tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35422426353308686722012-02-16T11:31:23.571+02:00Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.comBlogger1661100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-17260382092300968432011-09-26T19:53:00.001+03:002011-09-26T19:53:39.603+03:00

"I learned that I'll never win. Not that way. That's their game. Their rules. I'm not going to fight them. I'm going to fuck them. That's what I know. That's what I am. And only by admitting what we are can we get what we want." Petyr Baelish

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-67746794418232743052011-09-14T22:22:00.000+03:002011-09-14T22:22:19.224+03:00

I'm bored out of my mind. And I know only boring people get bored, but I just don't care anymore. Mostly I'm bored because I'm too lazy to do anything, or it could be I no longer find anything exciting enough to be worth me getting out of bed for. I listened to Carmen but I already know most of it. I cooked some spicy stuff, but I'm no longer impressed with my kitchen skills. I browsed around

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-26606470384124105452011-08-31T22:02:00.000+03:002011-08-31T22:02:54.995+03:00

Funny how I keep revolving around the same things when I'm writing. It's the last day of summer (again) and I'm planning (again) to start writing more about what I do than what I feel. Like recipes. And movies, books, concerts. Travel. Whatever. Thing is when these things happen I'm too busy to write about it. When I sit in front of the posting screen I'm usually trying to pull out of me stuff I

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-9195883974311123092011-08-06T01:48:00.000+03:002011-08-06T01:48:45.732+03:00

Feeling good was good enough for me once. But lately I find myself in a damn weird place. The only thing that gets my blood running is worrying. Not excitement. And I want to be excited. I want to be excited about my love and I want to be excited about my work. But all I do is get angry and worry. I don't even miss anyone anymore. I just worry the fragile equilibrium I'm relying on for now won't

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-31603365642418255742011-07-24T02:52:00.001+03:002011-07-24T14:36:57.541+03:00

I cannot make sense of things unless I write about them. My soulmate was right all along. I should write a book. It might be the only thing that could help. I come from a world that is nothing like anyone else's. I come from a world of words. A world of sunshine. Where I can only relate to ideas I find in the depth of randomness. I will never be a person of talent. Or creation. But maybe, just

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-62574571753554923602011-07-13T21:50:00.000+03:002011-07-13T21:50:03.528+03:00

This morning, when I was walking to work, I thought to myself "I have it all". I have a job I like most days, a place of my own, a good education, great friends, and now a boyfriend who makes me happy. But then, along the way, I got inexplicably sad. And I've been trying to shake that sadness all day. I think it's again because I somehow feel I should be doing more for the things I have.

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-27480350731706983892011-06-23T21:34:00.000+03:002011-06-23T21:34:08.348+03:00

Here it is, back to haunt me. Maybe I have this House thing going on. I just can't perform the way I used to when I fall for someone. I become the insecure child I used to be, the one who had to earn everything but no matter how hard I tried, it was never good enough for me to believe I deserve the good things that were happening to me. So I adapted. I changed skin according to whom I had to

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-79215152754333942422011-06-15T22:07:00.001+03:002011-06-15T22:09:57.720+03:00

This is like the most fun time for me to write posts. Because I'm so damaged. Doubting myself, hating myself, trying to put myself down with another dose of whatever it takes to get numb. I'm out of any inspiration, though. Still, I can tell you one thing. I wish sometimes I wasn't the overachiever I was raised to be. I dream of that year off. When I'll hit the road with a backpack. And wash my

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-86222466232776237392011-06-14T08:40:00.002+03:002011-06-14T08:42:46.482+03:00

* The cat is always going to be there and greet you when you get home. Not because she is crazy about you, but because she wants fresh food and can't get away from your pathetic ass. * Friends come first. If it takes crying yourself to sleep because of depression by association, it's going to be worth it every day. * New love is always exciting. But the extent to which you can always be exciting

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-85518938277133520242011-06-13T08:59:00.001+03:002011-06-13T08:59:56.970+03:00

Today I was supposed to submit my thesis for my teacher's review. The final submission to the faculty starts in a couple of days and ends in a week. I have squat. I mean, I have the structure all laid out, I have most of the gibberish I want to talk about, but I have to polish it over and over and I have to write my analysis, which is supposed to be the most important part. I work very slow and

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-6771928658206658942011-06-09T23:58:00.002+03:002011-06-13T09:00:45.242+03:00

It's this huge sadness. This fear and distress and numbness at the same time. It's this damn thing that won't go away. The damn feeling that something's missing. I know it's the stress building up. The thesis and the applications and the job and the thoughts about the future that are paralyzing me. Making me think about whether it's worth it. Whether it's worth all the movies I didn't see, all

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-58168704205005873512011-06-05T17:50:00.000+03:002011-06-05T17:50:52.287+03:00

It's really amazing how much of the reality we take as given is actually just the product of our minds. How the way people are in our heads has so much to do with subjective feelings and even the most vivid memories of them are actually edited over and over again. I've been nostalgic on several occasions over the great times I had with people from my past. And I've also made super villains out

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-56726833157252860232011-06-02T21:00:00.000+03:002011-06-02T21:00:17.461+03:00

 I spent a very grown-up Children's Day yesterday. I woke up very early to work on my dissertation and I cooked my own breakfast. I took the bus alongside the corporate slaves and did some work around the office. Then I went on a working trip and I had lunch with politicians. And when I finally got back to town I went to the dentist and didn't complain a bit. In the evening I was too beat to

