Took a new job and changed my life

Just like that. Almost two weeks ago tomorrow I started writing a book. Out of the blue. First ten pages were for fun, the next 20 were for curiosity. I am now at page 128 and I keep on going without feeling that I have a choice. I just sit in front of my computer and images and words start flowing out of my mind.

 

Photo source: http://www.aplaceofhopefordepression.com

I have made changes before, took a year or a few months off. Off from work, off from school, off from me and my quiet and numerous rules that made me too timid and hesitant to live a crazy year. Every and each one of them gave me more than I have expected. And still, this one seems to be the most fruitful of all.

I have always had difficulties keeping my imagination under control. Working to keep my mind focus on each task at hand, thinking straight, simple and logical. A teacher of mine once asked us to say in a project three of our flows. My number two was that I always seem to see the most complicated and unusual solution to the problems I'm confronted with and yet, sometimes failing to see the obvious ones. Who knows, maybe the flow I have been fighting for so long is not a flow at all.

So I'm taking a few months off, hoping the future will not say I'm wrong this time. Kept some old projects and took a new one that involves only writing. I work during the day and save my early mornings and nights for my book. I am not a writer and I will never be, be since I lack the proper education and the vast life experience I think one should have in order to consider himself or herself a true writer. But still, my pages have so far brought smile to two very dear faces and that it's more then enough for me. It has done it's purpose. My writing notebook, because book is an undeserved title so far, has touched two souls and it has started to heal mine.

Sometimes you are shown

Sometimes the beginning just happens to run us over. Not in the numbness of a final moment, nor while you close a door or a cardboard box marked "Kitchen - Fragile". But in the midst of a normal day when you enjoy the same sip of coffee and talk with the same office colleague about the same vacation that she will never get to go.

Photo source: http://chipsifraternity.wordpress.com

And it hits you like a tram off the rails. Whether it's the revelation of  some eyes speaking to you without opening their mouth, the deja-vu of a place where you see yourself through your lashes in  moments that you have not lived yet, or an idea that uncovers you in front of your face as very different than you thought you could be.

The beginning starts as a piece of sunshine that follows you reflected in a window from the block in front of you. It plays with your eye lids like a butterfly you are trying to scare away with your hand. Until you don't try anymore and stop to admire it's perfection, understanding that it is looking for you.

It starts nice, calm, quiet as the surprise of a warm summer rain in a hot day. And instead of hiding in the first bus stop, you choose to walk further feeling as the rain embraces you to the skin. The beginning is beautiful, it's a baby's smile, innocent and crystalline.

But the beginning is filled with traps because it's power comes from your soul. From that part which nobody used yet because nobody knows how to get to it. From the corner where you hide the silver cutlery for important guests.

And it feeds on you. In the early days it feeds on your enthusiasm and your quiet smile permanently imprinted on your face. Then it starts to feed on your impatience. Impatience with which you feel you want to leave the old clothes and to try on the new one bought from the store. Impatience with which you have no time to do what you used to do. Then it starts to feed on the nights when you do not have the patience to sleep and on the hunger that you haven't had the state of mind to quell.

And you wake up tired in the middle of an unknown road that you do not remember taking because you were too full of yourself. And you're sitting in front of your window looking for the same sunshine in the windows in front of you. But the sun has passed the afternoon and its light is now gentle and quiet. It heats without burning and give light without shining. And if you're lucky, you'll catch your reflection in the window for a moment and you will understand that you are not you anymore, and your are not where you were.  But that it's here where you should be.

Or you will frown, thinking that you had a dream, you will dress nicely and you go to work. And at lunch break you will discuss the crazy few days you've lived with the same office colleague, enjoying the same cup of coffee in the middle of an ordinary summer day.

My perfect place

I like to classify my favorite places in two categories. Places where beauty means solitude and silence, and where only the wind and the birds are allowed to interrupt my wondering mind.

 And places where music means voices, laughter, car horns and a thousand stories revolving around me. A little boy and a little girl full of whipped cream on the chin at the same table with a witless father who misses his wife still at work. Sunglasses on a custom-made suit, talking loudly on the phone, three tanned young women laughing melancholy in memory of yesterday when they were floating on a lounge chair on the sea side.
And of course there is also a defining condition. A favorite place is a place where I lived at least once perfect time. That moment when, although you don't know how to express it in words, you feel the wind has optimal intensity,the air has the temperature of your skin and leaves are dancing as on a song by Salieri. You tend to suspect that planets are also aligning in secret, but you can not put your hand in the fire because everything you know taught you that perfection does not exist.


