Loving lifeBorn in Timisoara Dec 15, 1976
,  raised since I was 3 months until I was 6 years old by my grandparents in Ramna, Caras Severin, Romania. Ramna is a Romanian tiny hilly village of the beaten path, with orchards, running creeks and pleasant weather. The summers were warm with torrential rain, in autumns there were powerful storms that left the streets covered in walnuts. In the snowy winter, the power went out every night and we stayed at oil lamp eating "bou" (bull). Bou is potatoes mashed mixed with feta, shaped like a cock I could keep in my hand and dip in a mixture of oil and garlic. We didn't have bath or water in the house and we all slept in one bedroom. ﻿
My grandadMy grandad was gone working in the garden 14/24 in spring, summer, autumn. In winter he stayed inside waving baskets all day long. He was the village's Pentecostal pastor for over 35 years. His grandad dad was Gypsy, but wasn't biological. He fought 6 or 7 years in WWII in his early 20s in Yalta. Once, he broke my nose. He was preaching to the many brothers and sisters who gathered weekly at our house and I was laughing under the table with Adi, the cute boy who lived across the street. He got mad with me, pushed my head towards the floor and broke my nose. There was so much blood that all the people left right then in horror. Once, he threw me in the street for stealing my neighbor's baby doll. He told me to leave his house and go wherever I can see with my eyes "he doesn't raise thieves under his roof". I went to the bus station, I wanted to leave. I had a feeling that no matter where I'll end up, I'll be alright. He forced me to sing in church but I was too shy and couldn't memorize the lyrics. He had Adi sing with me, holding my hand, but I still couldn't do it. I left Adi sing alone and I ran to my grandma's lap.  I couldn't understand why he was so tough and cruel and had to  pushed me do things I couldn't do.﻿
Loving my grandma so muchMy grandma was only staying home cooking divine food. She came from the next village Valeapai where her dad was one of the wealthiest owning the cutting grain machines. Her first cousin moved to Chicago where became a wealthy man owning hotels. My grandma  let me roam alone anywhere on the hills and in the village. She took me to the village's cemetery up the hill, where the grass was tall and the wind strong, and read me the poems written on the tombstones in a voice like she was singing crying. I started seeing photos on people's walls with their dead parents, brothers, sisters, even kids. I started seeing some neighbors having very old furniture, some very old houses and I got fascinated. I wanted to know about those people who lived and died and slept in those old beds and lived in those old rooms, how they looked, what their life story was. It felt like their spirits were still in the house. Our house was newly built red brick with large rooms and large windows but I liked my neighbor’s house that had only one room and was all clay, had small windows, a small door with high threshold and inside there was a big solid wood bed with an old smell. The neighbors were very old and their parents, I heard, they all slept in that bed. The bedding was inherited too and very old, it was different than what we had. My grandma said only poor people live in a clay house. But those old, small, all clay, dark inside with small windows and musty smell was what I liked, what excited me, what I wanted for myself. Every single time my grandma went to town, she bought me something - clothes, toys, candies. I loved my grandma so much, I felt one with her.﻿
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Loving to stay home alone 
My grandma had to go buy milk, had to do work with the animals and I didn't want to go with her, I was excited to stay home alone. When I see myself home alone I get overjoyed, I feel alive, my joy of life increases about 20 times.  My grandma told me "I love, everything, everything about you except that you don't listen to anyone and you don't want to come with me, these two are your defects"

Loving making love
I was inseparable from Adi, the cute boy, a year older than me, who lived right across the street who followed me all over with a love smile on his face. He was the only one I let touch my baby doll. He could even scratch it if he wanted to. We went in expedition on the hill so far out until we felt the thrill of being lost. That moment, we looked at each other and screamed "we are lost!" and ran fast back home. We tried to have sex a few times (that was my idea) and that's all that seems to be at the back of my mind 24/7 other than food. We tried to sell to other kids "juice" (pee) in the bottle and played pranks on strangers who passed by (those were his ideas and he was playing pranks because I felt both scared and bad to do that). Every night when I had to go inside, I didn't want to. I wanted to stay out and play more with Adi. My grandma every night fooled me. She told Adi "go to your home and come at the window and she will be at her window eating and you can eat seeing each other". She told me “Come, come inside, Adi is coming at the window!!". I went in the room. She locked the door behind me, put the key in her pocket, and marched towards the window. I followed her to the window, but Adi was never at the window. Adi and his grandparents were not living in the rooms they had at the street, like us, they lived in the room in the courtyard, like most villagers. 

Irresistibly attracted to babies
I had to go three times per week to church. My grandma always kept me a bit in church, gave me some apple or pumpkin strudel to eat, then sent me to stay outside because inside was too boring. I’m painfully sensitive and shy and  when I see or hear people my brain is shutting down leaving me alone with my breath. It's an escape mechanism my brain just does since I can remember. Outside, there were the cute, soft, irresistible babies in their mother's loving arms. I couldn't have enough of watching them. When a mother passed me by, my heart started beating fast. I was in awe of mothers. Mothers to me, were out of this world and the most important. Adi, like all the other kids was not allowed to stay outside. While they were all in church, I had nobody to play with, and that was so painful. Outside, there were the blue morning glories climbing the churches’ fence. They were opening with the sun and were beautiful and delicate. If you touched them they got bruised. I kept my eyes on them, I wanted to catch them when they open.

Nature, seasons, storms
We had a huge garden almost square shape. A corner lot. Two houses down the secondary dirt road started the hills. Flowers, trees, the smell of seasons, colonies of bees, birds, sunshine, rain. The garden was not only beautiful but my grandad bragged that it was Paradise, the Garden of Eden because he loved to  take the best care of the garden and make sure we have  every type of fruits and veggies possible. I kept daily track of flowers, fruits and leaves, of their change in color, shape and texture. I sat on the stairs on the porch and kept track of wind, of the sunlight temperature on my skin. I saw when the dark clouds came over the garden. I watched the torrential rain from the window. I saw the sun rays after the storm coming over the garden warming up everything and shining a magic light. Storms made me feel so good, excited and inspired. I love storms so much, they always make me feel like making love. 

Can't stand grandiose people
Because my grandad was the pastor all the guests we had in church slept at our house and in winter in our room. Once, the conductor of the biggest Pentecostal church orchestra in Timisoara came with his wife and ten kids. We had a metal bucket we all drank water from with a cup. I took a straw and blew bubbles in the bucket to show the kids something fun. Their arrogant  mother screamed that they all drink from the same bucket and ordered my grandma to change the water right then. The face of that woman . . . I had this awareness of me absolutely not being able to stand her. The only way for me to be able to start functioning was for her to disappear. I had this awareness of my overwhelming inability to stand some people and my need to get them out to feel better. I thought that was a bad quality of mine. I was aware of my good traits and my bad traits.
 
Fiercely protective
We had another girl, Mariana, me and Adi played with when she came to visit. She was not living year-round in the village and she was not exciting but she was alright. Mariana, like my grandma, never wore underwear and I always wanted to not wear either. One day, a new boy moved on the street with a green ride on tractor with big wheels that made a wonderful sound. I thought that tractor was the coolest toy in the world. All I wanted was to ride it. The new boy came to play at my house without his tractor. Problem was, he couldn't play. He had no understanding of us, of what we were playing, how we were relating and no intention to try to understand. He was constantly running around like a chicken without head, like a blindfolded kid with a bat in his hand hitting in all directions. He didn't wait for his turn to the swing. Once on the swing, we couldn't get him off. He couldn't harmonize with us and us with him for one day, two days, three days. I couldn't stand him anymore. We couldn't play anymore becasue of him. I said "lets get him out and lock the gate ". We took him by his shirt, pants and leg, got him out and locked the gate. The boy started screaming from the street to let him in. His grandma came, my grandad came, my grandma came, all to talk to me. All the talk about "we are all brothers and sisters in Christ let the boy in", couldn't make me change my mind. I couldn't stand that boy and I needed him out to restore my and my people's peace, harmony, and good times. My granddad looked at me, shook his head, turned his immense back and went in the garden to mind his business.

Escaping  village kindergarten
Adi started going to kindergarten and my grandma decided to send me there too. She packed me a smoked pork sausage with bread in a white tissue and put it in a kids brown purple leather bag she borrowed from somewhere. Hand in hand with Adi she took me walking to kindergarten. When I got in and saw many kids, teachers, a long dark big room and one long row of little tables with chairs, paper and pencils, I hated it. I had an extreme aversion of seeing tables, chairs with papers and pencils. Adi set next to me and he seemed he could go with the kindergarten flow. All kids came here did this, then all went there did whatever and Adi joined the crowd's movement. He didn't stay with me, he joined the crowd. Nothing, not only didn't appealed to me but I felt strong  repulsion. There was nothing in there for me. Absolutely nothing. Adi disappeared from the picture. I found myself alone in an disgusting place I didn't want to be in and I needed to escape. Finally, the lunch break came, and I got outside in the sunny courtyard to play. There was a merry go round, the kids got on it and somehow I got on too. The kids spined so fast, for so long, that I got dizzy, my hand slipped, I flew of it and started screaming to bring my grandma to take me out of there. And that was it. Nobody could make me go to that place again. 

Liking myself
By the time I was 6, I was my own person. With the good traits and the bad traits, I liked myself. I felt secure under sun and felt a drive inside to celebrate every day. The dream of making love and having babies affected me in a very powerful way and is all that ever affected me. Everything else, I'm not interested.

Escaping city  kindergartenBecause I was 6 and at 7 in Romania kids had to start school, my mother called me from the village and put me in a city kindergarten to get used with other kids. When I saw myself in the huge city kindergarten I cried every day all day for three weeks straight. There were two shifts of 3 teachers each, in total 6. All of them, absolutely all of them, were insensitive. I thought when I'll be big, I'll make a rule "no insensitive adults are allowed to interact with small kids". The bully kids meant nothing to me. The insensitive adults which were most adults, were my number one aversion. I refused to eat, to sleep, to play and I broke one bully boy's nose becasue he couldn't stop bothering me. I don't remember hitting him, I just remember seeing blood coming from his nose on his shirt and all the kids pointing towards me saying I did it. There was a cute a bit chubby smiley girl  with curly hair who liked me, and who often  came to me and pulled my cheeks saying "oh you are soo cute, smile, please smile, look like me  " and even she said I did it. I stayed all the time by the entrance door waiting for somebody to come through the door and take me from there. The teachers asked me "what would you like to play". I said "I want to play outside." All the kids and the teacher got in the backyard all fenced in. They had this organized game with rules and regulations I couldn't understand or that game or another game. All boring, and disgusting games. They asked me which one would you like to play? None! They were not the type of games I wanted to play ! That all kids could play and did play gave me a sick feeling in my stomach. I scanned for a hole in the fence to escape. There was no hole. One day, from sitting next to the entrance door I got out and went in the next room that also had a locked door. I slipped thorough the second door with a person and went to hide under stairs. From there I watched with what person I can get out of the building and I started escaping. If you are determined, and look like you know where you are going people let you go. Once on the streets, I had nowhere to go becasue home the door was locked and nobody was home. One morning, my mother didn't wake me up to take me to kindergarten. She said I was" sleeping like an angel " and she was sorry to wake me up. She had the Serbian neighbor next door, come to take me to her apartment to take care of me. When I saw that, every morning I slept like an angel with my palms like in a prayer under my face. That didn't work anymore. I started begging my mother to let me stay home with the neighbor and my mother finally agreed. One day the neighbor took me shopping in downtown, about 25 minutes walking from home. Once in the shop, my neighbor disappeared. I looked all around and she was nowhere, so I decided to go home alone the same way we came. The neighbor freaked out, thought I was kidnapped and called the police, who called my mother. My mother told the police that she knows me and is pretty sure I was home waiting by the door. That's exactly where I was. My neighbor was about to have heart attack becasue of me and didn't want to take care of me anymore. My mother found another neighbor to take care of me but I couldn't stand that mean, disgusting woman who's house smelled so strongly that I couldn't stand that woman at all. I told my mother how she packed me a red apple but that woman gave my red apple to her daughter and gave me a green apple. Red apples were more expensive than green apples and tasted better. My mother finally agreed to let me stay home alone. I couldn't be more excited and overjoyed - home alone doing what I wanted when I wanted.  I could find all day what to play. I never got bored. My mother didn't feel good about leaving me locked home alone and sent me back to the village﻿
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City garden - my peace and dream placeBack in the village, my grandparents suddenly decided "because of me" to sell the village house and move to Timisoara where both their kids, my mother and my uncle, had been living for a long time. Timisoara is a medieval city with cobblestone squares, fountains and cathedrals, with parks, rose garden and magnolia trees along the Bega River. My uncle found this old partly clay modest house on a huge land at the edge of the city in the Gypsy neighborhood, the cheapest neighborhood possible. The neighborhood was called "Gypsy neighborhood" but besides Gypsies there lived lots of Hungarians and Germans and only a few Romanians and Serbians. My uncle loved the house because of the big land and over sixty all types mature fruit trees. Me and my grandparents moved in that clay city house with all the animals, pigs, goats, turkeys, ducks, rabbits, chickens, dog, cats, bees and all their houses. That was goofy. People in the city didn't raise animals at all. There were very few raising chickens. My grandparents looked differently also. They wore sheep skin vests, wooden clogs, wool knitted socks. My grandma had a huge black knitted scarf was wearing in winter over her clothes. The house had three bedrooms but again we slept all in the small one next to the kitchen. Like in the village, we heated with wood and that was expensive so we couldn't use too much. In the night the fire was off and was cold. We had duck feathers comforters, those were the warmest. In the morning, my grandma got up an hour earlier to start the fire. I loved the smell of smoke and the sound of wood starting to burn in the coldness of the dawn. The city garden had over sixty mature fruit trees, cherry, peach, apricots, plum, pear, medlar trees. It had a long pathway in the middle covered by old grapevine with strawberries on both sides. My new play kids were an Hungarian girl who lived 4 houses to the left and a big Christian musicians Gypsy family with kids my age who lived about 6 houses to the right. All the gypsy kids played all the instruments and we played at their house Christian music and watched horror movies day in and day out until I started to be afraid of my own shadow. My grandparent's new big beautiful garden was my heaven on earth, my peace place. The place I could get in touch with myself and dream. Dream of the day I will be only with my lover and babies away from everyone and everything else. 

Osana, Osana poems In the city, at my grandparents house, I got my first two Christian books for kids" The Bible in Pictures for Little Eyes" and a book with Romanian Christian poems "Osana, osana" by Traian Dorz. My grandma read them to me every night. If it was something about a boy, a girl, a mother, a baby, death, weather or seasons I immediately paid attention, everything else went right over my head. Whatever was written in "The Bible in Pictures for Little Eyes" I pretty much didn't know. I was selectively deaf and blind to it. I just loved my grandma sitting in bed next to me and hearing her voice reading. The other book, "Osana, Osana" poems book though was all about just little boys, little girls, babies, mother, father, death, sadness, illness, music, angels, kids playing, winter, spring, fields, hills, flowers, birds, snow, sun, woodfire, wind, storm, rain, lightning and thunder, February, March, April (all the months had a poem) cherry trees, leaves, snowbells, mountains, stars, Jesus crucifixion, Jesus rise from the dead. That thick blue book with cute pictures made me feel so good inside and in the world and I looked in it for years even though poetry frightened me and I didn't understand exactly what was written in it . 

