Saturday, December 31, 2011

Being Blocked!


My Facebook profile: Tasha

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In reference to this:

The Background Story:

So yeah. In mid discussion with my friend Gianni - who still lives in Malta, we decided to figure out how far Facebook blocking really goes and whether or not you are able to see the person, given the fact that they blocked you, on another person's friend list. Get this, I found out I've been blocked!

Needless to say, after my Facebook status as well as blog entry went public - I suddenly noticed that particular friend disappear off both my friend-list and my boyfriend's, I figured she could have deleted Facebook for personal reasons, she had been claiming she wanted to for a while at that point. Anyway, I wasn't particularly eager to talk to her about the birthday party ordeal, but it's not like I blamed her for the incident, it's not her fault that some people think the way they do, right?

Alas, I suppose upon seeing that Facebook status she decided that we can no longer be friends, and so I got unfriended and thus deleted -and- blocked. 

I don't think she was much a friend in that case, of course but this leads back to me having to ask: frankly, besides the few people I call friends, several others I can hands down, fully confidently trust but I don't see them in person.. ever, plus my fiance, who is essentially my best friend. At least I can trust these people, well, at least I know they won't be deleting off Facebook without a talk first - insert 'lol' here.. who in heck is a real friend these days and how do you know?

She seemed sincere most times, dare I say she acted as though she genuinely cared when I said that I wasn't feeling comfortable at her party, being that I am of very Asian descent and her friends are very racist. I suppose not! She deleted me the next day or so if not that very evening and I wouldn't be surprised if I got blamed for the tension - damn me and my tolerant ways.

Needless to say, if she didn't make to so much as talk to me before deleting me, there's no way that I'll be talking to her to reconcile. Lesson learned - I'll be pickier and choosier as to who I devote my time to, lesson so very well learned!

Real friends are so hard to come by these days, here's to appreciating the ones that are so hard to come by, but that I've had the fortune to find. I'm grateful for each and every single one of these people <3

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Sick of being sick!

Fact: I feel less loved when I'm sick.

Or maybe I feel less lovable, I don't know. Don't know, don't care - need a hug. 

I wish I didn't feel that way, but I always do.

I suppose it stems from a lack of self-confidence or something; you know, believing that you're less useful to someone where inhibited from doing certain things for them and with them, and lack of certainty they'll remain feeling the same way about you if you're not completely your capable, fun, outgoing self. Granted, here we're not talking about a chronic illness of any sort, it's just a bloody cold.



I want to get better and go out and buy some wrapping paper. I want to get my nails done before Christmas and I have yet to finish putting together my fiance's gifts.


 I was totally feeling the Christmas spirit up until this week hit.

Friday, December 16, 2011

Losing more.. sleep.

Title gives away the suspense, if there ought to even be any.

Somehow, I believe that people have an intuition about their own life and events - at least in some passive, muted form. Mine however often rages, pounds on the walls of my skull and screams into my ears, albeit I've often been told that it's predominantly paranoia and deeply embedded psychological issues that I've never made an effort to address (the latter being false, fyi), regardless.. I saw this coming.

There are other things I fear, and at the moment I am having trouble differentiating whether or not these are fears or things I'm expecting to happen - I am too afraid to venture into that, I can't yet, especially since sooner than I'd like, it will all have been said and done as well decided for me.

I couldn't fall asleep tonight for a particular reason.

Earlier tonight, with my hands still shaking I shuffled pans on the stove - spinach drenched in olive oil and an overcooked duck breast. I was shaken up, both from the chills I've been feeling from being sick and because an hour prior to that my phone vibrated on the laundry basket as I combed through my hair.

My heart sunk and shoved itself into my heels and the emptiness I felt in my chest for those few moments seemed to be pounding all by itself. I felt blood rushing to my shoulders, neck and face. The default ringtone was screaming at me, and I knew that soon it would stop but for just a moment I wasn't sure if I wanted it to, I recognized the number and intuitively I just knew who it was, and so, with a shaken hand I slid the touchscreen answering bar.

I knew just what I'd say, for a very long time, actually from day 1 of my engagement, I have known exactly what I'd say, if I were to talk at all.

I did begin talking, but my much subconsciously rehearsed speech instantly turned into muffled stuttering.

'I should have done this sooner' said the confident voice on the other end and continued on to say that he had been meaning to, but only just summoned the courage to get it over it. Then he said that he knows and I was promptly asked why I hadn't said anything - my first reaction was to reply that I had no plans of even speaking about this, especially not with him but I remained quiet. I remained too quiet.

I now feel robbed and cheated of this chance to talk my heart out.

You used to make all the decisions, all of the decisions for the both of us. All the time. You thought you understood me, and you have always said that you understand me - but no, I am nothing like you say I am, and there is someone now who agrees your description doesn't bear resemblance. I am everything I say I am and nothing like you say I am.

You have always been so engulfed in making all of the decisions - even this one, of us talking. You must have even decided that I forgive you, but I don't. I will not and there is nothing and no one that says I have to.

For the first time, I wanted to tell you that up until this time last year maybe there was something that was left between us but then there was suddenly nothing. You hear that? Nothing. No, there is no one and nothing I would ever go back to.

I know how you'd reply, that you remember so much - everything, you remember everything, is that what you would say? And I would reply that you should forget everything you remember because we can never see each other and we cannot remain friends; and we cannot try, ever.

You might not know me, but I know you - and I know what you'd say, ты бы назвал меня мечтой. 

I am so happy where I am, who I'm with and how I am with him, thank you. I'd probably even tell you that, and then for a moment you wouldn't reply. Right?

This is the conversation I wish I would have had today, that's what I mean and what I've been meaning to say. 


Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Optical Illusion?


That's what I want to start this particular entry with. A long sigh.

I can't get across how tricky it's been to get through the last 7 days in one piece. I suppose a lot of it starts off in my mind, I lose sleep easily and it doesn't take much for the lost sleep to accumulate and take its toll on me.

I suddenly start seeing things seemingly differently only to later realize that it was not so much different as it is through tired, aggravated and scared eyes.

I've been struggling with self-esteem and weight issues for close to a month now.  That's also a factor.

Self-esteem is such a nasty little b*tch. You either have it or you don't. These days, I just don't. I have been dealing with it all the best.. and for that matter, only way I can. I think it's working, I'm just not sure if I'm doing the right thing.

I don't understand if some things that I had initially believed to be settled and I had already accepted them as a decision that has been made, now it seems like every other day something comes up in conversation that is clearly not the idea that I had. How do I deal with that? Some days I feel like these realizations I'm put through are chipping away at things I believe are my reality. I don't think that say it hurts is what I feel exactly, more like stunned and frightened a bit more every time. Suddenly cold?

I know there are plenty of changes coming my way, but until recently I believe those changes were what I signed up for, and when a casual conversation ends up sending a mini albeit sudden Earthquake that shakes my reality and understanding of what my life is - it sure as hell registers on -my- Richter scale. But nobody but me seems to want to deal with the aftermath..

I'm scared. 

