that tells the story of a son and his mother as read over their exchanges text messages. Imagined as a fiction, this story is funny, touching and sometimes surreal speaks parent / child relationship, the shift of generations …Hilarious and exciting, we can not get enough: (…). We also discover a form of dialogue, inventive and full of literary references, dramatic, musical … that allows different reading levels.

The construction of this conversation is prolonged by the drawings of The Blonde Vivi.

[My translation]

However, as I was revising this Goodreads page, the commentary that I found there was what really hit the jackpot:

I thought, why not? I need a book that makes me laugh for a while. It really took me from unstoppable, belly-aching, laughter to intense weeping. For its unexpected ending and situation, I must say I liked this book very much. A simple story that makes you reflect on the little things as the ‘have a nice weekend’ that all of of sudden you come to miss.

E-xact-ly.

Good day, aliens!

Yours,

Mei Mimi: (soon to be) resident alien

Photo credit

#29 Oh well..

Sitting on my bed. Legs wrapped beneath this computer where I write, again. Arcade Fire is playing on spotify and my head is full of things I would like to say and that I hope they are said. Unplanned writing starts..

Dear aliens,

I have a bachelors degree.

I have no phone but I have a visa. It broke down on the queue for my visa appointment. I droped it and I am lonely, and clueless, and bored, and addicted, so it seems.

Aliens, I am leaving for the United States in 29 days and the feelings inside me are oppressing and confusing. I am wandering desesperately through happiness, excitement, sadness, early nostalgia and unwilingness. And this is why words have failed to be present in this blog. Also I have been busy but I have used that goddam excuse around here so much that I am embarrased to type that again.

I wish not to dwell in those feelings because it is not the time nor the attitude to have when you are graced with an amazing opportunity. But I am not okay aliens, I am not.

Friends. Jeez, I am speechless about my friends. I don’t even know how to write this. There are so many tornados in my head, I just can’t type coherently. I guess that I realized two things lately: who the real people in my life are and how bad of a friend I am. I sinned by omission and I am on the edge of loosing people that are very important to me. And I don’t know if I will do anything about it because I honestly don’t know how to act and both doing something and not doing it suffocates me.

Also I think I suffer from anxiety.

Also I am back to hating my body and hating myself. Have not done that in a long time. I am scared of what it means.

I am not okay aliens.

Mei Mimi: (soon to be) resident alien

#62 Post-data stories and uneventful days

The small details is what matters

The small details is what matters

My dear aliens, what can I say today if my life consists on being recluded between four walls of a hostile environment surrounded by torturous theories and heavily coloured sheets. Nothing. This post has no purpose, no reason to be, no content, no nothing. I apologise for my failure but as my promise stand, I want to report to you on this day and give you something.

I have no words. I am speechless. I’m sorry. My life is boring.

P.S.: At least let me give you an story.

I called him from the hospital. It wasn’t anything serious, I just fell over abd twisted my ankle. You add my inexistent tolerance to pain and it results in me desesperately calling my boyfriend, crying and begging him to come to me. It wasn’t such a big deal, but apparently I made a great freaking job in scaring him and now I was heartfeltly regretting the consequences. Damn.

We got home and after leaving my stuff on the side of the door, he left and went directly to our bedroom and I have yet to see anymore of him.

I open the doow to our bedroom slowly, curious of the why of his reclusion, already feeling that it had to do something with me but too frightened to ask; or knock on the door and expose myself yo his rejection, for that matter. The room is bright with the afternoon sun and our romm seems just like usual, a  little messy maybe but that has nothing to do with the man lying on his belly, with a pillow effectively blocking any sight and his hands clenched over our beautiful bed covers. 

I walk over and sit down next to him, putting a hand in the closest patch of skin I can find and feel his warmth immediately. It doesn’t calm me down but it helps because he is here. I feel I should be grateful that he hasn’t stormed out, even though I do not quite understand how we got here.

I don’t speak because I don’t want to and because I don’t get what are we doing here, why are we feeding each others sore moods in this precise moment, or why we are upset, or over what. Tom is not one to offer deep talk and so I know this is going to be long and exhausting, and because I don’t want to be, because I love this man, who has yet to face me, so much, I don’t want this waful day to turn back like that. 

An hour. 

An hour and  a half.

Almost two hours.

– You scared me.

– What?

– You twisted your ankle and called me as if you were about to die. Are you crazy? I almost lost it thinking you were at risk, that something happened to you, you know…

I run over every fucking terrying scenario of you… I though you…

Silence

– And you just twisted your ankle.

#63 Almost didn’t make it and questions about being a teaching assistant

Things feel weird, days are long and I am a week away from my (temporary) freedom.

