Happy anniversary.

How many times did you walk into a public loo after someone and couldn't stand the smell? How many times did you curse or call someone names because s/he was occupying the toilet for too long? Has the thought of them having a serious chronic disease ever crossed your mind? I bet it didn’t. You have never probably noticed how embarrassed and ashamed they were walking out and seeing someone entering the toilet after them, or perhaps seeing the massive queue of people that has just gathered around giving them the worst look ever.

People often say that they could never poo in a public toilet. I get it, the uncomfortable feeling of other people ‘hearing’ you, judging you and giving you looks. I never liked to do it myself but sometimes when I’m out of the house I have no choice. I suffer from a chronic disease called Ulcerative Colitis, which together with Crohn’s Disease is part of the Inflammatory Bowel Diseases (IBD). What it means is that at one point of my life, when I was 21 to be exact, my large bowel started attacking itself, thinking there was an infection whereas there wasn't really one. Following this it started attacking healthy tissues causing inflammation and exposing me to heavy diarrhoea with blood and mucus. One day I was fine, the next I couldn’t get out of bed. I was weak, exhausted, couldn’t eat nor drink anything as it just passed through me. Everything seemed to irritate my sensitive insides, although I had no clue about it at that time. I simply thought it was a bug that was going to go away after a week or so, but it didn’t. What triggered it for me was stress due to the amount of exams and written assignments I had to undertake at my year abroad university, and probably the fact that they were all in French.  I didn’t go to the doctor in France even though my friends were trying to force me to. I guess I already knew that it was something serious and I didn’t want to stay alone in France for Christmas. So I went back to Poland, where I am originally from, and my parents took me straight to the GP who completely neglected me. Then there was the hospital where I was referred to go to an outpatient clinic. My dad got very frustrated and decided not to go there but instead made a private appointment with our old GP who suspected either IBS or IBD but wanted me to see a specialist for further tests. The only problem was the fact that it was 24^th December, Christmas Eve, and we had to wait until 6^th January for the specialist appointment. So with some dietary recommendations, some medications and pain killers I was able to survive Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Luckily my family was there for me. Although very caring and supportive, they drove me nuts treating me like I was an egg just about to crack. When I finally got the appointment with the specialist, his first question was how much weight did I lose, followed by when can I come to the hospital. I lost more than 5kg which doesn’t sound that much but for someone only 5’1” (155cm) tall and usually weighing around 50kg it was quite noticeable. After having a colonoscopy done the gastroenterology team discovered I suffered from severe Ulcerative Pancolitis which is a form of Ulcerative Colitis in which the whole colon (from the cecum to the rectum) is affected by the disease. Unfortunately (or fortunately) the extremely high dosage of corticosteroids that I was given, helped and the plans of trying biological treatment on me weren’t an option anymore. I’ve had my ups and downs ever since, some more painful and severe than others but luckily I didn’t require any further hospitalisation (and I hope it stays that way). Despite that I suffer from side symptoms which affect my life on a daily basis such as recurrent flare-ups, abdominal pain, weight loss and weight gain (due to corticosteroids), and extreme fatigue. I may be fine in the morning but in agony few hours later. The disease is completely unexpected. Moreover, I need to watch out what I eat and avoid certain foods that I know for sure will make me suffer later. I need to watch out for stress so that it won’t trigger a flare up.

Living with IBD is a constant struggle. It’s an invisible disease so I may seem perfectly normal on the outside whereas my insides are at war, fighting yet another battle. The risk of developing bowel cancer is high as well. This week (1-7 December) is Crohn’s and Colitis Awareness Week, a chance to shout out and educate people about this long-term chronic conditions that affect over 300,000 in the UK and millions more worldwide. Purple is our colour so if you want to support people suffering from IBD (me included) and spread much needed awareness about these diseases, wear it next Friday, 5^th December and spread the word!

#BeCrohnsAndColitisAware

one of these days

Few weeks ago I was asked to write an artist statement for my drama classes. I struggled. I was lost, without a clue where to start hence my first words were 'I have never considered myself an artist'. That's entirely true. I have never considered myself one as I haven't achieved anything yet and I'm not as good enough to call myself one. At the very moment I am completely lost. I have no idea how I am going to achieve what I want to achieve. I'm angry at the fact that I've still more than six months left until I graduate. I feel as if I was trapped in a world that I no longer belong to. French lectures are annoying me and I see no point in attending translation classes even though they're with the nicest tutor I have ever had. I was interested in translation at some point of my life but then I realised that I'm not really good at it, so I gave up. I do that often though, I give up when it starts getting serious, when I have to put in an extra effort and start to care. You know why? ... because when it's finally over I feel lost and helpless, like an abandoned animal. I don't know what to do with myself and then I start to think, and think, and think. I tell myself that I'm not good enough and I have never been and that I will probably end up having a shitty job that I will hate (or worse - stay in McDonald's forever). And most of all that my parents will be right... They have never believed in me when it came to drama, no one did. It was always considered a whim. I was supposed to get over it at some point. Well I didn't, did I?

There's a million ideas per second going on in my head right now. I'm a poor student though. I need to find a hidden treasure in my backyard or something to accomplish them all.

I need a cigarette. Wait I quit... Putain!

...