I feel like I say this out loud a lot, but sometimes the lack of acknowledgement makes me feel as though I didn't really say anything, which in turn, makes me doubt whether I actually did.

I harbour hurt feelings up until a point of being overwhelmed beyond my control all in a single moment. I've always done that. I have been understanding towards all of the people I love ever since I can remember. And also, for as long as I can remember, sometimes intentionally and other times not, my ability to understand has been taken advantage of. I always secretly feel that the people I love will make a choice of their own wishes and desires over my feelings (mind you, I don't say this out of pure dread, more like speaking from experience and based on past events), and then they'll secretly chalk up their reason for doing so because they knew I'd understand - and I most likely will. I think people don't talk about it much, but deep down we all know how much hurt we can take before we are pushed to exit the situation, there's nothing scarier than knowing that you can take a lot of hurt.

I know there are a lot of things to be happy, grateful and absolutely secure about. On the other hand, it seems like the moment I lower my guard about the things that I believe shall now no longer harm me, I get surprised with a vengeance each and every time, and then it's even worse due to it being so unexpected.

I used to answer my 'What now?' question quite easily, I'd say 'Now, it's one of two things - an adventure, or misadventure, but I'll always have a story to tell.' I can't say that anymore.

Really scared.

What do I do? What if my idea of reality gets chipped away at to a point of where I won't even recognize it anymore, and what then? Will it be too late? Should I think about all of this now? Who made those particular decisions? Did I not get a say or do I not remember? Is it all that important? Do I want these things? Will I even get asked if I want them? I still have so many questions. I'm frightened of asking them because I was under the impression that I had already asked them. Will more change and will i regret doing so, if I go back to talk about it? What now?


Thursday, December 8, 2011

Cut-corner mini cake!

I'm trying this tonight.


1 egg
4 tablespoons all purpose flour
4 tablespoons white granulated sugar
1/4 tsp baking powder
3 tablespoons melted butter
3 tablespoons cocoa powder
2 1/2 tablespoons Nutella
3 tablespoons of milk
dash of vanilla extract

Combine until smooth.. bake until toothpick comes out clean or microwave in 30 second intervals until done, I've read, we'll see what this will make.. so far so good! Apparently, this works great as a 'mug cake' or a so-called 'microwave cake', but since the fiance is nowhere to be seen, I'm sticking this into a preheated oven at 170c and baking.

Current status:

Will serve these up warm, with some cold whipped cream, and hope it tastes like something that didn't take 15 minutes to throw together!

Monday, December 5, 2011

Being Engaged.

This time next year, I will have been married for.. some time already. We're thinking sometime in November of next year for a date! But that's not official yet.

But there I've said it!

Who would have thought, right?

So, being back and being engaged, and looking forward to an engagement party next weekend, the changes have been somewhat surreal.

I went from excitedly and overwhelmingly flicking through my first bridal magazine (whilst waiting to board the plane that'd take us back  home to Moscow from SF), to binge-watching 'Say Yes To The Dress' as well I have an actual 'Wedding Planning' icon my desktop, not to mention I'm not letting any of those magazines go to waste and I'm happily cutting out all sorts of ideas and I even had plans of going to try on a wedding reception dress I'm in love with because I think it's absolutely perfect and if it fits as perfectly as it looks - I'll take it!

Other progress includes planning to start planning, having just registered on and weddingbee boards.. I'm ready to start planning.. to start planning but not really ready to really start planning. says I have 189 items on the 'to do' list, now that in itself is scary.

Things in many aspects, have only become better. Because more than ever, I feel completely secure and safe in this relationship, not that I didn't before, but now I have a gorgeous ring as a very special reminder every time my mind wanders of in the insecure direction.

Speaking of that ring. I still can't stop smiling. Fact of the matter is, a while ago I was flicking through a magazine (by a while, I mean over a year ago) and I saw this ring that in my eyes, was more perfect than any other ring that I've seen. I have photographic memory and I remembered each curve and diamond and its exact position but even so, I couldn't help tearing the page out of the magazine and presumably, I still have it somewhere amongst my hoarded loot.

Fact of the matter is, as I sat there getting in my 5 minutes of gazing at my fantastic ring, I was thinking of that ring - and mind you, my memory hasn't failed, I remember the way it looks exactly. I've remembered it before, but today, having the time on my hands I decided to find it.

A quick Google search proved to be effective as always and soon enough I was looking at the exact ring I had seen in that magazine last year. You know what my first thought was? It doesn't even compare. I suddenly had trouble understanding why I liked it but then quickly concluded that it must have been the uncanny design and don't get me wrong, I still think fondly of it but the beauty of this whole thing is that I would not change my ring for the world. Isn't that the most amazing feeling a bride can have? Knowing that her fiance not only nailed exactly what she'd want but actually exceeded her expectations with a completely different but absolutely perfect idea?

I'm excited!

Wednesday, November 30, 2011


I'm so happy at home these days.

That being the reason why the idea of going to a friend's birthday party this weekend seemed more grueling than exciting. She wanted to go a club after dinner at her place. Being that I am not an absolute recluse or hermit, I decided to attend anyway - having since regretted this at least half a dozen times and here's why.

I walk in there, totally decked out in my club outfit, which is not really appropriate if there is a parent present - in which case there was, unbeknownst to me. Regardless though, the fact that I was under the impression that it was a party I should attend alone, not with the fiance in tow (which, in mid-party turned out otherwise) and the fact that I was physically not very comfortable in my clubbing outfit sitting across from a parent, that's all trivial.

What is not trivial however, is the utter disgusting display of human intolerance and ignorance that sat across the table from me.

It all started innocently enough. One of the women, let's call her 'Brunette', commented on the other woman's (the Blonde's) uncanny choice of shoes for the given weather. The Blonde was quick to retort (and I swear, she seemed so stuck up that I could imagine her snorting as she said this) 'I used to live in New York, eeeveryone wears pumps in all sorts of weather there'. The Brunette gasped in awe, I pictured her as a little animal, flapping her limbs in adoration of a bigger one, clearly getting ready for a major sucking up session but unsure as to where to begin. There was a momentary silence, so I said 'Yeah, having been to New York and worn flats for the better part of Autumn because you mostly have to walk every where, I'm sort of not surprised'.


'So.. having been to California now though, I must say, I loved it'.

'California is big and different'. The Blonde replied. Which is when I explained and agreed, saying that I really liked San Francisco but LA was not my cup of tea, albeit I didn't get to see much of LA except the tourist spots so I can't say much about it.

I get told that San Francisco weather is gross. I.. disagree, I quite like the weather but I didn't disagree in the conversation at the time. Then I get told that LA is unsafe. Fair enough? I guess, I wouldn't know, I've never spent more than a day there.. so I didn't dispute it. I mediate the situation by saying you know what, my dad is totally a New York person too, he wouldn't trade it in for the world..

I flip the awkward conversation onto a subject that at the time, seemed absolutely harmless to me: public transport infrastructure. I didn't have much in common with this snobby superficial blonde to begin with, so I was short of subjects to converse about.

Apparently, I was mistaken.