Ignoring school like it doesn't exist because for me it doesn'tWhen first grade started, I moved again with my mother in her one bedroom apartment shared with two more sub renters, 45 minutes by public transportation from my grandparents city house. The school looked a cross between hospital and jail. I'm selectively deaf, mute and blind. My brain ignores what I don't like. Nothing I don't like, can get through to me. Not today, not tomorrow and not ever.  I had no interest in learning, no interest in any subject, no interest in ideas, no interest in anything school. Teachers' threats, praise or criticism of me did not get processed in my head either. What was the point of a person like me to be forced to go to school? Being forced to go to school is a crime towards me and my life. A waste of my precious sweet life. 4 years, at the most, of school would have been just about right for me. People can force me to go to school but can't force me to cooperate. In the beginning of grade 1, I walked out of school in the middle of the school day half a dozen times. The teachers didn't know what to do with me, were just asking "how can she escape". The school had locked doors and a doorman. Me escaping didn't help me with not having to go to school so I stopped trying to escape. I read without comprehension. I didn't respond to any of teachers questions. I didn't even try to think of their questions.  I couldn't memorize and I haven't even tried. I copied at tests. I copied my homework. I never prepared for tests. Whatever the teachers said to do, I didn't do. I didn't hear anything they said. I ignored them like I ignored the school with all in it. Home, instead of doing homework I would play outside, inside or sit next to the radio listening to music all day long. Only hearing the word "ideas" my stomach dropped. I had no ideas in my head that the school would liked to know about and I had no ability to fabricate ideas or to pull them from anywhere. I was not reading any books or watching any TV or movies. Anything fantasy and abstraction made me feel fright and nausea. I was so inside my head not paying any attention to the world around me. I had no idea or interest about anything other than my own world, my own feelings, dreams, and my own play. Everything else was blocked out. There was a subject called "Composition ". I dreaded that subject to extreme. I didn't understand the word "composition" and gave them a blank page. They said write something, but I had absolutely nothing to say about anything. Once, I passed a note to one of my neighbors who was sited on a different row. Usually the teacher didn't catch our notes but she caught exactly that one. I wrote on it "Is penis a country?". The teacher read my note and turned completely red like a lobster. I have never seen anybody turning so red. Her face, her ears, her neck. Everything turned red. I felt so, so bad. She didn't think I was the type of person to write that, and I didn't think I was either. My mother told me home "don't be a doormat like me, if some kid hits you, hit them back". By the time I got to end of grade 3 I beat up 4 or 5 more bullies who touched me first. Other kids small and shy like me were still bullied and beaten on a daily basis but I was not anymore one of them. We had class bullies and school bullies, all were coming close to me to stare at me and smell me but didn't dare touch me. I had this girl sitting behind me who constantly pushed my chair. I dreaded seeing the face of this person. I told her to stop many times, I told her to the teacher. Nothing. One day in a break, I got up from my chair, went to her chair, grabbed her tight by the uniform and dragged her to the front of the class and pushed her back and forth against the blackboard. I kept her tight in my hand for a long long time and I was waiting for her to hit me first so I can hit her back, but the coward did nothing. She just stayed quiet in my grip. I couldn't let go of her. When the teacher entered the class that's when I let go for her. She never bothered me again. By the time I got to grade 4, the teacher said I had flashes of brilliance in math but I didn't believe her becasue my grades in math were average. After grade 4, the school started to become difficult and I checked out of school completely. I honestly believed difficult, books or school were for the smart kids, not for me. I ignored school with all in it like it doesn't exist. I kept mute, and invisible. We had some famous authors like Mihai Eminescu a poet and I hated poetry becasue I couldn't understand a thing. Then there was one called Ion Creanga and his famous "Childhood Memories" book. What disgusting boring horrifying that book was. To make things worse, almost all the kids in my class were raving about how much they loved that book and how they read it even a few times. The book was named "a book all the kids loved ". Sickening and horrifying the writer, his boring weird childhood and all the kids who either loved that book or pretended to. I don't even know. I didn't get to a point where I can understand exactly how comes most love what I can't stand and don't love what I love. Maybe I'm too sensitive and most are not, I don't know. Then there were a few other Romanian famous writers, only hearing their name made me sick. I had an extreme fear and aversion of books, writers and writing. I didn't have a library card and didn't know how people borrow, what is that "borrowing" and I was afraid even of that. When my colleagues went to the library to return their books, I waited for them outside. I couldn't even get in the library. I felt I didn't belong in the library, like I didn't have the right to be there and I thought the librarians didn't let you be there without a library card.  Just seeing rows and walls full of books and feel the smell of old books scared me. There were a few kids heavily into make believe and fiction. Only being around them I felt stressed out. Almost all kids could play pretend games except me. I couldn't stand those games, they frightened me. At school, every Friday, last hour, as a treat after a week 's hard work we played a word game named "Oranges". That game terrified me more than the school. Everything that is named fun or games and is not, feels so sick. I couldn't understand the game and I didn't even try to understand. When it came my turn I would stay sickening mute and everyone was puzzled with me becasue it was a simple FUN game everyone understood, "had fun playing" and could play, except me. I so wanted to not be there, to not participate in the "fun hour", to be left to go home but I had no choice. That horrible game went on and on for years. How could I go to school so unprepared, so out of it ? First I couldn't make myself do school even if I wanted,  and I also knew that school was a forced thing down everyone's throat, teachers and kids alike becasue my mother was constantly bitching about the uselessness and foolishness of school and her inability to understand the point of it. I had no skill, no confidence in anything school or even life related. I was running the fastest in PE and that's kind of all I could do than the rest couldn't. I didn't go to PE classes my entire school life and I thank Lord I did school in Romania were teachers were far more lenient. I tried to exercise about two times and I though that was one of the hardest thing in the world to do and I just couldn't do and won't do.  I was crazy passionate though to be picked in the team to play handball but I was to small. Ever year the teachers were 50/50 if they should pick me in the team or not and it was always "let's wait maybe she will grow until next year". It went like that every year until I asked the Christian twins in  my class who were captains to "please get me in". They did get me in because their Christian family knew my Christian family. I lasted 3 games before they kicked me out sayin "you are to afraid and you are not helpful". They kicked me out and gave me the team designer's job. I had to go buy the t-shirts  for the team, so I went and bought some white with red piping t shirts becasue I loved them. I came with them and they screamed at me that I was supposed to get any color except white. I fucked it up and I quit my designer job. I never wanted that job anyway.  When they introduced geometry, I don't know how it happened that I understood geometry right from the start while my colleagues didn't. They had this problems straight on some graphs and I could see on those graphs but my colleagues didn't. It took them two week to finally see what I saw. Then in psychology they gave us an hour long test all with just shapes and patterns and I scored by far the highest but I didn't know what does it mean. I never put my hand up to ask or say anything. School for me was about seeing some boys I liked, studying them, sharing my desk with them and dreaming in the night to make love to them. I liked about 4 very cute boys in my school. I liked maybe the most one but he was not in my class. I focused on the 3 I liked in my class. One was the class chief and I observed he was very good in languages and in all the subjects but here and there was not as good in math. Besides, I felt he was too school smart for me. I was not part of the school smart kids and I felt he won't like me. The other two cute boys I liked, were good in math and struggled with languages - exactly like me. One of them tried to care about school, even though he kind of failed at it, and also was a bit sickly. The other, could not give a shit about school and seemed like me, to ignore it like it doesn't exist. I liked the last boy and he liked me too. I don't know how, but I shared my table for about 4 years out of 8 with this last boy (in Romania we had same classmate year after year) He was silent and we never ever talked. Fit me perfectly. He loved watching and playing football and I loved boys who love sports.  

"Friends" are not for meAt the beginning of second grade a new girl moved on the street, in my mothers neighborhood, and in the same class as me. She, like me, moved to the city from a small mountain town next to a ski resort. She was so cute and kind and out to play with me every day but she was not exciting, she was like most everybody else - a walking corpse, apathetic. I had a baby doll I was passionate about and I couldn't let her touch it. I said "don't touch it, go buy your own". She did buy one, exactly like mine. I took my baby and went to her apartment to play babies. Happy, I thought I have somebody to play babies with because I was playing that game alone. Every day I was kissing, hugging, dressing and undressing, feeding my babies. I built from chairs a train and I took them in adventures with me. Of course we had to be caught in strong storms and blizzards for thrill and I provided warmth, comfort and protection for my babies. My babies were so happy, comfortable and content with me. This neighbor just sat there with her new baby doll looking at me. She was keeping it in a way that felt wrong and hopeless. I said, forget about it, lets leave the babies and play something else. She was not into babies. Once, we played outside and she didn't want to play what I wanted and I scratched her face. She looked at me with so sad eyes, put her head down and went to her house. Her kindness and humbleness broke my heart. Anyway, I wished she was exciting but she wasn't. She was not what I craved. We were together from grade 2 to 8 and at school in breaks we played together but like my village boyfriend, at school she would join the crowd and leave me all alone. She did not stay with me.  Home she was with me all the time but at school she was switching friends. I felt she didn't like me and I didn't like her either. When I moved to HS, grade 9, she didn't want to come to the same HS I wanted to go  so we went separate ways﻿
Loving my granddadWhen I was 8, I saw my grandad. He was always around but I didn't pay attention to him until then. I liked him a lot. He was so cute, silent, focused, and so passionate about working in the garden. He called even the city garden "Paradise", "The Garden of Eden" and he was in the garden working from morning until night. I decided to make him love me more than he loved my grandma. He always complained that we don't have money, that he was the only one working and nobody helped him. I thought I'm going to help him. I started working in the garden alongside him. I learnt to plant tomatoes and bell peppers exactly the way he wanted. Pruned the grapevine. Took the weeds out by the root (not just scraped them like my grandma). Went to the farmers market, 25 minutes pulling a cart full of fruits and veggies to make money for him. My grandad's produce was bigger and better looking than anyone's on the market and I had no problem selling out fast. I kept "working" with him for years and he started talking to me more and more. I would listen fascinated to everything he had to say. I thought he was the smartest, coolest man on earth. He became my entire world. He would often say "don't follow me, follow your own mind". I thought that was so cool of him to say. All the kids I played with together, were not as cool as my grandad. He said "people who love each other understand each other just by looking at each other, they don't need to talk and they even physically kind of look alike". He was allergic to me laughing in church and threatened me until I was 16 “If I'll catch you laughing in church, I’ll come up at the orchestra, take you by your hand, take you out and slap you over your face until you see green stars". The only times I got invited or escorted out of both school and church several times was for laughing. Not being the type to listen to what other people talk ever, I observe funny things like a fly staying on somebody's head or somebody making faces while singing and I start laughing unable to stop. When I laugh usually one or two or five others start laughing after me. Anyway, my grandma didn't like that I started loving my grandad more. She loved her son and grandson more than she loved me too and I understood. I hope she understood me too. My grandad was a very prideful man. Every major life decision he made was based on "other people". It made no sense to me. I always choose based on only what I love, what I need. I was thinking maybe pride, is a mental disease. My mother was mentally ill, maybe he was a lil bit too. 

Ignoring my mother the burdenMy grandma's first cousin moved a long time ago to Chicago where he became a wealthy man owning hotels. In the 80's family members could make an invitation to bring other family member to USA and my mother wanted to go to America. The letter for invitation required a photo and this was the photo we had to take. My mother got scared about moving to USA all alone with a daughter after her and changed her mind in the last moment. I don't want to talk about my mother becasue I ignored her like she didn't exist like I ignored the school and for my mental health protection I moved out of her apartment when I was 17.
  I made my mother sleep in the hallway, the two renters sleep in the living room and I got the bedroom all for myself where I locked my door at all times and turned the music on. Every weekend and all holidays I spent at my grandparents house and in their garden. My mother slowly began to dress and style me and I went along with whatever. I couldn't say one word besides my mothers is just too strong. She bought me some green pants walking in those on the street I felt diseased.  She sent me while I was in the village two dolls "sisters" . I kicked the sisters all around the backyard and left them there in the mud. I wanted  a baby doll, red color was my comfort color for clothes and I wanted a bigger brother but my mother was unaware of what I loved. I couldn't understand the complexity of my mother and I didn't have to because she felt strongly like a burden and that's all I needed to know to know that I'm going to escape her. I had a sweet life to live I couldn't wait to live but I couldn't with my mother around my neck.  She came across as a painful with every interaction talkative type of person. Was like a rip current that once it gets you, you can't escape for a while. I don't want to think  much about my mother becasue its just too psychologically stressful, it only drains me with no end. She was the type that made up things 90% of the time and hated everyone and everything under the sun except flowers. Fearful people are a pain and a drag and they talk and need to be talked to, but fearful people who have no clue what reality is and make up stuff are whole new level of pain, an unbearable pain. Nothing she said ever happened or will ever happen. Following her train of thought was painful and exhausting. Seeing her, for my peace of mind, I decide in my early twenties that I take things only at face value. Whatever people like her try to say is their problem to figure out, I don't want to know. For me, what I hear them say, is what I act on. If a person says one and means another, I'll go ahead with what they say. I keep my life simple.  To protect my mental health,  I cut her of my life a long time ago. My grandparents couldn't understand their own daughter and haven't even tried, and me neither. She may have some mental illness, like my grandad said she has, I don't know. I know that she is born that way and it's not her fault and it's not my fault and I say thank you God every day I'm not like her but can I stand her? No, I can't. It drives me crazy in my head. It sickens me.  I even tried to work with her to make her see the world like I do, but I realized people don't change. Around her I feel diseased and in hell with no way out. When I feel in hell I tend to stay there imprisoned by my suffering for years because my mind doesn't see any way out, I can get so locked in my head. Whatever the people around me feel that's what I feel too and it engulfs me, it imprisons me. That's why I love and need to stay alone to be free  in  peace and quiet, in the mountains, and on the road - that's where I can feel myself and be clear in my head about myself about how I feel and about my path. 

Not waiting In the city, I searched and searched but couldn't find an exciting boy I loved to play with and wanted to fuck, and that hurt so bad. I thought is everyone in so much pain as me? Almost nobody seemed to have somebody to love and play with. Why it has to be so hard to find somebody to love. I craved excitement and thrill every day. At church for New Years Eve the kids gathered for parties and we had this physical competitive games based on speed, agility. We were two teams of about 20 kids each competing and I was crazy about those games.  In my mother's neighborhood there were a few dozen kids my age and I got excited. I thought the more the merrier. I could see how well we could play some team games I knew from church.  Every time I opened my mouth to propose and explain new games people looked at me like I wasn't there. I didn't have the face and the presence of a person they wanted to listen to. I couldn't make them play what I wanted ever. I was first out to play after school and last to go home. I was available to play with any kids at any time of night and day but they were all busy with excuses, doing "more important things" like homework, reading, swimming classes, chess classes. I wasn't doing my homework, their parents said I was a bad example and forbid me to come at their door. By the time I was 10, I realized that most kids don't crave excitement like me. Excitement is not a priority, not something they live for day and night like me. I couldn't find anybody to share my passion for play, for excitement and that hurt so bad. At that moment, out of my frustration and extreme pain, I decided I won't ever wait for anyone, I won't ask twice, I won't beg again. It's too painful. Most have excuses, any excuses, they wil find an excuse just to always have an excuse. Most are boring, apathetic, inhibited, hesitating, busy doing "important things", dragging thigs, have their own mental illness, they limit themselves and I don't want to deal with any of that. I'm not like them. They are difficult and difficult is painful, is not for me. I'm free and easy and passionate and ready any time, and I wanted people like me but I couldn't see anyone like me. It’s easier to be alone with myself in peace and hope and dream. Putting up with people I don't like is too hard. Doing what others like and I don't, is too hard. I decided I'll go alone to play and roam after my heart's desire. If I'll find on the way somebody who wants same thing as me, is has ready as me, hungry as me,  I'll be happy and I'll take them, if not, it is what it is and it's how it goes. After a while, I found an adventurous boy, three years older than me, with whom I went exploring. We took buses, trolleybuses and trams and went to the end of the lines to see where the city limits are. Went to walk on the train tracks, to explore abandoned buildings. At some point we got in some rusted pipes and rust came on my hair. Late at night I arrived home and threw myself tired on the bed. Rust from my hair got on the white sheet and my mother beat me up with a whip until my butt blended. She said "I beat you up for one and only one reason, for being adventurous, becasue adventurous is dangerous".﻿
Rides on musicNext to my mothers apartment there was a huge park that before got all fence in, and started to be called "botanical garden" , and started to have many new plants all tagged with their Latin name, and you had to pay a fee to get in, to look at the plant, and get educated, it was just a huge park we could get in from anywhere. A park where we sled in winter on iits hills,  picked colored leaves in autumn , picked elderflowers for juice, made love in the bushes. Sometimes there were scary naked men in the bushes. In that park, every summer they brought a few rides on cool music. I lived for those rides. I gathered all the money I could and hid them from my mother who didn't like rides at all. Once I'm on a ride with music (and only with music, preferably music I like), I immediately feel excited and start dreaming and I love it. I was the only person who stayed there and went again and again and again on one ride I loved the most. Everyone was going once, I had to go so many times I was embarrassed. I thought people will think I'm crazy. Then one summer the rides didn't come. Next year the same, didn't come. The third year didn't come again. I started asking all around, where are the rides, did they move them? I started searching for them the whole city and asking around. Nobody knew about any rides. It hurt so bad. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't understand how all the best things are disappearing. I couldn't understand why other people don't feel like me, don't love what I love, don't crave same things like me becasue for me they were by far the best. 

