Chocolate for breakfast

In one's childhood years, one cannot hold back the desire to grow up as fast as possible. One imagines that together with adulthood there comes freedom, independence, will of choice, mature thinking, unconstrained but wise decision making and so much fun related to all of the above. 

One tries momma's heels, even if at one's early age they don't fit, neither straightforwardly, nor metaphorically. One puts on an outrageous amount of make-up, resulting in a clownish caricature of a grown up. Which makes the little one feel simultaneously so classy and yet so confused and enraged at the big ones' laughter. One begs grandma to pour a teaspoon of coffee in the morning milk, then one sips full of importance the barely brownish hot beverage. Another one lusts at father's tobacco pack or glass of brandy, or maybe this was in the 1920's. Better said, another one craves father's pack of Kent 8 and the glass of gin tonic, while merely indulging in passive smoking and wondering if that day will come when smoking and drinking will not be so out of reach. One, if that one a girl, or nowadays not necessarily, dreams of a puffy white dress and grotesque matching tiara. One awaits having their own children and exert responsibility on them "better than one's parents" did. If one is not a blue eyed curly blonde, one dreams of dying and curling their hair and wearing contacts to fix that. The same applies for one who is a blue eyed curly blonde but fantasizes about being a straight haired hazel eyed brunette. One swears that when fully grown up will go to sleep at 3 AM, no one bugging them to get some early rest. One vows to eat sweets for all meals and forget about the existence of broccoli and spinach. 

This switch child to adult does happen, when you suddenly become a grown up and you get to make all the decisions for yourself. From there, the most natural reaction is..oh, crap! You cannot go back to being an irresponsible child, it's like this switch completely brainwashes you and you are keen on being fully accountable for your own existence. Parents and older grown-ups will keep being parents and older grown-ups, but if their advice was non-disputable and by all means acceptable until the switch, and you would trust without protests their sanity, after you have become a "responsible adult" yourself, any attempt to set things straight from their part becomes irritating and far-fetched. Even if you'd die for someone to take Those Decisions for you, and fix That Pile of Problems over there, and teach That Very Person a lesson, the sudden adulthood does not let you sleep well at night if you don't do that yourself. The range of issues you're confronted with is outrageously varied.

From a mere amount of carrots in the meatballs or the selfie to post on Facebook, till the number of coffees tolerable a day, the perfect shampoo against hair loss, amount of mistakes or flaws acceptable per friend, ending with the pillars, like place to live, career, person to share one's life with. 

While I care deeply for my somewhat recently acquired adult status, and I am pleased I can wear 15 cm heels, drink frappes or vodka orange, sleep by choice from 2 to 6, there are moments when I curse adulthood and its strings attached from the bottom of my heart. Like this morning, after snoozing my phone for 3 times in no mood of turning on my work laptop, while fighting chickenpox by my own self, when I was trying to pull myself together to cook some healthy breakfast, but grabbed a Belgian chocolate instead. Then's when the gorgeous heels hurt your feet, coffee makes you anxious, you wish you could go out of the house without the make-up you were so much yearning for when younger, but you cannot because of the dark circles caused by going to sleep at 3 AM (by choice) and you’d kill for a broccoli home-cooked meal. Just saying, there are times when being an adult sucks, it's simple logic, when we grow up our dramas grow with us as well. 

There are times when not even high heeled shoes, caffeine or sex make do. I kid you not, not even chocolate for breakfast.

20(years of awkwardness)1(+)1(equals 2.0), or numerically correct a briefing of 2011

It is only politically fair to the year of 2011 to make a societal, sentimental, introspective, retrospective balance sheet of the past 12 months. Not only because I read some really inspirational posts on the subject, that fueled the green monster of envy and its brotherly peer, the writing muse. Not even because, according to some apocalyptic thinking (equally nonsensical and overrated if you ask me), this might be the last chance to use New Year's as an excuse for resolutions, reminiscing, wishing. But because one way or the other we do constantly create some sort of scales on our course of action and living. And this clearly reaches the peak of drama under the pretext of overpriced Champagne, pet disturbing fireworks and flipping the last page in one's cat printed calendar. And, at the end of the day, be it the 31st of December, what's more fashionable than some heart poured right in the reader's face, some happiness and bitterness prone to be reason for concerns or gloating.
My 2011 started quite typically, away from home (if sticking to the classical definition for "home"), with elaborated plans for New Year's that turned into an elaborated disaster, similar in effect to some last minute planning. With some drunken birds and onions, plenty of booze to drunken up the birds and humans, an indoor picnic, some hours of street wandering, a whole bunch of awkwardness but some sort of cozy end, or better said beginning. One may say that someone put a spell on us(me), which brings every New Year's Eve to a whole new level of weirdness year after year. Me, I just find it appalling that all the stress of creating something beautiful turns into a hot mess. So, resolution for 2012, if Mother Earth is still kind enough to have us for another year, the New Year's plans will be bloody light and spontaneous.