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-66780483774350319662011-05-31T22:59:00.001+03:002011-05-31T23:00:07.024+03:00

I look around me every day and I'm amazed by how many pretty girls there are out there. Beauty is definitely not scarce around here. It's everywhere, on the streets, on the internet, even next door. There's plenty of pretty girls trying to get noticed and turn heads. But then I wonder, if beauty is in such large supply, why is there a market for it? Maybe it's because the demand is huge and

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-32861339554983282352011-05-30T17:43:00.000+03:002011-05-30T17:43:58.338+03:00

It's funny, but even though I still hold the habit of complaining about this and that, I'm actually happy. I have major plans, but no major concerns. I'm in such a quiet place and the only reason I would move on from here is the constant pressure coming from the outside. Otherwise, I'm happy. I spent the weekend at the cabin in the mountains, reading in the hammock, under the trees. There was a

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-72683336576869274552011-05-08T23:04:00.001+03:002011-05-08T23:05:29.719+03:00

The US is celebrating Mother's Day today and I just happened to read the op-ed of one of my colleagues which seemed very ambivalent about women and their role in our society. He made a reference to the cultural custom of women not being allowed to sit at the same table with men, which is still enforced by some ethnic groups today. And at some point he says that women's emancipation has been

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-78858853477883341452011-05-02T22:53:00.001+03:002011-05-02T22:55:20.382+03:00

OK, so after two looong days in which I tried to catch up with all the work I'm years behind on I found a couple of minutes to post here my babbling from Mischievous Sweethearts. You should visit it, though, if you haven't already, my friend FoxyLove makes some really good points and is a gifted writer. I, on the other hand, am the laziest person I know. Yes. Now I'm gonna complain again. I have

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-38723846184905148382011-03-27T02:30:00.000+02:002011-03-27T02:30:54.077+02:00

I don't really believe any of that stuff I said or was told by others. Like the fact that there's plenty of people who wish me the worst because I didn't deliver in their lives and that's why things aren't looking up for me. Or the fact that I push people away because I don't believe I deserve their trust and affection. Or that we only get a limited amount of love and mine has run out. I

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-70970406072727382462011-03-06T16:33:00.003+02:002011-03-24T19:24:28.869+02:00

  "I don't think you appreciate the severity of your situation. You are rapidly approaching end stage male spinsterism. That cat, that diabetic cat that you're shooting up with insulin, buying dime bags of catnip for, that means you've given up on ever finding anyone." (Gregory House) P.S.: I stumbled upon the above comic on Tumblr and only today figured out the source. So I must give credit to

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-30854581413038142372011-03-05T21:29:00.001+02:002011-06-01T06:49:09.578+03:00

I’ve been thinking about this for quite a while now but it seemed too grim and dark to post it on a colorful blog like this. However, as the winter is slowly hitting the road, I guess I can see now how behind the whole idea there was something more I wanted to say. But basically it’s true. There are very few people who stick by us throughout our lives and even those have to move on at some

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-921052477976902011-03-04T17:22:00.001+02:002011-03-04T17:24:01.793+02:00

"The past is an immense area of stony ground that many people would like to drive across as if it were a road, while others move patiently from stone to stone, lifting each one because they need to know what lies beneath."

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-40633169560528291982011-03-03T21:37:00.000+02:002011-03-03T21:37:57.024+02:00

Yaaay! Daisydays has a new spring look, somehow the old version was just sad. It's not like I write super happy stuff, so at least the view should be refreshing. I don't know why most times I sit down to write I end up complaining or something like it. At least I finish up in a more cheerful note. Today I was wondering why I didn't react when somebody asked me last summer how do I put up morally

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-53936525472505470942011-03-02T21:40:00.000+02:002011-03-02T21:40:07.854+02:00

It finally dawned on me that I have the amazing talent of scaring people off. Not pushing them away. That I still don't master too well and it's a different cup of tea because it's something conscious. I'm referring to when I'm having a great time and the other(s) just want(s) to get the hell out of there and away from this crazy lady (I've been considering adopting another cat, so it's just a

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-37110783611439827792011-03-01T20:52:00.003+02:002011-03-01T20:54:36.442+02:00

This spring started with a wonderful day. It was sunny but still a bit chill, the snow was melting and birds were singing like crazy. I didn't feel so good, though, but managed to get back on my feet and visit my parents for some conversation and my mother's amazing cooking. So all in all, I have high hopes from the rest of this year. It's going to be yet another turning point in my life and

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-11194925741069879682011-03-01T11:49:00.000+02:002011-05-02T22:37:16.363+03:00

There is a custom in the Balkan area according to which every beginning of spring we wear a lace made out of entwining white and red thread. Some wear it on their wrists, like I noticed with my Bulgarian friends and some wear it together with a small decorative object (used to be a small coin or even a button, now the sky is the limit in terms of variety) on their coat’s lapel, as we do in

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-3814078188948959252011-02-13T09:51:00.000+02:002011-05-02T22:36:12.190+03:00

A couple of nights ago one of my friends told me she hated Valentine’s Day because it’s a foreign holiday and it has nothing to do with our national traditions. Also, she said she will only celebrate our own holiday, called Dragobete. This is celebrated usually on the 24th of February and is an equivalent to tomorrow’s American holiday. Boys and girls used to pick the first flowers of spring

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-32193401118483556422011-02-12T23:22:00.000+02:002011-05-02T22:34:57.025+03:00

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-60361152855639620352011-02-08T12:12:00.000+02:002011-05-02T22:33:52.445+03:00

Coming home from an African art exhibition today I got to thinking about rites of passage and how they play the role of landmarks and boundaries in people’s lives. And I realized they’ve been blurred and transformed so much we don’t know when we’re past a milestone anymore. Where is that ceremony for entering adulthood? How do we know that society welcomes us as full contributing members?