People tend to think the worst in the hard times. Am I ever going to be alright? Will I get cancer? What’s going to happen to me? How am I going to enjoy life when I perfectly know that I’m screwed up? We try to put a smile on our faces, but in fact it’s only a shadow of a smile. We put our masks on and pretend everything’s alright. However, deep down we know nothing’s alright anymore. Even a nice dress or an amazing pair of shoes won’t make us feel better. I've put it wrongly. It would help but only for a moment; later on it would be just another pair of nice shoes that takes space in our overstuffed wardrobe.

How to get on with life then? Is it even possible? There might be moments when we get so occupied with other problems that the big ones seem to fade or even disappear. How long for though? We perfectly know that they are never going to go away even if we try running away from them for as long as we can. What should we do then?

If I ever get the answer, I’ll make sure to let you know… 

Paris oh la la...

17.04.2013

I’m so glad I’ve lived in France for almost 8 months now. Hmm I’m glad because when we first came to Paris there wasn’t any of the big ‘wow it’s Paris!’ thing. I felt normal, familiar with everything and didn’t behave like a Japanese tourist. I guess only the plan guide gave away the fact that we were tourists. The journey to Paris was exhausting. Carrying a huge backpack, small suitcase and a medium size travel bag was NOT fun at all. My back is hurting so much. The same is waiting for me on my way to the UK… God why?! I’d really use a man carrying the entire luggage for me. But wait, I can do it! I’ve done it so many times before. I’ll be fine. I’m sure I will.

First day in Paris was the day of our arrival. We started the journey at about 6am, arrived in Paris at noon and then it took us an hour or so to find the bloody hotel. When we finally arrived there we decided to have a power nap to get our strength back and maybe try to visit some places in the evening. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, it ended up quite a long one as we got up after 7 or 8pm. Already being too late for visiting we decided it was time to try some of the French cuisine, so we went on restaurant-hunting. Beside the food being delicious and me breaking almost every rule of my diet (fortunately there wasn’t any side effects… ouff), the weirdest thing was the behaviour of the French. I’d already noticed it back in Besancon but I believe in Paris it was visible on much bigger level. The French are absolutely weird (I know I’ve said it so many times now and I guess I’ll be saying it until the end of my life unless I find a really nice French guy who will accept all my disadvantages). I don’t know why but when they meet a foreigner they get either completely paralysed and just ignore you as if you weren’t there at all (literally not even looking at you) or speak to you in English even though you have started the conversation in French and you’re replying to all their questions in French. The other ones are the over-excited ones who just try finding in their memory any people they know of your nationality or jump around you all the time (bear in mind that they’re the minority). I find it quite amusing but at the same time so disturbing and weird. I guess it only happens in France as I haven’t experienced it anywhere else.

Day two was a much nicer one. We went to see most of the tourist attractions. Yes, I went up the Eiffel tower and I have a picture with it (I know how tacky it is). I must say that it was nice, even though I have a little fear of heights, but in general I guess I expected more. Don’t get me wrong, the view was amazing and all that stuff but still the magic of the place somehow disappeared. However, the place that astonished me the most was Montmartre. It looked the exact way as I imagined France would be, although without all those tacky souvenirs, but I guess it has to exist in every tourist town. On our way to the actual place we passed by few galleries. I need to go back there one day and have a closer look as the paintings were incredible! I especially liked one artist who painted faces as a compilation of human bodies; I can’t really explain it you would have to see it on your own, anyway for me they were interesting enough and I hope in few years’ time they’ll still be there. I would have forgotten about the Sacre Coeur church which is also situated in the same district and when you get inside its beauty hits you right away. In my opinion it was even better than the famous Notre Dame. I guess in my case I had too great expectations if it came to Paris (after all it was my first time properly visiting the city and not only going to Porte Maillot to catch the bus to the airport). The most annoying thing during the whole journey was American tourists. For God’s sake! Not all the fucking world speaks English. Show some respect and learn at least ‘Bonjour’, ‘merci’ and ‘au revoir’. Either you’re so terribly lazy or just dumb as fuck. Although I might not be totally objective, I do know that not all Americans are like that and I even met some who speak quite good French but the ones in Paris were extremely annoying and so overconfident, just as they thought that the world lies upon their feet.  

Day three which at the same time was the last day of our visit to Paris started very early in the morning. We wanted to visit Musee du Louvre but un/fortunately it was closed – on Tuesday. Anyway I’m not surprised, it’s France, the country where everything closes down on Sundays or is open until noon because the French need some time to rest. I don’t have a clue why they’re so tired as they make themselves an extra day off almost every week due to a strike. In my opinion they should work a full-time shift on Sunday, every week they have a strike. Anyway after the Louvre we decided to see Notre Dame, the Jewish district called Le Marais and we walked down quite a busy street called Rue de Ravoli in order to find vintage shops. In fact we only found two or three, of which the first one was expensive as hell but I saw amazing dark brown Prada heels (my size!) studded at the back. I really wanted to try them on but after seeing the prices of other shoes (btw they not only had Prada but YSL, Louis Vuitton, Dior, etc.) which was about 200 euro I walked out with a broken smile on my face. I guess I’ll have to wait to afford a brand new pair then.  Anyway in the last one I found black Levis’ shorts which are going to be amazing for a night out ;) We then walked back to our hotel, had a nap and started preparing for the long and exhausting journeys ahead of us. Mine is about to end while I finish my little writing.

My little Paris’ trip has gone to an end. I’m so happy about the easiness of the subway in Paris. I guess it’s the only thing the French has ever done properly. It was a nice spent of both time and money with an amazing company of the meanest of them all ;p I only wish we had some more time to visit the places we didn’t manage to and perhaps go out clubbing. Anyway it’s time to begin chapter 2 of these holidays – Aberystwyth, Wales.