Of course, I am now in a favorite place. In my home, in front of the window, as always with my laptop which oddly viruses whenever I feel like I've got the flu. And the coffee is the best in town.
But I kind of feel like changing the setting and I need suggestions.  So if you feel generous leave me your suggestion, a place in the entire world that it's worth seeing. It doesn't have to be glamorous or huge. A bench in St. Marks's Square or the middle rock on an anonymous beach are the kind of places I'm looking for.

Live happily,
IoanaIS.

Becoming a volunteer - Big changes come in small steps

Today I got my Red Cross member card. It is the most ordinary day ever, except it's really, really hot. 39 Celsius degrees were witness to my first step of becoming a Red Cross volunteer.

 Photo source: http://media.santabanta.com

I have been playing with the idea for a couple of months. I am not a very sociable person, I am not brave, nor extremely generous. My job involves spending long hours in front of the computer. Always connected to the world, but still, so disconnected. I have amazing friends and wonderful parents that have thought me to be polite, to help the people around me and not to get into trouble. I am an average good person, I occasionally give money to the poor and I try to be there for my friends to best of my abilities. But always in an average selfish way, being very careful not to disturb my quiet, pleasant life too much.

I have never seen my self as a volunteer, I have never considered that I have what it takes to just reach out there, into the world, giving up some of my perfectly predictable and easy days for others. And still, here I am, holding my Red Cross member card and feeling surprisingly enthusiastic about what is to come next.

Two months ago I joined an Aikido Dojo. It was the first thing that I did just following my dreams and my heart. No one I knew was doing martial arts. None of my friends. Now I know 10 amazing people that love the same thing that I do, and my best friend just joined the team. The only regret I have is that I haven't started this earlier.

This morning I prepared the documents I needed, put on my headphones and with music in my years I started my trip to the Red Cross office in my town. I always listen to music when I have a long road ahead. Have you noticed how it transforms everything? Like a pair of pink glasses, making people that you usually see walking with sad faces and leaned backs seem all of a sudden to walk happily in the rithm of any song you might listen.

After more then 30 minutes of walking in the sun and almost 0,5 liters of water I got to my destination. In front of the office there were 10, maybe 20 young people waiting for something. When I got in, I realized they were waiting to take the "First aid" exams. In a dark and cool room, two young women and a young man were trying to revive three dummies.

If there is one question that comes certainly into your mind when thinking about becoming a volunteer that is: Am I not too old for that? Seeing all those, well, children for me, over there made me hesitate again for a second. Then a volunteer came and led me to an office where I just left the papers, payed the annual fee and got my volunteer card. And that was all. 5 minutes and I was a volunteer. Not so glamorous or complicated as I thought.

But most of the big changes start small. For now, my volunteer card sits quietly on my desk as a symbol of a day well spent. Today I joined the Red Cross. No one I know is a Red Cross volunteer. But I am thrilled to have started this journey and I'm looking forward to see what other wonderful first steps will bring to my door.

The survivor (or The best house plant for beginners)

I am horrible with plants. None survived with me, until now. I forget to put water, I live them in the sun when I'm not suppose to, I live them in the dark when they need light. Any one getting through my doors is condemned.
 

But I still buy them, because I love them. Even though sometimes loves kills. I like every single living thing, plant or animal, because I see in them the best and most amazing parts of us. The innocence, the joy, the pure happiness of standing in the rain, life in its purest form, beyond money, interests and thought. But I can get to keep a plant alive.

Ad least not until now. Until I found my match. Found in a supermarket, little, with its colored leafs, cheap also. So, I thought, why not? Let's try again. And I bought it and brought her home. That happened three months ago and, believe it or not, it is still alive. Still beautiful and standing.

It is called Fittonia and because there are a lot of types of Fittonia I looked for it online and found out that my little survivor is called Fittonia Argyroneura. Original from Peru and the perfect plant for a indoor gardener beginner. When you forget to water them, their leafs begin looking droopy so it kind of tells you you need to give her some water. I left it last week on the window sill for an entire day, in the sun to find it looking really bad. I put water and by morning it was as good as new.

So let me present you the only house plant that survived me. Fitonnia is about 8-inch long, with oval leafs that have cool, colored nerve network. It looks really great and I think the fact that the leafs and not the flowers are its main attraction makes it special.

