A month of being a 19-year-old

It´s currently two to 1 in the morning, I am sitting at my desk in my temporary far south-west London room (very, very south west) and am literally doing anything else just not to deal with my first journalism assignment.

There´s a bin under the desk, filled with candy wrappers from Maoam stripes. The package says it´s mainly made for trick-or-treating. Contains approximately 30 pieces. I ate the whole thing on the bus from work yesterday because I was getting stressed solemnly by the idea of thinking that I´ll have to write about something eventually. In the very near future.

Right next to the bin there is a half-empty bottle of Russian Standard I bought for 15 pounds in a local Londis last Friday. Fifteen quid! Who do I think I am, I get a little money and suddenly I can throw it around on unnecessary shit.

There is also a bowl stacked on top of a plate on the ground. I own one of each, and picking them up every morning to wash them in the kitchen has become a sort of an everyday morning routine, alongside opening the window immediately after waking up, because this boiling room does not leave any space for breathing.

And this is how I´ve been living for the past (almost whole) month. I have not stopped since week one, but if you asked me what I´ve been doing, I could not respond with much. There is school, which I´ve been trying to take seriously, I really have, but I still seem to get that feeling I do everything else, everything not as important, expect for focusing on my assignments and deadlines.

The days are flying by so quickly and yet it feels like they have been dragging on. It feels like not much time has passed at yet there is still hardly any time for anything.

I don´t feel any more mature, any more smarter. I still struggle with English, even though I´ve been learning it for so long and my Spanish has not progressed much either. I seem to spent a fair amount of money online shopping, but when I put the clothes on, I don´t feel more different, more interesting to me. I´ve been trying to develop my own style but every time it seems I´m on a good track with a piece of clothing, it just does not work out quite the way I imagined it to.

But by no means, I am not complaining. The day is gone, turns into night and then soon enough, a new one arises. Sometimes, I get to write a good, solid piece of text that I do not despise as much. Sometimes, even though very rarely, and after countless of time pushing the repeat button, I sing all the Spanish lyrics to a certain song flawlessly.

I will be home in something more than over a week. The time will fly and then I will be back here again. But there is still a lot to do before I can breath out for a bit.

I think it´s mainly that I certain ideas for this year. Big aspirations. If I work well in advance, plan everything carefully and save some money, it should all work out. I am excited. I have a plan and am not just pointlessly trying to get through this term and following couple of months. I have a vision as of the majority of my year should unfold and I am working towards it.

So now, I don´t feel more mature, smarter, but I feel determined. Focused. That is the only difference I can inwardly feel. But then again, month is exactly the perfect time that you look at after it has passed and you think to yourself “Already so long?” immediately followed by “Only that much?”

London 1.1

I´ve been in London for something over a month now. At first, I wanted to write about it all – the first day, my 18th birthday just two days later, one week in. It´s only been a couple of weeks, but I feel like I´ve aged a whole century. The weight of change has nestled upon my shoulders. But still, somehow I feel lighter. I´ve known for a good while now that I am not a small kid anymore – I´ve aged, yes, but still, I am not old just yet.

I feel like it´s been months since I´ve been here. Not in lousy way, nor exhilarating. Just a heavy aftertaste of  having so many thoughts and feelings in a span of a very short time. First days I doubted, unnecessarily sharing aloud to people who did not necessarily deserved to know – “why did I even decide on this?” “Would I have not been better off at home?” even though I knew the answers to both questions even before opening my mouth. “Because you would never forgive yourself.” goes the first one. The second one is a bit simpler, but still resonates heavy : “No.”

Sure, I could be beside my family everyday and my friends would be only a phone call away. But my nerves would snap like a rubber band with my mom constantly getting on them, and how could my head not explode with my sisters  constantly gushing over things I´d rather not occupy my brain with? I love them, but I needed a break. And couple of years back, the idea of taking it over an ocean seemed absurd to me as well, trust me.