A bientot! 

Love/Death

I must confess.. I was trying to write something but every time I made an attempt I realized it was either bad or just complete bullshit. So I'm leaving you with two monologues I wrote last year for theatre classes. They were written on the themes of love and death using different speech patterns.

Enjoy!

MONOLOGUE 1 – LOVE

People say love is the cure for everything. Is it really? Isn’t it more like an eternal struggle to please the other person? Or perhaps trying to get to know them without putting enough effort to know ourselves first?  What about making mistakes? Should they be forgiven? Or maybe just forgotten? They should definitely give us a lesson. But do they always do that? Why do we listen to other people so much, instead of listening to our own hearts? Don’t they know what’s best for us? Don’t they give us signs when we actually meet the right person? Why do we ignore them? Why do we seek advice from others whilst we could get the answers ourselves? Wouldn’t it be easier to just follow our hearts once? Without unnecessary thinking, prejudices and dependence on others? Perhaps we would stop hurting people this way?

MONOLOGUE 2 – DEATH

I wasn’t really sad when my cat died. He was old and getting grumpy. I think it was his time already. My family wasn’t in grief for long either. We bought a new lovely kitten a week later. It just didn’t move me at all. A month later my granddad died. He was in pain for a long time. I didn’t cry. I thought it was the best for him. My family was in grief. My mum was in a total mess. At the funeral I was holding her, so she wouldn’t fall on the ground. I didn’t feel anything. Just the same kind of emptiness I’ve always had. I just lived my life after that. Two months later I went to the doctor. They run some tests. A week later they told me I had a brain tumour. Untreatable one. Something crushed in me. I couldn’t stop crying. I realized that I am going to die…

day like... always?

I wake up at 6am, turn off my alarm clock and try finding a little box with medicines I need to take. Found it, yay! I drink some water and accidentally spill it on the bed, merde! I put the mug back and try falling asleep again, which to be honest is not hard at all. I wake up two hours later, finding it difficult to open my eyes and discovering that I’m going to miss my bus. I dress in a hurry. There’s no time for breakfast but I can still put at least some make-up on. The bag is already packed, that’s a good thing. I take my phone, plug the headphones in and run to the bus stop. I have 5 more minutes until the bus comes, a cigarette then. The bus arrives in the city centre. I run to my classes just to discover that there’s no one there. Awesome. I wait about 20 minutes. Still no one. I decide to go back to my uni halls, have some breakfast and watch one of the many TV series I follow. After 20 minutes I get there, have some breakfast, decaf coffee and afterwards another cigarette. I hope the other class is going to take place according to the schedule. An hour and a half later I get to the city centre. There’s still no one. I finally decide to go to ‘l’acceuil’ to ask what’s going on. They say the tutor has changed the room the day before and I have to go somewhere I have no idea how to get to. Nice. I fucking love how this country is organised… I finally get there and it occurs it’s a practical class, wtf… I’ve thought they only do the boring theory here. The best is still ahead of me. After an hour I discover there’s an exam… the next day. I have to sing, which I truly hate because I’m extremely bad at it, and do some performance together with it. I panic. What the hell am I going to sing? I finally find quite an easy song but there’s still the performance left to do. ‘Je suis dans la merde’. Eventually I manage to think of something but it’s far from my brightest ideas. I watch some other people’s stuff. It’s good. Why didn’t I think of any of that? I go back to my little piece. My brain is going to explode from that much thinking. We finally finish at 6 pm. I’m tired and the only thing I can think of now is sleep. I get home, eat some ‘petit beurre’ and fall asleep. I wake up at midnight. Fuck, I still have to think of some ideas for the exam. I ask a friend for some help and walk her through my ideas and my plan. I go to sleep again, only to find myself experiencing a sleep paralysis. I wake up terrified. What the hell is wrong with me? Somehow I manage to fall asleep again. I get up few hours later, drink my decaf coffee and prepare for the class. As I soon discover the 3 hours break has been replaced with an hour one and we’re having another class straight after the exam. Exactly what I needed.  I pass the exam despite being completely ignored by the tutor. Saying ‘It looks nice’ isn’t really helping, you know? It’s not like I don’t have a clue what theatre is, but apparently the Erasmus students are not even worth trying to be cared for. Thanks very much for being so supportive. I talk to the other students; I smoke, and talk again. It’s nice to finally connect at least a bit with them. I go to the other class and try not to fall asleep as it’s boring as hell. I go home and fall asleep immediately. I wake up and eat something as I need to be careful with my eating habits. I check Facebook and some other silly stuff in the Internet. I fall asleep only to meet my sleep paralysis friend again. I wake up wet and scared as hell. It really is far from funny. I try going back to sleep but I can’t, I’m too terrified of this thing happening again. Finally I manage to do so but it’s not enough to finish my translation homework and go to the classes. I wake up at 6am to take my medicine and fall asleep again. It’s 1 o’clock. I’m still feeling tired. I go back to sleep and find myself waking up in the evening. It’s like the last three days have been taken out from the calendar without me even noticing that… Can I go back to sleep again though? Spring hasn’t arrived yet so I can still enjoy my winter sleep ;)

Quand j’étais petite...