Argyroneura

Argyroneura

The Magic Journal - For all the single ladies

Not only but especially for them. So, if you are single, just broken up or already in the clear but a little bored and wondering when the next love adventure of your life will come ... Well, actually, you are probably wondering when the right one will come and what you did wrong last time. In conclusion, if you have a lot of time on your hands and a lot of questions about yourself I have the right treat for you.

The Magic Journal. It's a Journal, but it's Magic. Because it's not about your real life, it's about your ideal life, or a part of it. Maybe your ideal love story, or your ideal adventure. It doesn't really has to be about love. It should be about some place where you have always wanted to go, something that you have always wanted to do or someone that you have always wanted to meet but didn't have the chance.

So, it's about you. You don't have to use the first person. You can be a "she" if it's easier. You can even start writing about someone else, a fictitious character that you imagine. But I will guarantee that in the end you will return to what you know best: yourself.

The Magic Journal will help you find out things about yourself that you have never thought about. It will help you see what hides deep in your mind, how you wish you would be, look and act and what keeps your from being that.

You will have a lot of fun. GUARANTEED. You will get to know how your ideal man looks and acts like because he can't do or say anything unless you make him. You will understand what makes you tick, and you will see your each reaction and feeling written on paper so you will face your desires and fears more honestly then sitting on a shrink's couch. And it's free.

Don't worry if you can't put up the details about some dream island or wild jungle. Just write your action and emotions and get back to the details, which yes, you can look up on the Internet to make your experience more real. Cool, isn't it?

I started mine Sunday morning, more like a joke and a lot from boredom and heat. I don't remember the last time I laughed so loud. My mind had some pretty cool surprises for me. Enough to say I left myself with a Mai Tai, standing on the bridge of a really cool cruise ship and watching the sunrise. I'm looking forward to see what the day will bring on the Atlantic. So, take a pen, open your notebook and role out into your therapeutic, funny, virtual life. Better then TV and books, because you write the story.

Be careful, it's addictive and it only works if you are honest. Don't show it to anyone because it is only meant for you. See you in your real life. Have fun! And don't forget to let me know how it goes.

Best wishes,
IoanaIS

Are you happy? Are you all that you could be?

... or on a road that will allow you to become that?

 Photo source: http://www.funchap.com

I am not in the best period of my life. Some things are not as they should be, as I would like them to be. I've been here before, not having what I don't have now. But strangely, this time I feel happy.

For a couple of weeks, I feel like someone stands in my way. On my normal, quiet, boring, anonymous road to nowhere and he's not allowing me to pass further, until I find the right answer to a question I don't really know, but somehow I begin to guess.

I love my life. I can not speak about the happiness of having a beautiful family and children of my own, because this is not my case. I am "single", but not alone. I have wonderful parents, great, amazing friends and a sweet, naughty little dog whom I love all.

I cherish my independence, my time, my space, my absolute freedom in thought, in being and in doing almost anything I want, when I want. I am a "strong, independent, black woman". But I am not. Cause life has been kind to me. Always. But have I been kind to it?

I have broken up with someone, a "significant other" how I heard or read being called, about this time last year. I have passed through the "put your face on a box bag" phase, over the "I'm happy, yes, I really am happy" phase, the "fuck, I am not okay" phase, onto the nice, finally here phase of "I have so much time, let's do something for myself". The phase where you usually get your life back and start remembering who you are without somebody to define you.

I chose to start doing something I wanted to do for some time. Details are not important. What is important is that I love it. It helped me find myself, and I met new, amazing people. It gave me the feeling of beginning to set my life on the right track. It made me happy for the first time since ... I don't even remember when. It made me wonder what else I have been dreaming of doing all these years and never done because ... I don't even remember the reasons, but I'm sure they seemed really important back then.

It made me wonder if we find our place, our way, as we grow up. Or do we know it better when we are nothing but little persons with an open mind and we lose it on the way? Wouldn't that be sad? And really alarming?

So for a couple of weeks I am stuck. I feel the calm and serenity you feel when you are in the arms of your parents, and you feel safe and protected, and you know you don't have to worry about anything because they are wise and they will take care of everything and they will tell what you need to do.

I feel the excitement and curiosity of a student who is listening his teacher explaining an interesting notion and trying to figure out what the homework will be. Because there is homework for sure. And my next homework is volunteering. Giving. Being kind and generous to others. More then I have been. And I am preparing my workbook.

I am not in the best period of my life. But strangely, this time I feel happy. Because I feel I'm given the chance of getting back to my self, the freedom to choose the right road and the motivation to take it.