Soon enough, the topic was intentionally steered towards .. all people who are not 'white', vulgar vocabulary implemented and pure raw ignorance puked all over the conversation.

'Los Angeles public transport is full of -them-, and it's so dangerous!' The Blonde snorted. I suddenly realized how much I was beginning to loathe her. I was sickened with everything she just said and her very being. 'They all look at you!' she continued. I was brewing. Boiling. 'My father felt like being adventurous once, and he took the public transport to the airport, can you believe it?'. She blurts

I tell her that I never felt that way, nor do I generally feel endangered around people, regardless of the race. Demeanor can intimidate me but certainly it has nothing to do with the way a person looks.

'I was the ONLY white person on a bus in New York once, I was so scared, they were all looking!'. The Brunette soon followed up with her share of crap. Mind you, this woman is -NOTHING- to look at.

'I used to live in New York, I took the public transport every day and never did I feel so much as awkward'. I managed to reply, though I wanted to grab her and shake her - scream at her, that it's people like her who bring prejudice and hate into the world, they're the ones who help it live and the way she reasons and sees the world, through this closed-minded prism.. is wrong.

'I took the bus to school for two years in New York, and it is not pleasant!' The Blonde snorts again.

How I detested her in that very moment. Her snobby, sheltered world - how I wanted to make it crumble. To tell her that I hope she doesn't bring children into this world until she changes her mindset to something acceptable by society today. How 'tolerance' is not even the beginning of the description of what she needed. She needs therapy. She needs a reality check. She needs a life. She is nothing outside of her real estate awards given to the international investment bank where she works. She flocks with people just like her. They are all sick.

How I suddenly wished to expose her.. to all of her colleagues, her superiors - for the discriminative, racist, ignorant prude I see her as.

My friend lacked sensitivity to the matter and my shock when I came into the kitchen to talk to her, my utter shock at the fact that she'd put me at a table, knowingly with such people, given that I myself, am not exactly pure Slavic to put it lightly. She just told me stories about how 'tolerance' seems to be disappearing these days, especially abroad.  I called total BS on that, and I told her so. She mentioned some of the recent terror acts as an example.. to my horror, she didn't see to realize that these remarks made by the women she calls friends are all a part of that big, ugly picture - I told her that I hoped the two women would NOT bring children into this world until they wise up on what is reality these days, and how they are contributing NEGATIVELY to our society today.

For what I can usually articulate my feelings, that evening made me so angry because I cannot believe that people aren't ashamed for voicing these things so freely. I will not be caught dead in the same room with them anymore and I am very much shocked at the idea of my friend being a part of a consciously racist clique.. I thought she knew better, apparently I did not.

'Equity' has more meanings than your investment bank has taught you, you imbeciles.

equity - conformity with rules or standards; "the judge recognized the fairness of my claim"
non-discrimination - fairness in treating people without prejudice
sportsmanship - fairness in following the rules of the game
justice, justness - the quality of being just or fair
inequity, unfairness - injustice by virtue of not conforming with rules or standards

Saturday, November 19, 2011

The Proposal

I won't even get into how aghast I was at having to take such an impromptu trip - even though, after much convincing, I still decided to do it; the fact that we had just come back from a 3 week vacation and were leaving again - a decision that literally, was an overnight one, is in itself quite bewildering.

I felt like I didn't have much say - can you imagine just being told you have to take a 16 hour plane ride, with little explanation as to why except 'urgent paperwork' and a favor..? Well, that's what I was dealing with, when my boyfriend was booking tickets.

He had also been acting so strange, suddenly different - as though something had changed between us. He refused to answer basic questions, and if initially me being inquisitive was something that had never bothered him, suddenly it seemed to become a problem.

Friends hinted, that I had a beautiful surprise waiting for me - a part of me, that's been secretly really wanting this, but silently, was ecstatic. The other part of me however, that little skeptical thing, said if nothing of the sort happened the previous trip, then this trip was definitely too short notice for anything of the like. 

The first day of our arrival definitely reinforced me being skeptical. I spent the entire day running around, absolutely frantically trying to get said paperwork done. Some pretty mediocre shopping and a nap later - I realized that my boyfriend was close to an hour late for our dinner plans. I was back in San Francisco, again; tired and lonely, again.. and suddenly, this trip didn't look promising at all.

On Friday, I had my nails done at a nearby salon, got to meet some friends (BG ladies!) and so the day flew by - 11.11.11 - frankly, I thought if I got no surprise on that day (and I didn't, we had dinner and fell asleep immediately) then I'd get no surprises at all.

On the plane ride to San Francisco, we watched the new Planet of the Apes prequel. I loved the sight of Muir Woods, and instantly, we decided unanimously that we'll pay it a visit this trip.

Saturday, the first day that we actually got to spend together, that's what the plan was. We ran a few errands after breakfast, and were on our way.

Again, the boyfriend was somewhat anxious to get there, and reacted somewhat snappy upon the realization that there were a lot of people there, judging by the lack of free parking spaces - a reaction that is totally uncharacteristic of him; I'm the impatient one in this relationship, usually. 'It's muddy today too', my usually not squeamish boyfriend murmured.

I thought Muir Woods was a beautiful place, and I loved walking around there - until the boyfriend insisted that we go farther into the woods. I struggled a little on the trail, unsure of why exactly we went so deep in - we came to a clearing, and seemingly, for the first time, there were no people around. 'Let's take a picture here!' he exclaimed, and gestured towards the clearing which was definitely off the path.

'Are we even supposed to be here?' I skeptically asked. 'It doesn't matter, just get down here!' He quickly replied, and so I did. It was a beautiful spot - a little creek, a lovely tall Redwood tree and the forest was a beautiful shade of a wide spectrum of green. He fussed with his camera and then reached into his bag for a different lens, which something that he does all the time when we're taking pictures.

I was looking around, and I didn't quite realize what he got out of the bag until something that I can recognize in pitch black caught the corner of my eye, and I slammed my gaze straight into it - a beautifully wrapped in white ribbon, gentle aquamarine-green box with the distinctive "Tiffany & Co." print on the front of it.

"A late birthday present!" I chimed in my mind (Yes, I'm often that delusional). It only took me a few seconds to suspect the best though. He told me to unwrap it, and I was so.. wrapped in unwrapping my perfect little box, I didn't even notice the fact that he had got down on one knee.

'I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?" He said.

'GET OUT!', I graciously, reply. This was not exactly how I had planned to accept a proposal from the man I have been in love with ever since our first meeting in August of last year. Promptly, I rushed to say 'Yes!' and opened the box that I have been holding.

Not only was it the purest, most beautiful diamond I have no ever owned but also that I have ever seen, the ring was nothing short of simply perfect. I would no have picked a different one out myself.

'One more thing...' he continued. But that my friends, is different story.

And so.. it was just like that, that my life changed! Now what?

ETA: The fiance says I didn't quite see the box until he was down on one knee already, and only after saying 'I will' did he say he wants to spend the rest of his life with me - goes to show that  I was lucky not to faint at all this all together, I have a memory gap ^-^ But I do remember one little detail, when he got down on one knee, he didn't even get dirty, so it really was the perfect proposal!