So I have to say that I got my inspiration for this post from a French video on youtube, made by a French comedian called Cyprien. Basically he talks about what he used to believe in when he was a child. I thought why not doing the same, but in a written version? So to start with:

1. When I was little I used to think that when you pee in public swimming pool, the water around you would change colour. Ridiculous I know, but I guess I'm still sort of afraid that it might be actually true

2. When I was little my great-grandma used to tell me that if I sang or talked too much during lunchtime I'd have stupid children.

I was a very lively child and really loved singing, and I used to talk way too much so I guess she just wanted a peaceful moment ;p  un/fortunately (for some people) the talking stayed this way until the adulthood ;) 

3. When I was little I used to think children grew on cabbage fields and when they were ready the stork would drop them from the sky into theirs parents arms. 

4. When I was little I used to spend a lot of time at my grandma's from my mum's side. Sometimes, when I had troubles sleeping, I used to be scared to death by looking through the window as I believed that there was a witch sitting on the roof of the opposite building. I used to be utterly scared that she would fly to my grandma's flat and kidnap me.

5. When I was little I used to think that if you ate apple pips, the apple tree would grow in your stomach... So I always avoided them until I accidentaly ate one and discovered that it wasn't true at all :)

6. When I was little I used to think a lot why some things were named the way they were and not differently. I know too much thinking ;p

And as a bonus - little pic of little Patty ;) Enjoy ;p

'Au revoir'

I've been back in France for almost two weeks now. Soon to find out that my bank account was closed and a cleaning lady wanted to pay a visit to my room as she thought I had already moved out.. What a stupid country.. On the contrary I came back to people who make my stay in France a truly amazing experience. They never disappoint :) Missing my lovely Marina though who I couldn't even say goodbye to, but I'll hopefully see her very, very soon :) From Saturday we're short of another awesome member of our 'Chocolat groupe', Francesca. I truly hate goodbyes... You promise yourself you won't cry, but you always do. You smile and cry alternately. The kisses and hugs are not sad at all. The worst part of farewells is the thought that you might never see this person again, and it's heart-breaking. I hope we will all continue to keep in touch after finishing our Erasmus year. We even made a contact list for marriage invitations hahah. I guess I'm never going to get married, but still everyone can come for my baby cat's christening, baby shower or whatever lol ;p The most important thing is not to lose contact and visit each other as often as possible, and I hope we'll never stop doing that :)

Getting off the topic I've got a week off at the moment and to my luck I had to get ill. I'm so scatty that I forgot to take cold/flu medicines from back home and I knew perfectly well that I was going to get ill very easily. So I've been spending almost 4 days not being able to leave my bed, coughing like and old lady, sneezing like an allergic person, and using tons of tissues to blow my nose with. Horrible times but fortunately I'm feeling better today and hopefully I'll be able to leave my room tomorrow and do some food shopping and finally buy a BICYCLE :D yes, a bicycle so I'll meet my beautiful Jean-Pierre, fall in love and then get run by a truck lol :D hopefully without the truck at the end ;p haha

Plus I wanted to do something productive like going to the theatre, but to my luck, there's no shows until the beginning of March... Why, oh why? I still have the Museum of Fine Arts left which I might finally pay a visit to as I've been trying to get there since September but always had better things to do. Hopefully it's worth a visit :)

Time to head back to 'Sex and the City' :)

Bonne soirée ;)

Friend-ship

So few days ago I've started wondering about friendship. Everyone claims that they have 'friends' but honestly how many of these friends are the real, trustworthy ones? I began to wonder whether I've ever had ones like that and to be honest it's extremely hard to assess. You think you have them and can truly rely on them but then the worst part comes, the part of letting down either from your or your friend's side. Like with any relationship, letting down the other person might be destructive although it might make the friendship stronger than it has ever been before. But let's be honest, how often does it really happen? Especially nowadays? Almost never... Once you let someone down, you can try to re-build everything but it's like with re-building a ruined house that's about to fall into pieces. You try, you put your time and engagement into it but the end is inevitable. Unfortunately... but perhaps not? Who'd like to live in a ruined house?

The point is that I'm not sure if I actually have 'real' friends. There are people that I'd love to call that but I guess I'm too afraid of truly believing that real friendship exists. I've been let down few times and I've let down few times myself too. I'm afraid of screwing things up again, that's why I try to maintain a distance. Not a huge one. Just the one that'll let me step back if there's a need to, so I won't hurt or get hurt by anyone.

People can be cruel and hurtful even without knowing that themselves. Is it friendship when you're afraid of telling the other person about your true feelings, beliefs or likes? Or when you're afraid to be laughed at or criticised about the choices you've made? Sure friendship doesn't mean being insincere or double-faced, but you have to be a bit supportive. Even though you don't agree with your friends' choices, you can still express your opinions and doubts, no matter what they are. I just don't think that criticising and mocking is the right approach, but that's only my personal opinion.

Jealousy.. another problem. The kind of friendship I praise is devoid of jealousy. That's the worst ever factor in any relationship. It might kill everything.. absolutely everything. It's so unhealthy and always leads to problems and arguments.

I think I've sort of gone off the topic but still I do believe that finding a real, falsehood-free and loyal friend is a challenge. It doesn't happen very often. And if we do find one we should treat her/him like she/he was as precious as a diamond. Let's just hope they'd treat us the same way ;)

Best wishes guys!

'Les hommes ont oublié cette vérité, dit le renard. Mais tu ne dois pas l’oublier. Tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé'.

("Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.")

Antoine de Saint-Exupery  "Le Petit Prince"

She...

