i am not a anlcohlice

name change

2009-08-16T15:36:00.001+03:00

No more Eskimo Girl, she was too cute and stupid. Welcome, Limax Maximus - disgusting and stupid, yet beautiful.

on writing, reading and writing

2009-08-15T00:48:00.015+03:00

When I started this blog I was going to write as often as I could (could I, really?), then I abandoned it for some time, then I started posting weird-looking "notes to self" in it, then I made myself (or was it an urge?) write something more or less coherent, and since then I have been posting a blog approximately once a month without even noticing, until now, that there is a certain consistency in my rare urges to write something in English that would be longer than a tweet.

This means that I can stop scolding myself for being a flake when it comes to blogging in English and let Eskimo Girl be, which is good news.

Another good news is that I have read about 15 books this year, and though this is not many, the number is rather impressive considering that last year there were only 7 books on my list, and that this year is not over yet.

The thing is I have been a bookworm since I learned to read and until maybe I was 19 or 20. That was the age when I suddenly felt disappointed in contemporary authors and too bored by classical literature to feel any enthusiasm about reading books.

So I read blogs most of the time or reread books that I almost knew by heart because I did not want to be let down by soppy endings, cheap metaphors and trivial ideas, not to mention awkward translations.

There were some exceptions though - some books that fascinated me and made me feel like I was discovering something. Gould's Book of Fish by Richard Flanagan, Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides and - and this is pretty much it.

So I went on reading blogs and occasionally picking up some of the English classics I was supposed to read being an English major. Classics are so much more reliable than contemporary works - they can give you headaches, but they won't make you feel like you are being fed out of a trash bin.

So I went on chewing on classics until I decided to finally start reading Chaucer, mostly because I needed to prove to myself I was not an idiot and that the history of the English language - all those great vowel shifts and all - was not such a mystery to me as I thought it was.

It took me about 20 minutes to read the first page, where footnotes took about as much space as Chaucer's own text. I most surely felt like an idiot, but for the first time in many months I was an idiot who was eager to learn. Medieval English poetry was to me a world of its own on so many levels that I felt like I was learning to read again.

So now I am reading avidly again. I have become more critical and a bit academical, and I can read a single sentence several times to make sure I see how it is structured before I read the next one. I pick my books more carefully, and when attempting to put into words why I liked or hated a book I don't feel myself lost and restricted to associative thinking only. Instead, I start remembering literary devices I took notice of and things like structure, wording and punctuation - this may sound dull, but it's not. I trust my imagination and I know it won't suffer if I make a little dissection to find out what exactly it was that has stirred it.

stuff to do this month (minus all the boring stuff)

2009-07-05T19:49:00.006+03:00

1. Fucking get a haircut!

2. Buy 2 or 4 pretty cardboard boxes from Tiimari for storing underwear in them

3. Have sushi with Alice

4. Invite the following people to housewarm my new place (no housewarming parties for everyone at once, thank you):

Julia
Yana
Dasha
Xenia
Natasha "Asha" Dozhdyeva
Katya "Paprika" Bumbiere

5. Meet up with Yana "Doku Neko" Dudenitch and give her a bag from my collection

6. Write to Olga "Oliva" Seredyuk an email on the same issue.

7. Have cafe' glaze' (coffee with Yelena Glazova)

8. Collect books to give away, make a list, post it on Live Journal

9. Have pizza with Alice

10. Get some new underwear

11. Get some new shirts to wear with skirts

12. Checkout the English bookstore in Old Riga I've been told about.

pms post

2009-06-30T17:41:00.011+03:00

Things I find stupid: fat talk, diet sweets and trying to be proud of your body when you really feel insecure about it. Especially if it involves trashing skinny women.

I would rather be referred to as "plump" than "curvy" or "big". Salma Hayek is curvy. I'm plump. I can't say that i'm big either because I am only 5'4'' tall. My weight is within healthy limits, I can fit into M size skirts and dresses, so saying that I'm fat would be an exaggeration. Referring to my body as healthy-looking, though, would be another polite exaggeration, as I don't do sports. I don't like sports - I'm not proud of it, but I don't understand why I should make excuses why I don't jog or why I don't go to gym instead of just saying "I hate sports".

Sometimes (when the light is right or when I'm wearing tights) I find my body beautiful, sometimes not. I'm not proud of it because I can't say I put much effort in it, and I'm trying not to make a big deal out of it.

I can't say I have a strong position about the body image imposed on people by the media (I like looking at pictures of beautiful photoshopped girls, only if they aren't overphotoshopped - come on, who doesn't?), but I have a pretty strong position about the people who are angry at the media for "imposing" something on them. Admit it, people - you are angry at yourselves because you have troubles with independent thinking. Just like I am angry at myself now.

my new favorite band

2009-05-03T00:32:00.002+03:00

Looks like I've got a new favorite band. The Killers make me breath go away. Almost literally.

Their vocalist has got a painfully sexy voice. Their lyrics are painfully sexy. Hell, Rufus Wainwright wrote a song about their vocalist, and Rufus is painfully, painfully sexy.

One Thing I Oddly Miss

2009-04-25T00:27:00.003+03:00

Meeting a stranger at a party and talking my brains out with her/him.

I don't think it actually has ever happened to me. Except for a couple of birthday parties that I've been to when I was about 10 or so.

To Quote Sponge Bob Squarepants...

2009-03-19T04:33:00.001+02:00

I am ugly and damn proud of it!

don't breathe that shit in

2009-02-08T22:03:00.002+02:00

I am sitting here listening to Kimya Dawson. I so-o envy her right now.

I would be ridiculously happy if I could express my emotions just the way i want to at least in one single poem.

gee, look what i've found in my other blog

2009-01-25T02:33:00.005+02:00

Here's a draft from last year that i found in my other blog:

"I guess it was about five years ago when I thought for the first time that February was the hardest month of the year.

Last year's February wasn't that bad because it was the first snowy month of the year and my inner Eskimo finally felt relieved after a most depressing December.

This year's February is true to its nature - tiresome, depressing, r e a l h e a v y.

I can't say I'm waiting for spring to come. I'm waiting for summer. I'm waiting for my city to turn green, for the cafes to open their balconies and for my sleeveless t-shirt to snug around me."

At least I can stop wondering about being so moody these days - February is coming.

Except that this year I don't want to wear any snug t-shirts. So far the summer i'm picturing is all about being boyish: loose jeans and shirts, hoodies, no fancy necklaces. Of course when the thermometer hits +25 C, i'll have to wear skirts and dresses anyway, but until then i'm looking to shopping for hoodies and t-shirts without ribbons or flowery patterns.