Tuesday, November 1, 2011


I just came back from the most amazing trip of my life. Do you know what the only reason that made actually coming back worthwhile.. It's a little but really big reason - Nika.

I loved San Francisco because of the diversity of the people and how they were all equally nice. We had the most amazing sushi meal the first evening we were there .. A small and somewhat tacky looking but undeniably popular sushi place barely two blocks from where we were staying. I also got to see all the sights and hear Hugh Laurie perform..and kind of catch a peek of him at the Hardly, Strictly Bluegrass festival. Oh and of course a fantastic meal at Atelier Crenn with all sorts of cool molecular gastronomy tricks and treats, and the classic La Folie.. Where I walked out so stuffed, I didn't want to live! I got to meet my boyfriend's best friend, who's an undoubtedly intelligent, nice, hyper goofball of easygoing.

On Santana Row, I got to shop until I was too weak to walk - filling up a carry-on suitcase to a point of it almost rupturing.

Next was Texas. A task of 'Meet The Parents', initially, I had been nervous about the fact but in the end decided that most likely, if I made an effort to be nothing other than myself on my best behaviour, unless they let some sort of unjust prejudice get in the way of their judgement, then they should like me, and they did! I think..I hope.

There was shopping in a place I have deemed 'Screw DisneyLand, THIS is the happiest place on Earth' - San Marcus outlet mall.

Then there was beautiful Maui. Having grown up on an island, that island was brought complete to shame by the tropical, multicolored plants and flowers. The micro-climates of each region were pretty fantastic too. I loved the beaches and the people were all so friendly, much an opposite contrast of the way people are in Moscow. I've been back for a week now, the first days I was just in a piss poor mood, somewhat a ritual I tend to go through to get used to the gray, envy-stricken, rough, dirty, dog-eat-dog city I live in.

There were also phantoms. I suppose there are always phantoms but more evidently obvious when I get lonely, and I was lonely a lot before Texas because that portion of the trip was largely business for my boyfriend and he gave me absolute freedom and opportunity to do whatever it was I wanted.

It was as though things were knocking on the window - I actually had a nightmare, about it being precisely that. This phantom was knocking on the hotel room window, and it brought me that forsakened list I had in fright, stuck back into the guidebook, sticking the SF guidebook back into the bookcase and locking it, at home before leaving. It didn't help. Waking up startled, I instantly wished I had torn it up and thrown it out.

I kept telling myself that I was the one who involuntarily called on these things and thoughts to come to me, they frightened me, but as easily as I brought them on, I should be able to rid myself of them.

I am so in love, I'm flying somewhere up near cloud number 9, higher than these things and thoughts. Which is why I will go on to tell you about LA.

The fantastic 'London' hotel, right next to The Viper Room. I could help the morbid thought about River Phoenix dying right there as we walked on the pavement to grab a late night dinner. The next day I got to go to one of the most interesting museums I've ever been to, the La Brea tar pits. Got to walk on the walk of stars and had dinner at the original Nobu - the Matsuhisu restaurant, not without a glimpse of the superstar chef himself!

Plane ride. Washington D.C. Ooh the exhausting Washington, though I quite loved the National Gallery for its various exhibits! Even some Toulouse-Lautrec!

My feet have not hurt like that in a looong time!

Landing in Moscow was bittersweet. I couldn't wait to get one of Nika's clumsy, happy hugs. The city however, didn't go over well. Gray. Dirty. Rude. Difficult. I was in a piss poor mood for a whole week upon returning. With only one thing to look forward to, that being my birthday.

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Wednesday, September 21, 2011


'Mommy, mommy!' Nika comes into the kitchen, frantic, holding something in her perfect little fist, shaking it at me.

'Look mommy, someone made a list, give me a pen, they forgot strawberries! Isn't this a list, this is a list, isn't it, mommy?' she continued waving the rectangular piece of paper in my direction. It looked.. foreign, right away.

I take it out of her little hand and instantly blood shoots up into my face and my knees turn cold. I felt literally, sick at the sight. A piece of paper from a hotel notebook, from Eastern Europe.

'Park (just walk around), Japanese tea gardens' - I read, shaken.

'Where did you get this, kitten?' I ask Nika and she bounces off to the other room. Climbs under the coffee table and gets a book out from underneath it. I had been reading that San Francisco guidebook. Why had I not stumbled onto that paper?

My heart was beating so heavily, fast and strong against my rib cage, I almost felt as though someone punched me repeatedly. The spot where I felt my heart beating suddenly felt bruised.

I was shocked at my own reaction. Shocked at the sight of the paper. Shocked at Nika finding it. Shocked.

Shocked flicking through the book, to suddenly discover it was scribbled over. All of it. I felt a cold wave run down my back, I think I just stood there for at least three minutes, blocking the rest of the world out.

In my mind, I traveled back to another time and place..and person. 'What the hell is this?' I grudgingly held out an organizer which blatantly obviously gave away that it had once belonged to a woman, the exhausted and famished man in front of me just stared, he clearly wanted nothing but dinner and sleep.

I had no shame or modesty, I threw the leather-bound book right at him and anything that was within vicinity of my reach. He begged me to calm down, the whole time persuading me that he neither knew that he had that organizer nor was he even aware of its existence - it was from the previous year, his former fiancee's. Containing details of their never-to-be wedding, plans and reminders, and just like that, through briefly skimming it, I knew everything I should have never known. I was livid.

Livid at him for still having it. Livid at him for ever being with her and livid that he had been so close to marrying her. Livid that he opted to  be living a whole different life, instead of coming after me, when I left.

Ballistic and hysterical, I was packing my bag - I was going to leave, and I told him that. 'Third time this month?' he was sarcastically smirking at me, as he emptied the contents out of my bag out, back onto the bed. He was right, it was the third time. It was what we did most - we broke up every two to three weeks, and he always kept me from leaving or convinced me, with empty promises and in vain built my hopes up too high for me to be able to leave.

Scooping the clothes in one handful, I threw them back into the open suitcase. I then slammed it closed, and dragged it out of the apartment door. He rushed downstairs using the staircase and caught me just as I exited out of the apartment block.

The previous time he caught me at the elevator. Before that .. the corridor, front door, bedroom - each time, I got closer to leaving.

In the following times, he would catch me on the street, in a taxi, at the train station and finally the train. Several months later, I got onto a train, and he only came after me a year later.

Back to 2011. 'Give me a pencil mommy, we have to add strawberries to the list!' Nika insisted at me.

Hands somewhat shaking, I took the guidebook and quickly tore out the post-its that had been used to bookmark pages. I took the list and quickly, as though it was on fire, stuck it into the book and similarly quickly, put the book away back onto the bookshelf where it had come from, behind the glass, turning the key.

'Let's make our own list, munchee', I beam falsely at my toddler. 'Yaaay, our list is better anyway, it will have strawberries on it!' Nika beamed back at me with the widest smile.

She soon fell asleep but I didn't even try, I cooked some food and straightened the flat up as best I could. My boyfriend called before his night out with colleagues to ask how I was doing. Hours later, when I couldn't fall asleep, in reply to an sms that he sent saying he missed me, I typed up what happened.