I started it last summer and got back to it few days ago. Enjoy!

'And what does she think she’s going to achieve? Does she think I’m going to speak with her like she’s my bff? If I’ve ever had one… She knows nothing about me, my life and most of my problems, and yet she still thinks she’s able to fix me? Right! FIX me? Is this even possible? Am I ever going to be normal? What’s normal, by the way? Smiling insincerely to everyone? Saying ‘I’m fine, thanks’ even if I feel like I’m going to burst out either of anger or sadness? I’m not even sure if I want to be ‘normal’. Everyone’s putting so much pressure on me. They think that something’s wrong me. ‘Look at your sister’, they say, ‘she’s happily engaged, soon to be married, she’s just graduated from university and is going to have an amazing life, and you?’. ‘I’m not her’ that’s my regular response. I know I’m different and difficult to deal with. I hate people who talk all the time. My problems are my problems; I don’t want anyone else to know about them.

So I’m lying here on this really comfy couch, the only good thing from my Monday’s visits in this land of lavender hell. God! I cannot possibly imagine why did she think this colour and this horrid smell are going to calm down and relax the patients. I hate the smell the most. It makes me feel nauseous and dizzy. I can hear some mumbling but it’s so unclear and I feel amazing being so high in the air, almost like I was a bird. Free. Careless. Not bound to any conventions. I feel the sun shining on my face and water splashing on my cheeks while I approach the water surface. It feels so real. Wait, the water is too real. Suddenly the magic disappears. I flied away once again and now I’m back in this ugly lavender room with my therapist standing over me, checking if I’m conscious. I’m back. But does it make any difference? I’m sitting silently. Unwilling to say anything else except from ‘I’m fine’, ‘No, you don’t have to call the doctor’, ‘Yes’… I like that she’s not pushing me to talk like everyone else does. She knows that I’m able to speak and I do when I feel like it. It just doesn’t happen very often, but she got used to it, unlike my previous doctors. They wish they could have read my thoughts. I got used to yelling, shock therapy. Nothing’s helped. It just left me number that I was before. She’s nothing like them, but still I hate these Monday’s visits. My parents expect some sort of miracle every time I leave her office. They don’t understand that I just don’t want to talk, don’t want to be like my sister.

I used to have a boyfriend once when I was about 16, but as soon as he realised that I’m not all cheerful and talkative, he left me. I wasn’t surprised and didn’t cry like all the girls in my class would’ve done. I just didn’t care enough to be bothered. I remember the feeling when I first went to school, surrounded by all those children and their parents. So many of them cried and wouldn’t like to let go of their mothers’ hands. I found it pathetic. I was 7 but I felt older and wanted to be left alone being able to live in my own world. No one understood it back then, and no one understands it now. It was my mum who dragged me to the therapy for the first time. I was 14. I didn’t talk and didn’t seem to care about anything. My grades were fine but I only did what I had to do. I think that my mum just wanted me to be like my sister. Normal. She thought that therapy would change me into another version of Sarah. I could have seen the look of disappointment every time she looked at me. As for my dad, he wouldn’t even look at me. I was the ‘freak’ in the family, a bloody freak in this lovely, normal and wealthy family. They wanted to change me so much that they even made some sort of project out of it. They wanted to cure their little Katie. They wanted to make her normal, like everyone else. But I wasn’t a project. I wasn’t ill. I was just different. They couldn’t understand so they sent me away. They thought it would help. It didn’t. I was still the same, fucked up Katie.'

Poem - to A

Written during holiday '12. Inspired by a friend.

…

So much to loose

So much to gain

So much to regret

If only we weren’t scared of making this happen

Who knows?

Perhaps, there was a chance,

The slightest possible, but still a chance…

Who knows what could have happened?

Is it destiny?

Or just a coincidence,

That our hearts like the halves of an apple

Met each other and couldn’t separate anymore…

Some people call it destiny.

Others say there’s no such thing.

But what’s the truth?

Will we ever get to know it?

Our truth?

Only God knows…

But which?

Oldies.

Something old. One was written over a month ago and the other I can't even remember.
(I keep writing on little pieces of paper, then forgetting about it and eventually finding it about a month later)

Tuesday, 30th October. Train journey from Zbaszyn to Poznan.

Since the last time I wrote something here, many things have happened. My birthday, of which I was so afraid, went pretty well. I spent it surrounded by my 'new' friends, a little bit "bourre" (but not too much, like it always happens :P), dancing like I was going to die the next day. 

Then there were other birthdays, a trip to Dole, some parties, etc. Everything perfectly fine, except from the university. It's so boring, terribly boring... I can't imagine studying full-time in France. I'd be bored to death. In theory, there is a distinction between lectures and seminars but in practice you can't really distinguish it. You just note. All the time. Oh and listen to your lecturer's/seminar tutor's opinions and interpretations.. Apparently French students are not able to create their own... I feel like I was back in high school. Oh wait. Even in high school I was able to express my opinions and assumptions. I truly miss Aber, even though I was mostly a rather passive listener. Yet it was good to at least listen to what others had to say, and participate if it got interesting. 

What's more, I eat too many baguettes... hahah. I always discover that I've put on weight when I'm in Poland. It's so freaking cold here. Besancon is similar to Aber, with this constantly changing weather. And Poland? It's a minus temperature outside. Brrr... At least I can visit my friends and finally spend some time with them :)

Haha I've almost forgotten to mention that our flat looks like a tornado had passed through it. My parents decided to renovate kitchen and two bedrooms at the same time.. A-mazing! Of course it's going to look incredible after it's finished but still, the whole process of using our living room (my bedroom when I'm at home) as a bedroom, living room and kitchen is just overwhelming. And of course it must have happened when I was back. 

