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?