Yet instead of pressing 'send', I opted to discard the text and rewrote it, saying I missed him and asked him to give me a big hug when he comes home.. And he did and said he loves me very much. I love him too.. And in less than a week, we're leaving on a three week trip.

Speak when you are angry, and you will make the best speech you will ever regret.
Ambrose Bierce 
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Saturday, September 17, 2011

The Placebo Effect

There has also been measurable evidence, that medical drugs' efficacy is amplified by means of the placebo effect. Patients taking doses of such medicine only had immunal response when fully aware of ingestion. - That is in summary, what I read in a medical article on, don't even ask why, instead I'll explain what I'm getting at.

Money. We all need money. Some people need it in order to survive, others just to live and a few select lucky ones, believe money is just a minimalistic factor of being happy, be it due to these select few being filthy rich, or admirably portraying indifference to or acceptance of being poor or modestly middle class.

How the placebo effect affects me: I like working, I do. Up until recently, I struggled to make ends meet and due to more often than not, my self-harming inflated sense of pride, I would not accept financial help until being cornered with bills.

Now I work enough to keep me busy, even then, most days I struggle to pry myself away from my happy toddler and loving boyfriend, even for that little bit of time - at work, I can't stop thinking about how much I'd rather be with them.

Working is a placebo for me. Something I do, sometimes, for the sake of having it to do - besides the other important things.

I got told that all in all, I sit around at home doing nothing most days - nevertheless, somehow my toddler is happy, food gets cooked, things for the home get ordered and received, the kitchen and for the most part, the whole flat is clean and organized (albeit I do get help with the cleaning), laundry must have found a way to do itself too. We're always totally stocked up with groceries and never do I forget to sort the phone, internet and landlord billpaying. As well as at times funny, miscellaneous but nonetheless necessary things like fridges breaking down, kitchen panels needing to be ordered and picked up - I try to be as hands-on as I can about sorting all of that.

I know I'm not particularly locking myself up in a lab, searching for the cure for cancer .. But I do many things, that make the people I love most, happy. Whether or not my boss is satisfied is really a secondary tier concern. I just don't care.

If I plunged into work, be it something I still enjoyed doing, I would not be able to take spontaneous time off to go away on vacation, or stay home because Nika doesn't feel well. I wouldn't have the energy or incentive to greet my boyfriend with smiles when he comes home at 10pm. I freaking like the way I live, nay, love it - we're all happy. So why on earth do these childless, more-or-less single 'career women' get under my skin when they pass judgment on me.

I work every day. Not much and often I get days off during the week, but I do work.

Would I love to get a Bachelor in business psychology at Kensington or a Master in European Management at Emlyon, as I had initially planned? Sure! Would I not be ecstatic, in contrast, to drop all this corporate shiz and go back to working with special needs children? So much! Will any of that make me happier than my little family? Not even remotely close. Does that make me a failure or poster-child for 'lost potential', I don't believe so, and that is what ultimately matters. I can do many things that would make me feel as though I'm part of a puzzle in this society, without selling out.

I want another child, one day. There, I've said it. My boyfriend is a fantastic father, and any child would be lucky to get to call him 'Dad'. I want him to keep looking forward to coming home to me because I'm all smiles and kisses.

What these corporately broken, steel-headed women don't understand, is something ever so simple: relationships are NOT a 'demand, negotiate, supply', 'time race to sell while value is still high', 'marketing and financing', 'forecasting and implementation' - that doesn't work.

I grew up on an island where job opportunities were skim and only the privileged by heritage got ahead to really become successful as they have a head start on everybody else - if it's unrealistic, to picture yourself making a fraction of the money the people in your exact position abroad make, or better yet, they actually get promoted and don't remain static - what do you learn in a place like that? To find happiness outside of corporate success, money, acquaintances that don't even know your child's name.

I don't need that. I don't claim to have the perfect life, because I have yet to find something I'm truly successful in, besides being a mommy and a significant other - but this would be for me, just to have something to show for .. I have all the time in the world to make my way towards that slowly and it will never interfere with the immediate things that make me happy. My little family.

I have already met and left too many people who prayed to the wrong gods, and lived for the wrong things - fame, fortune, thrill, success. Whereas I have never been one to pray, but as I have said many times, if I did pray, it would be for love, happiness and health.

And in retrospect - at least I KNOW what creates a placebo effect for me, these poor abovementioned women live it and have no idea.
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Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Live. Love. Learn. Laugh.

It's not easy taking that giant leap into the relationship you believe is 'the one' - I'm not going to surprise anyone by announcing that all relationships are different and so are the people, but this is about me.. And my story is this..

Nothing about the relationship itself has been difficult - not a single thing. There have been no arguments, no major disagreements, no self-sacrificing.

What was difficult is turning my head to face the other way, as though pretending that my boyfriend has no past and later realizing that that was indeed, not good enough - I had to find out, understand and accept every little detail. It's not bewildering in the least bit, to anyone who's been in love at least, to comprehend how difficult it is to picture the person you're so hopelessly in love with.. with someone else. The thought makes your stomach churn and gives you (or at least me) hot flashes and cold sweat all at the same time.

I had already made that mistake once - you know, 'deny now, deny always and only deny' that my significant other had a past which indeed, wasn't me.

Do you know what happened? The relationship was in ruins before it could really commence into a commitment. My ex was over his ex, and she was over him - I was the one who wasn't over them as a couple, even though, clearly .. they were no longer. This time was different and thus, more difficult. As really, the only thing that's more difficult than blindly denying every little bit of evidence, is wholeheartedly accepting its existence - it really hurts.

I've felt rejected, hurt, afraid - you name it, I can't say it was in vain, nor can I claim I had basis, but I've always said one thing about my emotions - they are what they are, and there's no logic to them. Slowly but surely though, I've got to a point where I can honestly say that none of the past matters anymore.

Life couldn't be more different in comparison to last year. Last year, I was terrified my boyfriend's past would have more impact on the future than the present we had been so nicely living out.

I hated where I lived. I had trouble establishing even remotely, the stability I so longed Nika to have. I felt alone and scared about the future.

These days, in par, are so different. And albeit a part of me wishes that I had known everything would work out apriori, another part wants to leave things exactly as they were, because there is nothing that would quite make you appreciate better times as much as the pure, raw fear and uncertainty that you had just been feeling.

The realization that indeed, times are changing, and fast.. Came to me the same evening, entwined with a piece of news. And you know what.. There and then it dawned on me. This all happened one evening, when the sky looked as though it were on fire. As though a sign of change of seasons, of time..

The past.. He was over it, the people involved in his past were more likely than not, over it - and there I was making the exact same mistake I had made all those years ago - I was the only one -still- not over it. And so, unlike last time, when indeed, the demise of my relationship was soon to follow, this time I decided that no more, will I think or fear what was. Only what has been and will be is my concern.

And it helped.