So I decided to run away from this mess for a little while and I'm heading to Poznan to see my friend. We've already gone out on Saturday night, but an old good sleepover is never a bad idea. Especially with her :)

I'm still looking for my Jean Pierre but I kind of lost some of my hopes. France does not look the way I've imagined it. And the 'seeking for attention' side of me is going crazy atm... How sad is that lol.

"Mon prince! Ou es-tu?"

  "Depeche-toi!"

Date unknown, written on an English theatre class.

I am sitting on an English theatre lecture (or maybe it's a seminar?), trying to understand at least something. The 'prof'' is speaking so fast and with such a strong accent, so I've already given up.  I'm surrounded by about 30-40 French student who are surprisingly pretty quiet today. Usually they behave like a bunch of animals that were just let out of a cage. No respect for the tutor. No respect for the others who are actually trying to listen. 

I've given French a go. I've been patient. I've known it's going to take a while for me to adjust. After all I've been learning it just a little over two years. Not long at all. But why is it taking me so much time? Why can't I be some kind of a language freak? Even my English is letting me down now. I've no idea what's happening...

Sometimes I feel like coming to France was a very bad idea... I wasn't ready and I can see it clearly now. I've been waiting for some sort of miracle, which hasn't come yet. I remember the words of Francine, our 1st year French tutor, 'without doing anything, you can wait for the miracle forever, but it will never happen'. Maybe that's a clue for me?

merci, ca va bien...

I must confess. I haven't been here for a long time... I've been trying to write something, but there were always better things to do.

Now there's time for some of my writings. Don't worry, I'll describe my Erasmus life soon ;) 

Although there's not much going on to be honest. 

 Written for Devising Theatre class. 

In winter the pool was frozen over for weeks. I was staring at it through my bedroom’s window, hoping the ice would break. I couldn’t stop staring… it was the only thing I was sure that will happen. Sooner or later, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the fact that it had to. There was no other way. It has been the most certain thing in my life so far…  

They said I was the lucky one. Was I? Perhaps they were saying about my physical condition, few scratches, bruises and a broken leg. Scratches and bruises will disappear within a week; broken leg will take some more time to heal, but still not that long. Physically I should be fine. However, no one said anything about my mental health. I’m pretty sure they think I will be alright as soon as I get back home. But is there anything I want to go back to? Is there anyone except from my cat…? No one said anything about that night, about the accident. They left me alone. Not only the doctors, everyone. I’m completely alone now, with perfectly flat stomach and no one beside me. 

Le temps agréable

I'm smoking my last cigarette and throwing away the tobacco bag with 'Fumer tue' on it. One has to die from something, right? At least the view from my window is quite stunning. The city of lights. They're all like matches someone has just lit, one blow and they're gone. Like human lives. One crappy moment in your life and you're gone, forever. But where? What could we expect after death? Heaven and hell? Or is there an after-life waiting for us? I guess I've been watching too much Supernatural lately. I must admit, I got addicted and it made me thinking. What if demons are actually somewhere out there? Should I spill some salt outside my window for protection? It wouldn't work in that crappy weather, I'm pretty sure of that.
What an irony! I wanted to escape from the constant rain that was annoying me so much in Wales, and here I am. It's been raining for 3 days now and I only have one pair of waterproof shoes. My wellies are in Aber. 'Why should I have thought of taking them with me? It's not going to be raining in Besancon'. Hell no! It's not so close to the seaside, is it? I was dumb enough to believe in that. Guess I'm gonna have to find a way around it.
My French life is going pretty good at the moment. Except from the fact that I'm still not sure of my timetable, it's been fine so far. Erasmus and non-Erasmus parties, meeting new people, improving my French and trying not to make a stupid English accent in front of the anglophones. Yesterday I went to the first performance. It was quite good. Not the best I've seen, but it was funny in a very intelligent way. It presented most of the German and Arabic stereotypes as it was a piece about a mixed couple. The use of three languages - French, German and Arabic- was also a big advantage. The piece was called Habibi, Mein Schatz which means 'honey' or 'my dear'. I must admit that I was impressed by the actress who, despite not being German, made a really good job with the accent and the amount of text that she had to learn by heart in German. I'm thinking about joining some sort of society or 'troupe'. There's a nice opportunity tomorrow, I can try getting part in the original version of Hamlet. I'm going to try, there's nothing to loose :)
And my birthday is coming in few days :) 21st, finally. I'm a little bit sad about the fact that I'm not going to spend it with my friends, the real ones. Shame, I know, but at least I've met some amazing people here :) It will be freaking amazing. It must be!

Btw. the only thing I miss about maccies is the food. I'm dying for a burger :(

Who are you?

I was planning on writing about something so banal and silly and then *boom*, surfing through the Internet I found a short video on youtube. The video presented people from the age of 1 up to the age of 100 and was meant to show how body changes in our lifetime. Then I read the comments and by accident found a video which supposedly was an inspiration for the first one. It was called 'Talking Heads' and was realized by a very well-known Polish director, Krzystof Kieślowski. The short documentary also presented people from the age of 0 up to the age of 100, but it had a slightly different agenda, and was directed in 1979 when Poland was still a communist country. Kieślowski asked three questions: Who are you? What are your dreams? What's the important thing for you? Three seemingly banal questions, and yet so hard to answer. The thing that astonished me the most were the answers and the way in which people talked. They used such a distinguished language, no swearing which is so common in modern times, no slang, their answers were so eloquent. Even the children had richer vocabulary than today's 20-30 years old people.