By the way, I have to lose about 13 pounds to feel comfortable, especially in boyish clothes. And metric system sucks because it makes losing weight in baby steps twice as hard.

xxx

2008-12-16T01:18:00.004+02:00

One of the things my friend Lena enjoys doing on weekends is taking pictures of her girlfriends. She usually arrives at my place between noon and two p.m. with her camera and her big round foldable light-reflecting thing, drinks tea with me and eats something. Then we search for chairs and brooms to build a construction to support the big round foldable light-reflecting thing, I remove the big plant from between the sofa, the wall and the cupboard and place Lena instead of the plant. Then Lena places me between the sofa and the windowsill and orders me around.

This procedure usually results in about 5 photos, at least one of which is always great.

Our last photo shoot was very promising. I had my hair in a ponytail because I hadn’t washed for a couple of days, I was feeling ugly because I had at least three zits on my face, and we dropped one of the plants from the windowsill.

Anyway, this photo shoot turned out to be the best one so far. I look kind of thoughtful (concerned about my zits, which, of course, were magically healed by the power of Photoshop, and my dirty hair), and I love the dramatic parched lip.

Like here:

Collaboration Can Be Fun

2008-12-01T03:09:00.007+02:00

Sometimes I get so playful after midnight, and I'm not talking dirty.

I asked two of my friends to send me a couple of photos for inspiration and wrote a short poem for each photo.

Each poem took me less than 15 minutes. It's so easy to write poetry when you don't have to rhyme, and, more importantly, when you don't take yourself seriously.

I can't post the photos because I would need my friends' permission and I don't want them to find out about this blog, so I'll only post the poems.

They both aren't about me, they're about the way I picture my friends' feelings.

Here they are:

The sheet on my bed here in Moscow
Is wrinkled.
In fact, these are not wrinkles.
They look more like the veins
Of a person growing old,
But they don't throb at all.

I lay there like a sloth
And I, too, didn't want to crawl anywhere
And I, too, didn't think I was wasting time.

If you were with me
I would crawl to you
And then this sheet
Would look more like a hill landscape.

xxx

Here I stand
Holding a giant heart in my arms
Do you remember it?
I sent it to you when you wore your hair long
And I was listening to that Russian rock band
Your address was written right on the tip
I thought it was cute to place it there.

Then you sent it back to me.
You didn't even care to unwrap it.
Three years went by
But I'm still holding that traveling heart of mine
Covered in stickers with addresses on them.

It always returns back to me,
Wrapped just like it was long ago,
But somehow
It grows heavier.

To V.

2008-11-22T02:10:00.007+02:00

Bars in your country are strange;
All these domestic plants,
All these doves on the walls.
You don't want to untie your scarf,
Girl with only one ear pierced
Shy daughter of a viking.

You freeze so easily,
Gin is burning on your tongue
But you don't want to untie your scarf.

Swarthy ankles, bare feet, terracotta tiles,
The oil is sizzling just loud enough to muffle her thoughts.
Somewhere in imaginary Mexico
Frida is making sunny-side up.

5 AM

2008-11-18T05:17:00.002+02:00

I'ts 5 AM, and I'm shuffling back and forth in my slippers and bathrobe and crying.
Nothing has happened. Maybe nothing is going to happen in near future.
Yet I'm shuffling back and forth in my slippers and bathrobe and crying.
Sometimes my own brain scares me more than any horror movie.
More than Children of the Corn.
More than the Exorcist.

i hate the word "gender"

2008-11-01T03:15:00.004+02:00

Even when I speak or write or think about losing weight, or about such things as dresses, skirts, different baubles, bangles and beads, I perceive myself more as some sexless being than a woman.

When watching a drama or a romantic comedy, I usually identify myself with male characters.
Yet my favorite genre is coming of age drama about girls, where I usually identify myself with the main character.

When I'm with I., I'm definitely a woman.

xxx

2008-10-10T02:24:00.003+03:00

Maitenant il me parait que vivre dans le meme pays avec sa meilleure amie - c'est une chose impardonnablement exuberante.

xxx

2008-09-04T21:35:00.001+03:00

Babies are cute.

Anne Geddes, on the other hand, is disgusting.

xxx

2008-08-09T22:51:00.001+03:00

We are the first ever straight couple to come out of closet.

current nothings

2008-05-10T22:37:00.004+03:00

I would be happy if I could write more often in this blog, but written words get stuck to my palms just like spoken words get stuck to my palate.

My drinking buddy is sipping brandy without me in a neighboring country.

My dear friend with fair hair and a tender voice lives in another neighboring country, the most exotic republic of the four different ones that border on mine. She texted me that she had written a poem. Maybe I'll be able to read it in several days, maybe not.

My earphones often sing in Yelle's naughty voice these days. Whenever I hear this "Amour amour amour amour du corps, amour du fleur, amour de la soeur", my reality divides in two.

In one reality, the tangible one, I'm going somewhere with a giant green bag on my right shoulder listening to Yelle in my earphones. I understand about 20 percent of what she's singing.
In another reality I'm listening to Yelle in a bar overlooking the city. There's a mojito or a daiquiri in a tall glass standing on the table. I touch the icy glass first with my knuckles, then with my fingertips, then again with my knuckles, and I'm completely careless. I know all the lyrics of that French song, and I'm singing to it very quietly. There's a friend sitting across the table, thinking their own pleasant thoughts, and they don't mind that we're not talking.

To finish this insane monologue, I'll sing a Sparks song with the lyrics adapted for a blog post:

There's no concluding paragraph, no concluding paragraph, no concluding paragraph, no concluding paragraph.

There's no concluding paragraph, no concluding paragraph, no concluding paragraph, no concluding paragraph.

(repeat)

Dialogues with I.

2008-04-16T13:44:00.001+03:00

(I yawn)

Him: Someone here hasn't had enough sleep. (points finger at me).

Me: No, I've had enough sleep. It's REM. They're so boring.

Him: REM? They are MARVELOUS... ly boring.

Sad

2008-04-03T02:18:00.004+03:00

I have just finished watching a romantic comedy called Imagine Me and You and immediately deleted it.

A romantic comedy should leave one smiling and crying at the same time. This one left me sad and infuriated. It was, so to say, the last drop.

What still amazes and frustrates me about this world is that not only most people don't trust their loved ones, but it's somehow imposed on one that you should not trust the person you love. A "normal human being" should have a sex partner and a best friend, but to have them in one person - what, are you kidding?

The main character in Imagine Me and You keeps telling her husband that he is her best friend.
Yet, she doesn't want him to know she rented a porn movie. She's shy to tell him she's bi-curious - well, not until she cheats on him with a woman. She even didn't want anyone (apparently, including her husband) to know that she has occasionally dropped her wedding ring in the punch.
And I have an impression from all the movies and, hell, from my friends and acquaintances, that such things are normal.