As for the situation with my best friends – ah, I miss them all so much. But I was very well aware it would not still be the same even if I had stayed. There are constantly changes in life, big ones, small ones, everyday changes and we´ve been submitted to them quite a lot throughout this past year. Some of them split their time differently now – three have boyfriends,  one is graduating and applying to universities on top of it. The rest of us is already there, studying our asses off, some more, some less. It all depends on the level of laziness. I feel like I tend to excel at this, but maybe we are all sharing this same feeling. (That we are all the lazy ones, not that they all think I´m the laziest.) We are out here experiencing new things and making memories with other people. But if we can still get excited to tell each other about something great that happens to us, and we can still spill our hearts out to each other, we´ll be fine. And I know we´ll be fine. That is why I´m only currently worried about when the next email will come and I am looking forward to sitting down over a drink(or you know…five) and getting drunk for a reasonable price.

And that is another thing I miss from back home – cheap drinking. Where after three beers I did not have to starve for the same amount of weeks. Where the bar route from behind the table to the toilet would always be strangely hilarious after two rounds of special price vodka. And the morning after you could cry for many reasons, but rarely because you drank  away one spontaneous low budget weekend trip to some European metropolis. Also, I miss good old hard Slovak  liquor – which tastes as strong as how shady the nameless label looks like. Where in a pub every shot of it costs one round euro but hold up! why not straight up buy the whole bottle? That way we can get wasted AND save some money! That´s some smart central European thinking for ya. You Brits are still going to call us eastern Europe, you don´t care. But even though the love of drinking brings these regions closer together, we are not the same thing. You should know, with your drinking culture so deeply embedded within, and still, you can spot a drunk Brit miles away. He is tottering and shouting gibberish at the top of his lungs while us central-ers and easterners are sitting at the table shaking our heads. Maybe it is because your liquor is expensive and, pre-mixed already?! Excuse me, but I am not willing to spend 12pounds on a bottle of original Smirnoff Ice. First of all, Smirnoff is an abomination even for half of the prize (hear us central-ers and easterners scoff in the distance), the artifical lemon flavour would be alright but it´s 4.5percent?! After downing down a bottle of vodka ya girl would expect to regret almost any other life decision than just spending money on that said bottle. On top of that, I miss getting some bottles, gathering around in someone´s flat and well, getting wasted. And there´s this lovely atmosphere in the air because you are amongst your own and talk stupidly and laugh at everything and even puking feels more comfortable because you´re almost like at home. I think we all get the sense that in that case it´s more about the people than the drinking. But still, it´s a bit about the drinking as well. The alcohol helps loosen everything up a bit and makes it so much funnier for no bloody reason. Damn, I think this is what I miss the most. I need to find me freaks like that around here. But what I will give you is the idea of dressing up for pre-drinks. I sure like to twirl my head flirty to a sound of some RnB song for the span of ten second snapchat story, admiring my sharp winged liner and swinging hoop earrings. My hand with long painted nails wrapped around a glass of wine, giving the camera the look cause yaas girl I look good!

But enough of alcohol-infused talk now. Or I might get a serious craving and pop into the freezing cold to spend six pounds for a bottle of wine in Tesco, which I would normally not even go for back at home. Desperate times call for desperate measures I guess. Whatever makes me dizzy.

If I were to make a list of things I miss the most from back home it would go like this – 1.my friends, 2.the alcohol, 3.cheap charity shopping. The last two may interchange, depending on the state of mind I´m in. The first one will always stay put though.

There is one more person I miss – I think about that boy every single day. Or I think more about the ways not to think of him. It is not a particularly strong feelings I hold for him – though it sure is something, still. The only way I can describe it is that I am so looking forward to feel his hands on my lower back, his nose pressed against mine. I am looking forward to coming back home for a month, but I know it´s only a pit stop. I´ll be looking forward to being here as well. Even though I am never satisfied and I dwell on all the little odds and sods, somehow I will make this work. Rather than being trapped between two countries, two languages, I´ll summon all my will and creative energy to power through and to quote the iconic figure of our childhood – Hannah Montana – I´ll make “the best of both worlds”.

 

 

The What´s Underneath Project

[First, go click this link to see what´s this all about, because I really would hate to put my words into someone else´s mouth and misinterpret the whole point the creators are trying to get across by initiating this wonderful project.]

