Blinding Lights and Wind at My Face

My hands stretched sideways like bird’s wings, feeling the fresh evening wind blowing in my face and city lights coloring my way through…. One of my ears is plucked with an earphone, and the head is slowly filling up with Coldplay’s “Speed of sound”. People passing by look at me making my way downtown and dancing. Well, to me it is dancing. But they can’t hear my music, that’s why all they see is a girl making some weird hand gestures while rollerblading. Yeah, it feels great to be rolling again…

It’s been a while since I did it last time. Too hot during the day, no time in the evening, plus job, job, job…. But right now, with this cosmic music in my head, and the smooth gliding in my feet, I am a city bird stretching my wings out, ready to fly. No attention at the cars driving through the streets, and people walking by…. No attention at what is going to happen tomorrow and what happened today. Right now it’s just me, my music, and my rollerblades.

I listen to myself, and as soon as the exhaustion mixed with a feeling of total satisfaction creeps closer, I roll towards a city fountain. Sit on the bench, stretch my tired legs, lean backwards and close my eyes. It’s definitely good to be back from the pointless world of adulthood….

Music Makes Me…

The moments of my life I enjoy so much…. Our house is dark and quiet. Parents are out somewhere. Kid sister is staying over at her friend’s house. I’m lying on the floor staring at the ceiling. A couple candles light the hallway. Comparing to the heat outside during the day, the evening is fresh and renewing. The window is opened.

There are so many things to do and think about while lying like this. You can listen to the sounds outside. Something my friend taught me long time ago and something I still love doing is trying to listen to every single sound coming from the street separately, not as a single concert of city chaos. First you hear just cars. Then you switch attention to the people talking outside somewhere. After you recognize the sounds, move on to listening to the wind, leaves on the trees. And then, when all of the sounds are identified, listen to the whole melody. It is really relaxing.

I also love plucking my ears with headphones. I’ve got big ones at home. They make the sound perfect, and don’t mess it up. On evenings like this one I make a playlist of different songs. Different performers and genres – what can better underline my mood…? Sometimes it feels so good digging through old CD’s like INXS or Tom Petty and listening to old music that sounds so new. I love being alone, when it’s just me and my music.

Me against Cooking

I am adequate to a lot of activities. Dancing, drawing, writing… you name it. But cooking is just not one of my virtues. If I end up lost at an island in the middle of nowhere, I’ll die from starvation because I’m no good at preparing food.

At home I’m sadly known as the vicious killer of eggs because I can’t even handle an omelet. I tried several times, honestly. And it feels kinda weird, for my Mom is a great cook. My kid sister makes wonderful deserts. My Dad’s barbeque is out of competition. Sometimes I even start thinking – do I belong to this family?:-)

My kitchen phobia starts from its threshold. I believe that cooking is just something I’m not meant to be doing because I can read a simple recipe thoughtfully and attentively, fulfill a step-by-step procedure described in a book and still end up with something that can barely be called food, let alone delicious dish. And it feels like a whole lot of stress. Yes, cooking is stressful.

But, ha-ha, I’m great at making cereals with milk for breakfast. A task as easy as this one I can handle with no problems. If to be serious (although the topic doesn’t presuppose it), I’m also an ace at making tea and coffee… I mean real tea and coffee, and not these voodoo rituals with a spoon of granulated coffee powder and some sugar on top of it.

I guess one day, when some crazy fellow will talk me into getting married, I’ll have to learn the kitchen alphabet. Otherwise, I’m running into the risk of ending up in jail for poisoning my own husband. But till these times I’m going to enjoy my Mom’s food and Domino’s pizza:-)

Mario… Back Into Childhood

Hey, do you know which computer game is better than shooting ducks? Remember childhood, playstation and that funny guy in a red outfit? I have downloaded the Super Mario game! I don’t know how about you, but I spent hours in front of the screen many years ago, trying to rescue the beautiful princess and kill the ugly dragon. Time passed by, and after the icky Hollywood movie about the Mario brothers (I forgot the title) I didn’t hear anything about the lunatic little man. Can you imagine how surprised I was to discover a link to downloading the most favorite game of all childhood?