So what has changed? In comparison with people who lived in the times of communism, we have more freedom now, and yet it seems like we are more enslaved by the democracy, media and the schemes of answering, living and what's most important thinking. We cannot think freely, even though there's no war, no one is trying to force us to relinquish our culture, nation. We don't have to face the difficulties that our ancestors had to face, and yet we're still enslaved by the schemes of thinking, the stereotypes and prejudices. Being asked Kieślowski's questions, most of us would appear so selfish and egoistic in their answers. Today we want money, expensive cars, clothes, good health and love. Ahh and nice holidays. We don't care about most the things that are happening in the world, as soon as they don't concern us or our families.
Sometimes it's just us we're concern most about.

Why did we become so self-concerned nowadays? Why it is so hard for us to open our eyes to other things than just ourselves? It's not painful and doesn't cost anything...

So returning to the three questions, I decided that I am going to answer them myself.

Who are you?

I'm a person like everyone else. Maybe a bit too egoistic sometimes, but there are some matters when you have to be egoistic. I'm a type of person who seeks attention and needs to be around people almost all the time. Friends are really important to me, although I don't devote them us much time as I wish I did. I get attached to things and people too easily. In the concern of people it very often ends up bad for me, but one always learns from its mistakes.

What are your dreams?

I have too many dreams. Most of them are never going to come true but  if no one asks me to pay for them, I will still be dreaming. I would love to see people living peacefully with each other and most important to be tolerant. It's always better to get to know a person first, its notions, beliefs and then judge them. I'm not saying I'm totally free of judgments and prejudices about people, it happens to everyone, but the world would be a nicer place to live if we could at least try.

What's the most important thing for you?

At the moment, to graduate from university with highest grades possible and find a job in which I would feel appreciated and fulfilled.
In general, being able to live in a world without limits. Being free and always ready for new possibilities.
Fully living my life.



Here you go, links for the videos:

Krzysztof Kieślowski 'Talking Heads'
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cRVncgtT6GE&feature=related

'100'
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RDEST6UGNv4&feature=player_embedded#!

Enjoy!

C'est la vie (?)

Today is the day when it rained for the first time since I arrived in this lovely city. Before, I was being woken up by the sun every day. How amazing is that? It's raining now too, but it's nice and refreshing and not cold at all, like in Wales but without the annoying wind...

I'm getting so annoyed with the university. I miss Aber. In the UK everything is much better organised, you fill up one or two forms, register through the Internet, go to one or two meetings from your department and that's all. Here it's a nightmare... Everywhere you have to fill up a form, sign million thousand documents and bring one or two photos with you, so they can identify you. And they loose everything (like my dossier). At the moment I've got enough of everything. I've got no idea what am I studying because I've lost my Learning Agreement. Before arriving here I thought it would be easy. I've chosen my modules, of course I wanted to try everything from Theatre, Art, Archaeology, German, History to French. And now it occurs that there could be lots of problems because the schedule is made for all students, not individually. Merde. Hopefully my personal tutor will help me with all that, but it needs to be done extremely quickly as I'm starting  next Monday, ooh la la...

I miss the simple life in Britain where everyone tells you what to do hundred times and you don't have to worry about anything. That's true, I miss being treated like a complete idiot. At least it's easier that way..

I don't want to complain all the time. I'm not that sort of person, but sometimes things like that just grow inside you and desperately need to come out. That's just how it works :)

Today I found Latte Macchiatto in a small restaurant near the Museum of Fine Arts (in France they only serve small espresso in cafes or you have to ask for a bigger one, but it's never a proper big one). After having an enormous headache it was the best thing that happened to me today :) There was an amazing offer with a brownie for just 2,50 euro. I couldn't say no, could I? ;) The way the waiter pronounced 'brownie' was so amusing that me and Marina couldn't stop laughing. I love the way French people pronounce English words. Always with the 'r' and you never know what they have actually said to you ;) When I was travelling to Besancon from Lille, the announcements in the train were bilingual. At least they thought they were. For the French it doesn't matter if you understand them in English, they just do what they have to do. When they don't know how to pronounce a word, they merge it with the others so you have no idea what they have actually said. But hey, they spoke English right? Job done :)

The funny thing is that I didn't want to stick with either Polish or English students and here I am, making friends with Germans and living at the same floor with about seven Americans. They're cool, I have to admit. Especially Marina :) She's German but in comparison with other Germans - who are 'sehr punktlich', have to have everything planned and get extremely annoyed when something doesn't work out as it was planned - she probably makes the worst example of a German person haha :)

la France.. ooh la la

Bonsoir!

