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talking to strangers is ok

Tonight I’ve decided to write about my day because I think it was a quite interesting day. And I purposely started this blog to write more about my life and lately, I’ve just been writing my thoughts- which, in a way, are my life. But that’s beside the point.

Today I woke up at 12 in the afternoon, which is later than I wanted to but it’s summer and I’m no longer working so WHY NOT? I ate breakfast in the backyard on the porch swing. I could tell it was a really hot day because the humidity makes the air stuffy. However, our porch swing is located under an awning where no sunlight seeps through so the heat didn’t affect me as much. After I finished eating I started reading “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time” by Mark Haddon, which is really, really good so far. I did a book swap with a friend and I’m so glad this is the book she decided to give me because it’s one I’ve been wanting to read.

After about an hour, I started getting ready to head out. My mom came home from her daytime job and I told her I was going to a lighting event in the city. By lighting event, I mean a lighting designer, Don Holder specifically, will be talking about his experience throughout the years. As an aspiring lighting designer, I really wanted to go, but my good friend who told me about it canceled so I asked my other good friend. Let's call her Naomi. Naomi agreed so we met up in Manhattan at 6:30.

We listened to the lighting designer of Lion King, and many other shows, talk about how lighting technology is rapidly changing and theater lighting will soon be completely LEDs and no longer tungsten-halogen lighting. Pretty wild stuff, at least for a technical theater geek like me. 

Naomi and I went to the bathroom right after Holder finished speaking for about an hour and a half. As I was washing my hands, there was an older woman washing her hands right next to me, and Naomi behind me. I looked into the mirror and noticed again how bad my face looks (I say this because I decided not to wear makeup today, but my acne has been acting up which I’m always super self-conscious about). So I tried to avoid looking at myself and kind of exhaled while doing a soft, nervous chuckle. Naomi said “What?” in response to my weird exhale. I didn’t want to tell her with the lady standing right there but I did anyway because she asked.

Me: “I hate looking in the mirror.”

It came out way more depressing than I had hoped.

Lady: *she sighed before she started talking* “That is so sad to hear. I would give anything to be your age again!”

I realized I should explain.

Me: “Well I don’t mean it like that, I just mean that my acne has been acting up and it really bothers me.”

Lady: “You know, let me tell you something I wish I had known at your age. No one else notices but you.”

Naomi: “I know, that’s exactly what I told her! I didn’t notice it at all!”

I think I said thanks or I know or both. Because I know they’re right, I do notice it a lot more myself. But it’s still super annoying. And I do notice acne on other people so what they said isn’t entirely true. But it was still a sweet moment with a stranger which I always appreciate.

We went back into the office space where the event took place. The architecture and decor of the room were so nice, which is not something I typically notice. But it had a Gatsby sort of 20s theme to it, with the lining of the walls being black and gold. And there were hints of lighting objects around, like gobos and light caps and the door handles looked like the inside of a lightbulb. It was really cool, to say the least. Naomi and I mingled a bit with people we recognized and then left.

On the train ride home, we were talking about how we both get into arguments with people who don’t support us being vegetarians. A lot of people give us crap for it which we think is dumb because it’s not like it affects them in any way. We were also talking about how ‘fake meat’ tastes a lot like real meat which is pretty cool, but it also sucks because even though it’s not meat, it has a bunch of other crap (chemicals) in it. This guy sitting next to us on the train joined our conversation which was funny because I usually don’t interact with more than one stranger a day. Well, not in depth, anyway. Like real conversations. So he was telling us about how soy meat is actually really bad for you, and soy is only good if you just eat it straight up, like in miso soup. The three of us were just talking about stuff like that for a while. Veganism, whether it’s really that good for us not to have dairy, vegetarians (turns out he is one too!), how sucky it is when restaurants don’t have vegetarian options, cultures that have a lot of meat-based meals, etc. It was super interesting. Then the train got to my stop and I said bye to Naomi and headed out. 

I got home and ate some delicious pasta (thanks mom!) while watching an episode of ‘Friends’. My mom came downstairs, asked me about the event, told me we’re waking up early to go to the beach, and then said good night. She didn’t say all of these right after one another, but you get the gist. Hopefully.

Now I’m in bed, which is where I always am when I’m writing a blog post. It’s nearly 12:30 AM. My two four-month-old kitties, Selena and Boo, are running around my room, playing. When I first got into bed, they were both cuddling with me. At first, it was just Boo, but then Selena joined us and they licked each other hello which I thought was super adorable.

I don’t think this was written as well as I had hoped but I did want to share the events of my day. I hope it was somewhat interesting to read.

