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trampchic [userpic]

Personal update.

August 9th, 2010 (04:24 am)

Sometimes I catch myself thinking: I can't believe this is now my life. Granted, it's only been a bit.

Living in the center of the world is, surprise surprise, very different from living in my little provincial big city.

Being here makes me miss my country, my nationality. Somehow being further away makes it all look clearer, sharper.

The nights I can't talk of, the days I have no one to talk to about.

Constantly in waiting.

trampchic [userpic]

Featuring yuletide paraphernalia and ye olde badly used grammar

April 17th, 2009 (04:52 pm)


I hate being photographed. To the point that there exists almost no account of me in general from about 2002 to now - a smattering of ID pics, a few family shots taken by granma (you know the kind - the one with aching smiles and forced poses and various Christmas trees in the background), and that's about it.

I was always convinced I'm not the most terribly attractive persona, and especially so in photographs.

Well, guess what.

I stumbled across a photo taken by my friend R. some three years ago. It's a small, cute little thing. You can hardly -- no, you can't actually see my face. But you can see the rest of a surprisingly slim kid with a passable haircut.

Some things have definitely changed since that pic was taken. But, you know, predictable epiphany commenced and all that. (To think I scoffed at the Cassandrian warnings of a trashy lady mag which predicted this happening! "You will looketh at your high-school pics and decide you weren't so bad after all!" Woe is me, etc.)

Shit, I'm a hot piece of ass. I never knew.

trampchic [userpic]

The obligatory spring entry.

April 8th, 2009 (06:12 pm)

Things that makes it feel good to be human again: 

-  John Mayer's music;

-  [ogorki malosolne];

- Anything freshly laundered;

- Deliciously shallow hair planning;
 
- Chocolate rabbits;

- CSI: Miami;

more Delerm-esque babblingCollapse )

trampchic [userpic]

Featuring some Magee, some Roth and some me

February 17th, 2009 (01:09 pm)


 I do not have a romantic relationship with books.

I don't fangirl over the musty smell of old book shops. I don't experience a thrilling frisson when I run my finger over the spines in a library. I don't freak out over keeping books immaculate; in fact, some of my favourites, especially from childhood, are a perfect example of why, e.g., eating oranges while reading is never a good idea. I have no problem with lending, or have a vastly complicated cataloging system (the books on my shelves can be roughly divided into: New Loved Ones, Old Loved Ones, Small Ones, New Academic, Old Academic, Pratchett and Library).

There is one area, however, where my love for the book extends beyond the written word and its font.

I like to wonder about the people who left all the charming notes and mysterious symbols in my library books. Person Nr 1, as seen in Goodbye, Columbus (also spotted before in Portnoy's Complaint), has a tendency to underline phrases, go check their meaning and mark them after, for some reason, with "v" or "x". Person Nr 2 was probably doing a paper on Classic philosophers - he/she left notes deciphering the connections between Socrates, Plato and Aristoteles in Magee's awesome anthology. Students? Probably. Male or female? Also, did they like what they were reading? Where did they read? Do I know them?

Those who pique my curiosity the most, however, are the ones who mark sentences like But there's still space for authenticity, namely, doing the sort of thing that one does in a way that allows a response to the unique situation without concern for respectability and conformity. That kind of life, not trying to get absolute meaning, and responding to the current situation, makes you an individual and no longer zombie-like. Heidegger says it makes you flexible, alive, joyous. That is his idea of how one should live* (tl;dr: smth long and complicated) with a star. Who was it? Was it somebody seeking confirmation for their beliefs, or somebody struck with an epiphany? What happened in their life that made those particular words stand out for them

In case you were wondering, I always do this. I go to court and wonder who were the parents of this person who is today on trial for beating somebody up. I stare at Almodovar-esque women in the street, only because they look like they've lived through so much.

I have am fascinated by the darker, psychological aspect of humanity.

Or something.

Anyway, the buggers conveniently never sign their names somewhere on the margins, so I guess we'll Never Know.


 


 


 

__________

*All copyright goes to Bryan Magee, The Great Philosophers, London 1987, BBC Books; quoting p.268

trampchic [userpic]

Featuring rubber monsters and Guys I Know. (These may or may not be mutually exclusive concepts.)

January 8th, 2009 (04:42 pm)
contemplative

current mood: contemplative


So evidently, my little pony is now an euphemism for...several Adult Concepts. And I was complimented for "having a spontaneity for stupidity". You can totally tell we're at uni- we're so prone to start having these Meaning of Life Conversations.

 Speaking of which. Lately I realised that I miss the weirdest stuff. Under this comes: reminiscing random conversations with people I randomly conversed with, wishing I'd do a better job of keeping my home teacher still in my life, and sort of wishing widely recognised as accepted social behaviour didn't exist, i.e., that I can't meet up with my friend's boyfriend or her dad, them both being really fun people to talk to, completely platonically.

The part that's worrying me, though? I catch myself thinking that it would be awesome to go see a horror flick with This Guy I Know. Reasons this is not a good idea: 1.[cut for tmi value. general gist: not a good idea] 2. Movies are his date thing (and it wouldn't like it to be a date). 3. Especially horror movies. But I can't shrug off the thought that finally, when I'm not awesomely freaked out by horrors anymore (I used to be able to watch, like, only 1/5th of the movie, screaming, and the rest with my face hid in my hands) I could really enjoy them for their hilarity, as he does.

Maybe I just need rubber monsters jumping out of nowhere in my life, and the guy is just an excuse.

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