I love the place I instinctively have grown to call 'home' because it's exactly that to me. It's beautiful, not just externally, but because of how safe I feel there. I love my boyfriend telling me that he's going home at the end of a long day - and I love that it's the same home.

I am not scared, worried, upset, hurt or insecure about many things anymore. My few existing fears, worries and insecurities are now only about the future, isn't that fantastic? After all, I wouldn't quite be myself without this plethora of emotions!

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Friday, August 26, 2011

A Wedding Like 4 Funerals

You know.. When first faced with the idea, I wish I could claim that I thought it was a bad one. Quite the opposite really! I deemed it 'great'.

Ya see, a couple of weeks ago was when it all started. Well okay, it all started much before that. Let me walk you through it from the VERY start.

The Background: There lives a bitchy woman, who's one of the people who is least fond of my boyfriend. She is, possibly, even less fond of me - having previously deemed me a cheap whore for sporting a strapless sequin dress for my boyfriend's birthday night out. Needless to say, I don't give a rat's ass about her opinion of my taste, being that a) my objective was to make my boyfriends jaw drop and indulge him in some arm candy for the night, b) she has no sense of style or latest trends, clearly, this was evidently demonstrated all of the times I've seen her, the wedding being no exception (ooh yes, I just really said that!). She is now married to a man that, even at his 6'4 stature makes you deem him 'small'. Albeit, in comparison to the venomous disdain his wife rouses, he is just harmless.

Guess who was lucky enough to witness the ceremony of their matrimony? Oh yes, t'was me.

I had known about their invitation much in advance, and let me say this much - I was NOT holding my breath.

Arrives the day. My boyfriend being the smart however somewhat manipulative man that he is, bought me a -fabulous- dress, and put in a ridiculous effort and uncanny interest to make sure I find matching shoes, which I did. And so there I was, clad in about a thousand bucks if we account the jewellery and hair. I was dressed up and excited. Sat in the taxi, dangling my feet.

It didn't take long for that excitement to transition into pure, raw horror. Half an hour in the car. One hour. More time passes..

'I told you it was 45km from the outskirts of Moscow' my boyfriend shrugged. Upon seeing me shift my eyes to and from the road.

You don't understand. He didn't understand. To me, more than three-subway stations in the metro away from the circle line -is- the freaking farthest that I feel comfortable being. Here we were talking so far, that the only way to get there would be a little rusty train and then by walk.

Lip quivering, jokes aside, I kept asking if we were there yet, albeit having a good time chatting with the taxi driver about lunch time and eating habits ..he, quite amused at my lack of knowledge or understanding of our general location and destination. 'But this is still Moscow?' I asked, genuinely confused.

Soon after my 'if someone dies here, probably due to ingesting those roadside donuts, would they even get found?! How would they get found.. There aren't any roads here' comment and the driver's enthusiastic snort, as well as an eye-roll and head-shake but a muffled laugh from my boyfriend..we spotted the street that was our destination - now, I call it a street because.. I have got no freaking idea what else to call it. An unmarked uh.. path, no road. No road. Are you getting this? NO ROAD. The car struggled over the grainy terrain, and swiveled around to make its way down the uh.. 'pathway', finally, after a good shaking, we drove up to a little, rather quaint country house with a nice garden. I would have even felt guilty for all my puns and remarks.. Had it not been the shock that struck me upon looking around.

Village. Heat. No asphalt. I looked down, and could see the roadside dust instantly staining my new Carlo Pazolini shoes. Much to my horror, I pictured what would happen to my lacquered shiny heel as a stone carves a deep scratch in it.. The thought made me shudder, and so on tip toes, I waved goodbye to the nice driver and mouthed 'don't leave me here!' I could see him chuckle.. But I was NOT joking.

We were late. We are always late. I wished we could have been more late. I should have locked myself in the bathroom, I reason, whilst witnessing a characteristically Russian, traditional money hoarding game.

'Shame you didn't get to see the beginning!' someone exclaimed upon seeing my boyfriend. 'Freaking terrible.' I replied, absolutely devoid of any intonation.

The sun was scorching and I instantly felt it heating my back, arms and the top of my head. And my feet were not doing well on tippy-toes and hard to walk on surfaces. I didn't know the dress code called for hiking boots.

People had their hair up in pony tails and some were clad in jeans. Food had already been laid for people to eat after the ceremony. In the sun. Platters of mayonnaise. Cheese. Eggs.

I wanted to wail at the sight of no overhead tent over the seats. The marquee itself.. it was sad. Pastel pink and green, kinda shriveled.

I ordered myself to limit eye-rolling to one a minute, for fear of nerve damage more than anything else. Certainly, remaining polite was a factor.. But frankly, my own shirt's closest to my body.. and at that point in time, I was already freaking miserable.

Ensued the traditional money extracting game. I spaced off, contemplating more important things, such as whether my parents have been feeding the cat healthily and if I had packed enough clothes for Nika's stay with them.

Must.not.roll.eyes. I commanded myself. Fighting the urge to huff and puff, as though the urge to scratch an itching allergic reaction.

You know, I may be coming off as a bitch here, but screw this - they didn't even want me there. I was there because my boyfriend was and more likely than not, by and large - he was there because of his fantastic photography skills.

The ceremony lasted a freaking lifetime in the blistering heat and the sounds the inexperienced street musician string quartet fiddling through the music.

The bride looked stressed and angry and somewhat snappy, which mind you is more of a general state of being than a case of onset Bridezilla.

When it did end, oh lord it couldn't have come sooner - mythical creatures, romantic mush AND bad poetry. 'Why me?' I thought to myself. I have done some horrible things to good people in the past, but surely nothing quite so terrible to be made to sit through this ceremony in weather as pleasant as a dragon's breath.

'Screw my life' I thought to myself, upon the realization that once the ceremony will have ended, we shall be ushered to an egg, cheese and mayonnaise snack fourchette that have been effectively left in the summer sun for over an hour and a half. No marquee or seating, nothing other than the possible cheapest booze and, needless to say, all possible measures that WEREN'T taken for even the minimal general comfort of the guests, were indeed pissing me the hell off.

'Why are you standing on the pebbles, where you know I can't stand!' the bride-turned-wife barked at her newly acquired husband. 'Not that standing on these wooden planks is anymore bloody comfortable' I wanted to bark at her, but, for being of better judgement, refrained.

Standing there, sipping on lukewarm fizzy cheap white wine that by some freak accident carried the label 'champagne'. The irony of it all was that the SHAMpizzle was called 'Hope'.

Soon, the heat and dehydration got too much. I was seeing black dots and white patches. My boyfriend brought over a white plastic garden chair for me to sit on. I was fixing my shoe strap, and checking my heels for any visible damage when my nail snapped and broke.

'F*ck all this' I cursed. And continued for a sufficiently long time. My boyfriend urged me to calm down and carried the chair over into the shade - soon enough plenty of people joined, forming their own seating arrangement. People were asking for water and the heat was getting worse.

Can you picture my pure damn joy, upon finding out that to get to the restaurant, back at the very outskirts of southern Moscow, where the ..if one dare call it.. a sort of reception would be held. We will be getting there in a rented mini-van, all dozen or so of us, no air-conditioning.

