Monday, June 30, 2014


This is a collection of unfinished drafts of blog posts. My favorite ones are those that break off mid-sentence. I mostly have no idea what I had in mind at the time. Also, this is completely unedited and I steered clear off proper grammar. You get me in my natural habitat.

I feel like I'm gonna need to kill something. I guess you know the feeling if you've ever felt swamped by work and were prepared to get into some pretty uncomfortable situation, almost made out with your brother-in-law not knowing that in fact he is your son or if you ever did NaNoWriMo. It is June and yes, that means that I'm doing Camp Nano. At every camp there is this one child who would call his parents constantly, moan, cry, refuse to take part in all camp activities, blame you for having their PayPhone card stolen (hey, remember that I was a camper in the nineties and early two-thousands) and get candy packages from their grandparents every other week and refusing to give you some and locking your common room before you come in and being a nudnik altogether. Wow, that was a long enunciation. But seriously, I used to get soooo annoyed with people who did nothing but moan. And right now I'm this tedious person who moans all the time and calls their parents. I don't wanna be that person. But really, this Camp Nano is horrible! I do not know what to write, I NOT KNOW WORDS HOW TOGETHER PUT. It's not that I don't wanna try, I open that freakin' word document


Back when I was in ballet school we used to end our daily training with a yoga routine. The teacher would say 'ask your body what it feels. Transcend the universe with your mind' and the like. Usually our bodies screamed something like CINNAMON BUN NOW and our minds would transcend to the changing rooms and focus on getting the hell out of there. While I'm not certain about the latter part, with the universe and all that, I think I finally get how it is when your body is more aware of what you actually want than you are. Since last Tuesday my body has been bellowing Sweden Sweden Sweden. I didn't know why I missed Sweden so much. I didn't know why I had this weird craving for Radbrod, I didn't know why I sat listening to Zarah Leander


I'm getting totally lazy. Tomorrow I'm leaving and not gonna have any internet, unless I go to the library IN ANOTHER TOWN IN ANOTHER COUNTRY and I'm not so sure there's internet there. At the same time I have three papers to write (one due last Monday), a revision to do,  a video to make, a picture to photoshop, a test to study for and


No excuses. I'm just gonna write something.
I'm at my friend's house, I was staying the night. I have a million things to do today, including a badgilion essays, same number of math homework, putting stuff on ebay and trying to crimp my hair (I'm all for crimping lately but my crimper won't work. Oh well...). I just wanted to say one thing (and also have at least two posts in a month of daily blogging), particularly because I want to remember this experience when I read this blog afterwards (also, sorry for messing up the sentence with a digression, but I'm really gonna put more care into grammar. Starting tomorrow....). So in Poland there is this game show on TV called Familiada. Basically you need to have 5 members of your family on the show. The presenter asks a question


Hello and good day!
I am not doing as well on the January blogging daily challenge, but hey, I have eleven more months to make up for that. This is a general update blog, so excuse me if it's too bloggy. People generally tend to hate these types of videos but  sometimes I enjoy them more than content-full-to-burst videos, because they show these people in their natural habitat. Also, unedited is always so old school.

I haven't been posting for the last couple of days, but boy, were they intensive. I was working all day Wednesday and Thursday (I'm a cleaning person. Last year I taught English to little Polish kids and I have to say that this year it such a great feeling of tiredness.


This blogging every day thing is hard. Not because I can't find some time every day set aside to this activity, but because the more things on my head, I feel that I don't have that time. The case is that I shouldn't have time. In fact, I'm wasting so much of it just worrying about how I lack it that with a different mindset I could be a timelady (should that be a thing?).
So, sometimes I feel the urge to be grave and/or self-reflective but really I'm just a lazybum who can't get her work done so... I'm not gonna edit it.
Okay, I'll go dry my hair and then I'm rushing off to church, so I guess, see you in a couple hours.


As I was entering this fabulous stage of my life when your major concern of preoccupation is college application essay, I gave myself a choice of writing about either something I had stable opinions on, or something that should shock. Ending up writing a dissertation entitled 'Math in my life' was a killer for all of my friends. A little backstory on that.
In primary school I was the best kid in class, in everything (at some point, I was even good at sports?). We had the GPA scale of 6, where 5 was very good and six was reserved for geniuses. My GPA was 5.9. The only subject I got a 5 in was math. I'm not saying that this grading system was particularly accurate, as I don't feel and have never felt like a child prodigy. I would rather say that I was the only one not worried about not 'being cool', which term was at that time often confused with being moronic. Anyway, my point is that it shows that from the beginning math was not my cup of tea.
First semester of junior high I was under threat of having to repeat it because of my disastrous results in math (I got 6%, hehe). Later on I grew so anxious about math, that I would not go to class (I would even volunteer to distribute the leaflets about contraception around classrooms instead of having to deal with functions. True story) and let's say that my relations with the teacher were were less than enjoyable.