The funny thing is, I didn’t have to learn rules and controls again. All these mushrooms, bonuses, green and red ducks and fishes… well, I guess I have a new obsession:-)

First Kisses Are Not Always That Good…

…just as second, third of fifteenth are, actually. All these teen magazines are screaming about the miracle of the first kiss on every corner. Mine was not all that exiting, honestly. There was a guy that I really liked. He was cute, smart, sexy, caring…. What else can the inexperienced sixteen-year-old girl (well, yeah, my first kiss was at sixteen, and not at twelve or thirteen) wish for? I remember that great night at our friends’ house. We were standing together on the balcony, holding hands beneath the milky twilight. My had was dizzy and legs slightly bending – altogether a flattering feeling. He took my face with his hands, gently cradling, and leaned for a kiss…. Oh man, I’d have enough from the regular one, but he tried to do the French kiss…. Later we worked it out good, but that evening was spoiled:-)

One of the last failed kisses was with a guy who had a long nose. And I have a good sense of humor. He poked me, I laughed, he got mad… jerk:-)

Magic Numbers

I almost forgot about one really great thing that happened this month! This is for all of those who believe in the magic numbers. Personally I don’t, but this is still a great coincidence.

July, 7^th was the day when all the couples went crazy about getting married. Did you guess why? 07/07/2007/…. Triple seven, the ultimate sign of luck. Should I say that this day was the day of weddings? Hundreds of couples got married. But before that they had to stand in the line to sign up exactly for this day.

I witnessed a lot of news stories about this day. Lots of newlyweds…. I don’t know how about you, but I think we should get more of happy news. Just look at these pictures.

Do’s and Don’ts About Underwear

Since I’ve witnessed a lot of examples of bad clothes happening to good people, I’ve decided to take some notes and make comments. I’ll start with underwear and the rules of showing it off. So, I think that you

Don’t:

1. Show that you are wearing thongs if you are overweighed. This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t wear them at all. Be my guest:-) It just means that you don’t have to show them on purpose. In fact, I don’t think you should do it even if you have model parameters. This kind of dressing up is only good if you are Christina Aguilera singing “Dirty” on stage. Not because stars look better with their thongs showing. They just get paid for it.

2. Wear a lacy bra with a see-through shirt. These shirts are great with smooth bras of matching colors. Lacy underwear is only good in one occasion – when you get undressed in front of your boyfriend. He can truly enjoy ribbons, bows and cute curves. Not the community, so please, don’t.

3. If you are a guy, pleas-please don’t try to make yourself look all cool with pants barely holding on your knees and your boxers showing. If I wanted you, boy, I’d get these pants off in no time. But looking at your nearly naked butt in front of me in the cafeteria is just no good… at all. And there is no third option.

Do:

1. Wear thongs with tight jeans. It’s not a rule, and certainly not obligatory. It’s just that your butt looks much sexier if there are no panty lines showing.

2. Wear bright bras showing from under a shirt. If the bra is green with bright yellow print on it, it will look perfectly fine with any one-colored top.

3. Again, guys… boxers are great! But only if your girl is the one to see them:-)

Bursting Bubbles

The more I work and study, the more I feel like the one thing I value in myself and my friends is vanishing. This thing is the feeling of a child being alive inside of me no matter how old I am. It is important to get crazy once in a while and never take stupid adult problems seriously. The same thing I love in my friends. We can get together and just do what we want no matter what age we are. Playing twister all night long, lying on the floor telling ghost stories or painting ceramics into funny pictures… whatever it takes to pump the mood up.

Anyways, as I said, job takes most of my free time away. I’ve noticed it only few days ago when my best friend called me and proposed to hang out. And I felt so tired I couldn’t even think of goofing around. At first I got freaked out, then I sat and laughed at myself: “You are becoming an old fart”, I thought.