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-53673810030942402712011-02-07T04:51:00.000+02:002011-05-02T22:32:46.580+03:00

When it comes to looking for the love of their lives, many people say they are searching for a better half or soul mate. But I’ve grown to believe that the latter has little to do with the rest. Our soul mate could also be a parent or a friend or a child, a sibling, even a pet. We don’t necessarily have to be in love with our soul mate and there’s little chance if we are now that we would be

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-83747746733453228542011-01-31T08:41:00.001+02:002011-05-02T22:31:16.437+03:00

I might have mentioned earlier how I see magic as the ways in which we channel our will to bring about change in the surrounding world. And I’ve been wondering lately whether we can use it to bring love into our lives. That one big true magical love everyone is talking about. I recently read a lovely article on finding and using magic in our everyday lives and I now believe it is not about

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-15921765899890086922011-01-22T08:26:00.000+02:002011-05-02T22:28:27.832+03:00

Once I used to believe I was addicted to love. A lovaholic. A relationship person, somebody who could not function well without being attached from the hip to somebody else. I’ve been in serial relationships most of my dating life and all that time I was never single for more than three months. And now it’s been more than two years. And I’m just now starting to realize why it is so. It’s not

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-56131959563710830942011-01-18T09:38:00.000+02:002011-05-02T22:27:27.116+03:00

Some girl in a movies said that faith is for the weak, an excuse not to go grab whatever we want then and there. In that line of thought, I believe a lot of concepts like that actually help us deal with reality, give us a sense of order in a universe that is so much beyond our understanding that we need to oversimplify it. But what if there is certain equilibrium? A law of compensation that

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-59943590019428444712011-01-15T13:01:00.000+02:002011-05-02T22:26:20.662+03:00

After having my mind blown by Bertolucci’s “Last tango in Paris”, my first thoughts went to my amazing Western lovers and to how movie-like our relationships have been. It sounds a bit farfetched to make generalizations based on such few cases. But maybe I can extend my sample by also considering my most favorite men, who are directors or writers or just some of their characters.I’ve always

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-2267760621414253682011-01-11T10:55:00.000+02:002011-05-02T22:25:10.447+03:00

This morning a friend of mine posted a song I couldn’t get out of my head. I’ve attached it below. Looking at the comments it got, I realized there’s lots of us out there. People who have their very own Jessie. That one person we cannot say no to, even though they don’t treat us well, are not good for us and when we think we’re off the hook, they just show up out of the blue or mesmerize us from

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-45529021250721507962011-01-09T09:38:00.000+02:002011-05-02T22:23:48.306+03:00

One of these days I looked myself in the mirror and asked what did I want to be when I grow up? Where did I plan to be now in that scenario of my life I played out in my head as a child? And then I smiled and I thought “this is it”. I was raised to believe education is the best way for women to make it big. To reach for independence. To enjoy the simple little things in life. I wanted to be a

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-87164634876717144142011-01-07T00:25:00.001+02:002011-05-02T22:22:41.613+03:00

Now it’s common knowledge that there are different levels of knowing a person. Different depths, if you allow me. I always thought I may not seem much at the first glance, but when people get to know me they find I am quite something. But what I fear for as long as I can remember is that they might get to know me too well. Reach the dark depths where my freak lives. The little monsters in my head

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-84363772548658013962011-01-03T08:16:00.000+02:002011-05-02T22:21:41.919+03:00

Now I know I’m probably stating out things that most people already know, the feminist critical literature has been tackling this subject for years now. But after referring so often to the concept of Prince Charming, I really felt like a talk on fairy tales was in order. There are many ways in which we are socialized and even socially conditioned and I believe gender roles to be one of the

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-68484656343493195542010-12-31T00:17:00.001+02:002011-05-02T22:20:36.045+03:00

Some chick once said we don’t build walls to keep people away, but to see who are the ones brave enough to climb them. I believe it’s the other way around. The simple logic and basic functionality of fences and walls is their ability to separate. Man from the cold, garden from annoying neighbors, town from invaders. To keep away. Now, the only place where trespassing is portrayed as acceptable

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-1398269947766643662010-12-30T00:39:00.000+02:002011-05-02T22:18:49.973+03:00

                                                   Fantasy love is much better than reality love. Never doing it is very exciting. The most exciting attractions are between two opposites that never meet. (Andy Warhol) Things we wanted badly and never got have an underlying power of growing in our minds up to where we see them as perfect. So do people, especially those who play a temporary role

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-25392192099503880622010-12-29T00:28:00.001+02:002011-05-02T22:17:47.250+03:00

Back when I was young, things were different. Boys didn’t text you, they wrote you letters. They didn’t pick you up with their ride in the middle of the night, they walked with you hand in hand in the sunset and then showed you the moon rising. They bought you flowers, not drinks. Yeah, when I was young, things seemed so much easier. Just that they weren’t.As time goes by and we get jaded, we