Falling in love with mountainsWhen I was 11, in my summer vacation, I went with my grandma back to the village to visit. I met Adi, we played all day every day, and I discovered that my love for him was dead. Still, it felt so good to be with him that my grandma returned to the city, but I stayed in the village one more week. I slept at a neighbor in their guest room on a mattress filled with straws. First and last time I experienced with that type of mattress but was not bad at all. I came back changing two buses and that marked my first long distance trip all by myself. In the same summer, my mother forced me to go in my first church mountain camp organized by kids choir and I initially didn't want to go because I was so shy. The thought of sleeping in tent with others horrified me so much that I couldn't see myself able to do it. In that camp, I fell in love with mountains. I fell in love with the feeling of waking up in the mountain's strong fresh air, seeing dew on the grass and mist over the valley, hearing cow bells nearby, hiking for hours at a time, cooking on fire every night under the sky full of stars. I enrolled myself every year in all the mountains camp I could until I was 15. ﻿
Overjoyed to be a womanWhen I was 11 my period started and the day it happened a got out of my mind overjoyed all day long. I was so happy to be a woman and future mother. I felt right on track,  grounded, connected with life, I felt right on my path like I was blessed, like I got all I wanted and all I needed or I'm on the right track to get it all. I felt so much love for life.

Singing and mountainsIn the city we joined the big Pentecostal church where my uncle was a loved preacher charismatic evangelist.  My grandad became soon a well know preacher in the city too but nobody at church knew about my mother, my grandma and me becasue we were nobodies. We were an embarrassment for my uncle and grandad, we never went together at church and nobody ever figured we were related. Me and my grandma could not be more happy to be invisible, fly under radar and be left to do what we wanted, but my mother was unhappy about being kept hidden. My mother forced me to join the kids’ choir where I sang four years, then I had to move up to orchestra where I played mandolin two years. My mother wanted me to become someone important and smart in school or a singer in church, to wash away her shame as a single, 3 times divorced person devalued by society and by church. My mother cared about the society and about "what others are thinking" while me and my grandma were not even aware that there  are other people on earth. The kids choir at our church was well renowned in the city because we sang soulful and dynamic songs to the point we were shouting. When you hear the word choir usually is boring music but this kids choir was not a boring soulless one at all. In kids choir I loved the Palm Sunday when we sang with lilac, tulips and other spring flowers in our hands and the whole church smelled so good. Every Christmas I went singing carols with kids choir two nights all night long until 6 am. We prepared almost 2 months in advance for those caroling nights and we sang so good. We walked on streets, singing carols in exchange for cookies and cakes filled with cream. Cream can be apples, pumpkin, cheese, walnuts, poppy seeds, chocolate, vanilla, maple, milk. Sometimes was snowing and we walked all night in the snow, slipping on ice, having our fingers frozen. We went in neighborhoods I never been to and in the night, some were so beautiful, strange and magical. Singing in the night on empty streets on 4 voices sounded divine. It felt like we were in a different world. The lady, the conductor, her name was Sister Barbu, was rather severe. Her gentle smiley husband, was on accordion. They were both musicians by profession and she was such a force. We had to rehears for over 2 hours every week and she kept us there until we sounded perfect and breathed in the same time. We had brother Radu on contrabass and he made the whole church, the balcony where we were at , and the windows shake with the bit. Brother Radu had very dark skin, was my uncle's friend and the main attraction at my uncle's weekly Friday night house praying and singing gathering. I went to a few Friday night gatherings too. We were all praying on our knees for a long time, then at the end, we got up and waited in silence for brother Radu to share his visions from God about each and everyone one of us.  Sister Barbu and her husband were passionate about music and passionate about mountains.  They were poor but building slowly over many years and decades their mountain cabin. While they were building it, we were camping right next to it. My first few camps in the mountains were with them and the kids from choir. The camps with them were just singing, playing, cooking, eating, picking berries and free time to play on our own every afternoon with an occasional praying out loud which I dreaded. In one of the camps, sister Barbu forced me to eat. If you wouldn't eat ALL, she would get upset with you like scream, make faces and force you to finish all you had in the plate. Once, her boy, commented something and she got angry and emptied the bowl of soup on his head. Noodles were hanging like hair all over his head and face.  I couldn't stop from laughing and nobody else was laughing. When I was 14 I was too big for kids choir and had to moved over to church orchestra. The orchestra conductor was a math teacher into classical music and I can't stand classical music. I couldn't remember any song, any part of any song.  At the weekly rehearsals it usually took her 45 minutes just to move us from the tuning instruments room to the church. By that time we were all tuned up and ready to start rehearsing, I was ready to go home. Every song we played was soulless noise and we sang so bad that what the left side of the orchestra was singing and what the right was singing sounded like different songs. I hated every moment there and I also got fired after two years becasue she asked me to sing solo for her to test my voice and I refused becasue i'm just too shy and can't do that. She said "either sing or get out" and I walked out right that moment. I didn't miss it  one moment becasue I didn't want to be part of anything church related, my mother wanted. While I was at orchestra I also had to change with what group I went caroling and the churches' youth rehearsed with Claudiu the big choir's conductor. That guy was only a few years bigger then me and I liked him a lot but he didn't like me. His family was good friends with my grandad and uncle but he never found out I was related with my uncle and grandad. He was also severe and we sang really well. Unlike sister Barbu who took us walking and caroling in the villages surrounding the city, in the medieval suburbus of the city , only beautiful places, and mostly at the families of the kids who were in choir who were extra attentive and generous with their food, Claudiu took us caroling by cars to all the hospitals in the city, and some hospitals had eight floors so we spent hours singing on different floors. Also he took us caroling to the political leaders of the city who didn't giva us any food and I didn't like it anymore. I quit caroling altogether. As I grew up everything seemed to go to shit. It's not that I'm looking for the good old days, is that I'm looking for appeal, excitement, and joy.﻿
Skipping Sunday School At this church every Sunday morning all the kids were not staying in church, they were grouped by age and going to Sunday School in different kids rooms except me. I dreaded that Sunday School more than I dreaded the School. Only hearing the groups names and ages stressed me out.  In school I could hide but in this Sunday school I was exposed and under fire. The teacher for my group age was the worst, was horrible. It was an old lady, long white hair, skinny, way to harsh, cold, unappealing and her voice was scratching on my brain. Only the sight of her scared the shit out me. She would start the Sunday School with making us all pray out loud one by one. I'm extremely shy and I don't want to pray out loud. I don't have to. I hate  to hear anyone praying, all the fake all same blah blah. In one little room we were packed way too many kids. Praying one by one sounded frightening boring and took forever. Next, the horror lady would make us read the bible again one by one. That also took forever. Next, she would start asking questions about what we read again going through all of us one by one. I was forced to pray out loud, I was forced to hear others pray out loud, I was forced to read out loud things I don't care to read, I was forced to talk about things I was clueless. I had this nausea strong feeling in my stomach all the time. I felt only the sight of the room, the sight of those tables and chairs made me sick, so sick,  like I couldn't believe how bad I could feel. What was the point of me being there and what was in there for me? Nothing. Only a horror time. Adults are so out of touch with how kids feel and what kids like but that doesn't make them to fuck off. Adults grab the kids and force shit down they throat becasue they can. Home, my cruel mother is pushing down my throat her shit, at school the same but I don't like their shit.  I know what I like and what I don't and a kid wants to be treated gently, with respect and to be left alone to play all day long. This is how you treat kids? Who would like to go to Sunday School ? Hell, not me! Every kid was in one of those Sunday school rooms, all the adults were in church and I was moving and hiding all within and around the church. We had a church balcony and I was sitting not in the balcony, but in the entrance hallway of that balcony or I was staying in the courtyard with mothers and babies, or in the coats room, or nursing room, or I walked on the streets around the church. My entire family was in church uncle, aunt, one first cousin (the other was gone who knows where (by the Black Sea  washing dishes) - he quit church when he was 13, became a thieve, vagabond, smoker, alcoholic who smashed school's desks - according to his mother), grandad, grandma, mother but only my mother was in charge of me. My mother said that my behavior is shameful and inappropriate and what would people think of me and I will make God upset but I couldn't hear her talking or I never processes whatever she ever talked and could not help myself anyway. I did not want to even try to help myself. She also said that I have the behavior I have becasue I don't have a dad, I don't have anybody to keep an iron fist on me. I went twice to that Sunday School and never went again. At the end of church I would see droves of kids coming out of those Sunday School rooms with their drawing projects or other paper boring horror projects in their hands. It made me sick only seeing them and frightened becasue I couldn't understand them at all. I couldn't understand their ability to do those boring paper projects, questions projects or whatever they were doing. All the kids were one way and I was just not that way and didn't see anybody like me. It felt very weird that all kids could do Sunday school and I just couldn't . I didn't wish I could do, I wished there was not such horrible things as Sunday School. That would have been very good and beautiful. Lucky there were some cute boys I loved in church and I lived for seeing them. Seeing them made enduring anything church related worthwhile. Pentecostal churches also had more soulful music, lots of babies, people sleeping with multiple people, people with small businesses and I liked all that. I had many second cousins scattered in all the Baptist churches in the city and my mother took me to visit Baptist churches often too. She was actually constantly moving in between all churches in town. But I felt much worse in Baptist church, I found them cold, arrogant and scary becasue they had classical music. Also in Baptist churches there is a lot of praying out loud one by one and a lot of boring bible study and people are intellectuals. All type of things and type of people that scared me. 

Blubbery Hill I didn't like my nose and couldn't stand to see it. The last camp I actually liked. After this camp, all the following camps had just more bible study and more bible study. In this camp we were about 100 kids coming back home from a long hike in the mountains, still had about 2 hours until the tents. All kids were walking on the path in the forest but I see that on the left side there is this meadow full of some long very thick slippery green shiny grass. I started to slide on that grass on my butt because it was a good slope. Two more kids came after me and was so fun! We got some good speed and it was such a long way down. I thought I want to do this for the rest of my life. Then the two kids quit and went back in the forest to walk in line with the rest but I continued like a mad person my slide down on my butt thrilled out of my mind and faster. I couldn't understand why nobody came after me and why the other two quit. I arrived down way ahead of everybody else and I was waiting for them very proud of myself. When they finally caught up with me I see from the distance their faces looking at me and smiling in a weird way. They asked me if I feel anything with my butt. I said no. They asked me to look at my butt. When I looked my baby blue pants were soaked with smashed blueberries. Underneath all that long green grass were small bushes of blueberries I hadn't seen. I loved those pants, they were soft, cute and you could make them two lengths but I could never get the blueberries out of them and had to throw them. The feeling, the experience, the memory though was priceless! I love when an opportunity comes and I freely take it right then and nobody stops me. I live for those moments. Also in this camp we got lost in the mountains and at 12 am after 12 h of walking we were still in the forest trying to find our way back to tents but we had flashlights. It was my first time getting lost in the forest in the mountains at night, the second happened with my mother and with my mother we had no flashlights and no moon light at all, I just felt the path with my hands and feet.﻿
My uncle the lightUntil I was 13 I only played and played and didn't do anything the school or my mother pestered me to do. I only can do what I want to.  I liked to play with others but if I didn't have others, I played alone. It didn't bother me at all to play alone, I got used. I couldn't get bored because I was so busy playing. It never seemed to be enough daylight for me at how busy I was. When I was 13 I got so sick of  playing and I was hungry for real life experiences. I wanted to get out in the world, and to do everything, everything adults did but the society didn't let me. My mother told me "you have to stay in school and become a doctor not occupy yourself with low level jobs and moving from place to place like a gypsy." They forced me to stay more years and more years in the School Prison. Until around 13, for me, all people were beautiful. When I was 13 something changed in me because I looked around and hardly anyone was beautiful. Hardly anyone was happy. Almost all adults I knew looked lifeless, like walking corpses waiting for the death to come, except my uncle. My uncle was different, he was like a bright warm light in a grey world, like a breath of fresh air. He was passionate, charming, charismatic, energetic, full of life. He had a job with the railways he loved and worked at from 8 am to 4 pm, then came at my grandparent's house where he worked on his clothes business, making blouses and dresses on his knitting machine until 10 pm. While making clothes he was singing his heart out alongside his Christian cassettes. At the end of the month he collected rents, lots of money, from his three apartment rentals without doing any work for those. Real estate investing was unheard of in communist Romania but my uncle had many friends from all walks of life including many American friends. He got this real estate idea from somewhere. He also had a cow for milk. While my grandad worked the land and selling his produce on the farmers market so hard for so little money, my uncle seemed to work little and easy for a lot of money. I liked that. I thought collecting rents job would fit me perfectly. I can go skiing then come home at the end of the month to collect rents. I always hated to go skiing on schedule like people with school and jobs do, because the best skiing is on fresh powder. Skiing on fresh powder doesn't compare with any other type of skiing. Skiing on fresh powder is like dancing, just ease and pleasure and suddenly you feel a really good skier. Fresh powder comes when it comes, it doesn't come on schedule, you hunt for it and live for it. I felt life was good for my uncle. I said "I want a life like his". My uncle showed me a path in life when it was so grey I couldn't see any. 

Plastic surgeriesIn Romania when you turned 14, you had to make your ID. When I made this photo I hated it the most becasue its so raw and I hated my nose. This photo is from before I had any nose surgeries. I never liked my nose but I wasn't thinking much of it, I kind of always liked my face. When I was 13 many things changed in me including my nose which suddenly became so ugly it made me feel like a monster. I didn't even want to walk on the street for people to see me. My boobs suddenly got a size C facing upwards and no other girl in my class had boobs yet. Then I got way too much hair for a girl on my legs above my knees. I didn't like it becasue I always felt such a girly girl. I was thrilled to be a woman, I didn't want my legs to be so hairy to look like a boy. It's not that I couldn't shave, it's that you could see where you shave and it made me feel so bad. In summer at PE everyone was having a good time in shorts and t-shirt, only I was hot sweating in long joggers and zipped up top, to hide my hairy legs and my boobs all the boys were staring at. Boys were passing by and were constantly "aren't you too hot? unzip your top!". People always feel comfortable to pick on me. I also didn't like my hair. In my head I wasn't able to accept that I had wavy - curly hair. In my class of 36 kids were maybe 5 -6 kids with curly wavy hair and I didn't want to believe I was one of them. If there would have been hair iron at that time, my life would have been so much better. I spent an enormous amount of my energy and time to find products that made my hair straighter and I slept every time I washed my hair with a hat tight on my head . If in the morning I woke up with still a curly hair I was devastated, unable to function. I missed even church a few times becasue of my hair. Then I discovered that if I put perm in the top of my head where was the most curly it would make my hair actually straighter. That eased my curly pain a little bit for a couple of years. In the image I had about myself I had straight hair. Walking up every morning seeing in the mirror a person with wavy hair and curly on top was a tough life to live. I could not relate. Its possible that my hair turned curlier as I became a teenager and I hanged on to my straight hair I had before. I don't know. Trying to keep your hair straight every day when is curly is hard and stupid and as crazy as it sounds but that's how it goes when things don't align in your head and you are oversensitive about how things look. Anyway, from 13 to 15 were my toughest years mostly becasue of my nose. Lucky one of my colleague's dad was the best plastic surgeon around. I had three nose surgeries with him - one at 15, one at 17 and one at 18 years old. He did them behind my mother's back because my mother didn't let me. She said "you can't change how God made you. If you do that, that's a sin". So yeah I'm a sinner. The boys liked me anyway from before I had any surgeries. They made a top of the most beautiful girls in the class and I got on 3rd place with the mention "she's not beautiful, her nose is wavy, but there is something about her". Now I love the photo the most, for the same reason, becasue it's raw. I love the most to be myself at my rawest. My mullet type of hair is my own creation. I cut my own hair. I don't know what I'm doing but I just go ahead with what I feel and mullets feel good to me. If I go ahead with what I feel, I'm confident, I feel good with myself and in my skin and that's exactly what I'm looking for.

