I just wanted to say this (at least for now): may we all have the new beginnings we deserve!
Promise to return with more interesting writings.
joi, 10 februarie 2011
duminică, 3 octombrie 2010
The British Minute
- is, again, longer than the 'continental' one (by 4 seconds)
- the wash-dryer always, but ALWAYS either stains or burns your clothes
- the... well, so many comments come to my head
Conclusion: may we all get to have our OWN wash-dryer!
- the wash-dryer always, but ALWAYS either stains or burns your clothes
- the... well, so many comments come to my head
Conclusion: may we all get to have our OWN wash-dryer!
sâmbătă, 19 iunie 2010
Behind a line
Sometimes we use words too much. We have forgotten the power of silence and actions.
It is easier for us to throw a word in the middle and wait for the other one to pick it up, and what? figure out what to do with it? react? do not react?
A word hides experience, sometimes bad, sometimes good. But also it can be ambiguous. How do you sift the true meaning if you are not given any clue?
There are "two-faced" words as well. They may give you hope, while the person who uttered them means totally the opposite of what you hope.
A word shelters emotions which could be better expressed in actions.
Why do we all hide behind a line instead of doing something better?
It is easier for us to throw a word in the middle and wait for the other one to pick it up, and what? figure out what to do with it? react? do not react?
A word hides experience, sometimes bad, sometimes good. But also it can be ambiguous. How do you sift the true meaning if you are not given any clue?
There are "two-faced" words as well. They may give you hope, while the person who uttered them means totally the opposite of what you hope.
A word shelters emotions which could be better expressed in actions.
Why do we all hide behind a line instead of doing something better?
sâmbătă, 12 iunie 2010
The "Blonde" One Out
I am a woman on a mission, my mission is to graduate from my PhD within the designated time limit. Then find a good job in the very complex world of academia (I discovered I really like teaching, maybe more than researching, I still need to figure this out).
Until I achieve my goals I still need to live, to find normality where apparently there's no such thing.
The craziest thing I have ever done was not bungee-jumping (I was the third woman in my country to jump when the bungee crane was brought in), was not riding some scary roller-coasters. It was moving to Manchester, on my own, without knowing virtually anybody in the city. Whenever I have "stage fright" I remind myself that I am the one who chose this, who imposed this wish on her family, and I should do anything in my power to fulfil my dream.
Although I have found new friends, let us be honest, they are still acquaintances at this point. Friends stand the test of time - so, there is still plenty of time to test these new faces.
I do not have time to get bored, but I have time to get very lonely. I still make plenty of mistakes and go against my better judgement - it means I am still young. Sometimes when I feel like going out oooops!, there's nobody to go out with.
I learned to queue, to swear in a very diplomatic way, to drink larger amounts of beer than the doctor recommended, to stand for myself (some people would say that I knew this before; now I really have to, because I am on my own), to meet new people (while in other times I was so scared to walk out of the house on the streets). I have been told that I am probably one of the most un-shy persons in the world (you don't say! noooooo, you really don't say! I am really shy, but people like me wear a shield. mine is being pushy and presenting myself with a lot of... nerve, and smiling too much). If I was to graduate from a "let's see how many men are running after you" PhD I would have been top of my class (if I only knew this when I was 17 and crying my heart out that all my friends had boyfriends and I didn't, I would have saved a lot of tears).
But... there is always a "but"... I am still "the blonde one out" - I still need to be accepted with my weird and blunt style, I need for people to see that I am not such a tough cookie and I do need support, I need to fit in a society which usually rejects people coming from my country (I do advertise for Romania!!! if you would only know me, I bet you would all want to visit my country), I have to ultimately survive.
The second "but" is: but, I am blonde, which means I am almost... perfect :) (which suddenly makes it a little bit better)
Until I achieve my goals I still need to live, to find normality where apparently there's no such thing.
The craziest thing I have ever done was not bungee-jumping (I was the third woman in my country to jump when the bungee crane was brought in), was not riding some scary roller-coasters. It was moving to Manchester, on my own, without knowing virtually anybody in the city. Whenever I have "stage fright" I remind myself that I am the one who chose this, who imposed this wish on her family, and I should do anything in my power to fulfil my dream.
Although I have found new friends, let us be honest, they are still acquaintances at this point. Friends stand the test of time - so, there is still plenty of time to test these new faces.
I do not have time to get bored, but I have time to get very lonely. I still make plenty of mistakes and go against my better judgement - it means I am still young. Sometimes when I feel like going out oooops!, there's nobody to go out with.
I learned to queue, to swear in a very diplomatic way, to drink larger amounts of beer than the doctor recommended, to stand for myself (some people would say that I knew this before; now I really have to, because I am on my own), to meet new people (while in other times I was so scared to walk out of the house on the streets). I have been told that I am probably one of the most un-shy persons in the world (you don't say! noooooo, you really don't say! I am really shy, but people like me wear a shield. mine is being pushy and presenting myself with a lot of... nerve, and smiling too much). If I was to graduate from a "let's see how many men are running after you" PhD I would have been top of my class (if I only knew this when I was 17 and crying my heart out that all my friends had boyfriends and I didn't, I would have saved a lot of tears).