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-32823324683300234132010-12-28T03:40:00.001+02:002011-05-02T22:16:11.725+03:00

In my long trip through the forests of singleness I’ve come across so many stories about relationships I can’t help wondering whether they were lessons send by the universe to learn at the right time. So I thought I’d go through some of the things I’ve learned from people from the other side of the tracks. First of all, I’ve learned never to assume. People may hook up with someone and give it a

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-59727746871678859232010-12-27T01:06:00.003+02:002011-05-02T22:16:34.367+03:00

When I was a little girl my best friends were boys because all the chicks on my block were whiny little bitches who always ran crying to their mommy if I tried to show my infinite appreciation for them by throwing dust to their faces or tripping them and what not. Boys were always more of my kinda guys. They lived dangerously. Climbed trees, jumped off swings in motion and build forts out of

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-28932566127278274892010-09-15T17:17:00.005+03:002011-01-02T13:18:56.900+02:00

"I feel like one of those people who is so miserable that they can't be around normal people, like I'll infect the happy people." Meredith Grey Today I accidentally set my clock one hour ahead and that little thing eventually led me to learn something so obvious about myself. I'm a mean angry person. I don't miss one chance to yell at people. I swear a lot. I bash others when they're not around.

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-12916430470448620592010-09-06T21:10:00.006+03:002011-01-02T13:18:34.922+02:00

I've started watching How I Met Your Mother and it's been cheering me up a lot. I guess I kinda see myself right now in Ted. I just watched this episode where it said nothing good happens after 2 a.m. Truth is, I gotta agree with that. I used to be a chick who didn't wanna miss one night out. And the kind who doesn't wanna go home after 2 a.m. So now my memories of pretty fun nights are all

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-49638167265142181572010-08-31T22:08:00.007+03:002011-01-02T13:18:06.243+02:00

Here goes yet another summer. Now it's the time to think about how the next summer will be better and how I'll manage to save up to do something exciting. But the truth is I had the resources, I just didn't have anyone to go away with. Anyway. This summer sucked more than the one before, when I at least went to summer school and traveled a little around Budapest and then went up to the mountains.

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-33165402632197629122010-08-17T16:12:00.005+03:002011-01-02T13:17:34.557+02:00

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but, burn, burn, burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars."

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-3677758876785524022010-07-21T23:05:00.008+03:002011-01-02T13:17:03.317+02:00

For my birthday I got a copy of Sex and the City, Candance Bushnell's book. It's terribly bad written, but I enjoyed reading it. I laughed quite a lot and was constantly comparing the stories and characters to those in the HBO series. I guess Carrie's character is pretty much the same: a young writer and socialite always looking for fun and love. The other characters are kinda missing, except for

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-84911299085176453042010-07-20T18:29:00.005+03:002010-09-06T21:44:07.216+03:00

So I wonder which nice guy is asking me out tonight. You know those guys. Good on paper, nice job, fairly cute, warm and kind. I've come to the conclusion I wanna swing a bat at their heads most times. Because they are emotional rapists. They usually trick me into giving them some contact details to keep in touch, cause I'm such a fun person to talk to. First clue: they feed on your ego. Then

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-92060101717933604202010-07-18T19:01:00.008+03:002011-01-02T13:16:02.683+02:00

I don't even know what I wanna say about my weekend at the bikers' reunion. I had times I felt I didn't belong there, but I guess a party is a party and it's not just for those who throw it. Late Thursday night I get a message from the babe asking me if it's crazy to just go the next day over to this reunion so she can surprise her boyfriend. And I thought 'meh' and went back to sleep. But I woke

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-75160877781307015492010-07-11T19:35:00.006+03:002011-01-02T13:15:33.510+02:00

So I'm stuck. I just turned 24 and I got two of the things I wished for last year. I got an exciting job that makes me feel I am making a difference and I moved out of my parents' home to my very own place. I've read a few more books and watched even more movies, but I didn't get to travel as much as I was hoping. I didn't get to enjoy all this for some reason. I just lived in this state of

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-67584932393382744922010-06-15T20:11:00.007+03:002010-06-15T20:41:34.966+03:00

... but because electricity was down, ended up having a cup (or two) of wine on the staircase. I had to attend a meeting at the City Hall around noon, so I had some time to waste. Went for a lemonade at Bulgakov and then looking for a bike. Waited the whole local council meeting to ask the mayor for an interview and he blew me off in five seconds. So I decided to go to the movies, but stopped on

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-44170443801025666802010-06-05T09:39:00.005+03:002011-01-02T13:19:34.522+02:00

"I like being alone. At least, I convince myself that I'm better off that way. (...) We're better off alone. We suffer alone. Doesn't matter if you're a model husband, or father of the year. Tomorrow will be the same for you."