Having had such experience with math I was fretting one of my final exams. I started studying for it 6 months in advance, just so that I could start from the beginning. And I kind of started to love that.

I almost completed the entire SAT math book in two weeks. Not because I was pressed for time, but because I liked it so much. And then I was all depressed because I needed to get a new book.
A couple of months ago I went to this Sunday School Teachers' Training where the lecturer told us about how math can be like life.
Remember in the first grade how they taught us the order of operations and how this was going to be the most important thing in math we will ever learn? At my school our teacher told us that if we don't know the order of operations we will mess everything up.


I've just written a really elaborate explanation for my internet absence in the last couple of weeks. However, I just feel too bored by what I've written to make it sound better. I just want to write what I've been meaning to. Anyway, what you need to know is: my examination marathon is over and I am back to blogging.

I'm sure all of us heard those excuses before. All this festival of "I was busy having life", repeating every few weeks and this need of making the explanation into a separate video on YouTube. For that I see one reason: even though you love doing what you do on the Internet, it is so hard getting back to what you've fell out of habit of doing.
Take blogging. In the month of April I wouldn't be able to imagine a day without a blog post. Once April has ended it was harder and harder to write once a two weeks or so. Doing NaNoWriMo was easy when I got used to writing all the time. But I haven't even opened the folder with my novel since I pushed into the depth of my computer documents on November 30th.
It is normal to jog every day if you're used to doing it every day.


I do have a weird relationship with time. Sometimes I hate it but sometimes it seems like a savage beast that needs to be given gifts in nature in order to be 
 I have always believed that time, if approached properly, would be ready to pay you off the courtesy. As shady as the reality would turn out leaves the question

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Garage door

I'm one of those lucky people to have a garage.  Heck, I don't have a car but at least my bike has a comfortable place to live. I mean, having a driver's license AND a garage is half the success of having a car. Now all I have to do is wait until I'm thirty and able to afford to drive one but that's just a minor detail. To add onto the luxury, you can enter my garage from my apartment. Thus I have two entryways to the house: one through the front door and one through the garage (those are at least the traditional entryways, you can be sure I know of a couple more possibilities that sadly I've never been adventurous enough to try).  Everyday I have the option to choose how I'm going to leave my house. To an ordinary observer of my every day life, my choosing whether to use the front or the garage door may seem totally random. However, to a percipient observer there is a clearly distinguishable pattern. A percipient observer would see that on days that I'm wearing high heels, dresses, and bags that are clearly color-coordinated with the rest of my outfit I'd be leaving through the front door. If I feel really sophisticated I'll even stop by my mailbox and examine the mail with a curious smile. On those days I either sport a bright smile or a knowledgeable disdain on my face, the latter mostly when a suit and a laptop case are involved. On those days I go to concerts, theater plays or run "important errands". This observer would probably assume that on those days I feel good about myself. He would also discern that on the days that I use my garage door, I usually look quite different. I might go jogging, or to take out trash. If the observer is particularly perceptive he will notice that if I'm going to the store through my garage, I'll usually just end up bringing back big containers of chocolate ice cream. I leave through my garage if I'm wearing anything resembling sweats, anything clearly mismatched, anything that's been spilled on, sewed on in a noticeable manner, or if it's a really bad day, torn. Most of my clothing on those days will have cat hair on it but I won't care. It will be clear I'm feeling quite down. Yet, the most perceptive of the observers will see that all this actually is not about fashion in the slightest. Leaving through my garage door is a way for me to sulk and wallow, as if I'm not worthy of the proud stride through the front door that would indicate I actually know where I'm going, or that I'm the place I was supposed to be in from the beginning.
Lately, it would take only an ordinary observer to notice that I've been using my garage door much more often than I used to and way more often than my front door.  Yet, I am making a conscious decision to use only my front door from now on. I might have crappy circumstances but I hope I still have it in me to be joyful.

In conclusion, I sincerely hope I don't really have such perceptive observers in front of my house. I would be really freaked out by that.

Verse of the day: Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Phillipians 4:4