Until next time,

persoana anonima

[persoana-anonima-blog]

rich people can be sad too

It’s funny because you can easily tell if a person has a mental illness by simply having a conversation with them about it. Not about whether you have it, but just simply talking about it, such as celebrities who have committed suicide recently, due to depression (most likely).

Some people I talk to don’t understand why they did it. “They had such a perfect life!”, “They were so successful!” , “They had a teenage daughter!”. That last one really got to me.

Recently, I was talking with a friend I’ve known since kindergarten, let's call her Savannah. It was shortly after Kate Spade had died, from suicide. Savannah was telling me that it was messed up of her to choose to die and leave her 13-year-old daughter, to which I said “I was only 14 when my dad left me” and that kind of shut her up. I don’t remember if I said this to her, but people never really “choose to die”, even if they did inflict it upon themselves. Obviously, Kate Spade had some sort of mental illness that she struggled with, and didn’t see an option to try to fight it. Same as my dad.

I don’t really talk about my dad much anymore because it was four long years ago and I hardly get sad about it anymore. Sure, there are days when it hits me harder, like father’s day, his birthday, the anniversary of his death, etc. Other than that, it hardly affects me as much as it used to. I think.

Anyway, as I was saying before; when people get confused as to why celebrities kill themselves when they’re “so successful”, it really aggravates me. Being famous and having loads of money doesn’t always equate to success. Or happiness, for that matter. So yes, mental illness can affect anyone, EVEN celebrities. This might be hard to believe, but they’re people too. SHOCKER!

Therefore, that’s how I can tell if someone has or previously had a mental illness. If they don’t understand what could drive someone to want to die, then they haven’t been through it themselves.

Lucky them.

persoana anonima

[persoana-anonima-blog]

why don’t my ‘friends’ like me

I can’t tell if my eyes are watery from washing my face or from just being sad. Maybe both.

My romanian friends have hung out without me again. They do this quite often, but every time it stings a little more than the last. I don’t really get why they do it either. Is it on purpose? Is my presence really that bothersome? That’s the part that throws me off, the not knowing. I’d much rather they straight up told me they dislike me, rather than wondering why I’m never good enough to chill with them. It’s not that much effort to shoot me a text either, so the frequent excuse of “It was just a last minute thing!” is getting old. I hate that it bothers me this much, and it’s not like this hasn’t happened to me before. But it always gets to me. It makes me feel lonely and self-conscious. I have friends, and good ones, too. And yet, I still always feel like I’m the one making the most effort.

I’m sad.

What else is new.

yours truly,

persoana anonima

[persoana-anonima-blog]

Why do we fall in love so easy, even when it's not right?

P!NK

[persoana-anonima-blog]

don’t read off of kindles.

I’ve never liked the idea of having a kindle. My sister has one, and I’ve honestly hardly ever seen her use it. Ironically, I’m the one that got it for her, but only because I knew she wanted one. Personally, though, I don’t like them. It’s just not the same experience.

I get that they’re small, and light, and portable, so you can read any book at any time, wherever you are, and I guess that’s convenient. But where’s the new book smell? Where’s that amazing feeling every time you turn a new page, the crisp paper slipping between your fingers? I feel like having a hard copy of a book is so much more magical than reading off of a piece of technology, which is what we do the rest of the time anyway. 

That’s it for now,

persoana anonima

[persoana-anonima-blog]

never not thinking about boys

I have yet to find a boy who likes to read. 

Like, seriously. I LOVE reading, so it makes me really sad when every boy I talk to or have ever talked to in the past, don’t read at all. “Do comics count?” is a common question I get. I mean, sort of? But reading an actual book is an amazing experience. It takes you to another world, and if the book is good enough, you’ll find it difficult to leave that world, even after you’ve finished reading. 

Reading makes me want to be a better person and do more. Ironically, it makes me want to be productive, but I can’t since I’m too busy reading all day. I’ve been reading a lot lately, but I can’t seem to stop. Pretending to be someone else is more exciting than being me, sometimes.

Well, as I was saying. Never have I found a boy who genuinely enjoys reading. As a matter of fact, I’ve started compiling a list of my dream guy. Here it is, so far:

1. he reads. first and foremost.

2. he has kind eyes that when looking into, i feel comfortable and safe. and like i can tell him anything.

3. he has a sense of humor like mine.

4. he writes. or takes pictures. or both.

5. he has an admiration for the world and appreciates it as much as i do.

That’s all I got so far. I’m really not asking for a whole lot, though! I would say it’s all pretty standard stuff, just a nice, funny guy who has hobbies. Not someone who only cares about working out and having sex. Which for some reason, is the only type of guy I’ve been finding lately. Sigh.