Hearing the mountains callWhen I was 15 I found myself skipping the bible study hours that were part of the camp. To escape those, I hid in the forest. How I ended up in the forest initially was with a friend who needed to pee and asked me to go with her during bible study. Once in the forest I loved it so much there that the girl returned to the bible study class but I didn't. I thought that they could catch me, but I did it anyway. The thought of staying for hours on a blanket with the sun hitting on my head being asked bible questions I was clueless about was unbearable to me. In the forest was shade, was cool and quiet, you could feel a light breeze and hear the sound of wind through the trees. Day after day I hid in the forest and nobody realized I was missing. I want to be invisible and it seems that I AM invisible. In the forest I heard the mountain's call. An overwhelming feeling inside to go explore all the mountains after my heart's desire, and I said Yes! I felt ready and confident I could backpack alone with some boy I liked. That camp was my last camp. In camps, I couldn't stand the bible study that went on and on every day for hours, the afternoon word games playing which I hated and refused to play. In the same time we were nor really doing any hiking, exploring around which is what I want to do when I go in the mountains. Also eating and sleeping on schedule and not being allowed to have any food in your tent is too hard. If I'm hungry and the time to eat is not now, I get frozen in my head and feel tortured. All I can think of is food. Every night they were having a big bonfire and staying around the fire singing until 12 am. Well, unfortunately as much as I love looking at the fire (my aunt even told me "you will never work in your life, you are the type that only sits by the fire watching the wood burn") I can't do that. My body when 9 pm comes, it starts to close my body functions one by one until I fall asleep of my feet. At 10 pm I headed towards my tent half asleep and I hear the crowd behind my back "Don't dare wake up tomorrow morning before 8!" I just can't eat and sleep inline with anybody let alone with groups. Everybody should eat, sleep and fuck when they feel like. It's basic body needs, the life's joy and pleasures and are private and personal. These are not group things or things that you can schedule. This social everything and scheduled everything, rules and regulations takes all the joy out of life, it makes me sick, drives me crazy and is not for me. Some people, most people strive in groups, word games, schedules and lack of freedom but I'm not one of them and I will never be. 

 The idea to emigrateWhen I was 14 I started having about 4 guys from church obsessed with me like I was "the one". I didn't like any and I was running from them and they were running after me. There was one who followed me for years and I felt like I will never escape him. Another one caught me and forced me to say why I don't like him and I said "becasue I can't stand you". It was my first lesson in blurting things out straight to free myself. It's when I learnt that truth sets me free. I liked some other guys but they didn't even look at me. That's how it goes. It's hard to find someone you like who likes you back in the same time. When I was 16, one summer day, I came from orchestra practice where we had a new person joining us, a guy who, I heard, used to play in orchestra but now was working overseas and came for summer vacation back to Romania and back to visit the orchestra. I remember him trying to talk to me when I was 14 but then I got scared of him and ran away. Now I was 16, not overly scared  and he made me fall in love with him despite the fact that I didn't like him, he was not my type.  I didn't exactly have a type in my mind but I had a "I'll know him when I see him" . He was 24, was working in Germany painting houses, and said, while wiping blobs of sweat on his forehead "I wasn't born to live in Romania, Romania is a dead end". What he said and the way he said it, touched me. I loved Romania. I loved the climate. I was crazy about the beautiful mountains, medieval towns, cute fairytale hilly villages, I was hiking, and roaming like a mad person, I never thought to leave Romania, but he made me believe that out there are other better lands. I wasn't able to do school. I didn't want to do college at all. I had no thoughts of career, or job, or future, or becoming anybody important. I just wanted to make love, to have fun, to have babies and to be left alone to enjoy the seasons and staying by the fire. I knew that my mother wanted me to become a doctor, a director or somebody important. I knew that my grandad wanted me to work to make money, I knew that society wanted me to be this or that but  I couldn't even think of any of those. The thought of all those was too horrible.  I tried to try to at least think but I couldn't do even that. At the most I thought I would like to have some money while moving from place to place. The thought of being a doctor spending my life in between 4 walls suffocated me and bored me.  I could not make myself do anything I didn't feel like doing, not one bit. I needed money. I didn't even have 1 dollar to buy a pair of cheap stockings. I had to wait three months to be able to buy the stockings. There was no easy work and money possibilities for me in Romania. I thought instead of dealing with all that, I will escape to a country where I'll have an easier time making money. Money was a huge problem in Romania, an opportunity of escape idea came along and I hanged on to it single minded. Moving overseas felt like escaping  it all , the college, the career, the teachers, the preachers, Romania society, my mother. My collision with him impacted me far more than I can say. I dumped that guy becasue even tough we were both sensitive bums with no ego I was more physical, I had far more energy, appetite for life, for getting it all. He was lifeless, like life frighted him so much that he got frozen and remained frozen and was criticizing me all day every day for my clothes, my hair, my lack of social skill, my attitude. People who criticize me I think they don't like me so I'd rather dump them first. He was not physical like me, not passionate about working the land like my grandad, he was a great great lover who criticized me all day every day aka a great lover who didn't like me. He may have learnt his charming appealing  lover style in Germany becasue he was different than the Romanian lovers. I don't know. Romanian lovers were more straight shooters like me but this lover was more sophisticated, more around the bush. Any ego idea that I may have had in me because my mother, my grandad and society, after falling in love with this guy I was completely cured of for forever. Love is central to me and nothing else can stick to me. 

Half the high school ignoring and half skipping altogetherIn elementary school, in breaks I tagged along my neighbor friends but I didn't like them. It felt so difficult to be with people I didn't like and do things I didn't like . I dreamed to be able to be alone so I can do what I want, but that meant looking like a weird person, like a lone wolve and in elementary school I was not ready for that but I promised myself that once I move over to high school with completely new colleagues I would not accept anymore the torture of having friends I wasn't excited about. So in grade 9 I moved to this new high school with completely new classmates. I felt ready to walk in breaks all alone like a lone wolf.  Just freedom and hope. I always found the lone wolves the coolest and the most sexually appealing to me and I stared being one and looking for another one.  In breaks, I would walk on all the school's hallways and around the school checking out all the boys in the entire school, or I'd go straight as fast I could in downtown to do window shopping. I went especially to two shops. One shop was a new clothes shop with unique clothes. I was always looking for dresses or skirts. No item of clothing was in multiple sizes. The other shop was an old books shop in the cool stylish fortress Maria Theresia Bastion that had occasionally old maps with Romanian mountain ranges I needed badly becasue they were not printing new ones anymore. I wanted to find and buy ALL the maps with ALL the Romanian mountains ranges becasue I planned to explore them all.  The school break was 10 minutes and it took me 6 minutes to get to this shops, 3 minutes too look around and check out what new came in, and 5 minutes to come back, becasue back I was running. I had this thing with maps that when I opened the map and saw all the lines that were tracing the valleys, the crests, the mountain peaks my entire body would literally start shaking with excitement. I was already right up there in those mountains. The time I spent looking for maps and clothes felt so good that it got longer and longer  to the point that I realized I had no chance to make it back to school on time and I started skipping classes. I started skipping one hour, then two hours, then 4 hours, then one day then two days, then half a week. I was very stressed out about being out of school roaming on the downtown streets when the entire earth population was in school but I couldn't make myself go to school. I hated that place sooo much and walking on the streets  felt sooo good. I went past underground Jazz clubs where in the night had live music and in the morning people were smoking and drinking coffee. At the beginning of grade 11,   one sunny morning in the economics class a thought came to me "what the school has to do with me? "...."Nothing" So after the economics class ended, I walked out of school  for good with no thoughts of consequences. My capacity to tolerate the drudgery of school ended after that thought. I could not take it one more minute. I stopped going to school about 75 % of the time and I got in trouble. The chemistry teacher had been threatening me since the beginning of grade 9 that my place is not in that school and that she will kick me out becasue I refused to memorize and I refused to deal with anything theory. She thought I was rebelling but I wasn't. I didn't want to wipe the theory from the face of the earth, I just wanted to not touch me. My brain decided doesn't want to deal with theory at all and I can't do anything about it. I also got some ego which was a terrible mistake not interested to make again. I got into such stubborn state with that particular teacher that I had to stand for two years at all her classes when everyone else sat down. She exhausted me but she didn't seem to get bored of me. Whatever she wanted me to do, I never did. I just couldn't. I could never figure out if she loved me or hated me. People can't believe this about me  but others people's opinions about me, threatening me, manipulating me, making me feel bad or guilty doesn't work with me at all. I don't give a damn about others opinions about me good or bad, either coming from people I care or I don't care about - all means nothing to me. The sight of people scare me but their opinions and talk doesn't exist for me.  The anatomy teacher, who was an old stylish man always wearing suits, who jumped with both his knees on a lab high desk to try to catch me copying also failed me. I was supposed to learn all summer Anatomy so I can pass the class but I didn't learn anything. I simply could not. I don't understand words, I don't understand anatomy, I can't memorize. How can I learn ?. The literature teacher who was a tall big man, a bully, who sent kids home for having dirty shoes and called me "Angel" also promised me to not let me graduate and keep me there with him for as long as it takes. I had problems with one of my lovers and I was emotionally exhausted. I had nothing left in me to deal with the bully literature teacher and his literary analysis which a was totally foreign language for me.  To escape that bully literature teacher I had no intention to fight with, I moved myself from the best HS to the worst HS in the city. The worst HS in the city was also in the medieval town in one of those beautiful buildings and even closer to the heart of downtown. I thought this worst HS was with mentally challenged kids but I was surprised to discover it was actually full of kids who lived in the nearby villages. I found out later it was also my uncle's HS when he moved from the village. Even that worst HS in town was way too difficult for me and made me sick with my stomach just looking at it and at everyone  in it. Its hard to keep up with anything in school when you are missing school all the time and pretend that school doesn't exist. I was so addicted to walking on the streets, with spending days up in the mountains, with spending mo rnings in my boyfriends bedrooms when everyone else was in school or at their job, with roaming around Romania that nothing could have made me give up my addictions and make me start going to school. It was impossible. To graduate HS I had to pass 7 tests called Baccalaureate. I was scared to death and sick about those 7 tests but the fear didn't make me study at all for any. Not that I didn't want to do school, I wanted, but I couldn't. I would open a school book, look at first page and close it. It put me to sleep instantly. The dislike was too big. It was imposible for me. It was like somebody forcing me to eat shit. I could never. I learnt in that HS out of necesity the art of bull shit. Don't give a blank page, don't keep your mouth shut, write and talk with confidence bull shit. They can't give you a passing grade on nothing. It's all a fucking fake charade I guess. How others can put up with that charade I don't know. Its a mystery for me.  In the summer of 1994 I was fired from orchestra for refusing the sing solo for them to test my voice. Then in Sept 1994 I stopped going to school much and in in April 1995 I moved out of my mothers apartment for good to protect my mental health. I escaped everything I always felt like escaping and dreamed to escape, pretty much all at once. 

 STARTED LIVING ONLY FOR MAKING LOVE AND BEING IN THE MOUNTAINS WITH ONE MAN OR ANOTHER When I was 16 I started going out with multiple boys in the same time without them knowing of each other. I didn't plan it that way, it's just how it naturally happened.  I always stay away from labels like boyfriend, partner, lover, husband. Labels make me cringe, suffocate me, limit me. I don't understand labels, I hate labels and I don't have any need for them. I'm far better off without labels. I don't feel like even saying all this labels and honestly I don't even think of labels. One of the man, was 21, and was from Resita, a small town next to Semenic Mountains. We liked each other and he wanted to show me the mountains he knew, loved and grew up on. I said Yes! We took a train from Timisoara, where we met, to Resita. He showed me what supplies to buy, rented one of his friend's tent and we hitchhiked up in the mountains. I spent some of my best two nights only me and him up in the wilderness, in the breathtaking beautiful mountains, cooking polenta on fire and making love under the black sky full of twinkling stars. Both him and me wanted that experience and we had it and it stays in my heart for the rest of my life. We never saw each other again, never expected to. I loved that feeling, that encounter, that experience, that memory so much that I started LIVING ONLY FOR MAKING LOVE AND BEING IN THE MOUNTAINS OR GOING TO NEW PLACES with one man or another over and over. Year after year I hiked in summer and autumns colors and skied in winter and spring until the snow melted. I took with me whoever looked appealing and wanted to come with me. Not all the men I liked and liked me were willing to come in the mountains with me. I chose only the ones who were into mountains. Then I started alternating mountains with exploring Romania. We visited nudist beaches, isolated villages, new medieval cities, big cities, salty lakes. 
 

LiceI stayed in another trip again high up in Apuseni Mountains, Romania in tent for several days with a man. A shepherd saw us and we got invited to his small hut for dinner. Freshly picked mushrooms with polenta and fresh sheep cheese. While the shepherd went out of the room I saw a cute old mirror on the wall with a comb. I went to see myself in the mirror, I may have combed my hair, and I got lice. I went down in town to the doctor to help me get rid of lice and I got some treatment. After a week of treatment, I had more and more lice. Went again to the doctor and he figured my lice were sheep lice not normal lice. He sent me to the veterinary pharmacy to get a white dust for sheep to put in my hair to kill the sheep lice. The lice didn't go away and unfortunately I passed them to my mother who being already mentally unwell from birth, got neurosis meaning after she cut her curly afro style hair horribly short and got rid of lice she still felt lice walking in her hair for a few months after, and kept going to lab to test pieces of dark small things that never turned out to be lice. 

Thrill - getting lost in the night in new breathtaking beautiful medieval cityOne of the most thrilling experiences was getting lost in the night in a new beautiful medieval city. It was late November, me and the man I was with at that time, we took a 2.30 pm bus in Timisoara and had to arrive in Sibiu by 9.40 pm. Sleep at the closest hotel and next morning take a bus to Paltinis, a small ski resort. Around 5 or so pm at the sunset we were driving through some out of this world beautiful mountain villages. The houses, the streets, the people who lived in those villages were different, the architecture was different, the people were white skin blue eyes and blond hair. They were Romanians from Transylvania region and it felt like I was in a different country, in a different world. Romanians from Banat, the region I came from are mostly dark skin, dark color eyes, dark hair. Seeing those places inspired and excited me to extreme. I felt like seeing new diferent places at sunset my entire life. I felt I was going crazy overjoyed. A bit past 9.30 pm, we were driving through the night and I barely saw anything .It was only me and my boyfriend left in the bus, when the driver stopped and said confidently and shouting "this is it, get off, this bus doesn't go any further!". I look through the window and I see nothing, just pitch dark. We got off, the bus closed the doors and drove off so fast. I looked after it like "where is he going driving like a crazy". We found ourselves in a dark street with medieval buildings all around. No phone, no map. In any direction we looked it was the same, dark streets, old charming building, no people, no shops. It looked like we were dropped in the thick of a strange medieval suburb not a central location and at the city's bus terminal location as I expected (Romanians do that type of shit). Had no idea which direction to go but it was too late, dark, cold and we didn't have time. We started running straight ahead until the first corner. Then we had to pick a direction. We started to run towards more lit streets. For the next 2 hours that was all we knew " the next corner". We found a person and asked  " Is this place Sibiu? Do you know a hotel close by? Yes was Sibiu! No hotel around. Which direction is the city center? That way! " So we started running that way and that way only lasted that long before we asked ourselves which way is that way again? Any! We lost the direction again. No other people on the streets to ask again. Every corner I turned yet a another dimly lit stunning medieval street with old houses and cobblestone. Narrow streets, underpasses, markets, fountains, old buildings. I was ecstatic, I was completely lost. I started laughing, drunk with joy, thrill and tiredness. Hopeless. We were not going anywhere. It was 11.30 pm, we stopped, I was sleepy and cold. Then a tiny woman opened a big door and got out from one of those old medieval houses. We asked if she knows a room for us to rent for the night. She said "come with me!". We followed her in another medieval house, went upstairs. The apartment had high ceilings and was so poorly lit I barely saw anything and I knew they were really poor. In the kitchen around the table there were three man and two women who looked at us suspiciously. The woman showed us a room on the left with old white big doors with glass and see through curtains. We asked when to pay now or in the morning? she said in the morning. We got in the room and I usually lock the door or put something heavy at the door but this time I didn't. I thought what does it matter, we are at their mercy. Went straight to sleep. In the morning I opened my eyes and thought first thing "I'm alive". We paid and left. I didn't want to say anything. Once in the street I felt good and safe, it was daylight and we had options. We found the bus terminal and caught the next bus to Paltinis on time.
 