Basically, The What´s Underneath Project is a collective of videos uploaded on a StyleLikeU youtube channel, curated by Elisa and Lily (two badass ladies forming a mother-and-daughter duo, how amazing!). For each one, they invite an individual to come sit on a small wooden stool in front of a camera and talk. After answering questions about their personal style and history, they take a piece of clothing off and throw it on the ground, as they literally as well as metaphorically reveal more of themselves to the viewers. Coming to the end of the narrative, they sit only in their underwear, which means they are at their most exposed therefore vulnerable. But in every single video, the initial signs of doubts and insecurities wear off in a matter of seconds, and they still deliver their final responses while their words resonate throughout the room and into the person sitting on the other side of glowing laptop screen.

These videos are impossible to turn off, especially if you are as me, fascinated by all those diverse people from different parts of the world,by their strengths and struggles, their passions, their life stories and how they overcame the harsh burdens thrown at them to get to the place they currently are in. Even if you only watch one video today, I guarantee you it will be the most powerful thing you have watched in weeks, and you will find yourself still thinking about it and engraving the positive quotes of body image and self love into your consciousness.

I haven´t watched every single video yet, but am currently in the process of. Down below is just a small selection of the ones I so far have felt the most connected with and personally understood, even though my experience may be cut a few years less.

Meredith Graves

In my body is a good place to be because functionally speaking I know at the end of the day it´s the only home I´ve ever had and it´s the only home I ever will have.  And home is where you´re supposed to feel the safest and home is where love happens and home is where you´re supposed to feel best about yourself. And, uh, welcome home.

Sarah Elise Hardman

So I have to recognise that the reason I feel afraid is because I´m taught to be afraid but  just because I feel afraid doesn´t mean that I now can´t be successful. And I can use those things to purpel me. It´s like adding salt to the dishes that you baked that are sweet because the salt actually makes everything else sweeter.

Melanie Gaydos

Ellen Elias

My mom, she,don´t need a man for anything.For money, for telling her she´s beautiful, to tell her she´s funny, to tell her she´s smart. She don´t need to hear that from a man to know those things, she knows those things, but yeah, she wants love. And I feel Im like that. When I enter a relationship, I want him to know that I know that already and then he has to know it too. And now we can build each other up, let´s help each other to make this beautiful. I dont need you but I want you.

Clementine Desseaux

I´ve really always was okay with my body, it´s just more people made me feel like it was not okay. But I never looked in the mirror and said you´re ugly.

And it´s [my body] chubby too, so it doesn´t get cold in the winter.

15.04.2015

[A whole freaking week has passed already?!?!! Un-fuckin´-believable].

Okay, so first, I have found it very soothingly calming to write down anything in bullet points. Anything that I manage to catch and remember while running way too fast across my mind into the vastless and oblivious place called short term memory to be forgotten forever. – I think it this is how the thought process and human brain works but idk, might be wrong.

* Thanks to my friend Dessi (I think I will forever think of you as my friend, because you have recently done so much more for me than my real talk-face-to-face, sit-down-next-to-at-school friends have done for months), I got completely addicted to Russell Brand´s Trews. I have loved this man for a long time now and I have generally agreed with everything he´s got to say (except for election, I still think no matter how screwed or corrupted our countries may be, we should still vote), and it can safely be said it has quickly become my primary source of information as well as interest. On his channel, he talks a lot about how the change of the way we are given information is necessary because it tells us how and what to think instead of laying out the facts as they are and letting us decide for ourselves. If you´d popped into my room at any time these past few days, it´s safe to say you´d found me sitting in front of my screen quietly mouthing words to myself, something along the lines of “I dont want to become a corrupted journalist” “I dont want to force people into thinking a certain way” “I dont want people to force me to think a certain way” “I want to stay woke af” – and upon these I shall act.

* I have become absolutely obsessed with Fall Out Boy music, as I realised these are the kind of angsty frustrated teenage lyrics tunes to scream and/or cry along to. I have fallen asleep to their songs twice yesterday, and I know it might seem like I find them boring, but quite the opposite – I just found the entire experience calming, a tool to cover over my mom yelling at me and as a tool to vent out my stresses about school work and upcoming exams. The heartbreaking realisation of no longer being asleep became immediately more bearable with the first strokes of guitar playing still in my ears.

* I got a free ride home from a bus driver on my commune I take every single day, sometimes even twice. I believe it was because I am always kind and polite and I say thank you and please.