It's normal to tell your friend you might be pregnant and ask her if you should tell it to your boyfriend now or later.

It's normal not to tell your boyfriend that you don't like something in him - you can tell it to your friends instead.

And as to cheating - your boyfriend is definitely not the first one to know about it. If he is to know.

I'm so happy I'm that strange girl who really does trust her loved one more than anyone. If I can't share something with him, it means I can't share it with anyone else.

I just wish other people believed that it is possible.

x

2008-03-24T03:38:00.005+02:00

I'm growing my hair long again.

Sometimes, like now, I can feel how naked, how unprotected my neck is. I suddenly think that having my face exposed all the time is frightening, too. I pull at the ends of my hair. At least it covers my cheeks now, but it can hardly reach my chin.

Suddenly I want my long hair back. Not only I miss the tickling feeling on my back, I miss my hair getting in my way when I sleep, I even miss it tangling.

Every time I run my fingers through my hair, my hand grasps the air too abruptly, and I feel less secure.

I want to be able to hide my hands and my face in my own hair. I want to see my hair and smell it. I want my hair to cover me like a shawl.

So I'm growing it long. Growing myself a curtain to hide behind. Growing myself a shelter.

What a Pleasure

2008-03-16T21:27:00.005+02:00

It's been such a long time since I last dyed my hair with henna and coffee.

Now I'm sitting in front of my PC with my head wrapped in two plastic bags and a towel.

The subtle scent of henna and coffee makes me happy, even though my head feels heavy and sweaty, and the whole construction makes noise with every small movement I make.

To Put It Shortly

2008-03-16T02:06:00.001+02:00

What I miss about my teenage years is the intensity of emotion.

02

2008-02-29T00:06:00.003+02:00

I guess it was about five years ago when I thought for the first time that February was the hardest month of the year.

Last year's February wasn't that bad because it was the first snowy month of the year and my inner Eskimo finally felt relieved after a most depressing December.

This year's February is true to its nature - tiresome, depressing, r e a l h e a v y.

I can't say I'm waiting for the spring to come. I'm waiting for summer. I'm waiting for my city to turn green, for the cafes to open their balconies and for my sleeveless t-shirt to snug around me.

I have uploaded some songs by Fleur, a Russian gothic duo, onto my mp3 player. Go away, February, take away the winds - that's how one of their songs goes.

See, February? You are so depressing even goths don't like you.

Уходи, февраль, уводи ветра.

I Deserve Will More Than Grace Did

2008-02-15T00:48:00.005+02:00

Most gay guys I've known (there are not many, but surely more than two) have one feature in common. For a long time I thought it was their sense of humor, but now I think it is more precisely defined as readiness to laugh.

What is more peculiar, it's that the gay friend I had in high school and then during my first year at the university was really fun to be with until he became more into girls than boys. Then he became extremely boring.

We met in summer. He lives with a girlfriend, he's got the same smile, but he is still extremely boring.

Maybe I should have asked him to call me when he's gay again?

Summers of My Life: Nostalgic Post Number One

2008-02-12T01:54:00.000+02:00

I remember waiting for a friend in a restaurant named Spinster with a Cat with a red shawl over my red t-shirt with black kitties and reading Virgin Suicides. I ordered a delicious salad with chicken and pineapple and tried to eat it as slowly as possible. Then I ordered something else, because my friend called and said he would be late.

Then he called again and said we could meet in another place, because he was even more late then he had expected.

So I paid my bill, got up and went out. I thought it was kind of funny: it all must have looked as if I had planned everything - the shawl, the book, ordering the salad and adding "no melon, please" - to compose a theatrical moment.

In reality, I bought the book before going to the restaurant because I knew I would have to wait for a long time and because I had wanted to buy that book in the original for a long time, I wore a shawl because it was easier to stuff into my bag than a jacket, and I had to specify my order because I love chicken, pineapple and cashew nuts, but melon makes me really sick.

A Cross-Post Just in Case

2008-02-03T02:32:00.000+02:00

It's been 9 days since I started my little experiment. It began to get boring soon after the second post, but I'm not going to quit.

I'm not that narcissistic to think that each single photo of myself is worth something just because it depicts me in person or any part of my body.

The reason why I take these pictures every day is that I find that a year of snapshots really is worth something, but only if I don't cheat.

If I miss a single day (at least without a particular reason), it will be just a bunch of pictures shot on a cameraphone. Some of them may be interesting, yet most will be plain trash.

This blog is not an "art project", it's a rather useless hobby. Like cross-stitching. If you cross-stitch, say, a house or a bunny on a pillowcase, and your house or bunny looks neat and clean, you can take some pride in your work.

If you mess up a couple of stitches, you better turn that pillowcase cross-stitched side down.

(Footnote: the closest I ever got to cross-stitching was sewing buttons.)

A Boring Post

2008-01-30T20:02:00.000+02:00

I'm still sick. No temperature, just a head cold, but I'm feeling very drowsy, and, well, lousy.

Today I finished a translation way past my deadline. It was the first time when I had to make breaks just to lie down.

Amazing though, after translating about ten pages I felt better and working between 3 and 9 am felt much more harmless than it did between 3 and 9 pm.

New List

2008-01-23T23:12:00.000+02:00

In order to make my sidebar longer, I added one more list to it. It's a list of drinks that I have tried for the first time, with a very brief feedback, or drinkback, in brackets.

I'm not a heavy drinker. I've never had a hangover, neither have I ever done anything drunk that I wouldn't do sober.

I drink mostly for the taste. To me alcohol is the liquid version of spicy food, except that it also makes me a bit more relaxed and communicative.

Some people like reading about exotic foods, I like reading about exotic drinks. Foreign cuisine is too bulky for me. It's hard to grasp (or to feel that you have grasped) the essence of the country expressed in food without at least reading several books on its meat dishes or desserts and all the main ingredients.

With alcohol, it's all nice and compact. You don't feel obliged to learn how to make it, you just need to find out how and when to drink it.

So. Erm.

Cheers!

(Actually, my two favorite traditional toasts are the Hebrew "Lechaim", because it means "To life!", and the German "Prozit", simply because I like the sound of it.)

A Colorbar of My Favourite Things

2008-01-19T23:34:00.001+02:00

White things I love:
Snow, whipped cream, austere white shirts, winter and autumn skies.

Yellow things I love:
Lemons, honey, streetlights.

Orange things I love:
Carrots, marmalade cats; again, streetlights.

Red things I love:
My red shirt, red underwear, red tights, mulled wine.