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-48601930468926521632010-05-12T13:52:00.001+03:002011-01-02T13:19:58.336+02:00

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-16105766164620067012010-05-11T12:44:00.004+03:002011-01-02T13:14:33.779+02:00

Following xkcd, I got to questionablecontent.net and it was love at first sight. It's a webcomic with indie kids, in short. Its Wikipedia page does a better job at explaining the basics: "The plot centers on Marten Reed, an indie rock aficionado; his roommate, Faye Whitaker; and Faye's boss (later Marten's girlfriend), Dora Bianchi. Supporting characters include employees of the local coffee

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-87366228524724654202010-05-10T13:42:00.006+03:002011-01-02T13:14:08.366+02:00

I've been away for quite a while and I could whine about my computer having no cable or the lack of hot water on my block or the silly cold I got. But I guess being happy is like sleep. Once you've gone enough without it, you don't feel the need anymore. At least for a while. And then it just happens to you. Unless you have happiness insomnia, which we generally call depression. But that's a

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-38689139951636175802010-04-30T18:10:00.001+03:002011-01-02T13:13:28.753+02:00

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-34504760357757412112010-03-31T08:16:00.007+03:002011-01-02T13:13:03.659+02:00

Astazi cand m-am trezit, pielea imi mirosea a vitamine pentru copii. A trebuit sa imi imaginez o dimineata de Pasti cu sandale rosii de lac si soare si copii alaturi de care ignoram slujba religioasa, ca sa umplem curtea bisericii de coji de oua rosii. Apoi mi-am dat seama ca visele din trecut nu sunt de ajuns ca sa ma dau jos din pat. Si-atunci m-am gandit la o alta dimineata, cand inca e

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-10610646365538671592010-03-22T08:37:00.003+02:002011-01-02T13:11:55.202+02:00

"Putem trece prin viata lasandu-i pe altii sa ne spuna cine suntem. Daca suntem sanatosi sau nebuni. Sfinti sau dependenti sexual. Eroi sau victime. Lasand istoria sa decida cat de buni sau de rai suntem. Lasand trecutul sa ne hotarasca viitorul. Sau putem hotari si singuri. Si poate ca tine de noi sa inventam ceva mai bun."

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-19482286302268936552010-03-17T11:15:00.004+02:002011-01-02T13:11:09.923+02:00

Nu se face miercuri bine, ca ma loveste o oboseala si o lipsa de chef de nu-i adevarat. Ma simt vinovata uneori ca dorm cam mult, dar cand urmaresc mai atent pe ce pierd timpul, imi dau seama ca totul e oarecum bine motivat, doar ca eu uit sa includ detalii esentiale in planurile mele. De exemplu, munca prin casa imi ia mereu mai mult decat ma asteptam. Aseara m-am uitat trei ore la masina de

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-28136215371943376642010-01-24T17:04:00.006+02:002011-01-02T13:10:28.979+02:00

Nu a trecut mai putin de o luna si am dat cu bota in balta, a rezolutiilor de anul nou vreau sa zic. Nu am apucat inca sa fac planuri. Am depasit in continuare deadline-uri si am cam intrat cu bocancii in sufletul oamenilor, ca sa nu fiu modesta si sa zic ca doar i-am jignit. Bineinteles ca am uitat iarasi sa numar mai departe de trei cand vine vorba de pahare si am pierdut un procent

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-25735750564497002402009-12-30T23:44:00.005+02:002009-12-31T00:07:53.923+02:00

2009 a fost un an nasol. Nu mi-a prea placut deloc. A inceput cu un revelion jalnic, un ianuarie cu deadline-uri obscene, o primavara ciudata in care poate mi-am permis sa cred cat de putin si am luat-o in bot. Am apucat sa calatoresc putin vara si asta e singura mea sursa de imagini frumoase despre anul asta tampit. Am facut greseala de a nu-mi recunoaste limitele si proastele obiceiuri. Am

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-33735640777831442522009-12-13T21:02:00.004+02:002011-01-02T13:09:43.562+02:00

I went for a walk with my family and then over to my new apartment to check out how the redecorating is going. It's all making me feel so empty. I go to bed and wake up in the morning thinking about how happy I am, how quiet is this time in my life, when I'm not yet paying any bills, have no place I have to be and can just lay in bed with a book or whatever else it is that I do with my time

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-34589563272948681802009-12-12T19:07:00.004+02:002011-01-02T13:08:59.763+02:00

I haven't touched the camera in weeks, so I'm out of photos. I'm one more day behind with that deadline, but somehow I couldn't care less. I keep thinking about academics and how I don't really fit in the picture. But I guess that's something time will tell. Yesterday I watched the new episodes of my two favorite shows. I've been in love with detective stories and forensic witchcraft ever since I

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-79499353356250612332009-12-11T13:04:00.005+02:002011-01-02T13:24:31.324+02:00

After having "Oh, Susana" playing on and on in my head for days, today it's Cher. It's like the annoying songs of my childhood have all decided to haunt me this winter. I'm trying to counterbalance it by caroling around the house. Problem is I start humming on the street as well. Yesterday it was "Take me to the riot". It's a hell of a musical December. So I was thinking of a smashing holiday

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-58842375748790558042009-09-08T14:56:00.003+03:002011-01-02T13:07:06.241+02:00

I still don't like the banner, but I can live with the hope I'll be able to get some amazing forest photos this autumn so I can change it. That's what I live on nowadays. Hopes. And dreams of being free. Free from all the CEU bullshit. Because I'm not done with my thesis and I should be by Thursday. And I can't write. I just can't. I'd do anything but. I know it takes self-discipline. But while

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-59735014132585595652009-07-23T01:28:00.005+03:002011-01-02T13:06:27.940+02:00

Yes, the line of whiny personal posts continues. I just finished reading some pages I wrote two years ago and a few posts I deleted from the blog in between. There are no skeletons in my closet, they are full-fleshed demons. In my lines, I kind of stick to the same concerns: not knowing what I want, except for not wanting to become anything like my dad, being afraid, afraid of so much I have no

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-61233692750641257452009-07-18T13:12:00.005+03:002011-01-02T13:05:47.420+02:00

The more I think I know who I am, the less helpful that is. At my age my mother had a family and a job. My friends were still in school. I'm somewhere in the middle. I'll be taking a break from school (although I'll probably apply for an M.A. when I get home) and looking for a job. I'm maybe the only one not trying to move towards something better or greater, but just heading towards different.