*I am in need of going through piles and piles of old clothes and to try and find gems as I did last time, and I really have to hold myself back not to march into my local thrift store and start digging up for gold. Sadly, I dont have any money left, I used it all up onto a stupid trip I took with my friends to the city last Friday night. I am patiently waiting for the big sale to arrive and then I will feast (after all, I deserve it after all the tests I took this week).

08.04.2015

First ever one of these, yay.

Over the last couple of weeks I found it that I was unable to express myself in any other than diary form. I was rushing down the street to catch my everyday afternoon after school bus, and I was having a conversation with myself in my head, complaining to an imaginary buddy trapped inside the paper sheets of my journal, words spilling everywhere and constructing themselves into masterpieces, without me lying even a letter onto the page. All I could do was rant and prepare outlines and come up with yet another idea I would never actually write. Not this week, anyway. I was filled with such incredible anger I surprised myself, and that rarely happens. I was full of confusion and irritation and I didn´t know how to vent it out.

Wednesday night I got a Snapchat message from my friend. Two girls with eyes painted carbon black, on a bright flouorescent red and green and blue disco lights background. “Party gals!! Spontaneous idea.” read the description line. “Fuck you” was all my spontaneous mind could come up with.  The following response wasnt well-thought through either – ” Next time the two of you go out without inviting the rest of us again, don´t even bother to text me. I sleep better at night not pissed

. A day after she opened it. I checked. The last time we saw each other we did not talk about it. I guess this is how arguments go down in the 21st century. I want to punch mouths or walls with my right hook. I need to scream at somebody or possibly smash porcelaine. I need to be yelled at. I have to be hurt by words so I know it´s real. So I know I haven´t made it all up and everybody´s just standing by, with mildly, but not really, concerned looks on their faces, hanging around, while I go batshit crazy.

Thursday night I sat down to finally finish the gift for my friend, with the little help of an entire Fall Out Boy discography put on shuffle, when “bang the goldrum” came on and I lost it. What I wanted to do was rip the paper up and write a huge I HATE YOU sign across the pages, because I couldn´t for the life of me cope with this hopeless sinking feeling of losing all my pals, battling the constant change between recklessly not caring and desperately wanting the old times to return, because all of these feelings are valid and important and at the same time there was no more left fucks I could give. What do I possibly write inside a birthday card for a person I used to once call my best friend and I adored her so much the affection leaked from my pores for all the world to see? I am done now, empty. The waterfalls have suddenly stopped pouring, the lakes have finally dried out.

Hour or two later I finished the gift. I wrapped it up all neatly and then I went to bed. Stomach full of leftover holiday cake after watching the entire season of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt in one sitting, with the inevitable arrival of school again a sudden gloominess came over me. I am calm at last. Tomorrow I will give her the present and she will be genuinely happy, because I know her well enough not to buy her crap she wouldn´t like and because she can´t fake joy. I will compliment her dress because she´s got an amazing fashion taste and I will discuss the whole unpleasant text message situation if she wants to.

Scrolling down the webpage of my dream university, I will dream of my future, with them still around. I still want them to feel happy, and partially I want to be the reason they do. Friday night I will dance like crazy at the party and then I will ride the first morning train back home moving too fast to watch the sun through the window. Sat besides my two best friends, I will be happy. Just because I sometimes find loving them hard doesnt mean I´m  simply gonna stop. I am confident enough that the rain will start coming down soon again.

just bunch of cool shit I wanted to share with you

HOLD UP STOP WHATEVER YOU´RE DOING I´ve got something very important to show you :

1.Behold, the greatest portrait of a person ever taken, a.k.a photo of Neil Gaiman with a tombstone. I found this at the back of (in protective plastic foil wrapped) copy of “The graveyard book” at my local library. I enjoyed reading it, and only halfway throughout I realised it was a children´s book. It´s about a boy named Bod, shortened for Nobody and he´s living on a cemetary surrounded and raised by bunch of dead people from different centuries, and they give him various advice on life, history lessons, and yeah even his weird but cool name. I fell in love with Bod and I fell in love with the unliving residents of the graveyard, mostly with this one dead teenage witch.