I think about boys way too often. That’s my problem. Like I mentioned in my last blog, I’ve always wanted a boyfriend. All that ever occupies my mind is boys, and is what I’m wearing cute enough to make a guy come up to me, and am I standing straight and walking like a lady, and do I look approachable, and why would a guy like me I mean once you get to my personality, there’s not much there. I really am hard on myself. I need a guy to show me I’m not all bad. But see, that’s a problem too- I can’t expect a guy to make me feel better about myself and fix all these random emotional issues I have. 

Someone else can’t fix me, only I can. Maybe I should start reciting those words daily.

Until next time,

persoana anonima

[persoana-anonima-blog]

hi

I’ve been wanting to start a blog for a while now. Since I’m on my third book in the past few days, I’ve been getting really inspired to start writing. Reading really good books that I can’t put down makes me want to write something that will make someone else feel that way, too. Except coming up with fictional stories is something I’ve never been great at. So for now, I’m just going to talk about myself.

Right now it’s nearly one am on the first of August, twenty-eighteen. I am, or was, laying in bed trying to fall asleep. I had to force myself to put my book down because I only just started it today and have already passed the 100th page. The inside of my mouth is torn, and I notice I’ve been biting it a lot. It’s kind of a nervous tic, caused by stress, I think? But stress about what? I’ve been generally happy, it’s been a smooth and eventful summer, and I’m grateful for my life. But sometimes my mind won’t shut off. And I’ve been super unmotivated. I’ve wanted to work out and eat healthy this whole summer, but I haven’t. I’ve wanted to clean my room the first week break started, but I’ve found it gets messier with each time I clean it. I wanted to read books about lighting design and make sure I know what I’m doing for my sophomore year of college, but you guessed it- I haven’t done that either. And yeah, I still have time. But I’m worried. I feel like I’m never doing enough.

I had a full-time job for the past month, as a camp counselor. The camp just ended though, which means more free time, and time to get all my shit done. I didn’t get paid as much as I hoped, but it was definitely an experience, and I guess a good use of my time since I probably would’ve sat at home bored if it weren’t for that job. The kids were cute so it was worth it, I guess. But now I actually have time to read and clean my room and take care of my pets and hang out with my friends. So far, I’ve done one of the above- read. A LOT. But I’m probably too hard on myself. It’s only been a few days.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about my friendships. I miss my college friends, but none of them live near me so I haven’t seen most of them in a while. I’ve tried to reconnect with my Romanian friends this summer, but it’s been way more effort than I hoped. I call them my ‘romanian friends’ because I’m Romanian, and they’re the only people I know my age that are also Romanian. Therefore, I call them my Romanian friends. My Romanian has gotten so rusty throughout the years, so I thought spending more time around them would help me pick it up again, and also sort of make me feel like I’m in Romania when I’m hanging out with them. But they’re low-key racist and homophobic, which kind of really SUCKS. And when I say low-key, I’m being generous. They aren’t ALL bad, but the one Romanian friend I find the most genuine is currently in Romania, which is a bummer. Well anyway, their flaws aside, I’ve tried to become closer with them for the points I stated earlier. But for some reason, it’s really difficult to become part of their friend group? It seems like the only times I hang out with them is when I initiate it and invite them over, which gets tiring after a while. So there’s that.

Then there’s my so-called ‘love life’. To be honest, I’ve never had an actual boyfriend. Last year, at age seventeen, I had my first kiss, which was with my prom date. We kind of dated for a month, but then I went to Romania for the rest of the summer. Oh, and a few days after I left, he cheated on me with another one of our friends. But can I really say cheated if we were never even official?

Well, there was that. I didn’t meet anyone in college yet because I go to an art school so I don’t have many options. Most guys are gay or taken. So this summer, I really wanted a cute summer fling, like the kind you see in movies. But I couldn’t find anyone in person, so I downloaded a bunch of dating apps. I went on a date with a guy, we ended up opening up to each other, and you know, making out. But then I found he only wanted to get in my pants, so I left, and that was that. And here we are.

I know, it’s a really sad love life. I’ve wanted a boyfriend for sooooo long. But that’s the problem, I think. You supposedly find someone when you’re not looking. But it’s SO difficult for me not to look. I’ve been single my whole life and it’s tiring. I’m almost nineteen. I want someone I can call on the phone at one in the morning and talk to about nothing. Someone I can go to museums and coffee shops and piers with. Someone who will randomly take pictures of me just because they think I’m pretty. I don’t know if I’ll find someone anytime soon. All I can say is I’m tired of waiting. I get that I’m young, but I’m bored. I want to find someone interesting, and someone who finds me interesting.

Well, I think I’ll end my first blog here. This kind of sounds like a sob story, but I’ll try to write positive blogs too. I want to be a better writer. I hope this helps.

Until next time,

persoana anonima (google translate from romanian)