Unsettled
As on the tin. Plus confused. Hate that. Also finished with Galactica finally. More confusion from there as well. Plus somewhat disappointed. It _must be Monday.
Elevation and stress management
I’ll begin by saying I am finally happy! I still don’t quite know what it is I want or if I ever get it. But. I absolutely definitely positively know what I don’t want in my life. And not doing what I don’t want to makes me happy. So simple. Really.
Of course that doesn’t mean that I don’t get stressed anymore. Juste le contraire, mes amis; juste le contraire ;). From time to time I feel totally out of my depth. Drowning. Current events in my life hit groups 1, 2, and 3 on the stress radar. You name it, I am being exposed to it. Even right now. So to handle things, clever me, I’ve been hitting some books. And socializing like mad, of course. Am only human.
So, what I’ve figured out is, apparently when we say ‘go with the flow’ we offer a solid piece of advice grounded in positive psychology. Impressive, ha? Or you don’t believe me? Fine. Fine. So a guy called Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, who just happens to be a professor ;), kind of encourages us to go out there and be ‘completely involved in the activity for its own sake.’ Why? Because then ‘every action, movement, and thought follows inevitably from the previous one, like ‘playing jazz’.’ I already like him! Can I relate to that? Yep. I think so. Not in the way he visualised it perhaps. For I can relate to it on three different accounts: dancing, playing wow, and listening to music with some nice incense burning in the background. All of the above works for me.
By the way, hope you have enjoyed this song. It’s forever linked in my head with Angelina Jolie’s acrobatics in the first Tomb Raider film. It actually made my whole body ache so much I wanted to do the same. There’s nothing better than to be in tune with your body and not just your mind…
Current mood swing
Rapidly deteriorated into Evanescence. Enjoy the ride!
Memoir in six words (oh dear)
I Don’t Know What I Want
Ok, I actually haven’t been tagged, but I think it’s pretty cool. Big thanks to 2lazydogs for a great post. Don’t think I got enough people to tag to start my own string of the game, but then I’m sure some rules can be bended a bit.
Here are the rules, and have fun!
- Write your own six word memoir
- Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like
- Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere
- Tag five more blogs with links
- And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!
That’s it from me for today…
Think happy be happy
I love Spanish people. Such a happy, sunny disposition towards life. Yes, I know I’m generalizing. I kind of promised myself not to recite things already written elsewhere, but come on, this one is just asking for it:
I choose what I think.
My feelings are reflections of what I am thinking.
I can not change others and they can also not change me.
Other people see me as they see me, not the way I see me.
What I see is the only reality, for me.
There is no point in being afraid, since I have the control of my world no one can ever hurt me.
Seeing other people’s reality makes me think better.
There, absolutely fantastic. Right. Are you wondering why did I mention the Spaniards? No more suspense. This lovely white poem comes from this week’s issue of a fab online mag, called le cool magazine (Barcelona issue, in my case).
Be careful what you wish for (or salsa revisited)
I remember moaning a few posts ago about the lack of good salsa partners. Well, this situation has drastically changed. For the better, I guess. Now our teacher laughs that we are, probably, the only salsa class with more men than women. Not only we’ve got lots of men to dance with, we actually have not one, not two, but four men who can dance. OK, that’s including the dance teacher. But still, that means that I dance more or less non-stop all evening long. Moreover, three of them actually lead. Which is very refreshing. Trust me, I don’t know a lot of men who can lead properly.
Of course, as a result, I crawl back home. And yes, I’m loving it. At this rate, I feel I’m going to go one dress size down. Who needs a gym, when dancing does the same trick?!
The art of stretching the truth
As a rule, I don’t watch reality TV programs. With an exception of the Apprentice. Although it is becoming rather samey, and I’ve got serious doubts whether I’m going to bother with another one. Anyway, this week was all about testing the candidates’ integrity. Or, using Politically Correct language, job interviewing.