The best way to get well is to come back to normal. You know how it feels to sit on the bench in the park, drinking iced tea and blowing hand-made soap bubbles? Do you even know how to make soap bubbles? You take some soap and water, mix it in a bowl, than roll a piece of paper and go for it! Now, I bet I’m gonna beat any one of you in blowing the biggest bubble!

Look at Her

• “Oh my God, she’s wearing a dress over pants!”

• “Is that a zebra skirt on her?

• “High heels? Happy birthday, I guess…”

No, I didn’t mistake a dress for a shirt, I don’t usually kill animals and no, it’s not my goddamn birthday! It’s just a way to stand out and express myself. You see, being different and belonging to a certain stream is not the same. I do break dance, and at certain occasions I dress in baggy street clothes. But it doesn’t mean I live a street life. It doesn’t mean I talk like street people. It doesn’t mean I always dress like a b-dancer. You see, people that belong to a certain stream have obligations to fulfill. These obligations include dressing, talking, behaving etc. It’s not bad. But this can not be called style. It’s just following certain guidelines.

Style is something you create without inventing a bike. Creating a new shirt with four sleeves is probably fun, but you shouldn’t bother about it everyday. Designers don’t. They care about the pattern, fabric, way of wearing clothes…. Open the drawer and combine two seemingly uncombinable things. It may and may not work out. But it is definitely your style. That’s it.

Me and Food

I’ve discovered a great dish called Fondue. I tried it with my friends, and strongly advise everyone to have it at least once. It is a tradition as strong as the Japanese tea drinking etiquette. Anyways, you sit around a bowl with chocolate that needs to be constantly warming up. What you do is dip pieces of fruits, cookies or marshmallows into it. Not only it tastes good. It’s a great way to get together, chat and enjoy.

Well, I guess that now I will start looking for this bowl. It has to be made of porcelain, with a small candle inside. This candle warms up the whole thing. Considering a fact that I’m addicted to all kinds of sweets, this will be my favorite dessert for all times and seasons.

Fondue is not only chocolate. Its classic kind is warmed cheese sauce that you dip pieces of bread into. It can also be olive oil with fish and meet. Whatever it is, it is usually served in a center of a table to gather people. Truly a great thing.

How to Add Romance into Relationships

My boyfriend, Max, is a 100% b-boy. He wears sneakers, T-shirts, baggy jeans and bandanas. That’s what I like about him. He’s just like me – mobile and funky. I never saw him in tuxedo just like he never saw me wearing high heels. This is why the experience was great.

The thing is that my best friend invited me to try dancing salsa in a club where she has been dancing for a long time. I’m into adventures, so I decided to accept the invitation. Salsa is a pair dance, and surprisingly Max didn’t mind (which is weird because usually he doesn’t take anything but break dance seriously).

We agreed to meet in a salsa dancing room, but it took me quite some time to find Max even though the room was not crowded. Wearing ironed pants, a shirt and a pair of shining shoes, he looked more like Leo Di Caprio in Titanic, than a boy dancing on the street. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. And all that evening I felt myself Cinderella dancing with the Prince. Unforgettable feeling.

How I Was a Saloon Girl

The best thing about Truckee, NV, is this feeling that all of a sudden a miracle took you back, into the time of cowboys and Indians. Neat wooden houses, wooden pavements and stores with a wide variety of hats – with flowers, feathers, you name it – just pump up the mood right away.

The very atmosphere there is absolutely special. It feels like the world itself is somewhere far behind, and you witness some historical events. The impression would’ve been complete, if not for the big flat TV screen hanging in a cafй where I had lunch.

The mentality prompted I have to get the special moments canned, so I went to a photo studio. They have special places in Truckee, where you can get dressed up in an outfit and have a black-and white or sepia photo taken. I chose to be a saloon girl. But the problem popped up. A size of my bra was not enough to fit perfectly into a lacey white corset. Mom and sister proposed to stuff it with something. Giggling, they brought me a pack of tissues.

