#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 🙂


On a october almost november day -in the rain

The day begins with an self-induced feeling of time control. I tell myself, over and over, that sleeping to the next dreadful good mooooorning of my alarm is ok, that nothing will happen, that I can do this, I can sleep till I can’t sleep no more. And indeed, I sleep until the time is my enemy and in victorious punishment forces me to run, run to cath the bus.
But I get there, because me being out of shape and having an ashma attack that almost makes me puke my lungs out will not stop me, not me! And I find women in an overcrowded stop. Many women, few men and some kids (that soon I find out that they happen to go to my uni but who cares, I say they are kids and so they are). And we queu in unorderly form, and I position myself on the first line of the grid but at the last minute a lady takes me by surprise and overtakes me from the left leaving me out of the podium #SadMe. Though it doesn’t matter because from yesterday to who-knows-when there is a bus strike and not me nor her nor the rest of 40,000 people in the bus will get a nice place to breathe, let alone to sit.
And the day goes by and in purely deppresive manner I start an introspection that leaves me to realize few things about myself:
1. I hate emails. They just bring bad news (e.g. more work to do) or unaffordable promotions
2. I’m mean to people and I regret nothing
3. I usually don’t make the promises I do to myself
4. I panick to cry without organization
So that’s it, my day.


In the rain II

I have nothing planned out for this post. I don’t even have a true reason to write, nothing happened to me this past days, nothing but pressure and stress building up inside me and I can as well put it down here, ans then leave it or delete it.

Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? This is the last year of uni, hence all those literature posts, and I am supposed to be graduating in what months? That is quite simply terrifying. Starting with the TFG which is how my uni calls the dissertation + presentation I am requested to do.  I don’t like any topics and suggesting one on my own would just be refused because there is a reason British literature has not been included and that’s my only interest. Continuing with the actual day of my graduation which freaks me out for no reason, really no freaking reason.

On top of that, I am doing the arrangements to do an MA in the USA. That means exams, certificates that are expensive plus admission fees, motivation letters (sorry but this is not requested here where I live) and so on. It just doesn’t help with the overall situation of this particular year. And, god, and moving out to a country more than 10h away, leaving my family, leaving everything I know and I just, I’m scared.

And that’s it. Full stop, I’m not feeling ok today and that’s briefly what is happening in my life.


In the rain

I decided on this new section about two minutes ago, and I am a little afraid that I will regret this. I aim to write about my day, about the good things that happen in my life. I probably will not be very specific to avoid giving away to much information about my life but yeah, I thought it would be nice to share some things that happen from time to time in my life.

22nd September 2014

A warm and  soon to be rainy morning, that`s how this morning sums up. Really, the weather was the most interesting bit of today. It seemed as if someone, possibly that someone in an elevated position above the sky, had tripped and smashed a massive clock, resulting in a slow, uneventful morning. My mates at uni where somewhere else, thinking about the past, I mean the past weekend of course, inventing theories for the cure of cancer (anyone explain to me why eaveryone fears that word that much, as if its only mention could cause harm?) from a lingusitic position and obviously, not giving a single **** if Macbeth was actually a good, loyal man, or as wicked as his wife. And it went like that for two hours, thank god for uni and its convenient short schedules.

That’s all, a terrible day to start this section. I know, however there’s been something quite funny. As I walked down the bridgefoot that gives access to my university, a strong, male voice intruded in my already occupied ear. It was something you don’t expect to hear in the street, almost 9 in the morning, as you sadly go to lock yourself in a class: singing, music. I am not going to lie, it wasn’t nice. It seemed a very old song, I mean very old, as one from when my parents where little. Now again, when my parents were tiny here where I live there was a dictatorship, and you know what the music of those regimes sounds like, don’t you? I am not saying he was singing something from those years, as I lack the knowledge to recognize the song, but it really sounded strong, a song more preocuppied about the message than the rythm,  a song with a purpose.

Now I realize I called the incident funny, but as I am writing this it seems less and less funny. At the time when I listened to it I grinned and then kept walking just to share a laugh few steps later with an stranger who was as astounded as I was about this man. But the telling of this story seems obscure and somehow sinister, not funny, at all. He did not look as a lad supporting an intolerant ideology, rather he looked more as a teacher than a student but who knows? Am I over reacting? Maybe he was singing a new song I just don’t know about?

Dang, there it was the relaxed and comic tone I set for this post 😦