Brown things I love:
Oat cookies, coffee, brown eyes.

Purple things I love:
I love anything purple. Even eggplants. I don't eat them, but I like looking at them.

Blue things I love:
Navy jeans, sea, twilight (especially in summer).

--------------
It's not a meme I found somewhere. I just made this list up and then spent 3 minutes making a color bar in Paintbrush.

Boxes

2008-01-14T22:49:00.000+02:00

I have so many boxes and still there's not enough. If you click on the picture, you can read about the content of the boxes from the notes on Flickr.

(Photo taken by my friend Kate)

Inner Scandinavian

2008-01-12T02:41:00.000+02:00

My inner guy meets my inner Scandinavian:

I'm pretty sure that if I were a guy, I'd grow myself a skipper's beard.

My inner geek meets my inner woman:

Today, when I was making a list of things I'd like to get (or buy) in near future, like a new mobile phone, an external HDD or a new PMP, I suddenly felt an urge to write in something like a fur coat. Or an evening dress. Or a diamond.

Notes from the Peak of Laziness

2008-01-07T18:55:00.000+02:00

No wish to work
No wish to study
No wish to sort my closet
No wish to think
No wish to make lists

I really need to find out how to recharge these things.

Holiday Chronicles

2007-12-28T23:37:00.000+02:00

Annie scribbles all the time. Yeah, right.

Annie is a little tired New Year's elf. That's how I felt while walking to the bus stop with a bag full of useless, yet pretty presents on my right elbow and a plastic bag with some more pretty useless pretty presents (and a roll of wrapping paper sticking out) in my right hand.

My breakfast today consisted of four chocolate truffles that I've eaten somewhere between the shopping mall and tram rails.

I wonder what my tomorrow's breakfast will be. I have all the excuses not to eat at home, even mom agreed that we could skip cooking for tomorrow.

End-of-Year List Number Three. Small Achievements.

2007-12-25T00:33:00.000+02:00

This year was all about small achievements and coming to terms with myself. I don't enjoy making lists of what concerns feelings and only feelings, so I won't write anything about the things I've decided not to bother about.

As to the small achievements, when I started putting them down, I saw that they are mostly connected with clothing and style.

Like:

I got myself my first Little Black Dress (the label said it was a top. actually three of my four dresses were marked as tops. It's one of the advantages of being short)

I started wearing heels again. I have no intention of wearing them on regular basis, but it feels nice to feel taller and more feminine from time to time.

I stopped being shy about tucking my pants into boots. And I think I look good like that.

I started wearing jewelry again. I also discovered that glass beads look great on silver chains.

I found my perfect hairstyle and stopped using bobby pins that made me look like a schoolgirl.

I got myself my first feminine trench coat.

Once upon a time I was the ugly friend and the frumpy daughter.
Then I gradually stopped caring about being the ugly friend.
Then I became the miracles-do-happen friend and and the daughter who has her faults, but can at least (and at last) give style advice.
Yeeey.

Useful Information

2007-12-19T04:31:00.000+02:00

If you're still afraid of the dark (like I am sometimes), try this:

Turn to the darkest corner of the room and give the finger to whatever hides there.

Your inner child may be scared of darkness, but, like most kids, it finds making obscene gestures funny and can't help giggling.

In case you're still scared, turn the light on, repeat the procedure, if necessary, and go back to sleep.

Is Sharing Fun?

2007-12-14T03:34:00.000+02:00

Mongolians say that it's better to have a cat of your own than to share a camel.

This is so me.

When I was a kid and adults asked me for a piece of apple (half a bisсuit, etc) I gave them all the apple (or bisсuit) and went to the kitchen to get a new one for myself.

Now I've grown older and learned to enjoy sharing food, but now there are many more other things that I refuse to share.

Like...

My personal space. No comment.

A certain part of my favorite music, books and movies. There should always be several artists, authors and movies that only several people know about, and I shouldn't know any of these several people. Or at least I should be the only one to like this artist/ author/ movie.

My relationship. I don't like talking about my boyfriend or our relationship with anyone. And by "talking" I mean "telling good things", not "criticizing him behind his back". The latter is something I don't quite understand about some other couples.

My feelings. Of course, I cannot say I'm a complete introvert, but I usually think ten times before saying how I feel about anything.

My dreams. This is something I keep to myself as much as possible.

My handwriting. This is one of the reasons why I don't like sending handwritten letters.

My bookmarks. I'm not sure if they say too much or too little about me. I can't explain why I don't share them (even on del.ici.ous).

My worries and doubts.

- - - - - -
Somehow I manage to have friends. Maybe it's exactly because I am not much of an extrovert. When there is someone who likes to talk, there should also be someone who can listen.

Besides, my emotional stinginess doesn't let me bore people with stories like "And I said to him..." Or "I have this really big problem, well, not really big, it's just that I can't stop thinking about how big it is, do you think it's a big problem?"

Although I still find topics to bore people with. I guess everybody can do it, even the most inward introvert.

- - - - - -

And there are also things I like sharing. Like...

Most part of the music, books and movies I like. The "secret part" is just a little fraction of it all.

Some of my feelings.

Pictures I find beautiful (if I think another person might like them)

Facts (if I think another person might find them interesting, even though they may not be of interest to me)

Ideas

Anything I find funny

Stories I heard from other people or stories I find on other people's blogs (I hold myself from blabbering about something that another person would prefer to keep personal. In most cases I don't reveal the person's identity.)

Observations.

Anything I find weird and/or absurd

And there are many things that I would never speak about in private conversation, but I have no problem with posting them on my blog.

Movies That I've seen This Year

2007-12-10T20:34:00.001+02:00

Although many people, including literature experts, claim that cinema is closer to literature than it is to theater, I still don't understand how anything can be compared with literature.

No movie can touch me as deep as a book does, yet I can hardly recall reading any books this year that I have really liked.

Unfortunately, this year I was one of those people who prefer watching movies to reading books. I can't say that it was so because I have decided to follow keep pace with the times or because I was especially interested in watching something.

It's just that this year the number of cinema loves around me has grown, and I just couldn't refuse every time they invited me to the movies or recommended me to watch something.

Besides, most of those movies were really worth seeing, at least pour moi.

So, here is a list of movies that I have seen for the first time this year and that I liked.

The Last King of Scotland

The Shining (Jack Nicholson is NOT scary)

Somersault

L'Argent de Poche (Francois Truffaut)
Bad Blood (Leos Karax)
The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

Boys Don't Cry
Talk to Her (Pedro Almodovar)

Spaced (Cooky British series)
The Producers (Mel Brooks)
Otesanek (Jan Svankmajer)

Still can't decide if I liked Shock Treatment (a sequel to The Rocky Horror Picture Show), but it definitely deserves being written into this list.

xxx

2007-12-09T00:07:00.000+02:00

My friend Ollka has written one of those posts that I enjoy reading most, and in that post she asked the following questions:

"What soothes you? What do you do when you’re one on one with yourself? Is there something you particularly enjoy? How do you ease yourself out of seclusion?"