Not a bad idea, as it turned out. The picture looks seductive:-)

Me and Pets

There are only few things that can guide my Mom into chaos: problems at work, with my kid sister, and my boundless love to animals. The last is truly fatal to her because she doesn’t feel connected to animals anyhow. On the other hand, I can’t walk past a lonely, hungry, lost creature without taking him/her home.

Cats are my biggest love. One of them was not able to feed her baby kittens, so I had to do it instead. I’ll never forget those tiny things trying to hide in my palm while I was giving them milk in a special bottle. And it felt especially good seeing them grow up into cute cats.

Dad, in his turn, loves dogs. Periodically our house becomes a shelter for lost or homeless puppies. This makes my Mom absolutely crazy. Once she even asked us to bring home fishes for a change because they are silent and need minimal space. She was joking. We were serious.

A month after this a big aquarium with fishes appeared in our house. Well, I greet them without enthusiasm, but don’t mind, either. We all called them Mom’s fishes. She didn’t say a word against… until it became obvious to her that these creatures need even more attention and devotion, than little fuzzy friends. Not only they had to be fed, but the aquarium had to be cleaned up every week. For this, fishes had to be taken out as well as all the shells and other stuff, poured water had to be special and clean, and…. Do I need to say that in a few weeks fishes moved to the house of our best friends where they still live and enjoy their life?

Another story happened with parrots. Two cute birds – a blue and a yellow one – became the members of our family as soon as I said that I want to take care of baby parrots. I waited for them for about half a year. Then a friend of ours came. When I told him about my plans, he took a close look at the birds and laughed. He told me I had two male parrots, and there was no way for them to have descendants.

After this I decided to stick to cats and dogs.

Me Against Reality Shows

Hitting below the belt is what a Dutch TV contest did. A dying woman named Lisa had to choose between three people vying for an organ. She had to decide who of three patients will receive her kidney. Lisa based her choice on contestants history and profile. TV-viewers had to help make up her mind via SMS-voting. All this live in The Big Donor Show.

When the idea leaked into mass media, people were shocked. The producer said that the show chaises one important goal – to solve the problem of shortage of Dutch donors, and nothing commercial. This divided people into those who supported and opposed the idea. Dutch politicians even proposed to prohibit it but by doing so they were sort of ignoring the freedom of speech and other human rights.

Basically, the concept for me looked like this: a woman will have to reject two contestants and sentence them to death in favor of the third one. Oh, I forgot – all this with the help of SMS-voting. Nothing commercial? I doubt it.

But the reality turned out to be even more pathetic. The show did air on Friday evening. But the whole thing turned out to be a big mystification. The so-called donor was an actress who was not dying and, moreover, was not going to choose between three patients. These, in their turn, were absolutely real and in need of a kidney transplant. Do I need this kind of reality to turn towards people in need? Definitely, no. There are tons of effective ways to make a problem look important. It doesn’t have to be a commercial circus with actors and dying contestants. But The Big Donor Show definitely demonstrates the sick reality we create to live in.

Three Things I Like About Religion

1. Architecture. There is nothing as monumental symbolic as religious buildings. Time will fly by but these will survive. I truly enjoy all of them from gothic Notre-Dame to a Buddhist temple. I think that there is a great deal of creativity in all of them, opposing to today’s skyscrapers.
2. Popemobile. This is as sweet as little pink furniture designed specially for Barbie dolls. Not trying to make any personal parallels between Barbies and Popes here.
3. Concept. I truly admire the entire concept of all world religions. It takes a great deal of devotion to make up and support the whole idea throughout centuries. The funny thing is that if pageants were hasty enough to copyright their rituals, Christianity would’ve failed. But since it altered and continued the concept of the ancient world, it didn’t bring too many changes into the ideology and, therefore, didn’t break the understanding. And don’t mind people like me digging into history as long as these guys in churches help people to strongly believe into something pure.