On the bright side, the groom's family were certainly quite fun!

I don't particularly recall getting to the reception, I was literally so bored, I slept through the whole ride there.

At the reception, we were greeted by enthusiastic staff, substandard food and more cheap booze. Some cliche games followed - name this and name that, the pseudo-bilingual organizer painfully struggled to utter anything grammatically acceptable. And then, when acing the questions, and even winning could no longer hold my attention - I trailed off outside, at first making an effort to make an appearance every half an hour.. And then opting to camp out outside altogether. Ensued cheap booze consumption. Cheap booze and an empty stomach do horrors to anybody's composition and soon after, I was in tears due to a) hurt feelings emerge at the possible worst of times, b) bitches gossip. The gossiping I overheard put the lid on the ridiculous night. I was crying. Then I was crying even more because my boyfriend was angry at me (I wasn't even able to articulate what I heard through sobs), then of course, the fear of seeing an angry look on his face, much like an ex of mine - I was terrified history was about to repeat itself.

But it didn't. He took me home, and we went to bed. The next morning I was able to explain what exactly altogether ruined the already disastrous night. I got my nail fixed and we were later told that basically we left in the nick of time. People were drunk and messy. So much so, that my scene didn't stand out much. Technical difficulties basically prohibited the reception program to have karaoke or anything even remotely fun.


Having told you about that. I can finally tell you this... The following weekend we invited THEM for dinner, over to OUR place. But that my friends, is a whole other story! Stay tuned.

Let me tell you this much though, I would rather be freaking skint, at a 95% off high-end brands sale-of-a-lifetime, than be in the same room with that couple again. And I bet you can't wait to find out why!
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Friday, August 19, 2011

Sic Semper Tyrannis

'One should never side off a friend when one doesn't have any', a familiar MSN window flashed at me. He said he wanted to go back to being friends and that a day hadn't gone by without him thinking of me.

I, in return, plainly explained that last year - when he became so lifeless and dull, much as though someone else's creation of him in par of the flawed, albeit characteristically him, person that I have known ever since I was 14.

We had been the best of friends, the only two musketeers - donning matching bracelets for the last 7 years, until we both finally lost them, within a few weeks of each other. Bracelets that had been lost but thoroughly searched for and found an unbelievable amount of times, except for the very last. We live and have lived, two seas and thousands of miles apart for several years now. It's been close to or maybe over a thousand days probably, since I last saw his face.
We've been both, the best thing that ever happened and the most toxic of poison to eachother - more often than not though, we part ways, already knowing that us two witches will indeed meet again. And thus, here and now we have. A year almost to the very day since our most recent goodbye. Since then, as though in a Shakespearean play - battles have been lost and some have been won.

And indeed, much Shakespearean..
(Vincenzo Camuccini (1773-1844))
The last emotion I had towards him, that I can articulate, should most accurately be articulated as betrayal - 'Et tu, Brute?', 'And you, Brutus?' was the phrase Caesar uttered whilst dying, upon the recognition of his best friend amongst his assassins.

By that time, countless people had already turned away from me, each one, for one reason or another. Some couldn't forgive the hurt I once          caused, others wanted to hurt me, lest I hurt them first. A select few could not come to terms with the birth of my daughter and my dedication to motherhood. There were some that no longer thought I was beautiful, neither physically, nor did I remain beautiful to them as a person. My most close friend however, I had never expected to be left absolutely alone in dark by him. Three times.


He's returned. My tagline: Now what?
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Wednesday, August 10, 2011

A Year Since..

I had never done what I did a year ago - never, not once was I ever able to accept a person for exactly who they are and how they are in the moment of our acquaintance. Also, I had never met someone really worth such an investment of absolute raw chance-taking, scorching emotions and pure fear.

After the first e-mail, then text message ..finally meeting, I was petrified of losing this 'seemingly inappropriately perfect for me' man.

And so I held on for dear life, so tight that at times I feared it would be just that, which would make him slip through - after all, I had always thought that the saying 'if you love someone, just let them go.. If they come back, then you'll know' was right. I would do no such thing this particular time though, and this became one of the three most important decisions I've ever made that have affected the course my life tremendously.

A part of me wanted to do just that, ever so badly - to let go, because patience had always been a virtue that I've not been blessed with, selfishness in par.. the euphoria brought on by something as simple as conversation and his company, as well as the rare brush of his touch on my hand - my life quickly grew to be about him. Nobody else mattered, and I had no reason to care.

Albeit there is more: the hurt inflicted by circumstances was immense - each weekend, I made the decision not to love him anymore.. And each Monday, I realized I loved him more than I did the previous Friday. I cried so much and so often.

What do you do, when there's nobody and nothing you want more, but none of it is within vicinity of reach? You persevere. This was not down to being strong - I wasn't, in fact, this was making me more weak and vulnerable than ever, but it didn't seem to matter at the time.

I knew from the very moment we had our first conversation, that in about a year, I would either a) emerge from this so hurt, I would never be the same again .. Or b) emerge one year past, being more beautiful - as a woman, a mother to Nika and more so, more beautiful and confident than ever as myself.

And so, here I am - having now seen a year go by. No, I'm not the same, some may argue that I have never been more different, which is debatable but most likely completely true. The things I thought I feared, suddenly don't mean a thing any longer. The things I thought I wanted, I realized in reality, are more trivial than actual - I want other things now. I need different things now, and a lot of the things I need.. I already seem to have.

Two weeks ago, at a pediatric appointment in the waiting room, my daughter was playing with all the other children. 'Your daddy is on the phone!' the little boy exclaimed holding out a toy phone. 'No he's not!', contradicted Nika.. 'this is my daddy, right here' she continued, whilst pointing her chubby little manicured finger at my boyfriend. I had to think about very happy things in order not to get all soppy and teary right there.

And thus, I have summed up what's happened this past year.. It has all been worth it and if I were to be made go back a year, I would do it all again in the exact same way - this is the first time in my life that I am able to say that I would indeed, change nothing

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Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Отзывы о магазине еАПТЕКА

*****  плохой магазин
вчера удалить
Решили обновить семейною аптечку - заказали на сумму 4800руб. Ммда.. сумма не маленькая.

Заказ сделала вечером, позвонили утром для подтверждения - звонок я пропустила, готовила ребенку молоко, было где-то 9:30 утра.

Перезвонила им сразу, в течении 5ти минут. Сказала как меня зовут, адрес. Девушка с момента ответа на звонок рычала: мол, "а что, вы номер заказа не знаете?" (нет, млин, я вот сижу его берегу, только и жду вашего звонка).

Короче говоря - доставку перенесли на время 13:00-17:00 (я просила с 9:00-13:00), я попросила предварительный звонок - объяснив что я с ребенком, а 4 часа - срок большой, можем выйти погулять. Она говорит нет уж, говорите что точно будете дома или перенесем на время когда точно будете - ну ладно, соглашаюсь я, или гуляйте около подъезда - позже предлагает она, мол если что, курьер Вас немного подождет. (разве не проще ли просто действительно позвонить непосредственно перед доставкой..)