Whatsup, aliens? Had a good day? Thought I wouldn’t make it today and so mark a second failure in the brief history of this posts? Ha! You were wrong!

So what I did today … Library. That’s it. A whole lot of nothing in the morning which includes staring at my laptop’s screen and deciding that no matter how much my life is going to suck and no matter for how long, as fast as I get to the US I will get a macbook; dancing around my room and regreting, a whooole lot of regreting. In the afternoon, lead by example of my supreme leader and lovely friend, I went to the library to pretend to study and stop regreting. Little improvement but we are getting there.

I HAVE NEWZZZZZ!!!!

So basically, you should know what comes but some of my aliens are so oblivious as this resident alien, so I get and so I repeat it now, I AM GOING TO THE STATES SOOON!! I got a TA and so for and so forth but the real newz is that my friends and I decided to make vlogs of it!!!! Aliens you will see your resident alien’s face!!!! Excited? No??? Well, that’s unexpected… Anyway, we are going to try and make it happen, and you will know about it because I will tell you about it. As usual, any comment as long as it is constructive, positive or at least polite, is very welcomed my dears!! We are going to make our first attempt later this month and then start vlogging from then on. Keep in touch to know more!!

Pic not mine. Credit below.

Pic not mine. Credit below.

Also I wanted to say that I plan to make a post about the process of becoming a teaching assistant, from the stage where I am now which basically is not knowing what a TA is, to everything that might be useful so let me know if there are specifics I should address.

And that’s it aliens, night night and dream life!

Mei Mimi: (soon to be) Resident Alien

Credit

#65 #64 – Ovaries, mothers and bribing

My ovary is trying to pop through. I have a small wound in my lip (which feels like death) and I swear I just saw someone pout as she came in to the the library with a giant cup of, what I assume is, coffee. Actually, no, it was a tiny cup but she genuinely was sad to be here at this time in the goddam morning (nine-ish).

I was meant to make these posts everyday until the end of the count-down and as usual failed in my first attempt (jesus christ, did they just switched on the air conditioning? Jeez, welcome to Alaska, Mei!). Anyway, back to what I was saying, I am here to talk.

resident aline writes on paper exampleFirst things first. I wanted to tell you how incredibly annoying creative minds are. Do you have to study ‘ethics’? Here, an idea to write. And since I am not home and I decided to leave all my electronic devices there in pro of my focus in ‘ethics’ and only ‘ethics’ I rsorted to write this in a white sheet meant to stuff principles and virtues (‘ethics’). I blame my friend also. She is late and I needed her to induce me to study. Well, that ain’t happening, right? Lets write this quickly and hope it’s over before she gets here.

Well, that marvelous idea I had and that I told you about was that of the unrealistic portrayal of moms in fiction. I absolutely blame a terrible Sidney Crosby fanfic for making me question the literary value of anything and come across these thoughts. Also, I just noticed that friends in my local library sit apart so they can study better. I don’t get it, friends are supposed to be there in the good and bad and this is terrible, believe me, so my conclusion is that their friendship is crap.

Well, the thing with this mom’s fiction I’m telling you about is that they are sweet, too sweet. I am going to go ahead and say that I have the most wonderful mom in the whole wide world, buuuut what you read in fiction is  just too much that even my mom seems a monster.

Take for instance when I moved back from my apartment in Manchester. To the question “do you need all of these?” in fiction it would’ve been like:

<< My mom turned around and sweetly asked:

Do you need all of these? With an all teeth, perfect and genuine smile in display, with a tone so low that only someone with superpowers could hear it and all her love for me evident in the interaction. >>

You get me? Now, of course this is not like my mother because she is sweeter than candy but if by any chance this was the case, I believe my mom would been more like (this is allllll hypothetical):

<<My mom turned around with her hands full with my stuff and annoyed as usual she asked:

Do you need all these? With a frown in her face, and now by imitation game in mine, a clear sign of her profound dissapointment, with a high-pitched tone and her long forgotten love for me missing in the interaction. To all this I reacted as if mom just invaded my Poland and you know, the Third World War started. >>

If this is familiar to you, leave a comment 🙂

And I get it, it is extremely complicated to translate reality into words, certainly not genres as realism and naturalism, despite the constant attention to detail, could make it happen, but there are limits as in everything in life. Mother and daughter relationships are complecated, usually because we are very alike, also because cohabiting is genuinely tough, especially when all you care about is freedom and mom reminds you of the rule. This happens with guys as well. I can tell you and I can also promise you that when you leave home your relationship with your family, even if its ideal, will improve. It must be something about appreciation of the things that they do for you or something. But jeez, there is people out there, and I don’t mean fanfic writers who honestly do great help to the boredom of this world and the recreational and imaginative necessities of the fandoms, but people out there who would not even try writing seriously and yet, get published.