I don't know whether these questions were rhetorical or not, yet I decided to write a reply post.

(pause, insert many dots here)

I enjoy the feeling of seclusion. I like being by myself and dealing with my thoughts on my own, even if they are painful. Actually, when I feel bad I crave for solitude even more.

The only person I need to have by my side no matter if I'm sad or cheerful is my boyfriend, and it's the only exception.

I'm not implying that I don't need my friends. It's just that there are moments when I want to be with friends, there are moments when I want to be alone, and when I'm alone I usually miss my boyfriend. I also miss him when I'm with friends. And when there are more than two friends around, I often start feeling like I'm alone.

I could write hundreds of words about seclusion or solitude with their nuances, hues and aftertastes, but for now I'll save all these words for some later post and answer the questions from Ollka's blog.

Here is a list of things I enjoy most when I'm alone:

1) Sitting at home alone with no background music on and writing.

2) Sitting at home alone, listening to artists like Goldfrapp, Tori Amos or good old Depeche Mode and writing.

3) Tenderizing meat.

4) Sorting my mp3s.

5) Looking at pictures of people looking through windows, or just pictures of windows.

6) Looking at pictures of people relaxing (not in tropical surroundings).

7) Rooting through my piles of necklaces.

8) Sitting in a coffee bar with my notebook and writing or sketching. My perfect order for such occasions is as follows: one big cafe mocha with whipped cream, a chocolate muffin and a glass of apple juice.

9) Walking and listening to music.

10) Making Lists.

50 Songs That Marked This Year For Me.

2007-12-08T03:54:00.000+02:00

I chose from either the songs that I hadn't heard before this year, or the songs I heard occasionally, but never listened to before this year.

Regina Spektor - Apres Moi
Lady Sovereign - Hoodie
Lily Allen - Littlest Things
Mika - Grace Kelly
Ayo - Down on My Knees

Gogol Bordello - Santa Marinella
Tipexx - Push The Button
Squirrel Nut Zippers - Ghost of Stephen Foster

Jill Sobule - Good Person Inside
Jackson C. Frank - My Name is Carnival
Ryan Adams - Sweet Carolina

Blonde Redhead - Elephant Woman
Frou Frou - Must Be Dreaming

The Streets - Your Song
Пелагея - Нюркина песня
Lauryn Hill - Can't Take My Eyes off of You
Teddy Thompson - The Future

Peaches - Hot Pink Hot Sex
Pet Shop Boys - Paninaro Remix

Patrick Wolf - Tristan
Rufus Wainwright – Tulsa

Jarvis Cocker - Don't Let Him Waste Your Time
Cake - Commissioning a Symphony in C

Dalida - Histoire d'un amour

Iggy Pop - I Wanna Be Your Dog
Electric Six - Gay Bar

Alanis Morrissette - Let's Do It
Eartha Kitt - My Heart Belongs to Daddy

A Camp - The Bluest Eyes in Texas
Rilo Kiley - I Never
Аквариум – Я не могу оторвать глаз от тебя

Tori Amos - Velvet Revolution

Puppini Sisters - Tu vuole fa' l'americano
Tony Holiday - Tanze Samba Mit Mir

The Beautiful South - Mirror
David Gray - Please Forgive Me
Eurhythmics – A Whiter Shade of Pale

Los Lobos with Antonio Banderas - Concio Del Mariachi
Van Morrisson and The Chieftains - Star of the County Down

Rocky Horror Picture Show - Rose Tint My World
Bow Wow Wow - "I Want Candy" (Kevin Shields Remix)
Spottiswoode and His Enemies - Chelsea Boys

Christopher Cross - Best That You Can Do
Lisa Minnelli - Maybe This Time
Fiddler On The Roof - If I Were A Rich Man

Peter Nalich - Guitar Guitar
Ляпис Трубецкой - Капитал
Chemical Brothers - The Salmon Dance
Prince - Starfish and Coffee
Smash Mouth - Pet Names

End-of-Year List Number One. Music.

2007-12-07T00:00:00.000+02:00

Of course, I have heard gigabytes of new music this year, but It wouldn't make any sense for me to put down all the names. The artists in the list are the ones who somehow marked this year of my life, and who, I guess, I will be listening to over and over.

Artists I didn't know about until this year:

Regina Spektor
Jill Sobule
Rilo Kiley, Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins
Squirrel Nut Zippers (thanks to I.)
Peaches (thanks to I.)
Gogol Bordello
Ayo

Artists I knew about, but didn't listen to until this year:

Electric Six
David Gray
Patrick Wolf
Jackson C. Frank (thanks to I.)

Albums:

Release the Stars by Rufus Wainwright
I'm Your Man, a tribute to Leonard Cohen
Radio One, a cover album (thanks to my friend Tonya)

I guess I should also mention Fort Minor that I listened to during my 12-hour bus trip to Belarus. By the time I got there I knew half the lyrics by heart, and I understood I would never upload a hip hop album to my mp3 player when going on a trip. Folk works so much better for me.

Bye, 2007. Introduction.

2007-12-05T00:42:00.000+02:00

As 2007 is coming to an end, I promised myself to write a blog entry at least every second day, I guess I could start posting some end-of-year lists.

I can't say that I have studied myself very well during the 22 years of my life, but I already know that future plans and promises are better be written somewhere in the end of my notebook so that I don't get frustrated every time I open it and see how many things should have done, but...(good for me if there are any reasons).

So I will leave all my to-do-lists for the special folder on my D drive so that I don't see them every time I open my blog.

My end-of-year lists will mostly deal with the discoveries I have made this year, small and not so small.

But first I will make a list of list-related facts about myself. Maybe some of them will also come as discoveries for me.

New Title, New Blogging Habits

2007-12-02T12:47:00.001+02:00

What I both like and dislike about Blogspot is that you can change your blog's address as often as you like.

Being offered to try all the word combinations that I want is just too tempting for a choosy text-obsessed person like me.

Here is the list of my former blog addresses:

onelittlecow.blogspot.com (I like cows, because they usually look very kind and serene, especially for urban dwellers who have never tried milking or herding them) .

frozen-notes.blogspot.com (I like everything frozen - why not try freezing notes? Yet this was not a very good name for a blog, until it's abandoned)

and-anniething-else.blogspot.com (I wanted to think of a combination with based on the word play with "annie" and "any" , and one-word names like annieway or annietime were already taken)

Now it seems that I have found a blog name that I feel comfortable with.

