In a blink
Without even blinking I have erased five to six years of text messages, pictures and contacts. As for the pictures I had the decency to look at them before actually hitting “delete all”.
Entries Tagged as 'down that lane'
Forever Young and stuff
“From your 220 subscriptions, over the last 30 days you read 1,985 items, starred 8 items, shared 144 items, and emailed 12 items.”
I have also discovered Zachari Logan. On his MySpace, Kate Bush with Army Dreamers almost made cry. I have no idea what she is singing about, it’s her melody that makes me feel, well, like when I was listening to her complete collection, on CD, borrowed from Man. Which reminds me I have been tagged.
So, here! forever-young.pdf
Swimming
What a drag. I remember I once said I had lost the apartment key, and then fount it, but of course it was already too late for going to the training. And all the competitions. And the chlorine. And the so called training camps (hello, I was not going anywhere! how can you call that a “camp”?!). Missing on cartoons for trainings or competitions. All of that because somebody said to my mum, most probably to her, “He is a natural”. How I hated those times, and those feelings. How funny it is to miss it now. How funny to think “I am in training now” and “there will be a time when I think I miss these times”. Because now, I just feel awkward.
The consequence of blogging upon your life
When Romer!can tells you it’s awesome rock opera, you remember it’s been one of your first tapes. (It’s the wow look on his face that does it, when he stresses “It’s Operation Mindcrime I AND II performed in their entirety!”)
When you ask the Rock Chick how much are the tickets, she decides to buy you one “for your birthday”, sort of long past. So you end at the concert.
It starts late, but it’s the perfect opportunity to notice the load of ethilic looks lurking at Arenele Romane and the living dead revamped rockers. When it starts, the lead still has a voice, and band is good, but the whole thing just is not you anymore.
The enigmatic superior smile
Chatty, smart, gregarious, freshly settled in the big city, opinionated, could easily get on the interlocutor’s toes. Me, seven years ago. Oddly he has the age I had when I arrived. Also thinking that everything has to do with him, like I used to. Hence my tired smile, he though was an enigmatic but superior manifestation. Which was not the case. I was just hot from the scorcher and tired and looking back at how I used to be.
The most boring
I am sipping coffee from my brand new “Drama Queen” in capitals mug, getting ready for a day to complete my identity card and other tasks. In thirty minutes I will have to rush out the door, but until then I can browse old pictures and remember. I think Belfast and Strasbourg compete in my head for the title of “Most boring city I have ever visited”. Clean, civilized and plain boring. But maybe I am mistaken.
Houston, we have a problem
Actually, I hope we don’t, but who knew an apple would ship half the world, all the way from Shanghai, through Anchorage, Indianapolis, and Memphis? When we were little my brother would start digging in the sand at the beach and the goal was to get to China. Remember?
Cleaning up
I don’t trust a cleaning lady to put order in my life. Because this is how any major cleaning of the house seems to me. There is one event like this every now and then when the seasons change. The latest spring cleaning revealed to me how I owe you the use of stripe socks. Before you my socks were being unicolour, mostly black. I was again tempted to put your things in a box. This time for practical reasons, they are taking up space. But there was no time. Space per time equals momentum, so I guess I am gathering practical momentum. It was also a good time to review my acquisition policy when it comes to music. And books. At least I listen to the music I buy. But that’s a side note. When I am older I’ll probably be better abled to read, although medical statistics contradict me. What else? I made plans to artistically use all these paper scraps I have been piling up. I have also decided to raid my clothes and give away everything I have not worn at least once in the past two years. Problem with this one is my memory is tricky when it comes to parting with once endeared items. I lag and linger. I have also observed I have gathered an impressive amount of dry-cleaners hangers and silver items. I want to buy new roller-blades, these ones are ten year old. Maybe they can go to the roller-blading museum?
King of platitude
When you don’t have money you cannot buy anything can buy shit.
Stingomeme
Inspired by my neighbor’s piano practice, beginner level, roll eyes here, and my other neighbor’s loud party, I was tempted to pass altogether Stingo’s request. But here I am, ten years after. Can I say I know who I am? What I want? Where I am going? Cause sure as hell I had no clue ten years ago.
I am more carefree than ten years ago, but not much more mature. I am one of those people whose exterior change goes unnoticed. My baby fat is burned, my long hair gone. My black leather motorcycle jacket is long gone to shreds saving the life and skin of a friend. Not me, the jacket! there is little I could have done. After all, he was riding his bike approximately one thousand miles an hour, do you wonder he’s skidded?
So, yeah! lets take this imaginary train to back in time, to ten years ago!
1997 is the year of my graduation. When I said “I am graduating a ballerina school, only without the pirouettes” much to my teacher’s distress at these words. He was angry with me, but I had been angry with him before that. He had recommended my diploma paper for a nine, and later made the mistake of coming to me in these terms: “Reading the other papers… now I regret I have not recommended you for a ten”. Of course I wanted to bite back.
Ten years ago I applied for a leader’s position. With the Soros foundation. My first application, my first interview, my first job. I had the nerve to tell the commission, which consisted of an executive manager, three branch managers and a psychologist slash HR specialist: “You called me to interview for the wrong position, I have applied for the Chief of department. I decided to come to let you know”. After a months trial I was Chief of department.
In 1997 I was dealing with my first real life invoice, dully noting at the time that all the schools I have been attending to that point had served me shit. Ten years ago I was a freshly graduated student who had no clue about basic financial procedures. It was on the occasion of supervising my first international conference. I was becoming an event organizer.
Towards the end of the same year, the Foundation was rendering obsolete part of their machinery. I have thus bought my first ever PC, a famous 486, which I was mostly using as a typewriter with a screen. I also remember a recurrent dream I used to have. The dream went like this: I see an excel file in front of me, I am filling in the numbers, I am checking them one by one, then I apply the sum formula and add them up. Then I sellect all, erase and start all over. Such a dream used to last an entire night, while I was preparing the Foundation’s Annual report. 400 A4 pages of names, figures and unintelligible text.
That year I don’t remember if I was seeing a girlfriend or not. But I remember seducing, in my small but no so small hometown, Timisoara, a gay British professor by the name of… Parrot. He kissed me on a bench next to the rugby field, hold my hand in the taxi, took me to his hotel room, where he came on me telling me “It’s good clean sperm, don’t you worry”. That night I made my first and last shameful exit from a hotel, at two o’clock in the night. I continued to send him poetic email, until he cut me loose. Very direct, almost made me bleed. I was not under the impression I could ever have a relation with him at any time, I just nedeed a vessel for my literary creations. I don’t know what came of these. They are still stuck on little floppy disks, in Timisoara.
Finally, ten years ago I had a passport featuring me with long hair. And I had no driving license.
In brief, I had no idea of where to go, but I was determined to get there fast.
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