Well, that’s it.  I gave my rant of the day and I am happy. Back to study. Oh, also, I feel like yesterday bribed the US government to let me in legally so lets hope I can get an interview in the embassy done soon and continue ticking off days of this count-down to fly to town. That’s all, not all I have to do is hide this before my friend arrives and pretend I’ve been a good girl all along. Keep me the secret, good?

Mei Mimi: the (soon to be) Resident Alien

P.S.: Also, if you see this in iadorozu.wordpress.com, no worries, it’s me 🙂

Luke, I’m your father

What is it about showers that get us thinking the weirdest stuff?

Pic not mine. Credit below.

Pic not mine. Credit below.

So here I am, washing my hair, proceeding with my body when this thought assaults me. What if fathers and sons who share the same name, do so as a reaffirmation of his paternal rights? Think about it. We know moms are moms because, well, because they popped the baby out, but  how in the times where technologies could not confirm his fatherhood could possibly dads know the baby was theirs? By claiming it. Surely, if there was a suspicion of unfaithfulness naming your son after you could not possibly make the child yours, in the case your spermatozoon was not the first to land, that is.

However, this theory has a but. What about moms and daughters who are named the same? Is it a sign of equality that women started claiming their right to do, and doing, the same? Is just parenting pride or a sign of kinship, regardless of who produced the baby,  that is being transmitted? Was the watter too hot and am I talking utter bullshit?

Thoughts?

Credit

Superhero duty: the means justify it all

Face to face, I look into his eyes and exchange no words. Here we are, at the end of the world, breathing heavily and exhausted from the fight of the century. The city is destructed and people are scared. I am not winning, nor is he. We just stare at each other and breath.
I have to kill this man and save the humanity.
The duty is clear, how to do it is something different.
I will kill him and end his regime of terror and suffering. I will kill him and end with it all. Children will laugh, moms and dads will hug. The cries this time will be of pure and utter happiness and relief. The world will live in peace.
Will it though? Will it be over? Can I kill a man? Will I save humanity? Do the means justify the goal.
My heavy breathing intensifies and it is hard to breath. I am panicking. I have to do it but, can I? Do I have to do it? I…I…. I run…..

Floure

On articles – In the rain, now rains, now doesn’t

I sometimes don’t understand academia. Odd thought, I know, but this is what happens at the end of the semester; existentialism comes and hits hard on your life choices.

The thing is that I just took a break to watch some videos of Conan and write this post but still cannot completely get my mind off the essay, dissertation and exam that take almost every minute of my weekend (grab the booze and join me in my desperation)

Going back to the weird thought that pushed my hands to write, all started with the most ridiculous, speculative, weakly fact-based and questionable deductionism present in an article recently read. Now, I am a literature student (almost graduate) and reading too much into a sentence, discovering covered meanings and all that inventive stuff is kind of customary, but this one was too much. Also, my patience levels are in a low lately, so I am indeed expecting many people to not share my opinion. Whatever.

And then, as my thoughts lingered around the topic more than it would be healthy, it occurred to me that shall the author of the novel that was being dealt with ever to become a zombie, because lets admit it, zombie apocalypse is a thing and is happening, he (he is a male author, therefore no patriarcal intention in any form intended) would be as offended, if anything more personally but that’s almost impossible because I felt the article as an insult to my mother though there was no mention of my mother, by what it was said in the, by now, well known article.

Is it because of his death status, and the delay in the advent of the zombie apocalypse, from here on to be shortened to Z.A., that these scholars, or scholar prospects, feel legimitated to say literally anything? Or is it the vast amount of hours put in the study of the topic? One way or the other, the article was bad and unhelpful, which is the worst insult in the university arena (leaving aside Chinua Achebe calling Joseph Conrad racist, that was bad too).

This post is absolute crap and non-sense.

Be happy. X

Welcome to me: how to be me by me

This is one of those days were I understand nothing about myself.
I woke up with a sore eye, head-ache and being too hard on myself.
I woke up 6:30 though I could have sweared that I put the alarm at 7 and the number of times that I pressed snooze should have warned me that this was not going to be ok. And since then everything annoys. Me, the most.
I changed my clothes too many times and now, about an hour ago, I still feel unconfortable in my own skin. For fucks sake, I have being internally crying all the way from my bus stop to uni because I kept comparing myself to every girl I saw on the street. I sure know how to beat myself up.

Floure