My genealogical tree is not very ethnically diverse, there are Jews on every branch that I know about, and it would be quite logical if I were more of a sun-loving, summer-embracing person, especially when I live in a country where you have to wear long sleeves for 9 months each year.

But my favorite temperature is somewhere between -15 and + 20 centigrade, I love winter and I hate it when the sun shines too bright.

I have been fascinated by Eskimo culture for many years (although my fascination never turned into research) and I feel pleased when my friends admit that I look like an Eskimo in my winter parka.

So, now when I have a title I feel comfortable with, I promise myself to write at least one post every second day, because there are only few things in web 2.0 that are sadder than a half-abandoned blog.

Please Don't Say the U-word

2007-11-29T22:26:00.000+02:00

What I dislike about the world I live in is that so many girls seem to think that only perfect is beautiful.

I don't even want to blame mass-media for that. First, because I think it's much more complicated. Second, because I've noticed that girls who complain about themselves not being pretty/skinny enough often admire in others the features they don't like in themselves, which means that imperfections are accepted and even praised, but not for the person one sees in their mirror.

Imperfections make you unique. And even if it's not an argument, are they really something to complain about?

If there is something you don't like about yourself, you can either change it or learn to live with it. By "learning to live with it" I mean learning to like yourself with all things that you look upon as flaws.

Beauty is not about craving for a perfect face and body. Beauty is about learning how to make your imperfections shine, and this cannot be done unless you accept them.

P. S. I perfectly understand that you can't talk one into liking themselves, it's something that comes from inside.

P. P. S. And I don't understand what is so bad about cellulite. To me it doesn't look revolting at all, I even find it cute. Of course, excess is never cute, but why having some cellulite should make one look unattractive?

Envy

2007-10-30T23:51:00.000+02:00

Every time I gain a new skill, it takes time for me to realize that I have gained something.

The very process happens unnoticed, practically painless. If I were a chirpy optimist, I'd start thinking that right now I cold be secretly learning to do something useful, but, alas, I'm not so sure about it.

Anyway, my most recent new skill, which in its turn lead me to this most recent observation, is that I have learned not to be envious of those things which I can never have.

For example, I no longer envy those whose families are harmonious and happy.

I don't envy those girls who can eat in enormous quantities without getting any fatter.

Yet my new achievement refers only to people. I still envy those kitty-cats and doggy-dogs who can curl up on their mats and sleep all day. Not only they have a right to do nothing but eat, sleep and cuddle 24\7 , their owners love watching them do it.

I guess this kind of envy is one of the reasons why people want to have pets. When you watch a critter enjoying life and lazing around, you can fool yourself into believing it is also possible for you.

Even though you know life is much more difficult than that.

Me by MilkMilk

2007-10-24T23:26:00.001+03:00

Me by MilkMilk

2007-10-24T23:23:00.001+03:00

Still Addicted To Puppy Pictures

2007-10-07T01:09:00.000+03:00

http://dailypuppy.com/grownup/index.php?itemid=1442 - one of the most beautiful dogs I have ever seen.

Very Important Stuff

2007-09-17T01:58:00.000+03:00

It's so wonderful to have a person who lets you think of them as a part of your life.

Strange Things

2007-09-16T01:23:00.000+03:00

It's strange but sometimes when I think of a small thing I can carry around, like an animal-shaped pendant, I feel that I need it more acutely than I have ever needed a person.

A Question That I Find Totally Useless

2007-08-28T01:16:00.000+03:00

"Why do you look so sad?"

If anyone else asks me this, I'm afraid, I'll make them sad with a rude phrase or an angry growl.

Even if I am sad, do they think I'll start telling them the story of my troubles?

In fact, I find this question rather a rude intrusion into my personal space than a sign of a person's benevolence towards me.

Although I know they ask it because they like me, and this means I shouldn't be offended, I still get nervous when I hear it. Even despite the fact that I understand this question is formal. Actually, the why word is meaningless. In 99 percent of cases it's more like "Are you okay?" where the expected (positive) reply consists of a word or a couple of words.

Maybe I should ask someone this question, just to know how to deal with the why-part and what to do with my face. My first impulse usually is not putting on a bright optimistic smile, but turning my face away or hiding it.

I really get confuse when I hear this phrase. The only thing I know for sure is that I'm not going to answer like this:

I'm sad because I miss my friend V., because I'm still full of childhood grudge, because I don't have a dog and I can't have one in near future, because my family is quite a mess, because I wish I was invisible, because because because.

Update: I've got an idea. Next time they ask me, I'll say, "I'm not sad, my face is just flabby".

Just a Collage

2007-08-12T00:37:00.001+03:00

I never understood the poetic, so to say, charm of August. It numbs all my senses.

This is why I am sitting here, eating nuts and making collages. Like this one.

The last 7 years of my life have been a history of occasional shots and long drinks.

A Totally New Feeling

2007-08-05T22:37:00.000+03:00

Missing a person whom I've never seen.

My Whimsical Squirrel, My Little Devil

2007-07-20T00:58:00.000+03:00

At an indie concert, she screams into my ear, "Look at that girl! She's got breasts bigger than yours!"

As we move from one shop to another in a department store, she suddenly remarks, "I like the way you walk. Like a little duck."

She takes a toy monkey from my closet and looks at it with admiration, "Awww...She's so Russian!"

In a bar, out of the blue she breaks the silence: "Why don't we ever take a boy to hang out with us?"

She comments on Kevin Richardson's work, "These lions have found themselves one little idiot to rub their tummies!"

Her: I have to call up a guy named Victor.
Me: The one that you said looked like a hamster?
Her: Yes, him. You know, he's really very handsome.

I love my friend Inese*.

*Inez

Constantly Surprised

2007-07-15T01:30:00.000+03:00

I can't stop wondering at how smart our body is.

How one's fingers quickly draw away from a hot iron. How their hands grasp at the banister before the person realizes they're about to stumble and fall. How eye muscles go on working while one is relaxing and looking out of a bus window. How one's legs carry them in the right direction while the person immerses into their thoughts.

And how stupid a human being can still be.

Sunday Scribblings: Hair

2007-07-14T23:55:00.000+03:00

My hair has never been as short as it now. When it was long, I could smell and taste it. The funny thing is that I still remember its taste although it's been several years since I dropped this habit.

On some mornings I would smell my hair on the way from home to the bus stop and it smelled kind of sad - I don't know why, but it seemed to me that it was the smell of death. I didn't want my hair get sick and die, so would I dye it with henna (pun intended) on the evening after I noticed that smell.