Personally, I detest job interviews. Whenever I have to parade my ‘accomplishments’ in front of an audience I feel absolutely dirty afterwards. For hours, and hours, and hours. So the more confident and assertive (read ‘aggressive’) I act for the interviewers, the longer it takes for me to shake the grim sensation of being coated in thick tar. All that is missing is white feathers 🙂 As far as CVs go, well, we all have to gloss them over. That is of course, if we do want to get a job interview…
Back to the candidates. Hmm, let me think. Lee really wants the job, and is prepared to do all sorts of noncence, hence he gets 4 out of 5 on my ‘drop-the-integrity’ scale. I think, I have to give Alex about 4, escalating to 5 in the boardroom. Clair and Helen score about 3.5, I guess. And finally, poor Lucinda has surprised me with her honesty. Thus she gets 1 of 5. A girl with integrity. I like that.
So, is there anything to be learnt from our five candidates? But of course, says BBC. Dah, says sophia!
Sliding Doors
For some reason, I feel quite reminiscent today. Maybe it’s because I had too much fun yesterday (I love dancing), and, in the usual Russian manner, I’m just trying to spoil things for myself. I don’t know. Incidentally, there’s no direct translation in Russian for ‘are you having fun?’. In fact, translated ‘as is’ it sounds pretty clumsy. Something like: ‘Are you being engaged in active act of receiving pleasure’. Brr… To my ear, anyway. Another thing, which is best not to ask a Russian person, is ‘How is it going?’ At the very least, you’d get a detailed report on all recently deceased relatives. Anyway, I’m getting off the topic.
What I’ve been thinking about recently (in between having fun), is different people I could have been. And how come I’m not them.
- Chess player. This one is quite easy. None of my parents were really into playing chess. I learnt to play it one summer. I was 9 years old at the time. We usually spent summers on the beach (the datcha concept, if you like). So, I met a boy (who looked about the same age as me). His father, who was a very keen chess player, taught both of us every day. I think we got reasonably good at it. I guess, we also quite liked each other. Eventually, though, we discovered that age did matter. He was only 6 years old. Looking back, I think we were both quite heartbroken 🙂
- Librarian. I always liked books. But when I mentioned it to my teacher she was almost in tears. ‘Nooo. You can’t do this to yourself’, she wailed. ‘You’ll be stuck there, and your husband will leave you’. I was only 13 at the time, and having/not having a husband didn’t really bother me. I did reconsider my dream though, because I think I wanted to read books, and not to catalogue them.
- Microbiologist or Genetic Engineer. This one is a bit more complicated. I was absolutely crasy about genetics, and very very interested in it. Liked microbiology too. So, why didn’t I do anything about it? Because I’m not a man. That’s why. If I were, I’d go for it. Being a woman, I decided I cannot get married to this vocation. Because it would have taken over my life. For better or worse, I’d decided against it. Another door shut.
- Ballerina. Gosh, this one is also pretty easy. I spent, what, 3 years in the proper ballet school. Every day, from 9 to 13, and then regular school, from 14 to 18:30. Wasn’t too bad at it, but wasn’t burning with desire to be the best ballerina ever. We were supposed to practice every day, and to diet like crazy. I wasn’t that motivated. I do regret not graduating though. Would have been fun. It’s too late now. All I can say is, at least I’d tried.
- Surgeon or Psychiatrist. This one was the most difficult one to give up. Again, I’ve spent 4 years studying medicine, 3 of which I actively worked in hospitals. Was good at it, as well. This is why I can’t watch Scrubs. Reminds me too much of what could have been. Another case of me resisting being married to a vocation. Plus, there is no money in it, not in Russia. And I don’t like being poor. Not really. So, I slammed this door myself. Quite firmly. And went to study English.
- University Lecturer. My mum’s pipe dream. I actually am supposed to become a professor, and lecture somewhere (Cambridge will do) for 3 hours a week or something. Well, you never know…
OK, I think it’s quite enough. There may be a few more doors I can’t remember about. But, who really cares?!