"The one" - who wanted to kill me It was New Years eve,  and decided to get myself a man for New Year Eve. I went to a church that had more young people. I knew visually most people from all churches. It was maybe 500 people mostly youth gathered for church and New Years eve party after church. I see this new stranger, curly hair, beard, tall, super cute, but his mental, and how he felt to me got me crazy after him. I felt THIS IS THE ONE, not that I ever believe that there is one written in stars for me but I thought he might be  the one from my dream. We left together that night and went straight to his apartment and made love. For the next two years I was with him and this man was by far the most intense person I have ever seen or experienced. We were not boyfriend girlfriend, we were nothing. No labels. We just saw each other becasue that's how I felt. Me not having friends or much of a family I didn't have to have any label of what sort of thing I'm in or doing with a man or another becasue there was nobody to ask me. I kind of like this freedom, this distance from all people. Every interaction with him was charming and intense. Even doing simple things like cooking felt crazy good, felt more than I have ever dreamed. He took away my mind completely. He was not talking much but when he was talking he was fascinating. He talked about having his own businesses (which he had) and not depending on society or on anyone with anything. He had unmatched style in his walk and the way he talked in the way he laughed. He had a mind looking at the world from an angle almost nobody looks from. He liked to explain to me how the world worked and all he said made sense. I couldn't really tell at all if he liked me or not. He would call me "sex kitten". All men objectify me and I'm fine with it. I love being objectified. He lived mostly in a village of the beaten path but had this big apartment empty in the city was coming to every few weeks. Being with somebody, seeing each other from time to time constantly over years and not living in the same house or even town is very intense, exciting, romantic, liberating and attractive to me. Once, I took the train and went without him knowing to visit him in his village. He wouldn't have let me go If I would have asked. First time, I missed where I was supposed to get off the train for his village and went well past. Lucky I was used with trains and knew to come back but it took me the whole day to get back  home. So the second day I tried again and this time I asked a train conductor where to get off, so I got off at the right station. Once off the train I got distressed when I saw that the train left and I was all alone in the middle of nowhere, no houses, there wasn't even a railways station, not even the station's name written anywhere. For a moment I started to worry that I might have fucked up my adventuring like never before. Thoughts of not having where to sleep in the night, like sleeping under a tree, thoughts of bad people getting me or animals getting me crossed my mind. The village had only a few houses with a lot of distance between them and it was so far away from the railway that there was no way you could see it. It didn't even look like a village. A stranger gave me a ride and I found his house. His parents got shocked when they saw me at the door. They treated me nicely. His parents were Christians and with christians if you make love is a sin so you keep it hidden. We made love in his attic and it felt so crazy intense and good. I slept in my room, they gave me good food and the second day I left. About two years in our time of being together I was at his apartment in the city sitting on an arm chair the cool type low on the floor becasue he was so stylish not only in his clothes but also his furniture was so cool, so different. For a couple of months he started saying that I cheat on him. That he saw me at church talking with another man. Then that he saw me in a red car with another man covering my face. He said, if it wasn't me why would I cover my face. I was not cheating on him at all, I was crazy about him, I wasn't in any of the places he talked about. He stared telling me all sorts of ways he can kill me and nobody will find out. For a couple of months I believed he was joking or just talking or maybe he needs more time to know me and trust me. So one day I was sited on this stylish armchair and it just hit me that he wasn't joking. It hit me that he hadn't been joking for all the few last months. Mute, I got up. Went to the door in slow motion. Down the stairs. Crossed the street. Took a tram. Went to my own apartment. My mother was vi siting at my apartment and I opened my mouth to say something and no sound came out. I couldn't speak. I laid down in bed and tried to  relax for about 3- 4 hours. I didn't dare try to speak again. I was scared that if I'll try again and I won't be able to, I will panic. I wiped the killer lover completly from my brain and I was focused on my one and only prority, my one and only problem - my inability to speak. By the time evening came I started clearing up my throat , hearing some sound, I figured I could speak again. I never seen that man ever in my life, never wanted to, never missed him one second. He doesn't exist for me. I observed that I'm a sucker for beauty and style, I fall for what my eyes see and can't help myself. I will fall no matter what. I also observed that many people who are mentally ill have a sensitivity for beauty and style too. I attract them and they attract me. I must admit that when I see a person with above average style I'm asking myself if the person is crazy or not. There is un unnecessary sophistication in unwell people like my  mother that you pick up if you pay attention but that sophistication wasn't in this guy. This guy was way different. My mother couldn't have long term relationships becasue she would get too jealous and invent stories that didn't exist about how her lovers are cheating on her and she also had above average style in the way she looked and her clothes. Also she looked at the world in a diferent way than most too. I see this patern where I'm attracted to crazy people like my mother. My mother never spoke about killing herself or killing anyone though. Most people don't look appealing to me and the ones that do are crazy. Between the unappealing average and the crazy it's like there are no people left for me
 
Closed minded people are not for me  I was making the rounds at all the churches in town. Pentecostal, Baptist, Independent, "House of light" whatever the name. I was attending all churches and I was fishing for men. What can I do? I love men and men love me too. At one of the Pentecostal churches a guy liked me and I liked him too but he said "I like you the most but I don't want you becasue you are not a serious person, you are moving from church to church and from place to place, you are not material for church leader wife". I didn't think I wasn't a serious person at all because I think I'm a very serious person. I don't know anyone more serious than me when I want something. And I couldn't understand how you like somebody the most but you don't want them. Oh, well. I just thought he was too closed minded for me. My mother bitched so much, about her first husband of 16 years as being closed minded, insensitive to beauty, and not letting her do what she wanted when she wanted that I knew from her experience that I absolutely don't need closed minded  people. 

Nah, I don't want groupsOne of my cousins was very friendly always with one group of friends or another. She always invited me to come along but I was too shy and always said no until once I said yes and went to this lake. I hated it. I just don't feel comfortable with a group of boring useless people I can't sleep with. What to do with them ? Talk? I hate talking. I hate joking and I want to do what I want to do every minute around the clock. To make a lover do what i want or let me be is one, to make a group do what I want or let me be is another. 

 Best skier I have ever beenIn my first ski gear I could afford (old used  Rubin skies and boots 115 cm size 5.5 becasue they were for kids ) Fit me perfectly. Rubin is a Romania brand that no Romanian I knew would have touched becasue was considered very bad and I, as usual, I have no idea why. Short, light, easy to carry around, easy to ski with and made me feel the best skier I had ever been. Skiing when lifts were not yet opened becasue there was not enough snow but it was enough snow for me. Like usual places mean nothing to me, they are just the background of romance. I was there with another new lover super good looking with sex appeal, celebrating another New Years Eve.﻿
Two jobs, fired three times I could think like in dreaming of me having a business or real estate investments like my uncle but I could never think of me having a 9 to 5 job, of being anybody's employee or having a career. Some things just don't cross my head. There are that horrible for me. I know people who told me  they want to be employees, they want to be told what to do and they don't want the responsibility of having a business and I understand that but I'm not one of them. I was around 21 when for fun I wanted to try a job so I got a part time job, 4 h/day at one of my uncles friends. It was a multimillion dollar company, I was doing bookkeeping and most employees were from the same church I grew up in. I was working from 2pm to 6 pm and my morning colleague went on vacation so I was replacing her for about 10 days when the biggest customer seeing me there every morning asked me "when is your colleagues coming back" When people talk to me I feel them. Sensing his negativity I'm telling him "my colleague is not coming back you are stuck with me". So he goes to my boss and I get fired just for saying that. After I got fired, a few days later the boss called me back and I went back. I helped my boyfriend get a job there too as truck driver and he got fired too. He was dirt poor and younger than me so he was hungry and stole one or two hot dogs and some bread to eat and I told him they have video cameras everywhere but he didn't think he will be caught, so he got caught on video and got fired. Then the bosses girl starts dating a guy, again I know them both from church and her boyfriends starts staring at me too much. I get called in the bosses office who orders me to wash the grocery's store wall windows right that moment. I have no idea how to wash windows, never done it in my life, I'm thinking is way to difficult and I'm scared to climb that high ladder and I know why he asks me to wash the windows so I'm telling him "i'm not  doing it, I was hired for the bookkeeping job, not the cleaning windows job". So I get fired a second time.  In total my first part time job lasted 9 months. Then I find a job part time again selling vitamins. After about 6 months of work I go skiing at Vatra Dornei this time with a group. We stay there for about 4 days and its' not snowing at all, we struggle to ski on old snow. In the last day is starts snowing with big snow flakes non stop day and night. The group is returning but I can't. I need to stay skiing on fresh powder and I stay two more nights and I'm not calling the boss to let him know becasue I'm too scared he won't let me stay. I finally return to work two days later that I said  and the boss is really angry and is firing me on the spot. My second and last part time job of my life as an employee lasted 6 months    ﻿
Falling off the mountain I was on another mountain skiing another time with a group of people at Straja Ski resort in Romania when I fell off the mountain. I had about 3 years ski experience. It was 10 am, we went up the chairlift and we discovered at the top was still too icy. The others went to check if its' just as icy on the backcountry side of the mountain where they skied before becasue is all about where the sun touches the snow first thing in the morning. I tried to catch up with them,  then I wanted to do short cut .The way I came in and positioned my body, my skis should have cut the snow and stop. That didn't happen because the ice, and I fell. The moment I fell, I started rolling, then took a few long, long minutes accelerated flight with some fraction second touch downs. I was lucky there was no tree, no rock in my way becasue i'm not sure if I was still here telling the story. I finally stopped down in the valley on the backcountry side of the mountain right where one of my skies arrived before me. The other ski took a left turn, and end up in the forest somewhere. When I stopped I was shaking, my face white and sick from my heart. In the same trip a chair lift hit me in my head and in 1 second a huge bump grew on my forehead. In the same ski trip I fell from a rope tow and had to ski down on a black diamond nearly vertical slope. People ask me if it hurt to fall of the mountain. No, it didn't hurt because I didn't hit anything I just rolled on snow. It hurt when I fell from my grandparent's second floor house. Before they installed the final stairs with two flight of stairs and a landing in between, they had a straight up ladder going to their second floor where my uncle finished two rooms and a bathroom. I had my arms full with a box with books and I was so fast that I missed the stairs right at the top and landed on the concrete. 
 

 4 years after graduating HS I did nothing other than roaming, sleeping with Romanian Americans, Romanian Australians and American Americans and not liking any, trying to move overseas via a Christian College from an American Church I became a member of but I didn't like that either. Then I went to the biggest public university in the city becasue they had a program where they give you some SAT/ACT thick books and help you prepare to be admitted at some American Colleges of your own choice. I just wanted to check it out, I thought maybe somebody can help me. There was an American lady in charge with that department, she had a skirt, white hair, shoes and hair cut we know how, who screamed at me "how old are you? and where have you been since you finished HS? no, American colleges are not for people like you, are for people who are the best in their class, now go away! ". So I went away, right away. Incredibly ugly and tough person. How some people can make you feel it stay with you in your stomach. I got more exhausted, disappointed with all and I felt I was going to minus, one level at a time. My colleagues were in college, or finishing college, some were married some even with kids and I was at the end of my mental capacity to hold myself together. Love, sex, falling in love, break ups can be so exhausting. I was out of all the society is about, following only my heart wherever led me and I was tired and unhappy. True love was my only focus and my only priority but it wasn't working. My mother begged me to go to college. She said I was an embarrassment, completely misaligned with society and to get in line at least once in my life and to get a "college diploma, any college diploma" (she quit her idea of me becoming a doctor long ago) and wash her shame with me as a person without college degree. My aunt told me  "it's written on your face that you will do college when pigs fly". Not becasue of my aunt or my mother and her "what other people think" made up story I went back to college, but becasue of me feeling I hit some bottom, didn't know what to do and because I saw all people who moved overseas were programmers.  Math being easier for my brain I thought programming is the same as math and enrolled myself in a private IT college who took me for money. I had no ability to get into any public free college becasue all required tests and I was not able to learn for or pass any test.  I was also so ready to have babies and wanted a programmer like me to make babies with and emigrate with. I didn't feel like emigrating alone.  After about 6 months of college, I discovered that programming is too hard for me not in the sense that I don't understand, in the sense that I don't care to understand. Some of my colleagues said I was sleeping with my teachers (I wish! ), that's how I got the grades. Some said I was "oh so smart" becasue the grades my teachers gave me. Opinions and opinions only pain and more pain, that's what others opinions feel like, pure pain that's why I guess I'm deaf, my brain protects me from others opinions. If a person doesn't feel deeply probably talks without understanding me or understanding anybody. I neither slept with my teachers nor had any programming or school knowledge. After about 6 months of IT college I knew I won't be any programmer. I don't want to do things I know I can't be good at, but I stayed with the college and went through it like I went through the entire school, missing classes 95 % of the time, copying at tests and pushing the limits as much as I could.  Anyway, when I think of how I went through school I cross myself. Feels surreal. I can't believe it. I can't believe the world I'm living in. School is for some people, for the people who need to be told what to do, for the fearful who have no heart and dream to guide them, for the people who love to be organized and do stuff with other people, who love to achieve, who love goals, who love money, who care what others think, who have an ego but not for me in any way. I'm nothing like that. School was a complete waste of my time and life. Boring, difficult, foolish and useless. A big crime towards me. A problem that fucks up your life. What more can I say. If I had to do school again now I don't think I can do even the little school I did. I don't feel like murdering myself but I feel  very clearly that I absolutely can not do school.

Being in love since forever, I got so sick of falling in and out of love with people I didn't even like. Falling in love doesn't mean anything to me is like falling down and getting up, well it happens . I was into liking deeply somebody, into being crazy about somebody but I haven't seen anybody to like not even half way.  This love thing is so exhausting. I didn't find true love as I was hoping for and I haven't even come close. True love in my mind is a fucking experience that feels in a certain way with a person that feels in a certain way. It's a dream, my only dream that plays in my head since I was 4 or 5. A dream of person who's in tune with me and I'm in tune with him. We don't need to talk because we both deeply feel and completely understand each other. Who likes and wants same things as me. A person who likes me the most and I like him the most. A person with whom I feel the highest feeling of love imaginable. A person who puts me first, always has my back. A man who likes me because of exactly who I am. A man who feels like a celebration. A man with whom I feel like the whole world had disappeared and I'm only me and him living on earth surrounded by beautiful nature, rain, storms, snow, seasons and nothing else. I'm pretty sure that I'm looking for myself. Anyway, it's my dream I can't escape, it's what drives me every day. It's what makes me feel so good. I hold tide to my dream becasue it's all I have. That and having babies. I don't really like or need anything else. Real romantic affairs are fun but nothing feels as good as my dream. It's at the back of my mind since forever. I don't know what true love is but I'd surely love to find one and experience. And if I'll find someday one true love, I will want to see if I can find two and so on becasue there is nothing else I  care about. I read that true love is so rare that most people never find it in their life time. Because of the internet I'm pretty sure more and more people will find true love and even maybe true loves. Anyway, after having so many love affairs, I wasn't sure anymore true love even existed. Life goes by, I can't wait for true love all my life. If a person isn't a true love at least has to be cute, and useful. I need men who can play with me and help me. I had enough of exciting appealing and useless. Useless is heavy, is like a burden, like a sickness. I had many "ideas" and "opinions" oriented men coming after me but I never liked those, I never saw the use of them. I have my own feelings, ideas and dreams that engulf me and drive me. I live in my own world,  I love my path and only my path.  I'm single minded from birth and I love exactly the way I am. I was so ready to have babies. I was ready since I was 4 years old. I wanted somebody detached, I wanted some peace. I was too emotional and I got exhausted with myself. 