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-7145469034857930982009-07-17T22:01:00.009+03:002011-01-02T13:04:44.160+02:00

The summer sky is still pink-vanilla each day. I can't remember exactly when the rainy days stopped in Budapest. The second day in Prague was pretty fun. We went first on a boat tour. On our way to the deck, we looked for the swans we met the day before, but they were sunbathing somewhere else. I then wanted to go check out the shopping streets, excited about my mum's suggestion to get something

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-83062854788158795242009-07-12T19:35:00.003+03:002011-01-02T13:04:18.281+02:00

We went through the roof on Thursday when we saw that the bus to Prague was almost full. And we had had booked the accomodation. So we tried all kind of options and ended up buying more expensive tickets from Volanbusz. The bus was not that horrible, but I was cold all night and my sweater was in the backpack down. When we arrived it was cloudy and could not find a place to change money. While

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-33802554173300960772009-07-08T23:31:00.004+03:002011-01-02T13:03:41.256+02:00

Turns out it was just like entering a pool of cold water. When you put your foot in, it gives you the chills, but once you're in, it's comfortable. I enjoyed discussing the reading with my colleagues. As much as I dreaded having to spend time on them, they were actually making smart points. I felt quite surprised by Freeman's argument that we can have globalization and labor standards at the

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-24669730838043141052009-07-08T13:45:00.004+03:002011-01-02T13:02:49.779+02:00

I don't wanna read all that stuff. I would if I had plenty of time and energy and no stress about a hundred other things. But I can't right now, so I can just hope my free rider abilities are sharp. So this morning we watched 'The Take'. I felt like crying most of the time. I'm probably never going to be a cold-blooded scientist. I'll always have a weakness for people's individual stories and a

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-50289362511707391702009-07-06T20:43:00.005+03:002011-01-02T13:02:25.906+02:00

There's been a lot going on. I had a lovely time on Saturday walking along the bridge and looking at hand-made stuff, watching street performances and sitting in the grass. At the same time, there was a riot in the center, I think because the Magyar Garda was declared illegal. It was an amazing moment of two parallel worlds just a few hundred meters from each other. Sunday we went on a boat trip

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-87562539166456577392009-07-03T23:03:00.005+03:002011-01-02T13:01:59.421+02:00

I've been shopping, shopping, shopping. Spent 3/4 of my scholarship already and I'm facing the perspective of taking a home-made sandwich to school, as I can't afford eating out anymore. All right, I'm exaggerating. But really. I limited myself to buying classical pieces I needed for a while. But I've also been having lunch in the center and today I went crazy earring shopping. It's a lot of fun,

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-7994881047281406902009-07-02T21:46:00.004+03:002011-01-02T13:01:24.360+02:00

I might be addicted to noodle soup. That being said, I can get to more earthly matters. I do use English when I'm in Pest, it's surprising how I even catch myself thinking in languages other than Romanian. When I watch the news online it feels so strange to hear everybody speak my mother language. Anyways. The first four days of summer school are over and it feels like it was longer than that.

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-61603268436524374122009-06-09T13:24:00.007+03:002011-01-02T13:00:30.023+02:00

Nu pot sa spun ca am fost dezamagita de rezultatele de la europarlamentare. Asta pentru ca nici nu am prea avut asteptari. Sunt in continuare mandra de liberali pentru ca au avut in capul listei mai multe femei, si de ele ca nu s-au inghesuit sa se planga, ci au ramas cu ochii pe obiective. Ma irita in continuare ca EBA a primit atatea voturi, dar nu pot sa spun ca nu m-am asteptat. Nu trebuie sa

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-37132408961825831632009-06-07T18:41:00.005+03:002011-01-02T13:00:00.438+02:00

N-am mai reusit sa intru la Anticristul, desi era filmul pe care tineam mortis sa-l vad anul acesta la TIFF. Locatia nu a fost prea inspirat aleasa pentru o premiera, mai ales avand in vedere faptul ca a fost o singura proiectie. Bine, e si vina mea ca nu am luat biletul in avans de frica sa nu ploua. Anul acesta am vazut doar patru filme la festival, ceea ce e foarte putin avand in vedere ca

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-47653822716891089042009-05-26T19:54:00.006+03:002011-01-02T12:59:35.257+02:00

Am avut o saptamana foarte buna saptamana trecuta. Luni am iesit la o bere cu o colega de la Budapesta si chelnerii jucau fotbal pe sub mese. Marti m-a scos un prieten cu japca din casa si ne-am plimbat prin parc si am invatat sa rad de mine din cand in cand. Miercuri am mers la concertul de folk de la Casa de Cultura a Studentilor si am ras cu niste prichindei care aplaudau de zor si cu Olarasu