Change of plans. Now this blog is going to be both my writings space and a little journal from my year abroad in Besancon, France. Hope you'll enjoy ;)

Somewhere in France, 4.09.2012

So here I am, sitting in a TGV train to Besancon, my new home. It sounds strange calling it home, doesn’t it? A home where I barely understand the language, never been to before and don’t know a living soul. Hmm… that really must be a place called home ;) Anyway I’m being surprisingly calm. The only thing I was worried about was the subway in London. Maybe I would have been peaceful if I didn’t have to carry a massive suitcase, a huge backpack and a medium size handbag that could easily fit my laptop, Kindle, English - French pocket dictionary and a make-up bag. Fortunately I was lucky enough to attract strong gentlemen who were so eager to help me carry the suitcase downstairs that I couldn’t say no ;) Maybe it was my mind control? Who knows, never mind. I will never forget the worrying look at some lady’s face when she saw me struggling with my luggage. Her ‘Good luck’ was so encouraging, and by that time also the nicest thing that happened to me that day. Now I’m sitting in the train, wondering if my accommodation office would still be open. If not, where am I going to sleep? I don’t even want to think about it… everything went pretty smooth so far, let it continue please ;)

So the new chapter in my life begins today. I’ve got a year to learn the most beautiful language in the world, buy a bicycle, find my Jean-Pierre, and then travel France and Europe (or at least visit Paris, Cote d’Azur, Geneva and Rome ;)). Challenge accepted.

                Besancon, 5.09.2012

After arriving in Besancon it occurred that I have to take another train from the suburbs to the city centre. Panic in my head, how the hell am I going to buy the ticket? I can’t speak French! Luckily, the French are not far ahead from the British and there were many self-service ticket machines. First thing I’ve done was changing the language into English ;) Worrying a lot I found my ‘voie’ which was easy enough although with my entire luggage, it took me additional 3 minutes and I only had about 10. After 15 minutes journey, here I am – exhausted, with a heavy luggage and badly wanting a cigarette.  And again I was lucky enough to receive help from a very nice middle-aged man, who I couldn’t understand at all at first. Yet he was so patient with offering help to me that I was thanking him about 5 times during our way from the platform to the taxi rank.

Cigarette! That was the first thing I wanted to do while waiting for a taxi. When I finally arrived at the campus I was amazed. It was huge, green and even though it was really late, there was still lots of people around. I got out of the taxi, went to the accommodation office and there was a surprise waiting for me. It occurred that my ‘dossier’ with all my documents didn’t arrive which was weird considering the fact that I paid almost 10 pounds for plane postage that was supposed to arrive in 2-3 days… I had a lovely chat in French, trying to explain that I did send it and it must be somewhere there. No results. Finally I got the keys to a room on the 4^th floor in Batiment Pierre Gascar. No lift of course, but a man from the accommodation office helped me carry the suitcase. Even for him it was too heavy ;) Still excited I wanted to see the room and start unpacking my things but I met some nice people instead, who also helped me with the luggage, and I was invited to spend some time with them outside the uni restaurant. I was happy, making friends already yay!

My new room though wasn’t that exciting. It’s not big, but I expected that. It has everything that it should although the wardrobe is a bit scary and odd and I haven’t decided yet if I am going to keep my things in there. We’ll see. There’s no proper kitchen here, although there is a small kitchenette with two burners and a sink. Everyone have a small fridge in their room ;) It’s not a 5 star hotel but will do for the year. After kind of settling in the place and refreshing myself I hurried to meet people outside the restaurant. I thought all the Erasmus students don’t even try speaking French and they stick with English. To my surprise, all the people I met spoke French and it was really good French, not like mine. I felt a bit left out but if I understood or was asked something I tried speaking. That’s always a first step, isn’t it? It was a nice late evening and I met few Germans, Spanish, an Irish one and a French. Later on I managed to unpack some of the things and arranged them somehow in the room, I still haven’t finished though.

Next morning, I woke up with my whole body aching because of the luggage. I still needed to sort out my ‘dossier’ and go shopping with my German friend, Marina. I was pretty sure there should be at least a small shop on campus, but no there aren’t any. The closest one, Intermarche, is about 10-15 minutes away which is ridiculous. I did all my necessary shopping for few days and of course forgot about the adapter and now my battery is running low.

Alors, a bientot!

new beginnings...

So... I wanted to create a little space for my writings. It's nothing serious, just some monologues I had to  write for my Drama classes. After some time I've realized that I quite enjoy doing it, so I started writing more and more. There's not many of them at the moment but there will definitely be more. Everything depends on the inspirations so be patient ;)

So below is the first one I wrote. Enjoy! :)

I have never been a patriotic person, unless you count sport. Not football, of course. Everyone knows we’re bad at it. We were good back in the 80s, weren’t we? I’m almost sure it was the 80s, but never mind. The thing is that I always wanted to leave, somewhere better, somewhere with better opportunities, better start in the future. Patriotic speeches or even my national anthem made me laugh... How could we have destroyed the ‘thing’ our grandparents and great-grandparents loved the most? How could we have become so dependent on others when our ancestors fought so hard for freedom?! I just can’t understand why did my country, that suffered so much for centuries, sacrificed so many people, fell down, just to get up even more powerful, let the snakes in… WHY haven’t we noticed IT earlier?! WHY haven’t we reacted earlier?! We should have done something a long time ago, instead we were just waiting for things to get worse and worse… Our ancestors are definitely turning over in their graves. We’re nothing like them. We’re not brave enough, strong enough and fearless enough. They risked their lives for their fatherland, to make our generations’ lives much better, much easier. And look what we’ve done with it? We let the snakes in. They’ve almost destroyed us. Now we’re trying to get on our feet again. We’re trying to fight, to get back our lost pride, to get rid of the remains of communism that is trying to rise again. Hopefully we will be smarter and stronger this time. It’s not Russia or North Korea, it’s Poland for God’s sake!!!