First, I added some kefir (yogurt) to the henna mixture, then there was a short lemon juice period, and my last choice was coffee. I've learned about all these additives from my grandma.

Being the tactile person that I am, I didn't quite like the procedure of dyeing and preferred to stain my palms and nails with yellowish orange rather than use rubber gloves. Wrapping my head in two plastic bags and a towel didn't bring me much joy either, but the indescribable damp aroma of henna and coffee was worth it.

The scent was even stronger when I washed my hair and watched the orange water and coffee grinds running down the bath strainer. Later at night, henna mixed with coffee didn't make my falling asleep easier, but it sure made my lying in bed more pleasant. And I had a couple of days more to feel that scent, which became vaguer and vaguer, and then my hair didn't have any smell, neither pleasant nor disturbing, until in several weeks it started reeking of death again.

Actually, I started dying my hair with henna not because of the smell, and it wasn't its health which bothered me most of all - I disliked the natural color of my hair, which is something between ashy and auburn. I wanted it to be red. The thought that I had reddish hair as a child and that I could actually have red curly hair, like the hair my dad had when he was younger, upset me since I was about sixteen. I started dyeing my hair at seventeen, and have almost forgotten its real color.

Now I've grown more fond of my body and I haven't dyed my hair in several months because I want to see how I will look with my natural hair hue. I apply hair masks made of colorless henna to keep my hair healthy. Neutral henna doesn't smell half as good as red henna, and it's not even worth trying to mix it with coffee. This is why I guess that even though I'm sure I'll like having my natural color back (it will look better with my black eyebrows than reddish did), I'll occasionally dye my hair with henna and coffee again. Just for the scent of it.

This is my hair , short and close to natural (photo taken three days ago)

The next two photos were taken within about a month, by two different photographers. Actually, both hues are more vivid than in reality, but close to it - it's the light that affects the tint. Maybe I also re-dyed my hair using more coffee before the second photo was taken. I have never used any hair dyes other than henna.

So, this is my hair, long and dyed with henna.

And yes, I do sometimes miss it.

Sociophobic

2007-07-01T14:32:00.000+03:00

The thought of being buried scares me not because my corpse will rot underground, but because I will lie close to unfamiliar people.

2007-06-29T02:44:00.000+03:00

It's almost three, and I have to get up at eight. I'll try to do at least half of the things I keep postponing.

Too bad willpower isn't a plant you can fertilize. I'd get several pounds of that fertilizer even if it stank and cost a fortune.

2007-06-17T23:26:00.000+03:00

The thought that a member of the society I live in has to be in reach constantly, otherwise others start worrying if the person does not answer by phone or e-mail in several hours, somehow depresses me.

2007-06-13T01:55:00.000+03:00

I have found two very similar photos of me from years 2004 and 2007.
Not only the pose is unintentionally alike - the morning before each of these photos was taken I hadn't had the time to wash my hair.

Song of the Day (Warren Zevon)

2007-06-12T22:57:00.000+03:00

Don't let us get sick
Don't let us get old
Don't let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave
And make us play nice
And let us be together tonight

The sky was on fire
When I walked to the mill
To take up the slack in the line
I thought of my friends
And the troubles they've had
To keep me from thinking of mine

The moon has a face
And it smiles on the lake
And causes the ripples in Time
I'm lucky to be here
With someone I like
Who maketh my spirit to shine

Don't let us get sick
Don't let us get old
Don't let us get stupid, all right?
Just make us be brave
And make us play nice
And let us be together tonight

cover version by Jill Sobule

Looks like I'm into folk again

Split Apart

2007-06-06T23:34:00.000+03:00

"Нас так долга-а-а учи-или
Любить твои запретные плоды"*

I had a pen pal from the USA who, when I asked her who her favorite musician was, wrote to me: "My favorite musician is Bob Dylan - I'm not sure if you know him, in fact, my classmates don't know him either".
I DID know who Dylan was. I also knew who Terence Trent D'Arby was - this girl didn't. I won't be surprised if I find out that Terence Trent D'Arby's name is familiar only to, say, 4 thousand people, and only a thousand of them has heard his last album (I'm not among them).

Besides Bob Dylan, I also know Woody and Arlo Guthrie, Tom Paxton and Pete Seeger.

I have read the autobiography of Malcolm X.

I have read Toni Morrisson and Jamaica Kinkade (I guess, people who have read her in Russian translation can be counted in hundreds, if not in tens).

I have seen all the episodes of MTV's Downtown. There are only 13 episodes, and the cartoon hasn't been released on DVD.

When I realize that I am interested in things about a certain country's culture that many of the people born in this country have little notion of, I feel like I am doing something not quite decent. Something improper, like peeping through a key-hole. Or picking up an old broken thing that someone has thrown away.

*"For so long we've been taught to
love your forbidden fruit" (from a song called "Goodbye, America" by Nautilus Pompilius, a band once very popular in the former Soviet Union)

My First Meme on Blogspot

2007-05-26T00:18:00.000+03:00

Five questions from Karen

1. Indoors or outdoors?

Indoors. Even now, in summer, I prefer to sit inside a cafe instead of choosing one of the outdoor tables.

2. If you could visit ANY body of water in the world today (cost doesn't matter) which would you choose?

The Irish sea or lake Baikal. I don't feel like going to any warm sea.

3. Why did you choose your current job(s)?

My current job is translating TV shows from English to Russian. I have chosen this job firstly because it is directly connected with my studies (English philology) and, secondly, because it does not involve communication with strangers, which I can voluntarily do only online.

4. Let's say I want to buy you a magazine subscription. Which would be your top 3 choices? Which ones do you already subsribe to?

I don't subscribe to any magazines - in fact, I have some kind of dislike for them which is rather difficult to explain. I read them very rarely.

Still, if I could overcome this phobia, I'd subscribe to three kinds of magazines

1) One dedicated to books - interviews with authors, book excerpts, reviews
2) One about fashion and the history of fashion - I don't think my 18-years-old self would have approved it, but I have become a real shopaholic lately - maybe because I avoided this aspect of life until less than two years from now.
3) One about art history and contemporary art.

(this questions is of great interest to me, being a kindergarten teacher):

5. Who taught you to read and write? How?

I don't remember who taught me to write - I guess it was my mom's mom, but I clearly remember how my dad showed me letters in newspaper headlines and named them. I didn't understand how they all worked together until I suddenly had a sort of "enlightenment" and read aloud the title of the newspaper which was lying next to me. I remember it happened when I was just having rest on the sofa and NOT being taught to read. I always get interested in things only after (or before) they are part of my studies.

Here are the rules of the meme:

1. Leave me a comment saying "Interview me."

2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.