In one of the many churches I was visiting, I saw a guitar player singer super cute, stylish, childish with a sexy butt. He gave off a vibe of being extremely easy. I can feel people from a mile away. I see who's difficult from the distance and I keep my distance. I wasn't looking for the dream man anymore, I was looking for one that I liked who liked me back and who was not useless. Easy people look and feel like a white serene cloud floating above the crowd and I like them.   He was fidgeting like me, active like me, constantly moving in and out of church. He had the sweetest voice I ever heard. No word he spoke annoyed me. I found out he was a programmer too, like me. I also found out he was skiing and hiking like me. At that point in my life, if he wouldn't had been a skier, hiker and backpacker, I would not have wanted him. I was so passionate about mountains that I needed somebody to share my overflowing passion with. I also found out he was from a small town close to the mountains and I was from a village too. With him I felt peace, ease, I felt like home. He was upbeat, happy, energetic. He was not the insufferable "ideas or opinions pushed down others throats" type at all. He was the playing football type but more social than me. I was so sick of shyness, I though being shy is a disease. I liked him but I didn't know if he liked me too. Some of his friends told him I was a dumb person not able to talk anything other than hair and clothes. Others told him I was a whore sleeping with young, old, Christian and non-Christian. Women were afraid I would take their men and talked bad about me. One woman I went skiing a few times with said "You are a new comer to our church. You just came and took our best man. How can you move so fast?" Others complained to him that I wasn't talking any politics. All his friends were college people and I, even though I just started college too, I was in my first year, I didn't feel a college/intellectual person whatsoever.  My mother told me "you are in college now, act and dress like a college person" but I just couldn't. Too difficult. I don't have energy to act like anything other how I feel. For the Romanian church he was member at, he was the most radical person, he was the churches' worship leader, the students organization leader. I didn't observe any of his titles becasue I never cared about titles. I observed that in church was preaching with sophisticated words and ideas and bible knowledge that was not using home with me. That was strange for me but I haven't thought much of it. Whatever my grandad was preaching in church was not talking home either.  I only cared who was him as a person. I wasn't looking for anyone radical. I wasn't looking for a leader. I was only staying away from traditionalists closed minded who rejected me before as "not being serious”. I was looking for somebody down to earth physical earthy like me. I was looking for somebody to like who liked me back. Somebody to make babies with, a programmer to emigrate with. I didn't want doctors and anybody with status and grandiose. I wanted only people not good at talking, but good at seeing reality as it is, good at understanding real problems and with a drive to solve problems. I observed that many people don't see reality as it is and even more, if some see it don't do anything about it. I liked a lot people who saw the reality AND had the passion to act, to be effective, to deliver , to be active, to be alive, maybe even be  larger than life .  I wanted somebody extremely open minded because I felt I was extremely open minded and understanding of anyone and anything under the sun. One of my biggest fears is when life gets hard, problems hit, maybe I'm sick and can't help myself and people around me can't help me either because they neither see nor understand the problem that I might have. I observed lots of people don't understand, can't face the problem that hits them. Lots of people under stress freak out, can't prioritize, can't know what the main problem is, the one they need to solve. If a person doesn’t understand the problem I have in the moment, that person can't help me and than what good is that person for me in my darkest hour? 

I wanted somebody who was kind and fair. Most people are insensitive and are not nice with me. They look at my face and my style and think I'm weak, a doormat, a fool and start pushing me around, telling me what to do. It's way too hard for me to say no or to say back anything at all (unless I get really mad) and instead of me pushing people back I get rid of them or I run away from them. He was nice with me and when I find a person I like who is nice to me, it’s rare, and I keep them. I could never stand mean people around me. I was sick afraid he won't want me because he was an intellectual and I wasn't. I had a fear and aversion of intellectuals. At first sight he did not look like an intellectual. I never thought I was beautiful. I knew I was sensual. I thought most men looked for beautiful, for models. And I'm also impatient. I don't like to drag things. No matter what happens, no matter what comes down the road, I know I can make things work. If he didn't want me I wanted to be free to move on and find somebody else. So I told him that I liked him. He said he liked me too, because "all men he knew, liked me" . He also said that lots of people told him I was a whore. He asked me if I will stop sleeping around and I blurted "No! I won't do that". Well, I’m glad he asked. It's not about sleeping or not sleeping with others is about limiting myself in any way which I don't want to do . I only  do what I want when I want. Everyone who knows me, knows I'm like that. I eat when I feel like not when I have to. I sleep when I feel like, not when I have to. I follow whatever I feel every moment and that gives me joy. I can’t function, in any other way and I don't want to live any other way. It feels so good to be me, to be with myself to live my life. every moment every day. If someday the true love comes by do I miss them because I’m imprisoned? No way ! I'm not going to miss a thing important to me. There is no need for anybody to limit me or limit anybody else. I told him "I love myself and my life more than I love anybody and I'll never change, take me as I am or leave me." He said he needs to think about for " a day or two". When I heard two, I thought that will be a very long wait but I didn't say anything. I was ready 100% to accept whatever his choice was. I thought if he doesn't like me the way I am, better to leave me alone with myself in sweet freedom. I've never been worried I won't find exciting people to like me. I'm confident when I'll be 95 I'll find a 95 year old man wanting to make love to me. There are a few billions people on this planet, surely I 'll find someone who I like and will like me back. I have to keep things in perspective. When I feel limited and prisoned all I can think of is how to escape. I swear I do, like I have a one track mind. I can't really be in the moment, enjoy the moment enjoy the person I am with becasue my mind is on the thought of escape. I'm so used to think of escape that sometimes it feels like is all I'm doing. He came back the second day saying he likes me, and takes me as I am. I discovered that some man love whores and I discovered that I love those men the most. They are like me, loving life to much to limit themselves. Lovers is like babies, you want to have girl babies , boy babies you want more than one baby, so is with lovers  you may like this lover for something another for something else. Its possible to like more than one lover and is even practically helpful. One helps with one, another with something else.  

In ten months since we first met, we were married because at that time people were still marring and we were both from church. I've always dreamed of making love and having babies but I never thought of wedding and marriage and family. I don't like horrible words like “wedding” “marriage” "family". Those words are not for me. I don't think at all about things like that. The things I don't think about come to hit me and when it happens it hits me hard. I bend, but eventually recover and find my way. When it hit me that I have to have a wedding I got mortified. I wanted to wiggle myself out of it but he couldn't conceive not to have a wedding because he was more social, had family and friends that he put first like all social/group oriented people do. I wanted to have teh wedding one way and he said no becasue of the people. The wedding was for the guests  from his point of view.  I never put the group or the crowd first, I never care what others think and when others do it, it hurts me so badly, it hits at the core of me, it turns me off. It's like I'm not important,  The Others are. I don't understand this thinking and never will. My mother was the same.  Anyway, we rented an over one hundred old Lutheran beautiful church in Union Square in Timisoara. We rented a simple dress. Bought white gold rings. I did my own hair. He had a lot of music knowledge and CDs and we picked every single song that played on CDs. One of them was B.B. King ft. Eric Clapton Riding With The King. We both liked that song the most. I was in charge with the lady who made the flowers arrangements and the man who made the huge lemon cake. Both the flower lady and the chef dumped me. Sometimes I get in a perfectionistic control freak state. I know exactly how I want it to look, taste, feel and I write crazy detailed lists for others to do exactly as I say or I'm afraid I won't get what I want. Sometimes I write the detailed lists becasue Romanians cheat, lie and steal or becasue they are incompetent and don't know what they are doing. Until you actually work with somebody at least once you don't know who they are and what can do and don't do. After they dumped me, I backed up and let them do whatever they wanted. I actually had to beg  for them to take me back. The flower lady  did the flowers arrangements above anything I could have imagined but the man with the cake meh. People nowadays do sweets just sweet, no flavor. I don't eat that. How can you eat a thing that has no flavor are you dead or sick or don't know any better?

I went through the wedding like it was a circus I couldn't understand, I couldn't relate to it and I didn't want to be part of it. I was present for the church service which we kept unusually short. For the restaurant I mostly stayed outside playing with a turtle then I disappeared altogether which angered the groom to no ends. One of his cousins "stole me" and we went to her house. She lived in one of those beautiful medieval houses with high ceilings and huge rooms with French doors in downtown. She said the tradition is that the groom has to search for me (I never heard of that tradition). We waited and waited and waited, but the groom had no intention to search for me. We finally called him to see if he's still searching and he ordered me back to the restaurant where all the guests were still there. It was rude of me to be gone for so long but I'm totally unaware. I just don't think at all. The easiest way for me to get rid of anything I don't like - just don't think, don't see, don't hear. I can go blank in my head in a fraction of second, it's like my second nature.  Besides my weirdness of not being present for my own wedding reception that was all caught on tape, some guests said they were so inspired that were mentally hooked on my wedding for a whole week. 

For Honeymoon he asked me where I would like to go. I never thought of Honeymoon and in my mind I hoped to escape whatever that scary was as well. "Honeymoon ", "wedding" they are boring things that are not for me. They are for social people and I'm not social at all or I'm socially blind.  But he was more social and wanted to go in Honeymoon. I immediately said Maramures. Maramures is an area in Northern Romania.  Since I was 16 until I met him when I was 22 so for about at least 5 - 6 years all my roaming around Romania was organized and led by me. All the man I've been with came along for the ride, My style of roaming was completely not in any big city, all were just mountains, hills, villages, little medieval towns so I was left to go North of Romania and then I wanted to do go North East of Romania in Moldova again not in any city.  For me all my roaming was unplanned and with no interest of seeing anything in particular. I had an idea of a place, a direction and I just went, I saw whatever I saw whenever I saw if I saw . If I missed half or all  tourist are supposed to see I couldn't care less. I was a roamer,  not a tourist. For me it was all about fucking, eating, hiking, being with  a new or old lover in a new place, nothing to do with  "travelling",  with "seeing places " or  "learning about new cultures". I went to go and to have fun with the man I wanted. He said "oh no, we can't do Maramures. For  Honeymoon we have to do something special, let's go to Italy ". I said sure. We visited Venice, Rome, Florence and  some friends of a friend had an old aunt who had a cool empty apartment in Chiavari Italy. We stopped there also for a few nights and from Chiavari by train we visited Cinque Terre and Portofino. I used to call it Trinque Cerre. For me Cinque Terre or Trinque Cerre is the same thing. We stopped in each of the five villages for a swim. The water was very warm, clear, blue, a pleasure and a breeze to get in. While walking in between those villages on that rugged terrain, I broke my sandals and didn't find any shop I could buy shoes from. Then we went Monaco and Paris.  

Pregnant in the last month with my girl, dropped at church surprise baby shower party organized for me with only women, mothers, soon to be mothers. I could not feel worse. I hate parties, I hate groups and I don't know for whatever the reason in a group of women I feel out of place, like I don't fit in. Four months after the wedding I got pregnant with our first baby. My girl was one week past due date and looked well done. I gave birth fast with no pain medication. So I wake up in the morning with a constant surge of energy in my body and head. Is Sunday, my grandma was in hospital at her yearly one week retreat aka escape from cooking for my grandad for a week (she had her heart enlarged and "checked "on her heart yearly even though she had zero problems with her heart. Poor Romanians do that, get their vacations yearly in hospital to sit in bed and be brought hospital food. My mother was going yearly to sanatorium up in the mountains becasue she had neurosis . Again a week for free getting cooked food.) I cook something home and decide to walk to my grandad's house to give him some food becasue is Sunday. So I walk 2 hours to his house pregnant in the last month with my baby being overdue 1 week . I give food to my grandad then I walk to vist my grandma in hospital and I buy to her fast food becasue that's what she asked for. So I walk another 1 hour to my grandma's hospital. Then I walk another 30 minutes back home. Home I start to fight for absolutely no reason and 10 pm I go to sleep with tears in my eyes becasue of the fight. I can't sleep and at 12 am I wake up saying I feel some contractions but the doctor said to no go to hospital too early so I wait. At 2 am my contraction start suddenly to hurt unbearably. I feel like dying and I take a taxi and go to hospital. They put me on the giving birth table and said "DON"T push!, don't push! you are giving birth, why did you wait so long until you came?." I arrived only 20 minutes before giving birth at the hospital and they had no time to give me any pain medication. I breastfed my girl exclusively 5 months and breastfed her in total 15 months. When my girl was about 3 weeks old the Roamanian doctors and nurses said I don't have enough milk and had to supplemt with formula. I thought Romanians are fools becasue the more milk you give to the baby the more milk your body produces. Use it or lose it is a natural low. If you supplement with formula you will have just less and less milk. I didn't listen to doctors and I gave my baby just more often to eat and I had plenty of milk. It's so frustrating and scary when people are fools en masse with things that are the most important. Especially when specialist are fools. Not enough that they are heartless but they are also mindless. What's more important than babies and their food.
 

Fantanele, Belis, Romania  in yet another church retreat from which I had an excuse to stay outside with my baby and not participate in anything retreat related. The churches' pastor who drove me to the retreat  and I didn't let him talk at all becasue my baby was sleeping, told me "we all wait for you to finish with your baby so you can join your husband and help him with all his church activities" . Ah, I cringed. In my head I was wanting to have another baby and to emigrate. I had no thought of joining any church activities. I don't think I had any thought of joining any group in my entire life. It's always so weird for me when others have the nerve to tell me what to do becasue I can't tell anybody what to do, not even to my own kids or emplyees

Climbing 1000 m difference in altitude in one day. It was raining. We hitchhiked to 1000 m and had to climb another 1000m until the top where we planned to stay in a tent for 2 nights. My cheap improvised equipment/tent gathered a lot of water, got heavier and on top of that I just gave birth 10 month ago,  and I didn't realize I was so out of shape (I was still breastfeeding, I just went for a quick 2 nights camping). I did 10 -12 hours climbing so many times and had no problems except that night. Once I arrived on top of the mountain, becasue of the altitude, effort and still not recovered after giving birth I could not sleep all night long. My heart beat super fast and I couldn't breath. I knew that if I fall asleep I will die. The second day I had to come down the mountain half way, I think I came down to 1450m and rented a cheap cabin. 

 Bears encounterIn 10 years of camping in Romania I never put my tent in organized camps. I put my tent wherever I wanted and far away from people. In 10 years I had never seen a bear, never heard of one and I didn't even know Romania has so many bears. I knew I supposed to not keep my food in the tent and I partly wasn't. I didn't have a bear spray, never heard of bear spray . It was a cloudy night. I was cooking food by a creek with some bears next to me I didn't see becasue it was too dark but I heard them breathing and I tell the man I was with "I hear a bear breathing down by the creek" . He said "nooo, there are some people who just went to get some water". I chose to believe him even though I clearly heard the bear breathing. When I got in the tent, two bears came at the tent and went round and round the tent. I was so scared I didn't know how long I can hold before I'm losing my mind. All I could think of was my daughter I left home and how she will be left without her foolish mother. We had a cell phone ( we were actually touring the country by tents with another couple in their car, who exactly that, night becasue the girl twisted her leg and it got hugely inflamed were staying at a hotel down in town ) and called our friends who came at 12 am up in the mountains to save us from bears. We left the tent and all belongings behind and came the second day to pick them up. 

Emigrating to AustraliaWhen I landed first time in Melbourne, Australia I was impressed with how fresh the air was, it felt like you were in a resort. There were lots of bright colored flowers yellow, pink, purple that had a strong smell that made me sick. There were Eucalyptus trees I didn't like how they looked with hundreds of noisy white cockatoos with yellow crest. At Safeway they were selling kangaroo meat and I ate that because it was the cheapest and didn't have money but I didn't like it. I initially enrolled in a Romanian Baptist church, and after a few months or a year I felt horrible about it and I decided to move again. I was with a big group of Romanian friends from church when they heard I want to move asked me "and what would the community think that you want to move?". I asked "what community?". In my head the word community doesn't exist. I don't like the word "community". I moved to an Australian Pentecostal megachurch but before I moved, the Romanian church called me to ask me before the church committee why I want to move. I didn't know I had to give explanations. I asked how long will this committee keep me there and what will make me do. They said at least 20 minutes maybe an hour. I thought "oh God", it frightened me. They asked "why do you want to move? "I said straight from my heart" because the Romanian's church mentality is outdated and backwards and I'm afraid will rub on my kids". They were not like Romanians Christians from Romania, they were mentally beyond weird. That was it. I was let go in less than 5 minutes. I moved to CityLife Australian megachurch where was pastor Mark Conner. At this new church I just moved, I see Romanians from the Romanian Baptist church  starting to come at this church instead of going to Romanian church and they always look for me at the end to talk to me and goes on and on for months. I stay on the right side of the church, they stay in the right side. I move up to the balcony , they move up. I don't like it and try to escape them. They park their car where I park my car. I moved my parking on the other side of the church and they start parking their cars there. I go out 20 minute before church ends out the door hoping to escape them, in the parking lot I turn around and they are right there. I started to become paranoid about it. I go online to find an article or a book about "how to escape people". I don't find anything and I think the first book I will ever write is "how to escape people" . I stopped going to this Australian church for a while and I think they lost my track. At this Australian church I also felt sick. I couldn't stand to see the people, I couldn't stand to hear they talking. I made many Australian friends and they liked me but when it came to invite me to their parties with their other friends they didn't. I think is something about my clothes. The Australians looked a lot like Europeans or even better, maybe not better than Italians   I went to visit Palm Cove and the tropical north which is the most beautiful part of Australia. To visit the Great Barrier Reef I took a yellow submarine. I get in the submarine. We wait for everyone to get in and I feel fine. They close the door and the submarine starts going in a 20 minutes expedition to see the corals. I feel like i don't have air but I don't say anything. Then I see on the wall saying "if you feel you don't have air move closer to the door". When I read that, I panic. it's not that I needed more air, it's that I had no air and couldn't breath at all. The submarine left, I was buried under water, I couldn't get the hell out. I felt I was going to die. For the 20 minutes or 20 years as long as it took that submarine to move trough the water I sweated and hanged on my every breath like my life depended on it because for me it did. I think it feels like you are dead they burry you underground than you wake up and find yourself under ground. That thought stresses me out. It really happened to some people.
 