But... there is always a "but"... I am still "the blonde one out" - I still need to be accepted with my weird and blunt style, I need for people to see that I am not such a tough cookie and I do need support, I need to fit in a society which usually rejects people coming from my country (I do advertise for Romania!!! if you would only know me, I bet you would all want to visit my country), I have to ultimately survive.
The second "but" is: but, I am blonde, which means I am almost... perfect :) (which suddenly makes it a little bit better)
marți, 1 iunie 2010
Maybe
Maybe I've had enough.
Enough of MEN thinking they are the centre of the World.
Enough of me being bullied, intimidated. harassed.
Enough of being told I am your boyfriend and after 2 days someone gets to make an assumption, and make everything like nobody should be ever born.
Enough of MEN TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!
MAYBE, just MAYBE I HAVE A MIND OF MY OWN!
MAYBE I LIKE LIFE, MAYBE I LIKE TO BE THE CENTRE OF THE UNIVERSE!
MAYBE< JUST MAYBE, MAYBE, I AM WHO I AM AND I MAKE NO EXCUSES! NO DAMN EXCUSES.
MAYBE... JUST LIVE WITH THAT, YOU SHMUCKS! (WHOMEVER YOU MAY BE)
Enough of MEN thinking they are the centre of the World.
Enough of me being bullied, intimidated. harassed.
Enough of being told I am your boyfriend and after 2 days someone gets to make an assumption, and make everything like nobody should be ever born.
Enough of MEN TELLING ME WHAT TO DO!
MAYBE, just MAYBE I HAVE A MIND OF MY OWN!
MAYBE I LIKE LIFE, MAYBE I LIKE TO BE THE CENTRE OF THE UNIVERSE!
MAYBE< JUST MAYBE, MAYBE, I AM WHO I AM AND I MAKE NO EXCUSES! NO DAMN EXCUSES.
MAYBE... JUST LIVE WITH THAT, YOU SHMUCKS! (WHOMEVER YOU MAY BE)
vineri, 19 martie 2010
Sticky contracts
I came to Manchester with the clear idea that my life would change forever.
But I hoped that the change would not inflict pain and mental torture upon me. I now that changing always involves a t least a small revolution, but it should not imply 'tidal waves' sweeping you all day long, day after day.
I have lived in the UK for two years, in a way this country is my 'stepmum'. Well, at this point she really looks like the vicious and ugly stepmother to me.
The difference between following a 'sponsored' dream and a'self-funded' one is that you really have to be on your own. And to challenge whomever stands in your way with little or no help from the others.
London was a pre-negociated experience. Sheltered from ambiguous and heavy letting contracts. Manchester proves to be one of the most absurd little places in this world.
Yes, I am angry with the system, and I will try to fight it until I am feeling satisfied with my life here.
Never in my life had I thought that the only thing standing between me and my peace of mind, and my achievements would be the 'sticky contract' I am stuck into right now, and the staff from my hall of residence.
I know how it is to leave like 'a student', I have done that before (true, at an older age than expected, but I have fully experienced the living with others, in a shared student accommodation, bla bla, study rooms, not bed-rooms - as if when you study you have to be continuously tormented).
But Manchester is a totally different cup of tea, and not mine, obviously.
Never in my life had I thought that you are obligated to fulfil the terms and conditions of a contract which has never-ever-actually been signed.
I had no idea that I have to submit my wellbeing to the whims of a 'Flat Tutor' and his 'Warden' - which would imply that I was living in the Jail, Prison, you name it. So, in my accommodation I have a TUTOR and a WARDEN. It doesn't matter that I am nearly 30 years old. I HAVE A BLOODY WARDEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am paying 600 GBP per month so I can get the chance to be scolded by the WARDEN, picked at by the TUTOR, and bullied by the employees at the Reception Area.
My correspondence is being held 'hostage' without explanation. I am constantly verballly abused by these people, but when I request to officially complain agains these problems, I am being told that I cannot do that. And that I have to learn TWO PRINCIPLES from the whole affair: that the Warden and his staff are ALWAYS RIGHT; and, if I have a problem with that, it means I am a mental case.
When I emphasised the fact that they wages are paid from my rent as well, I have been informed that I am a mere STUDENT, which makes me SUB-HUMAN, and this makes me AGGRESSIVE.
No, the Students' Union does not support people in my situation. My student colleagues have had the opportunity not to move into a Hall of residence, so they just support me mentally, but wouldn't have any idea about the struggle I am going through, my fellows academics shrug their shoulders, and have no advice, as I am being told I am one of the few to be going through such a horrible situation.