3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Ryan Adams is Among My New Favourites

2007-04-19T13:53:00.000+03:00

Black birds slow and softly breaks a glass of wine
Broken bluesy whisper sing to me tonight
Well, everybody wants to go forever
I just wanna burn up hard and bright
I just wanna be your firecracker
And maybe be your baby tonight
Maybe be your baby tonight

Lady, your kicks of silence soft into your room
Kiss me slow and softly make me dream of you
Well, everybody wants to go on forever
I just wanna burn up hard and bright
I just wanna be your firecracker
And maybe be your baby tonight
Maybe be your baby tonight

So when does the plane go down
'Cause I'm gonna ride it 'til it hits the ground
Then go out with a fight
'Cause I just wanna be your baby tonight

A Random Thought That Came to Me in a Clothes Shop

2007-04-14T01:36:00.000+03:00

If I were a breast fetishist, I'd collect padded bras of sizes A and B.

They look so touching.

More touching than what they should be worn on, actually.

Kurt Vonnegut

2007-04-12T11:27:00.000+03:00

I came across his name by chance when I was a teenager. Saw an excerpt (a single sentence, not more) in a dictionary of personal names and in a moment found a collection of his novels and short stories on my parents' bookshelves.

I was deeply in love with the miserable universe he pictured.

Farewell, Mister Vonnegut.

So long, Kilgore Trout.

2007-04-11T15:51:00.000+03:00

Me sucking on a straw dipped in Pina Colada cocktail.

By Olga, my friend since 1992.

A Photo of Me (by My Friend Inese)

2007-03-28T14:15:00.001+03:00

I like this photo a lot because I have never thought I could look like that.
Inese has captured a facial expression which to me looks both familiar and unusual.

2007-03-11T01:37:00.000+02:00

It's a real curse to be an introvert and a blog addict at the same time.

Not even funny.

2007-03-11T01:23:00.000+02:00

I even danced today. My only problem was that I didn't know what to do with the upper part of my body, so I can't say if what I was doing could be technically called dancing.

Now I understand where my usual post-club euphoria comes from. It's the feeling of liberation from the surrounding crowd.

Emotional Linguistics

2007-03-10T03:30:00.000+02:00

I wonder why I have never noticed before how beautiful the sound of the Hebrew [h] (kh) is. To me it is as precious as the French [r].

These two sounds are like graceful creatures that I can only admire, but cannot take into my hands or even touch, and this adds a tinge of aggravation to the delight of listening to French of Hebrew speech.

2007-03-04T00:55:00.000+02:00

Him: Any mistake you make must make you wiser

Me: But some mistakes tend to be repeated over and over

Him: Then they must be your favourite mistakes

Memories from My Teenage Life

2007-02-13T19:38:00.000+02:00

It's winter, and I'm in my dad's car, learning to drive. The car goes past the places I don't remember being to - some crooked streets with old houses and churches. I try to concentrate on the driving, but I can't stop looking at the black tree branches half-covered in snow and the sky of the lightest gray.

***

It's summer, and I'm going for a walk. I have a white open work hooded sweater on - it reminds me of the sea, because either Mom or I put it on when we go for a walk on the beach.

I have a shell on my key ring. You can't find such shells at the Baltic Sea, this one was long ago brought from India as a souvenir from my grandma's coworker. Still, as I lock the door with my keys and turn to the elevator, I have a feeling that I carry the cold sea within me. I think of it every time I clutch at the smooth hunch of the seashell or pull at the zipper of my loose white sweater.

2007-02-11T19:14:00.000+02:00

I wish there was a service which would print blogs as books, so that I could order to print any blog I would like to read from the very first post to a certain day (and in a year order the "second volume" of the same blog, which would start from that certain day).

I can see how my book case would look then: apart from other books, there would be one shelve of famous writers' and artists' biographies and autobiographies, two shelves of those "blog books" and two empty shelves waiting to be stuffed with books printed out of yet undiscovered blogs.

2007-02-10T15:08:00.000+02:00

I've been sitting at home for a whole week because of the head cold, and all I'm thinking about now is how I wish to put on my coat and go out.

Walking is the cheapest, the healthiest and the most needed of all the pleasures I know.

Perhaps walking is also my substitute for dancing - I can't dance at all, can't even make myself try to dance when no one is around. This is why I rarely go out without my mp3 player and can't stand still at the traffic light.

Addicted to...

2007-02-08T23:40:00.000+02:00

Books (since i learned to read. the addiction has become weaker after i started blogging)

Cartoons (since about 5)

Writing (since about 8)

Bead necklaces (since about 10, the addiction has been growing stronger ever since)

Walkmans (since 15)

Blogging (since 16)

Mocha coffee with whipped cream (since 18)

My boyfriend (since 19)

Shopping (since 20)

2007-02-08T22:23:00.000+02:00

Femininity is a drug. Two years ago all i had to do before going out was to shove my hand into the closet and reach for something clean (a baggy sweater or a shirt, and a pair of jeans). Now i have to spend at least 20 minutes in front of the mirror choosing an outfit which will go with my mood, the weather and the place i'm going to.

Yet i haven't become less punctual (though i can hardly say i have become more punctual).

I can't go out without a necklace or a pendant, just like some women can't go out without makeup (i guess, in several years i won't be able go out without a necklace and makeup).

When i was a teenager, i could go to school wearing a picture of an eye which i had cut out of a telephone card with scissors. A little later, at 18, i decorated my bag with seven wooden beads on a black rubber string. I'm quite sure i'm not going to repeat any of these.

Now i wear hats, skirts and sometimes even stockings. I don't have a prejudice against pink colour and lip gloss anymore, and i even have a handbag - the first one after many years of wearing bags on long straps.

I've come to like my face in profile, my nose and even my short plump fingers. Still i sometimes miss the 16-year old girl who hardly cared about her appearance, but had such a lot of things going on inside her confused mind. Still i don't want to return back.

listomania/ graphomania

2007-02-08T19:12:00.000+02:00

Making lists is one of my favorite things to do. It has come to my mind recently that i search for a cause to make a list more often than i really make a list to help myself solve a problem.

When i signed up at blogspot, i felt tempted to fill the main page with every possible list i could think of. Besides of my favorite authors and musicians, i could also:

1) Make a wishlist
2) Make a list of celebrities i consider attractive
3) Make a list of the things i don't like
4) add a ton of lists with all the possible combinations with the word "favorite": favorite movies, favorite foods, favorite trademarks, favorite color combinations and what not.

(end of part one)

I haven't felt myself so clumsy with words and unable to express myself for quite a long time.
It is quite humiliating.

(end of part two)