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-69657377204018527162009-05-22T19:14:00.005+03:002011-01-02T12:59:02.462+02:00

Marsul pentru normalitate e o mare prostie. Cand vad oameni cu icoane pe strada care vin si-ti spun ca Dumnezeu vrea asta si aia imi vine sa-i iau la palme. Daca oamenii au intr-adevar nevoie sa fie spirituali ar face bine sa inceapa sa creada in binele din oameni. Now that's something to believe in. Sa credem ca oamenii sunt fundamental buni, ca ceea ce e diferit nu e gresit. Sa credem ca pana

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-10904961205274050652009-05-22T10:59:00.003+03:002009-06-23T20:26:56.672+03:00

void(0); show_4db4a0d944070c(448, 46);In mod ciudat, desi toate se ard, se sparg, se strica pe aici, sunt mai senina decat cerul de afara. Incep sa rad de mine si de cat de absurda sunt uneori in furia mea. Am loc langa mine pentru toti cei care se apropie sa schimbe o vorba. Nu am nevoie sa ma prefac iarasi ca as fi nimic din ceea ce nu sunt. Cand m-am oprit ca sa vad toate lucrurile minunate

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-5905867922175245772009-05-19T23:40:00.004+03:002009-05-20T00:00:58.050+03:00

Poate ca e un test. Poate ca trebuie sa-mi confrunt fantomele una cate una. Sa invat sa nu mai iau toate lucrurile in serios, sa rad din cand in cand cu si de mine. Poate ca trebuie sa ma desprind de vise si sa inteleg care e diferenta. Era atat de bine atunci cand visam chestii atat de trase de coada, incat nu aveau nici o sansa sa se intample. Inventam eu personajele, ca sa nu-mi creez

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-42075487389270780302009-05-18T15:10:00.005+03:002011-01-02T12:56:20.044+02:00

"Era fundamental si instinctiv, tinea de esenta feminitatii sa doresti sa tamaduiesti oameni - sa linistesti dorinta unui barbat cu o cataplasma de carne docila, sa-i oferi spiritului sau inchistat exaltarea de a contempla o vrajitoare care se despuie de vesminte si se urca la ceruri intr-o camera de hotel urat mobilata." "Spiritul are nevoie de nebunie la fel cum trupul are nevoie de hrana."

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-3797502681564570012009-05-18T14:23:00.004+03:002011-01-02T12:55:09.621+02:00

Uuuu! Nu-mi este cu nimic mai putin lene acasa decat imi era in Budapesta. Pe masura ce vorbesc mai mult romana, ma simt mai confortabil sa si scriu. Ceea ce-mi place cel mai mult e ca pot sa-i fac mamei capul calendar cu povestile mele. Chestie pe care am tendinta sa o fac atunci cand petrec prea mult timp singura. Daca se intampla sa imi pice in gheare cate un amic, ma simt putin stanjenita si

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-79397026124666387512009-05-15T21:18:00.004+03:002009-05-15T21:42:44.834+03:00

I just watched the movie and in a very silly way it got to me. It's more about getting me to think about being 17. I was actually nostalgic earlier today and it makes me sad that I don't remember much and I stopped writing frequently in my diary right about that time. I remember we were hungry for freedom. I remember jokes and parties. Oh, if I stop to think, lots of things come back to me,

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-63107612898615374242009-05-14T20:10:00.003+03:002009-06-23T20:25:25.673+03:00

OMG, this spring ball is probably my last dance while in school. I didn't go to the banquet last year, when I graduated, so I figure once in four years I can wear an inappropriate dress and try hard not to get drunk because I'm on high heels. When I was 15, I had a too tight dress and I was crying on a swing. When I was 19, the dress was too short and I was continuously on the phone. This time I

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-39804088659924204862009-05-13T09:10:00.004+03:002011-01-02T12:53:46.657+02:00

Oh, I'm so so whiny all the time. Thing is I feel brain dead. Not just because it's morning. I was just thinking and realized I don't remember the last few summers except from photographs and small things. I used to have an amazing memory when it came to the good times and the loved ones. I knew every detail, I held on to every tiny souvenir. But now it's empty. I try and try and all I have

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-19077507855667117212009-05-05T22:07:00.004+03:002009-05-05T22:41:08.374+03:00

I just stumbled upon Taylor Swift's new video, and I was thinking that there are beautiful and talented girls who are successful without taking their clothes off. With all the Disney slutty stars (starting with Britney and now Miley) around, it's comforting to see that such a sweet girl is touring the world. We can have innocent stars and we can have people other than WASP men ruling the world.

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-51569480741298357352009-05-04T21:38:00.004+03:002011-01-02T12:52:47.418+02:00

I've never even dreamed of having a pool downstairs. I've never dreamed of a clean, warm and quiet library, stacked with whatever my papers would require. I love living in a large city. I can walk around for days and still feel like it's the first time I've laid my eyes on it. I have all the time I want to just wallow and nobody to bother me. But it's exhausting. When the standard of living goes

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-3435502374330282212009-04-02T12:11:00.006+03:002011-01-02T12:52:22.868+02:00

Marti am avut un moment de euforie. Mi se intampla rar si de multe ori cand eram pe drum. De data asta a fost ca un vant puternic, un vant care nu te loveste, ci te ia cu totul de pe picioare. Am vazut primii copaci infloriti. Undeva pe granita. Am cascat gura ca un copil mic, am facut ochii mari, mi-a venit sa chicotesc, sa plang, mi-am infipt unghiile in scaunul din fata. Timp de vreo doua