It's a Small World

The world seems so much bigger in childhood. Memory changes impressions. When I was a kid I used to go to California to visit my grandma. I remember how at the age of four I was sitting under the table and trying to read my first book. The table was huge. It looked like a gigantic butterfly to me because both of its sides could be folded and the table took a shape of the drawer. When one side was lifted up (which was usually the way), the table looked like a hut where I usually preferred to hide. It was dark, safe and comfy.

Years passed. Just the other day I visited grandma again and suddenly remembered about that table. I asked her where it is now. She smiled and showed me a small something that looked more like a bedside-table. I thought she was mistaken, but after I took a closer look I realized that it was actually me who was confused. My big shelter turned out to be a small table. Why does the world seem so much smaller now?

Braces – Unforgettable Experience

The first and only embarrassing experience with boys happened on the day I got braces:-) I usually don’t scare guys away and never feel the lack of interest. I’m normal. Sometimes it works out, sometimes doesn’t. But that day will stay in my mind, it’s for sure.

I succeeded in persuading parents that braces are just what I need. They fought the idea courageously for about three years, but finally gave up. There weird things were placed onto my teeth, and I felt quite satisfied. That very day I went to the movies with my friends. And, just the way it usually works, there was a cute guy buying popcorn and smiling at me (he managed to do both things at the same time). Without a second thought I gave him a smile, too.

P. S. Only later I realized why he hurried to pay for popcorn and walk away. But it never gave me a reason to hide the smile:-)

Terrorism

“In a cause of explosion in a mall 168 people died. The man who committed this crime was sentenced to death on electric chair. Relatives of the victims demanded the government to permit to broadcast his kazn nationwide on TV….”

Flashback…

Year 2001… the twin towers are drowning in clouds of dust, chunks of the building, screams and fears…. Television restlessly repeats the pictures of the World Trade Center falling down – over and over again, tattooing the picture into the brains of shocked and speechless viewers for forever.

Year 2003… People with blood on their faces and their legs and arms injured, soldiers raping men in Iraqi prisons, and bombs blasting more often then the heart makes its normal amount of beats per minute – and the society, with its breath held, glues to the screens of TVs. The more, the bloodier – the better.

Year 2004… Mass media truly enjoys the information about tragedy in Beslan, Northern Osetia, and cuts it into pieces to feed the chunks of the bloody pie about victims, terrorists and grieving relatives to the TV viewers.

Wouldn’t you say you are a child of a modern world? I would. I don’t react on catastrophes, terrorism attacks and death any more. I don’t care who died yesterday, who dies right now, and who is sentenced to die tomorrow. I’ve had enough of this information. TV news did their job well and fed me up with their reports.

People die every day… so what? Does it really matter, how they do it? New people will be born to replace old ones. Especially conservative citizens will still visit the cemetery, cry over stones… I’m not cynical. I’m just the daughter of my epoch. I was raised like this, so what did you expect to see?

If I were different, I don’t think I would’ve been able to handle the situation. What kind of a normal person could do it? All we are able to do is keep on saying: “Oh, man… did you hear how many people died in tsunami? Horrible, unbelievable…. How many, once again?” I’m sick of it.

And they call it information? Then I don’t have anything to say against showing the death of the crazy lunatic dude on TV worldwide. Why not? I’d even place some comments. After all, we see the same stuff on TV, hear on the radio and read in newspapers everyday. We eat it with an appetite of hungry African children.

If we place this explosion in a mall on the timeline of catastrophes that happened over the past two years, it will just be lost. 168 dead bodies – so what? Twice as many die in Middle East every day, but people still manage to survive.

The funny thing is – movies about sex and violence are R-rated, but as to the death broadcast – you are free to watch. Like a lesson that needs to be learned: if you do something bad, you will be severely punished. If we choose this way of living, let’s follow it till the very end. Either truth, or lie all the time. Everything has to be natural.

It’s just that I’m not interested any more. I’ve got classes, job, Mom, grandma and tropical fishes to take care of. I want to live. And I will until I die. Maybe, these crazy folks on TV will even show how I get cremated. By that time absolutely everyone will get used to death, which is important. You have to feel it near without the feeling of fear. And still be able to live.