Ладно, не имеет смысла грубить и спорить в ответ, решаю я.

Привозит доставку курьер в 1:30 дня - какая тяжелая сумка блин, первым делом жалуется он. Я с ребенком на руках, ну да - обновить аптечку решили, как то растерянно зачем то принялась объяснять я.

"Да тут, извините за выражение, обожраться можно!" выразился он, при моей 3х летней дочке, сидящей у меня на руках. Отправила ребенка подальше, не дай бог решиться он выразиться еще раз и похлеще, заплатила ему. 


Ну что.. аптека хорошая, ассортимент и цены очень устраивают..хоть руки не дошли распаковать все это дело, вроде бы все на месте.

А вот обслуживание так портит все! Жаль

Tuesday, July 19, 2011


I peered at the girl standing in front of me on the train. 9:20am on Monday. She clutched a white leather Coach handbag for dear life, her face flooded with tears. I looked at my own reflection in the train door window - fuzzy only just dried hair, splats of make-up, I Hate Mondays Garfield t-shirt, tattered and torn but way loved Kira Plastinina handbag hanging loosely over my shoulder.

Clearly, 'Coach handbag girl' had spent more than the 40min I did to get ready this morning. On my way out of the train, I handed her the pack of tissues I had in my battered handbag, presuming, that had she had any, she would have used at least one by now, evidently being in rather dire need of one..

Don't get me wrong - I've had worse days myself and I wasn't feeling that great this morning either.. So I wasn't really judging.

I have been feeling a lingering feeling of dull pain and anxiety - teamed with a few memories and some nostalgia and topped with a bundle of dread. All that.. And a lingering fear of being disillusioned.

Yeah, 'disillusioned'. I don't want to go into detail about that before it actually happens though. Albeit I'm somewhat hopeful it won't but more doubtful that it won't.

I think even the word itself is somewhat frightening, because it deems what you've been living and believing true, merely an illusion and thus you get disillusioned.

Anyway. This comes on Tuesday morning now.

That very evening, I felt kind of like the girl looked. At least my thoughts rushed back to the image of her in just a few seconds. I was angry at myself for even being affected by what was said. How dare I be, sort of feeling, as though I haven't been hurt enough by this, instead of developing some sort of immunity to the subject, it continues to cut me deeper.

I found myself peering into the candlelight at dinner until my eyes somewhat hurt from the bright light. And upon being asked if everything is okay, I realized that of course it is, everything is fantastic. Albeit the issue is right there.. Between the candle and sofa - Me.

These are my thoughts, fears, anger.. Sadness. There's nothing to be done by anybody, there's just one thing I've got to do.. Or not do rather, I have to not react. It has got to be sincere apathy and the simple acceptance of the truth: what was..was, and what will be..will be.
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Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Something So Satire

I can't begin to explain this in a way succinct and concise enough, but I can try to talk about it.

You see, at the age of 23, with a child who is 3 and a half, a dozen countries visited, several destinations seen - some of the world's most famous capitals. School and college behind me .. as well as several, as one may want to call them 'serious', exclusive, long-term relationships.

What am I getting at? Something simple, I have been in countless situations, countless times and thus, now I tread knowingly and carefully.

As of last year, it took just one decision - that I wanted to be the only one, in someone's life - in return for someone in particular, being the only one in mine. Maybe years ago, I would have never chosen, that what I willingly launched into, as I have had to face fears in this relationship - fears of loss and one-sided love, that I had not yet been able to fathom. Perhaps, if it were a slightly different time and/or place, I wouldn't be where I am today nor would I have, that, what I cherish so much these days. I want nothing else - this is what I had decided within the first days.

Yes, I see it through a prism of that - 'what I had decided', 'what I want(ed)' - striking forth, knowingly, that I am placing myself as an obstacle, in another person's path - their path of happiness, I had decided to become a thorn. A bitch? Yes, I've been called that, but I have always said, that it is indeed my own clothing, that's closest to my body, I will wear and care for only it.

Regardless of the number. Every person in this world is a number. Someone is the first. Someone is the second, some are third. Fourth. Fifth. Sixth ... 100th. One shouldn't care, which 'number label' received, upon entering a person's life - what should matter most, is being the only one and the very last - I must remember just that. I must not hurt at this.

Some time. Just a little more, will show a lot. I wait, a part of me dreads. I can sense something cruel coming my way, because my present and my future is being looked at, from a prism, of someone else's past, but when we love a person, we love them for who they are, which must have stemmed from who they used to be - but the line is drawn so boldly, when due to the celebrations past, you no longer celebrate your present and in return, there shan't be anything to celebrate in the future, will there? 

My biggest fear, is that.

A little more time. A little more patience. A little less hurt, a little more silence - a lot more understanding, a lot more love.

It's a little difficult, because I remember so well, all the ways I've been hurt and exactly how, as well as by whom and the reasons why. I'd wanted to burn those memories for a long time. Only instead, the wanting to burn them, turned into something that was burning me inside-out from inside, just a little bit more every day, until I stopped wanting to feel anything altogether.

Then: a new day, another time - different years.

Other choices, mistakes deemed experience, lessons well learned.

I know how to love, and I know how to very well - I know how to keep loving, even if I feel hurt.

I don't know how to lie; in lieu, I know how to remain silent.

I know how to stomp my foot loudly; I know how and when to say what I want in par, I don't know what I need.

I know how not to hurt and I know how to forgive;  I know just as well, how to be venomous and even better, I know how to hurt.

I know how to bite back in a flash yet I know it's best to forgive.

I know when to hold hands and when to push away.

I know how to make evident in the best of light, that what I have. I know not to run. I know how to turn a page and I know how to adapt my signature.

I don't know if what I know will be enough.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Shrimp and Zucchini yellow curry

So, one dinner party, my boyfriend improvised and created this fantastic recipe, that has since become somewhat a necessity in my weekly regime.. otherwise I feel groggy, lethargic and lose the willingness to live ^-^Anyone who sees photos -always- asks for the recipe.. so, here's "Talisker's Shrimp&Zucchini Yellow Curry"

  • 3 shallot onions
  • Handful of basil
  • Yellow curry paste
  • Shrimp
  • Zucchini
  • Coconut milk

Serve with Jasmin rice.

Fry the onion until transparent, throw in the curry - mix (there is no exact measurement to the curry, it's according to taste, I think my boyfriend usually uses about 75g).

(me making it for the first time)

Once a more or less even paste, throw in the coconut milk - let simmer.

The zucchini should be sliced into inch long rectangles. He uses a mandolin (which I wouldn't because that thing scares me >.>)

Throw that in, amount of zucchini is also according to taste, I think he often uses one big one.

Let simmer again, finally throw in peeled, medium sized shrimp (ideally, that had been butterflied prior to cooking) .. simmer until shrimp and zucchini are cooked (shrimp that hasn't been pre-cooked tastes better). Serve with Jasmin rice!

My interpretation of the end result (his is usually prettier!)

Other interpretations of his have included adding diced tomato, also a win.


Nika's take on the recipe:



Loves it!