Blind def and mute to all people caught on tapeWhen you have kids you do things you are not comfortable with, you do it for the kid. So I organized and hosted bday parties with adults and their kids for my girl's 1st bday, 2nd bday in Romania and 3rd b-day in Australia. I look at the tapes and I see myself not having any issue organizing, decorating, cooking, talking (like monolog style), moving about, laughing, dancing, taking care of my girl except I don't do one thing: acknowledging that there were a dozen adults. Not talking with any adults, not asking them anything, basically totally ignoring them like they were not there because obviously in my head they were not there. I did exactly the same thing on all 3 b-days for the entire time. Looking at myself on tapes I thought this is the most weird person I have ever seen. I decided to quit inviting parents over. What was the point for me to invite so many adults only to completely ignore them. That was the last party I had adults over. I continued to organize bday parties every year but with kids only. 

Giving birth to my boyAfter 2 years In Australia I gave birth even faster to my baby boy. Again I wake up in the morning with way too much energy and a need to fight for no reason. I knew that's a sign I'll give birth but I feel absolutely no pain and my boy is one week before due date. At 9 :30 pm I'm a bit worried I'll give birth and I know I'm so fast .I'm 50/50 if I should go to hospital or not. At 10 pm I feel some faint pain and decide to go to hopital to check. I though I'd rather sit by the hospital door waiting like a cow just in case. Sure I was giving birth. I told the nurse "I'm hypersensitive give me less pain medication than you give a normal person". Not sure what she did, but she knocked me out and then panicked that I was giving birth unresponsive. First time I got no pain medication, second time I got too much. After I gave birth the nurse said "I'll give him a bath , you get up and go to your room I"ll bring him right away". I said What? she said "get up and go to your room". I was surprised becasue with my daughter I couldn't get up from bed for a day. I thought they will take me to my room on some wheels. I got up from bed, as she said, like nothing happened. I felt no pain, no discomfort, no dizzy, no nothing. I went to my room, my boy came too and we went to sleep until 7am when the doctor comes in and starts "Guys, hey guys, guys, how can you sleep like that?". I breastfed my boy exclusively 5 months and breastfed him in total 15 months. In Australia the same thing happened to me. The Australian doctors and nurses said I don't have enough milk and to supplement with formula. I couldn't believe it. I thought only the Romanians are fools but no, Australians are too. I discovered that no matter in wich country I go there are the same amount of fools everywhere. Most people don't care of what's important and don't know what's important. How can they care if they are dead already. I just gave by boy more often to eat and I had plenty of milk. Both my kids were chubby babies becasue of my milk. I got my girl in the mountains when she was 7 months old and my boy when he was 6 months. I kept both my kids sleeping next to me for their first 4 years becasue little kids are afraid to sleep alone. Their little bed was next to mine. I removed a rail and tight their little bed to mine. ﻿
My kids trying kindergartenWhen they were 2 1/2 years old I tried to put each of them in kindergarden, both in Australia, and they both lasted 3 weeks. The first week they were over the moon with how much they loved the kids, the toys and activities and being there. By the second week they were kind of confused. By the 3rd week my daughter was crying non stop becasue she peed in her pants and nobody cared, nobody saw her crying for hours (the teachers were all busy doing chores, the kids were all left alone to play and nobody observed my girl crying for hours). My son without nothing wrong that I know of happening to him, started repeating "mom, I hate that place! mom, I hate that place!" while playing home with his toys. I volunteered twice per week while they were in kindergarten so I can get a feel about the place but I kept a total wallflower at all times. So I took them out of kindergarten after 3 weeks . I wanted to stay home with them until they are teenagers anyway but I wanted to see how they feel about the kindergarten as well, maybe they would have liked it.  
 

Looking and feeling one and saying another drives me madMt Beauty - the ugly. I'm sensitive to beauty and I love mountains but I don't love ugly mountains, in fact ugly mountains make me so mad. Especially ugly mountains called "Mt Beauty". I can’t stand when something looks and feels one way and people call it another. Are you blind or you don't know anything better? I like to say it (blurt it ) as it is because truth sets me free. Ugliness sickness me. I can't take the lack of some sort of appeal. There were no beautiful mountains for me in Australia and I decided I need to move to either USA or back to Romania. I felt I was going crazy in my head. Literally. I was in a constant state of not feeling right all across the board. I didn't listen to music in months. A sure sign I was not feeling well becasue I listen to music every day all day. I wasn't living or dreaming for going anywhere. I felt dead inside, buried underground and I needed to escape. I gave birth to my boy there and I heard recently about post natal depression. I might have had post natal depression, I have no idea but I definitely blamed it on ugly nature, lack of ski resorts, lack of mountains, isolation from the rest of the world, closed mindedness about businesses, too expensive real estate, lack of roaming options, muddy waters. People think Australia is a tropical place but is not. It has a tropical part but in Melbourne  was actually too cold in the night to stay outside even in summer. In winter once I spined the car with both my kids becasue it was black ice and I didn't see it nor expected it. I don't like watching TV at all but I watch sometimes documentaries about nature, about national parks, about natural disasters. I'm Sunday in bed watching Mt St Helen eruption. I see this winding roads shot from above through Pacific NW conifers and I swear I'm falling in love with what I see and I say "that's exactly where I want to live" 

Bye Australia! In Australia my daughter started kindergarten and I had to read kids books every night with her so she could learn to read. I had to sign a log that she read so many books every day. I went with her at the public library and I looked at kids section in hundreds of books to pick something and couldn't find a single one to like. Not a single one. All were disgusting, boring, nothing about nothing books. The books tell a lot about the society, about "the other people", about who writes those books and who reads them. There were those best selling Dr Seuss books. What are those books about? Only the covers look like a nightmare. I'd like to arrive at a point where I can understand why I hate what most love but I'm not yet there. I think I want to move myself in wilderness. I find wilderness extremely exciting. Anyway, my daughter read and read books but once she could read I left her to read all that shit alone. I could not stomach seeing those books at all. At the Australian church we made lots of friends and had to attend weekly "house gathering" which meant gather together with these 5 more couples friends with kids my kids age at somebody's house for praying and bible study. Because my kids were small and needed to start kindergarten and school (they were supposed to start the churches' private school, so all the kids at this house gatherings were going to same school) I wanted them to have friends to not feel as bad as me shy and alone in school so I attended this house gatherings for years only for my kids. I couldn't stand all the people in the gathering, everything they said, the bible study and the praying. Every week I dreaded the house gathering more and more. I tortured myself for sake of my kids and that was very stupid. You can get crazy in your head if it goes this torture for too long. I promised myself when I move over to USA i will never get myself involved with "friends" as long as I live on this earth. Its way easier to not get involved at all than to get out. When I decide something based on extreme feeling I tend to stick with it. I don't like friends, I don't have time for friends and for anything else that feels so-so. I find friends boring people who talk to you and keep tabs on. I only take lovers. When I left Australia, the people from this house gathering  said "I was the best friend they will ever have". 
 

In August 21, 2008 I moved from Australia to Oregon. In Portland and the whole pacific NW, the nature was breathtaking beautiful. I drove to Mt Hood and I felt excited and overjoyed. I was so happy to finally have beautiful real mountains that look, smell and feel like real mountains. Mt Hood is a beautiful snowcapped mountain so close to Portland, I could go ski and hike on in an hour. Had blue green clear lakes I could kayak on, beautiful waterfalls and heavenly autumn colors. I drove to the Oregon coast and found it not pretty but peaceful. For me always beach is boring and mountains are exciting. Everything was so much cheaper than in Australia. I looked at people and I got shocked of how they looked. For a whole month I kept looking at people, and stil felt shocked. After a month I was not sure I wanted to live in States anymore. I looked at the culture and I didn't understand at all what people wanted. I realized that no mater what society I'm getting myself into I want to escape. I thought Romanian society doesn't fit me, but once in Australia, Australian society didn't fit me either. Then when I moved in American society I discovered, it doesn't fit me either. I went to shop for clothes and I could not believe how ugly all were. Then I stumbled in a shop called Ambercrombie & Fitch and that was the coolest shop I have ever been in. I've been window shopping in Vennice, Florence, Portofino, Paris but I loved this shop more. The perfume smell, the lighting, the music, the clothe's colors, the arrangement. They had on the wall a big cool Moose head like you see in the mountain lodges but this head was cooler. It felt so good to be in that shop, that I kept going and I started buy clothes for me and my kids. The clothes were not great but I still liked their colors and softness and some styles. I bought tops, jackets and jeans for me and my kids. I could never find dresses or skirts that I liked. That shop gave me hope and hope is all I need sometimes to keep going. That shop was the only American light  I saw in my first few years of life in States. Then the shop went down the drain. It became as average and meh like everything else. Everything beautiful and exciting gets killed becasue most people are insensitive they don't know and don't care if something is appealing or not. Then I discovered Mt Rainier and I thought was the most beautiful mountain I have ever seen, then I discovered cool historic lodges in the mountains, then I discovered Bob Dylan, an American I like. Then I discovered Manhattan I liked, then I discovered Lost Lake, OR, Clear Lake, OR, Joseph, OR, Teton Mountains, Jackson, WY, Siesta Keys, Key West, Miami, Anchorage, Valdeze, LA, the best pizza in Portland, OR, the best lamb gyro at food carts in Portland OR , the best feta a Turkish feta in Manhattan and slowly as I started to criss cross America, I started to find more and more American things to love. When I love a place is not at all about the place (places are soulless and mean nothing at all, they are only the background) but about the people I love who live in that place.﻿

In 2009 about a year after arriving in USA I started reading books first time in my life. I never read one book before  and now I was reading thousands and couldn't stop myself from reading. Once I started reading, I started to think. My first question was how comes my grandad knew when his going to die because he told me "Dad ( God) told me he will take me Friday home" . Sure enough a week later exactly on Friday he dies and I get obsessed with the question "do people know when they die". So I go to library and try to find books about dying. I got hit really hard by his death becasue while many people think of death and are aware of it, I was not. Death is another thing I don't think about and when it happens it hits me so hard. Next question I had was "why so many people for such a long time tell me that I'm a rule breaker who broke all the rules there were  to break". I did not relate with the word "rulebreaker" whatsoever. Other people were rule breakers, the smart, the strong, the loud but not me. After I started reading books I became a total wreck. The only good thing about reading books is that I discovered Bob Dylan, Thick Nhat Han, Charles Bukowski and a few others and I can see, understand, express myself better through others and their words

Jan 2009 my grandad died at almost 93 years old and I started drinking red wine by the bottle. I can't drink by the glass. One year after my granddads death I still drank just as much. I didn't feel better, I actually felt worse. From a state of shock I stared to be sad. I started to not be able to stand people talking. Suddenly I couldn't stand anybody to talk to me especially when I eat. When I'm in pain I so can't stand more pain, like talking. Talking when I ate or talking when I make love it ruins it everything for me. I'd like to go to a place where people are just with each other without any talking.  So I was eating milk with some blueberry cereals and I beg the person next to me stop talking becasue I'm trying to eat. When there is some tension in the air becasue of stress some people tend to talk less and some more. So the person talked more and more. I finished the cereals and without thinking I take the bowl and send it towards his head, failing to hit him. He got up and wanted to kick my ass with his leg and I tried to protect by butt with my hand so a bone in one the fingers in my left hand got broken in two and had to have surgery to insert  a pin to keep the bone together. I wanted a plaster cast my entire life becasue it looks so cool and badass but instead I got a surgery, a pin in my hand and a simple bandage. I'm not going to try to hit anybody ever. It was stupid to do. 

"Nike is so beautiful come see it"I got invited to see Nike campus, I was told is beautiful and I thought it is because the Nike clothes and shoes are looking good. When I saw the artificial lake surrounded by concrete and office buildings I got so distressed and sick scared. I regretted I went to visit.  Dropping my kids and picking them up from their school twice per day was harrowing enough for me. Work campuses,  school campuses, hospitals, malls, playgrounds, city small parks, .. . .  only the sight of them makes me sick at my core, it changes for the moment my whole world view. 

Trying to teach my kids to ski. My boy first time on skis. He was 6 at that time. My daughter went on skies first time when she was 4 in Australia and she never cried. My boy, even though is natural at it or pretty much any sports, kept crying all the time. The slope was almost flat and as easy as possible. The weather was warm, mid April. For an hour and a half, as long as we stayed there, he cried almost non stop. He didn't feel good. Not a problem. I'm thinking he is too small and I don't like to force anyone do anything so I took a few years break from going skiing and brought the kids back on the slopes when my son was 9. He felt much better. 

Not a social person at all, I don't care either way   In Australia I enrolled my girl in tap dancing for a term, swimming for  a term or two, gymnastics for a term, violin for a term, soccer for  a term.  When I moved to America, I scraped it all. I scraped  all the Facebook friends, I left in the dust all Australian friends and never made new friends, never got involved in anything school related, rejected all invitations for any type of socializing (keeping myself completely mute is my way of keeping myself free ), I didn't enroll my kids to any after school activities. When they had orchestra or choir  performances at school I mostly didn't go  becasue I hate school classical music. With so much soulful or fun music there is not need to have this classical music and classical choir in school to horrify other people.  I'm not a social person at all.  I'm not a  marriage person or keeping in touch with family and relatives either. I don't care about work, art and money even if I tried. I don't care if I end up in trailer. I actually dream to be living in a camper van. I don't have any need for my kids to be anybody important like I never cared for me to be anybody important.﻿
 I'm more the adventurous type than relationships type.  I live for fucking, and love, anything else I is too boring for me. I need to be creating something in my free time. Creating is last thing on my list and is because I need to earn my bread otherwise I could do nothing my entire life. I don't feel bad doing nothing at all. I feel perfectly fine. When my kids were small I was only focused on them. The whole world disappeared for me. My kids were my love, my life and my everything . I was not interested in being with other men at all. I was tired and just loving to stay home with my kids. When my youngest turned 6 (2012) something in me changed. I heard adventure's call again. A deep feeling inside to go and explore in search for true love, sex and excitement/thrill until the end of earth, and I said Yes! I missed the pleasure and intensity of being alone with a man and making love which is my favorite thing in the world. Having babies is in me but my babies were not babies anymore one was 10 and one was 6. I missed the adrenaline of a new place, of a new lover, the excitement of  roaming in hope of colliding with another bum, another  vagabond like me. I was ready to live again like I was 5 or 17 for only sex in nature,  for roaming (not traveling, I never cared about travel and about seeing any place), for following inspiration, for not staying in a place too long just exploring and experiencing and what last , lasts and what doesn't doesn't. I need excitement to run through my blood or I get sick. Boredom and not feeling in love all the time scares me and makes me sick

Nov 2012 Discovering Bob DylanSo far the only person I truly like by far the most is Bob Dylan. I like Bob Dylan because I relate to him as a person, like he's been in my mind since I was born. I don't know him in person so you never know how a person is until you live with them. I discovered him in 2012. Mark Conner, the pastor I had at the Australian mega church recommended to read an American blogger named Seth Godin  which I started  reading and on this blog  I see this name Bob Dylan dropped  and I wanted to check it out because I was ready to work something and couldn't figure out what, so I was checking in all directions or any direction. So I read Bob Dylan's book Chronicles. A current of overjoy went through me from top to toe. I felt liberated. I didn't have to change myself to fit the society anymore not that I even tried yet but I thought I might have to when I start working. I found somebody who felt like me, who didn't have to change to fit the society yet managed to make a good living. I never heard of Bob Dylan name before, I don't really read news and initially I thought was a  bum type of musician from some region of America who happened to make it to some degree and thought if he made it I can make it too as weird and different as I am. It took me a whil to find out how big is he in American culture﻿