Where do I find more horror children´s books??! Guys just let me know. I´ll be borrowing Coraline the next time I´m at the library, but after then I dont know! Kind of stressed about that, I feel like I haven´t fully accepted the right dose of this literary genre.

2.Another cool fictional character I want to point out is played by Milla Jovovich in Zoolander(2001). Holy shit just look at her. Katinka Ingabogovinanana might have just become my new life hero. The constant bitch face, or the expression of absolute disgust of other people´s bullshit, thick accent, name that´s hard to pronounce(it´s time you learn names that aren´t two syllables long), the skill to get shit done, the incredible fashion sense. When I grow up I want to cut my hair into a short bob with symmetrical bangs, put on baby pink lipstick and black eyeliner its sharp wings stretch out almost to heaven, and the next day I want to walk in black leather suit and black high heels looking like devil´s right hand with bright red eyeshadows and the lipgloss colour of blood and kick ass. Also, this slavic beauty looks mighty fine in all PVC nurse costume with dosing you up with drugs. The ultimate dream.

3. I´m so close to finishing David Sedaris´ book of short stories entitled “Naked.” Since far I´ve been loving it, and I have come to a conclusion that I want to live my life the way anecdotes and stories worth putting into a book can be written about it. That way, I´m free to do all the strange things and talk to and meet all the weird, sick people, because even if I feel ill and gloomy after our encounters, somebody may read it one day and think “that´s fucked up. I love it.” And that will be more than enough of a satisfaction for me. Also, I have started to think this way partially also thanks to the new series of Girls, mainly when Hannah was paint wrestling in the inflatable kids´pool with a highschooler or when she got a ride home from an amish guy (or technically a mennonite, it´s actually pretty offensive to switch the terms).

So far from my personal experience, I could say I got alcohol poisoning, that I (in all likelihood) sharred ecstacy with my friend at the harvesting celebration(dont ask, but grape and wine is pretty big deal in our area) and got feeded fruit dipped in chocolate in a highly exclusive brothel in China when I was 9. Actually, this sounds pretty traumatising, but all of these acts were done by one big mistake.

I want to do crazy shit because there will be no other way to do things, I want to do it this way from my own decision, my own anticipation. I want to see it all, to experience it all, to breathe it all in and just hope it doesnt finish me off before I write it all down.

Yeah well, now that I got this off my chest (or more like out of my brain) I can go marathon a tv show I still havent decided on,since im basically snowed in my own house rn

Happy (wild) friday night guys, go live some things worth putting into your memoir!

Boring Obligatory Introduction

So hello, internet users and members of the blogging community!
First of all, I have no desire in trying to convince you or hide the fact that I am, in fact, bit of an odd weirdo, as I´m pretty sure you´ll notice. I just hope you´ll accept it and maybe get along,eventually. Second of all, sometimes,I have issues. And a strange way of dealing with them, and also a messy way of writing about them. Maybe you will just read it and smile, or maybe you will actually relate, and nothing could make me happier.
My name is Barbora, which means “stranger” in Greek, and that is probably the coolest thing about myself. Unfortunately,I´ve never been to Greece, and sadly (ehmm… more like winning! *Charlie sheen voice*) im no stranger to throwing up in other people´s bathrooms and eating way too much gummy bears

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I am sweet 6teen, with pockets half full of salt and the bitter taste of tequila in the back of my throat. Occasionally, I find the complimentary lime in my backpack (im not even lying).
Compliments on anything you´ll see on this site are always welcomed (if not encouraged, but I mean—–no pressure).And if you decide to comment, I´ll love you forever. Except if you´re a racist misogynist homophobe. Then FUCK YOU. And if you do decide to write something nonethless, please, go ahead, it will only give me an enormous vengeful pleasure to destroy your stupid ass, as I fuck you up with my huge imaginary dick.
What you´ll find on this blog:
shitloads of feminism ramblings, random stories from my life, texts in parenthesis, bad jokes (which I do, in all honesty, find funny), sarcasm,self-centered posts, couple of banging looking selfies, and swear words where they don´t even fucking seem appropriate. Whatevs
Okay, well, I feel like it´s time to wrap this up. Sit down, take a cup of tea, or coffee, or a glass of your favourite alcoholic beverage( this site allows underage drinking while browsing), and enjoy! *waving hand emoji*
Barbora xx