Those pesky Russian stereotypes
OK, where do I start? We are rude, ruthless, bad-accented vodka drinkers in fur coats (those are meant to stop us from freezing to death). What else? We have bad teeth and no sense of style. We either live in cities and wear gold chains, hot pants and leopard prints, or farm the land in rubber boots and thick cardigans. Our men are chauvinistic pigs, who are either mobsters or would like to be mobsters. Our women are man-like creatures capable of lifting up trucks. Those women who do not look like men, are either prostitutes or spies, and surely work for KGB.
And why would this actually bother me? Honestly, I don’t know. Every time there’s a program about Russia on TV, I try to watch it. So far, I’ve never seen anything about the Russian middle class. It’s always about the bottom of the society or the nouvo riche. I guess, the middle class is too boring to waste the screen time on. Jonathan Dimbleby‘s journey shown on BBC2 is, how shall I put it, very educational. I was quite mesmerized watching all my nightmares materialize (and all those pesky Russian stereotypes raising their ugly heads yet again). The guy is good. So where are the stereotypes are coming from? Well, for example, he travels the 3rd class (or even 4th) from what I can tell. (Yes, I’m a bit of a snob. But honestly, nobody I know has EVER travelled the 4th class – it’s a suicide). His interpreter is not as good as one could have hoped, and has got no idea how to translate a lot of Russian realia. Yes, I know. Showing Russian Bohemian circles is NOT as interesting as showing dirty smelly working class migrants on their way to work. Nor showing Russian writers/research scientists etc. is as entertaining as filming new Russians spending money like water. Sometimes I miss the Bohemian soirees I used to go to with my parents. Yes, vodka did feature there, but so did literature, philosophy, art, and music. But I guess, things change, and yet another sob story about the decline of Russian countryside is the key to viewers’ hearts.
So, it’s with a great sense of foreboding, I’m awaiting the new Indiana Jones. A rude sex-crazed dark-haired Russian woman, if I’m not mistaken, is going to feature quite heavily in the plot. Of course, I’m going to see the film. If only for a good laugh!
What is it all about?
OK, I’m officially freaking out right now. I’ve always been scared by the idea of dying. Yes. I know. We are going to die one day. Unfortunately for me, the moment I realised this simple fact, I was completely and utterly mortified. Oh, yes. I was six years old at that time. Suffice it to say, the whole idea of death never stopped bothering me ever since.
A manager I used to work with 8 years ago contacted me with a job offer. He was never a friend, but we really got on. I’ve got a fantastic job right now, but it was really nice of him to think of me. He even googled for me (and got some results, isn’t it amazing?!) I have asked him how he was doing, how many children he had, the usual things. Turns out his wife has just been diagnosed with liver cancer. And you know what, it scared me deeply.
There are so many things in life I haven’t done, so many things I’d like to do. But we’ve got no way of knowing how long we’ve got here. And once we are gone, it’s like we’ve never existed. 9 months before my dad died, I asked him if he were afraid of dying. He said no. I told him I was scared. He said that was because I was still young. He also said that I should take care, and talk to him while there’s still time. I laughed at that. I said there was plenty of time. He said there’s never enough time, and he was too late to see his father before he died. I said this would never happen to me. It did happen. And I wasn’t there for him. He also wrote about being alone. Yes, he had a great family and all, but ultimately, he felt lonely. And isn’t this the scariest part of all?
About
I’ve finally come to conclusion that writing a blog is not such a bad idea. In fact, it’s a great idea for people who do not like sharing personal stuff with those nearest and dearest. After all, the need to talk and get it off the chest is still there. I guess, I see blogging in the same way as talking to a stranger on the train. You don’t know me, I don’t know you. Things can never get awkward between us. I can be as stupid or as clever, as interesting or as boring as I choose to. And you can choose to ignore my ramblings. Free will at its best…
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