Outcasted for smoking, bullied and harrassed for asking official explanations for my missing correspondence, I seek justice where there obviously is none, but the embedded culture of stripping young professionals from their families' money. No returns, no understanding, no alternative, just narrow-mindedness and disdain.
I hope that one of these days a miracle will happen, but what I am going through right now has cleared up my initial thought that my homecountry is not that bad. There are worst places in this World. Only I will not give up and I will make my way through this maze of absurd and crappy regulations, until I find a way out.
But I hoped that the change would not inflict pain and mental torture upon me. I now that changing always involves a t least a small revolution, but it should not imply 'tidal waves' sweeping you all day long, day after day.
I have lived in the UK for two years, in a way this country is my 'stepmum'. Well, at this point she really looks like the vicious and ugly stepmother to me.
The difference between following a 'sponsored' dream and a'self-funded' one is that you really have to be on your own. And to challenge whomever stands in your way with little or no help from the others.
London was a pre-negociated experience. Sheltered from ambiguous and heavy letting contracts. Manchester proves to be one of the most absurd little places in this world.
Yes, I am angry with the system, and I will try to fight it until I am feeling satisfied with my life here.
Never in my life had I thought that the only thing standing between me and my peace of mind, and my achievements would be the 'sticky contract' I am stuck into right now, and the staff from my hall of residence.
I know how it is to leave like 'a student', I have done that before (true, at an older age than expected, but I have fully experienced the living with others, in a shared student accommodation, bla bla, study rooms, not bed-rooms - as if when you study you have to be continuously tormented).
But Manchester is a totally different cup of tea, and not mine, obviously.
Never in my life had I thought that you are obligated to fulfil the terms and conditions of a contract which has never-ever-actually been signed.
I had no idea that I have to submit my wellbeing to the whims of a 'Flat Tutor' and his 'Warden' - which would imply that I was living in the Jail, Prison, you name it. So, in my accommodation I have a TUTOR and a WARDEN. It doesn't matter that I am nearly 30 years old. I HAVE A BLOODY WARDEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I am paying 600 GBP per month so I can get the chance to be scolded by the WARDEN, picked at by the TUTOR, and bullied by the employees at the Reception Area.
My correspondence is being held 'hostage' without explanation. I am constantly verballly abused by these people, but when I request to officially complain agains these problems, I am being told that I cannot do that. And that I have to learn TWO PRINCIPLES from the whole affair: that the Warden and his staff are ALWAYS RIGHT; and, if I have a problem with that, it means I am a mental case.
When I emphasised the fact that they wages are paid from my rent as well, I have been informed that I am a mere STUDENT, which makes me SUB-HUMAN, and this makes me AGGRESSIVE.
No, the Students' Union does not support people in my situation. My student colleagues have had the opportunity not to move into a Hall of residence, so they just support me mentally, but wouldn't have any idea about the struggle I am going through, my fellows academics shrug their shoulders, and have no advice, as I am being told I am one of the few to be going through such a horrible situation.
Outcasted for smoking, bullied and harrassed for asking official explanations for my missing correspondence, I seek justice where there obviously is none, but the embedded culture of stripping young professionals from their families' money. No returns, no understanding, no alternative, just narrow-mindedness and disdain.
I hope that one of these days a miracle will happen, but what I am going through right now has cleared up my initial thought that my homecountry is not that bad. There are worst places in this World. Only I will not give up and I will make my way through this maze of absurd and crappy regulations, until I find a way out.
marți, 9 martie 2010
York from Yorkshire
So I decided to visit something last week-end. I went to York.
I admit, I was pretty excited by the idea, until reality stepped in: out of all the days of the week, Saturday had to be the coldest and sunless one. At least it didn't rain.
Yorkminster- huge, expensive. I admit, I will not pay 8 pounds to visit a church, the house of God. I can't believe the prices. Fortunately from the entrance you get a glimpse of what you could visit, and maybe it was the truth, maybe I was prompting myself to think about the pocket, but I decided it wasn't worth the financial effort. Beautiful windows, but not that beautiful to extract a ticket from me.
Then, off to the next objective (which suffered alterations on the way) - The Dungeaons. Well, if you have seen the queues in London, myabe you understand, that was not worth it either.
Well, the result was I went to visit Jorvik, the remains and replica of the Viking settlement in the area. They even replicated the smells, which left me nauseated for half an hour (I guess soap wasn't very popular in those days), but thinking better about York. Unfortunately my camera decided to 'die' on my way there, so no proof of ever having visited the place :)
The Shambles - now that I think better, I guess I have seen just the ebginning of the street. Didn't get to taste the charm of it.
You may say it sounds like a 'never go there' place. I guess one sunny summer day I will get there again, but with more research done. And I will skip the shops, because you can find shops everywhere. I am still looking for that je ne sais quoi of England. Hope I will find it eventually.
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