Introduction

As it turned out, to begin is the easiest thing. I have already done it. To continue the thought is a much harder task. What can one expect of a 21-year old girl from Nevada that studies journalism? Dirty stories about personal life? Romantic lies about first kisses, dates and sex? Or, maybe, sweet childhood memories?

So I sat down and thought… about things that happen during the day and usually don’t make a big impact on life, but leave a slight scent – positive, or negative. And I thought – hey, maybe these things matter? Happy moments that are not always perfect – they can be funny, weird, sweet, romantic, but all together positive. Memories and impressions are sometimes similar, and maybe any of you can find something familiar and leave a feedback.

Style matters to me. I take it seriously. I mean, I can wake up, open the drawer and look through it pensively. Then I take out a purple shirt and iron it as thoughtfully, as I looked at it. But twenty minutes before I have to leave I suddenly realize that this purple shirt just doesn’t suit my plans for a day. So I have to change outfit in a hurry, and if I have purple makeup on, that’s it – the whole thing has to be redone.

I wear tennis shoes. All the time. In summer I wear flip-flops. Or tennis shoes. I love comfort and don’t have time to draw eights with my hips because I’m always in a hurry. But, attention, there are at least sever boxes of drop-dead high heels in my closet! Barbarella red ones with cute bows, black 60es styled ones, silver-colored shoes with slim straps…. Why? Because I am an aesthete. I know that a neat shoe makes a girl’s leg look beautiful. Probably this is the reason why I spend hours wandering around stores and looking for nice shoes with a patience of a maniac. And then, during long winter evenings I sit in front of my closet and cradle the shoes with my eyes. One day I will wear any of them with one of my evening gowns.

Evening gowns! One more thing on the list of my weird peculiarities. I wear jeans. In summer I trade them… for new light jeans. Nevertheless, my closet is stuffed with lovely skirts and dresses. I have three evening gowns! They are incredibly beautiful.

Once I wore a pink dress with one of those pairs of red barbarella-bow-looking shoes to a party, which is not something I do on the ordinary basis. I made an effect of a blasting bomb on everyone, and my friends never got tired of asking me to do it once more. I was quite satisfied with my victory and returned everything back on the shelves. Now I’m thinking over a new blast.

At home I’m not demanding at all. A have only two pairs of pants that I wear with T-shirts. But I absolutely HATE slippers! I resent them with my soul. And even when it is cold, I fight against them with anger of a hungry tiger. I just can’t imagine how I put my legs into something cold, slippery from constant wear, and bad-smelling…. Eww-w-w! I’ve got a pair of blue fuzzy socks that I can wash once they get dirty. Isn’t it a reason heavy enough to be happy?

I don’t understand people who prefer to wash hair once in four days, wear T-shirts and socks that they put on yesterday…. Yeah, I’m kinda concerned about personal hygiene.

I also hate to paint my nails. At school they were of all the colors of the rainbow. They even were bloody-red (imagine it on child’s little fingers and you will get the idea). And I resent perfume! Probably, the reason for this is my severe allergy on even a slight scent. It can guide me into absolute chaos! All I’m able to do at such moments is try to get over a nasty feeling that steps onto my throat… you know.

My mood depends on the way I look. Any girl will understand me here. When I look good, nothing can stop me. But if something (especially hair) isn’t all right, I’d better stay at home. And since the last option is never available, at bad days I feel… bad.

Though I’m free from obligations in style. I love experiments. Two years ago I enjoyed wearing a dress over jeans. Girls gossiped behind my back, but I never cared about them. Then I got lovely ribbons into my hair, belt and even shoelaces. Later everything was replaced by a blue feather weaved into my hair.

I love when clothes “play”. I mean, you never know what a simple shirt is worth until you put it into an untypical context. The main criterion for me is that THIS has to look good, not pathetic or sad. I have to enjoy it. Just like I enjoy tiny pieces of life that turn into happy moments.