This round and puffy year continued with some months even further away from home(and now we must not necessarily stick to the classical definition of home, cause after all home is where your heart is and mine was miles away) in beautiful but freezing cold Norway. There's where I learned plenty of things (with the risk of being repetitive) about the world, about the others, but mostly about me. But my version of the Oslo tale was already told earlier in this written history.

Starting sometime in May I experienced one of the nastiest things that ever occurred, when my hair started to leave me deciding there's too much drama in my head and that's not a safe environment to live. It still hangs on to that decision, but has loosened up a little. It probably figured I've learned my lesson. And it's somewhat true. It indeed made me remember how much I used to complain that my hair was not pretty, thick or long enough. Now I want that back as I figured it was not bad at all. It's taught me the rough way that sometimes I can be too picky, so, extrapolating, another resolution for 2012 is to be slightly more thankful for what I have, and try to think less of what could've been better if I have no plans of changing it. And if my hair will be able to handle being turned into blonde during this year, it'll mean that I'm ready for so much more changes for the better in my life.

Sometime in June I came back to Bucharest. It ached more than I let see, as I felt it like a huge defeat. I am not sure what I was aching for, as I am not ever quite sure of anything. Well actually there are few things I am sure of, after working hard for becoming so, and this conducts to another huge resolution for this year, to leave this country without looking back.
Then came July, and together with it my first real job. Unfortunately for me and those who know me, probably better than they wished, I am not the most patient of beings, so timeliness was crucial when deciding what company to embrace. So here I am, 6 months later, having learned responsibility, not loving it, but being grateful for plenty of things, among which the fact that from a million jobs available in this world, I have ticked one I do not want to do. So basically I am closer to figuring out what I want to do with my career, whose thorough planning seems just a little less acceptable than planning a shelter scheme in case of a zombies' apocalypse. But in my twenty fifth year of existence, to embrace the roundness of a quarter century, I target reasonability and wisdom, so, "grown up" resolution, figure out what the heck amma gonna do about this sensitive point called career.

In August I started doubting a lot, firstly myself and then anything else around me that could be doubted. And my doubt was fueled by all the other doubters out there.

It seems like September has been the month of changes and heart furnishing. It was then when I decided to change my parasite status and to literally move in with the best flat mates ever, who are temporarily and successfully filling the empty slots in my inner and outer being, who are putting up with my bipolarity and who are willing to try my cooking and for whom I'd bake all the muffins in the world (where of course muffins are a foodie euphemism for love). While I pulled two people really close to my soul, unfortunately September was also the month when I started to be a socially awkward penguin, and at a more or less conscious level I decided to push other people away, reason for which I was anything but approachable for the last quarter of 2011. Which I am trying to fix starting as of...well, the day before yesterday.

I guess many more important events happened during these past 12 months, my cat was sick but recovered, I visited 7 countries, I baked dozens of cakes, I bought tons of underware, I played Guitar Hero on Expert, I've published this blog, I gained some people and lost some people, I wrote a thesis, I graduated my Master,I ate a lot of shrimps, I grew up a little, I disappointed a little, I got a lot on people's nerves, I was loved a little more, bla, plenty of trivia on the tip of my tongue right now.
Like in a round and vicious dream, the end of the year found me on foreign land again, this time in a literally feverish atmosphere, testing for the millionth time my inexistent patience and challenging my limits. But fortunately, my heart is so oxymoronic (if not bluntly moronic) that my limits have become limitless (without any magic transparent pills) and while I doubt loving the love of my life, I start loving him even more. Related to this, there can be no resolution, it's just my truth and I am fully living it, be it 2012 or whenever.