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-10946442377750894702009-03-01T22:43:00.003+02:002011-01-02T12:51:52.951+02:00

There was a wild time when we used to party hard all over the city although we were all sad screwed up teenagers. We don't need to ask for beer money from our mums anymore, but we don't have time to get together. If we do, we leave early, and when we stay up late, we watch movies. We used to write poems and read them over coffee in dirty bars at seven o'clock in the morning. We used to sing so

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-33047662997559216292009-02-28T23:36:00.005+02:002011-01-02T12:51:14.209+02:00

Well, here it is. The last official day of winter. The beloved sun is gonna stick around for longer hours and the cold is gonna beat it slowly. Most of my springs have been beginnings. Some wild, some sweet, but March rarely lets me down. I've been watching some of the worst films I've seen so far. I have a book on my nightstand and I think it's gonna be there for quite a while. The last two

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-85663469146753095882009-02-24T21:45:00.004+02:002011-01-02T12:50:15.832+02:00

I haven't expressed much criticism to anything lately. I feel that I'm growing boring as I spend my time within these walls. I can write about the movies I've seen or about how angry I get sometimes in school. I'm no longer a top student and being mediocre is one of the things I've feared the most throughout my life. Being less than. Being half wit. But then again I can just sit and think about

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-8444037223670655622009-02-23T10:53:00.005+02:002011-01-02T12:49:33.353+02:00

Oh, this year's Oscars were a thrill. Not only did Sean Penn get the Oscar for best actor, but they also got one for the original screenplay. I almost started to cry when I listened to their speeches. Dustin Lance Black is a talented young man who could stand up with an Oscar in his hands and talk of gay marriage in a US that voted for prop. 8 in the 21st century. That was just wonderful. My

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-51095802659781569432009-02-22T23:46:00.004+02:002011-01-02T12:48:56.351+02:00

Screw the Oscars. I have watched some of the movies competing tonight and I still have a larger place in my heart for Milk. I know it is not a masterpiece of cinematography, not as intriguing as others, or not as cheering. But I have a great deal of sympathy for social movements and I believe in down-to-earth struggle and will rather than faith. Of course, it's centered around a specific

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-18653611744985407702009-02-22T00:07:00.004+02:002011-01-02T12:48:29.686+02:00

I just looked in the mirror and freaked out about what I saw. The cold, the exhaustion, the depression really got to me. I am pale, my lips are dry and almost violet and all around my eyes there is a gray shade. I feel like everything is moving in slow motion and it's difficult even to write. I just have to say something, I hope it comes through. I did not run away and I did not fall apart or

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-35527795650558167012009-02-20T22:03:00.004+02:002011-01-02T12:47:50.989+02:00

I've been watching quite a lot of movies lately and part of them were stories of heroin addicts. I don't know much about drugs, but I know about breakdowns. I got in a weird mood after writing the last post and I think it was also Pink Floyd that threw me into the hole again. That black hole I've been talking about a while ago. The one I thought I was pulled out of. I think I was not. I just went

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-40230259189206428032009-02-17T23:12:00.003+02:002011-01-02T12:45:43.412+02:00

I spent almost 12 hours in the university today, went to one class, one meeting, read half of a text and stared at a blank word page for half an hour. The rest of the time, I was waiting, forgetting appointments, eating way too much, listening to pranks on the radio and talking to people. 12 hours. And almost no work. I am exhausted and need to get myself back together. I wish I read as many

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-68630276132796971732009-02-16T19:08:00.005+02:002011-01-02T12:44:31.205+02:00

I can't decide whether I like or hate laundry day. I think that I actually just hate the laundry machines. They always leave detergent stains on the black clothes, which today I had to rinse by hand. Moreover, the drier is going crazy. When it dries the clothes, they shrink a lot. Last time it only dried them half and I had to lay them all around the room. Today, it almost dried them, so now the

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-25346745444296914332009-02-14T09:03:00.003+02:002009-02-17T23:33:00.369+02:00

I stumbled upon this on Facebook and looked over it just for fun. After the third song, I had to write it all down. Some are amazing. RULES:1. Put your Winamp, iTunes, Windows Media Player, etc. on shuffle.2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS.IF SOMEONE SAYS 'ARE YOU OKAY' YOU SAYHarry Tavitian – Balkan

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-27876700099678287302009-02-13T21:50:00.004+02:002011-01-02T12:43:21.760+02:00

And it's already the middle of February. Skating last evening for me was so so joyful. I'm not a sissy anymore. :) I got up on those skates and gave it a try. I could not get enough. I don't yet move elegantly, I'm more like a dismembered puppet, but it was so refreshing to learn something new. The ice and burning in my cheeks made me feel for the first time in Budapest that it's winter and not

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3542242635330868672.post-15013250590752713442009-02-12T18:38:00.004+02:002011-01-02T12:42:44.040+02:00

I might be angry, but I found myself not to be aggressive. I am very sensitive to any kind of aggression or violence and I usually just run and hide. I had this presentation today and I was very worried it will be a disaster, since it had all the chances to be. I slept for too long and only wrote the slides in the morning, following my notes, my language was fragmented because I couldn't get the

Daisyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16698109574915857219noreply@blogger.com0