Dating in USA - Internet timesIn my passion for romance and adventure, I've been for a while on a few dating apps. There are lots of people who lie there. I slept with somebody from the app, an Arab, but didn't want to see him again. Arabs are the only people I discovered  you can sleep with here in America or I can sleep with becasue it's always about mutual attraction.  When I said online I'm doing an app, I got taken for a ride here in America by a man who came after me like a train without breaks. Of course that as emotional and sensitive as I am I fell in love but people maybe don't know that I can be just as scared in the same time.  My awareness of what's happening to me is always on. This American was using words instead of sex,  all talk and no action. In Romania people have sex, in America people use word as substitute for sex. In America people don't call you lover they call you customer becasue they want you to pay for their ability to use words instead of real sex.Then I got another one exactly the same writing tons of emails  but never wanted to meet me in person. Maybe I moved in the wrong circles but I had enough of dating Americans. I think they are too fearful.﻿
The thing about me is that I don't give a damn if somebody writes me emails for months, if writes blogs for me,  books inspired by me or a song about me. What is the use of a blog, a book or a song written about me. I can't sleep with them, I can't eat them so are completely a waste of energy and time for me and for them. Like I don't give a damn about the half dozen of people who spent years,  trying to make me learn this or that, or trying to civilize me or connect me . All these people are crazy people. I don't have another word for them. Maybe sick people. Sick people are the ones who sit in bed (becasue when you are very sick you sit in bed) and read, write, fantasy, dream, watch TV, talk on the phone for hours. Healthy people are active, out and about, sleeping with other people, eating with other people, touching other people, hugging other people, walking on the street with other people, cooking with other people, working on something with other people. I'm horribly not comfortable with anything that's not real, anything I can't see with my naked eyes and touch with my hands. I'm very comfortable in reality, where I can see, and feel, touch things, smell things, taste things, pull things apart. I'm done with fantasy/theory/dreaming/talking people. There is nothing real about these type of people. They are all sick. Fantasy is a sickness, an inability to adapt to reality, to find something in reality to like. In America there are the  most fantasy oriented people I've seen in my life and it happens that I hate fantasy and anything abstract. Most people are insensitive but Americans  are the toughest people I have ever seen. It's a tough country for tough people. All Americans talk and know about is work, money and family. That's it. I decided to stay away from lovers I can't see with my naked eyes, touch with my hands, experience first hand on my skin. I want everything, good and bad, written on my skin. And also I prefer to stay with sensitive, soulful people. But I can take here and there some tough ones that are exciting , appealing and fuckable for one weekend maybe.    I'll never write emails or text ever again more than minimum necessary.  Life is short and I wouldn't want to be one of those  who dream or fantasize their life away or live for art or work or money or writing or being a legend. Once I'm dead I don't give a damn about anything that happens after. I don't need to be remembered. I want people to be useful to me and bring joy to me while I'm alive and don't criticise me and don't scream at me and scare me. This American life with fantasy oriented people, and work, work, work, money , money, family, family,  meaning, larger than yourself talk and everyone wanting to sell you something is a nightmare, it makes me depressed  but I don't get myself into it. I ignore it like it doesn't exist. I know many Europeans who would not want to live in America to pay them money.  I'm proud of myself that I'm staying even though 6 months spending in Europe out of 12 would be not just nice but necessary for my mental health and sensitive soul. On one of the apps, there was a man who inspired me. Everyone was saying they want long term relationship, short term relationship, blah blah, all the same. This inspirational man, besides looking soo good, he said he was there only looking for sex. I found him exciting. I found him passionate, I guess. He's writing felt so good, like poetry. He was 60 years old but skinny and looking youthful. I simply found him exciting and inspirational. That's what I'm looking for, people who inspire me, who excite me. 

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Bored to death. The thing about me is that I can't stand boredom. I can go to a place 2 -3 times but that's it. I can't stand to see the same place over and over. Once on a boat in Manhattan, sailing snail speed to see the Statue of Liberty, I started to be afraid I can die of boredom. Thought of throwing myself of the boat and swimg to shore before is not to late crossed my mind but I would not have done that. Boredom can drive me crazy and make me feel a fear panic. Same with people. Seeing same people for too long its so boring it drives me crazy﻿
My son "reading books"In USA my son started school and he was supposed to read books and I signed a log that he reads books every day and every week for years but he didn't read anything at all. He didn't even have a library card or if he had we don't know where it is. When I told him that in school every time I tried to read a book I would fall asleep he chocked on food. He's also selectively deaf like me. There is no point of me or anyone to try to talk to him becasue he doesn't hear

 In Oct 2014, My first Bob Dylan concert in Portland, OR. I haven't gone to many or any concerts at all becasue I never had money. Before the concert I send an email to Bob Dylan's second cousin who was the parent of my daughter's friend but he says Bob Dylan has no time to meet even with them. Understandable. I don't know more than half of my second cousins either.  During the show it was very dark just one or three red lights I think. It was as dark as at cinema. At the end of the show, I got out first from the building while the crowd was asking for an encore. Once outside it was dark and I suddenly see a guard next to a bus. I see his extended arm becasue the guard stopes me from walking and tells me to walk on the other side of the street. That moment I see Bob Dylan right in front of my eyes , the length of his bus away, getting in his bus all dressed in white, with white hat. I thought he was inside responding to encore but no, he was outside rushing in his bus. 

My second trip to NY all alone. In my first trip to NY  was summer and first thing I do is go check Central Park. I didn't like Central Park at all, I got out at the first exit and never stepped foot in that park again. The sight of that park makes me sick. It looks like the small fake park of a hospital. For a person like me who spends a lot of time in the hills and mountains, a small park is not really going down my throat. I'd rather not see.  But I'm falling in love with NY, with the old immense architecture, with the food, with the streets with the excitement in the air.  I skip the subway and learnt to walk all across Manhattan. An hour back and forth between midtown and lower Manhattan doesn't bother me, I actually love it.  Food like in best Turkish feta I ever had, like in trying many different ethnicities food. 

Getting fat. Freeing myself from social celebration and a few complaining and criticizing me relatives39 years old drinking 1 1/2 bottle of Chianti Classico  every second night. I plan every day to stop drinking (for the last 7 years) but when 8 pm comes by body screams wine! and I rush out the door to buy only 1 bottle. I drink the bottle but close to the end I know for sure I want another. The second day my body is sick and doesn't want to drink wine. Lucky my body doesn't like beer or any other type of alcohol. Wine is perfect! Only Chianti Classico. I drink becasue I'm bored and scared and trapped, I guess. I drink becasue one of my last American lovers sickened me.  I blame the society for being boring and scary and foolish and staying in may way.  As I go about my life, I look around and everything I want it to feel and look like a celebration, like excitement, like a holiday, like romance and overjoy, but it doesn't, it actually looks like ugliness everywhere and sickness in the  air.  I want to escape but don't know how. I can't think of anything but I'm in pain and when I'm in pain I need to do something to help myself so  I'm  quitting 50 % of my travel companion job and skipping all the b-days celebrations and anniversaries all together.  They  are way to many, way to often, make me cringe or exhaust me.  I don't want to participate in any societal celebrations . There is to much scheduling, boredom, expectation and pretend behavior . It makes me sick. For me bdays is far more pain than pleasure. For my birthday people I can't stand (which is most people) call me, email me not knowing that the thought of them stresses the shit out of me . Businesses, business partners, the dentist, the optometrist and employees spam you sending  emails or something and it's the last day you'd like to hear from them.  The fact that I have to have so many work relationships and blood relationships doesn't  mean I like this people or I can even stand them and it doesn't mean that they  have the right to drain me right on my b-day. What all societies  rules and regulations have to do with me.  I love the most Christmas.  I love the most a white Christmas and I ski for Christmas. I love Easter and I loved the most the Easter I spent in Mexico. I like to go for Easter somewhere by the beach and colorful. I love to color eggs and to make lemon cake for easter decorated with candies that look like eggs. I love to go to church for Easter. I especially like other countries and other culture's church.  I love Thangiving as well becasue it's autumn and I love to eat pumpkin everything, cranbery sauce and turkey and I love the story of the Pilgrims. I can see myself living in the village again. I know how it looks and smells in the village and autumn and in winter.  Sometimes I'm sick of this celebrations every year and I'm happy to skip them altogether. I can't stand the expections of keeping them every year. It gets so boring and a drag. 
 I  dislike  New Years Eve celebration and Valentine's Day celebration. New Years celebration scares me. For Valentine's day people act so ridiculous, expect shit and it's hard.  People behave in this entitled disgusting painful way that they have to say happy birthday, they have to say "go party!" assuming that everyone likes or have to like celebration. Celebrations seem to me, like marriage  a way for people to control other people, to force you do what they want you to do, to kill time, to keep in line with the crowd, with  the other dead inside, walking corpses, automatons of this world. Without following all this rules and regulation they would be lost. They don't have a heart to guide them, they need  rules and guides to follow and to be told what to do. They are not in love with themselves and they heart, they are in love with the group and the crowd. When is somebody's bday they have demands and outrageous expectations of you and I can't stand anybody to have any expectations of me. When is my bday people take me to the restaurants they want, not what I want. I'm sensitive and I can't push back and fight back for every detail every day so I just run away and I say "I don't participate in all this celebrations , go celebrate with whoever likes to celebrate" . Not sure who came up with all this social rules and regulations but I don't like them and I don't have time and energy to spend  with them. If other people want to participate I don't have any problem, just don't drag me into it, don't force me, to push it down my throat.Celebration for me means every day life. I felt like celebrating every day since for ever, celebration for me means being with people I like and I can sleep with in beautiful places, in new places . All the rest is not celebration for me, is a complete dragI also decided to cut off some relatives I don't like from my life who criticize me and constantly complain. What is teh use of this people. Life is short, I feel I'm getting old and I don't have time for things that have no soul, for people who don't bring something that feels so good into my life,  that are not align with how I feel and with my dream, with the way I like to see life.

2017 Nov Seattle - roamingHaunted hotel I had no plans to go anywhere, its a week before Thanksgiving , I'm hoping for the first blizzard of the year to come and I'm just browsing on the internet and I see this Airbnb place that looks appealing to me. It's in Seattle. It's something historical, has red brick in rooms and I love that type of interior wall. I fall in love with the apartment and I need to experience it right then. So I book this apartment for a night just becasue I love how it looks and I go by train to Seattle. I never traveled by train in States and wanted to try. I arrive at Portland train old station and I love how it looks. I see lots of people, like country side people with bags, sacks, musical instruments waiting to get on the train to Seattle. I thought "oh in States country people travel by train". I get to Seattle and it seemed that cool place I booked on Airbnb was an apartment owned by the same person who owned the Merchants Cafe (Seattles oldest restaurant) that was located right under the apartament. It was an old stylsih hotel form 1890. The owner, when I arrived, was decorating the place for Christmas and I was so excited to see that. She showed me to my apartment and said "You'll sleep alone tonight, no other apartment was rented". I get in the apartment and after I get in, the kitchen tap faucet starts on it's own. I go and close it. In a few hours it turns on again by itself. I said "what the fuck, never seen anything like it". I go and I close it yet again. In the evening I go down to their restaurant I get a beer and something to eat. There is no one in restaurant but they have nice music, outside is raining and I see many homelss people walking by and taking to themsleves. I'm not used with seeing homeless people. After they closed the restaurant I decide I want more wine and I go to a shop around the block. There is no customer but soon a man comes next to me. I reach out to pick up a product and he reaches out to pick up the product right next and his hand is parralel with mine touching mine. I don't get sacred, and I don't pull my hand, I just linger as much as I need. Then I go to the next isle and find a bottle of wine and I go to pay. I try to pay with the card and right next to the card machine there is a dog sitting and his mouth is next to the card reader. I don't get scared and just pay. When I try to get out of the shop I can't becasue there are 5 homeless young people blocking me and not letting me out. I looked at them like they look at me with no fear and they seem so much like me, dressed in the exactly same type of hand me down jackets with hoods and shoes I had in Romania. I feel a kinship and I linger. I let them look at me and smell me then I just  push gently through saying that I need to go . I go up to my apartment I knock myself out with drinking and fall asleep. In the morning I start researching where I got myself into. That's kind of how I do things. I go first then I research. I see that the places I'm at, is a haunted place with scary stories. Oh well, that explained maybe the tap. I had absolutely no idea. I checked out and left the place excited. The Seattle train station looked really beautiful but oddly enough all the people who were waiting to get in the train to Portland looked intellectuals, professionals and students. It was not the country crowd I came from Portland with. I thought that's interesting, maybe Portland is sort of country side﻿
2017 starting working on my appInitially I hired a cool fashion designer we have here in Portland who has his own line of clothing to help me design and produce my own line of clothing becasue I was always into clothes. We didn't get along becasue he was pushing me to do all his way, he also sent be back to Europe saying American won't wear the type of clothes I showed him I wanted to design. It was all about sensual dresses. I like dresses. He said I need to design sport tops and pants and I don't want to. I also found that producing clothes here in States is so expensive you make no profit. Then I opened up a photography business becasue I already had my own home photo studio and I like to take photos and I think I can be good at it but the thought of working one on one with people taking their photo stressed me out way too much. I thought its not good for me to work in such a constant stress. The idea of writing a visual  app sounded good to me becasue I can do it alone from anywhere around the world and hire only a few programmers and other few employees. Keep it very very small and simple.

2019 June Joseph , OR travel companion

2019 June Joseph , OR travel companion

2019 June Joseph , OR travel companion

2019 June Joseph , OR travel companion

2019 June Joseph , OR travel companion

2019 June Joseph , OR travel companion

2019 June West Yellowstone Firehole restaurant travel companion

2019 June West Yellowstone Firehole restaurant travel companion

Yellowstone travel companion

2019 June Teton Mountains travel companion

2019 June Teton Mountains travel companion

2019 June Yellowstone travel companion

2019 June Yellowstone travel companion

Vail, CO travel companion

2019 June Vail, CO travel companion

2019 June Hotel Jerome Aspen, CO travel companion

2019 June Moab, UT travel companion

WY travel companion

2019 June Jackson, WY travel companion

2019 June Jenny Lake, WY  travel companion

Extremly obeseDuring Covid times my drinking didn't get worse it actually got better. I got too 222 lbs the most I ever got and stabilized there. In my alcoholic time I discovered that after a few glasses of wine if I start eating my body totally refuses wine. So I started instead of having 1 1/2 bottles of wine to have 1 bottle of wine and one pizza or 1 bottle of wine and one Cheeseburger with medium fries or 1 bottle of wine and one grilled sandwich. All the food I usually don't eat becasue when I don't drink I'm a scared person who eats very yummy and healthy and little quantities. When I'm drunk I'm gutsy and drink and eat what I actually want. Over time I observed that after 3/4 of bottle of wine I don't want to drink, I want to eat. So suddenly I find myself waking up the second day not feeling hang over but feeling very good. I know many people I like (Jack Kerouac, Elvis Presley, George Michael, Michael Jackson, Prince) killed themselves with too much alcohol or drugs and I don't want to be one of those. The greed for money, the need for money and work maybe killed Elvis Presley and Michael Jackson. There is no need for anyone to work so much or to even have money at all. In fact I observed that bums are to coolest people on earth because they put a lot of time on just being. Having 3/4 bottles wine with a great food every second night sounds a good life for me just that I don't like how I look. I'm kind of bored with so much food and wine and  being not obese but extremely obese. Everything I do good or bad, negative of positive if I don't take it to extreme, it's not me. I don't know to do middle ground. I need to hit something to feel there is a limit or to get sick and tired  

2022 March Got my brand new Jeep.
Hitting the road makes me instantly feel so much better I always wanted a Jeep and never thought of another car. I love cool stylish cars that look so good but I love my Jeep by far the most. There is no car that I like second best. When I get in my car I' get so happy. excited and I start dreaming, like the whole world is a playground and I can go wherever I want. It's not easy to drive because is essentially a truck but I got used with it. I drive it  everywhere. Being on the road every week and sometimes every day makes me happy. It makes me hopeful of people with zest for life who've always  followed their heart, of  bums (the coolest people on earth), vagabonds, true love, romance and adventures, of seeing new faces and new places. It makes me believe that something exciting is going to happen to me. I just go, and go, and go and I feel myself at my truest and on my path. Going is the medicine that keep me free, sane, happy and loving.﻿
2022 May My second Bob Dylan concert Portland, OR
  After this Covid time, I feel so drunk and fat and out of shape and out of my mind that I feel like not going to a Bob Dylan concert but I love life too much, to hell with how I look and I go.  I arrived at venue with my daughter at 7:15 pm for 8 pm concert. I arrived earlier to make sure I find parking. We had plenty of time and decided to walk around the block. On one of the streets I see two buses and two women standing looking at the bus. I asked one of them "what's happening here " and she says that she's been there since 2pm and Bob Dylan has not got yet from the bus. I tell my daughter lets just stay here and not walk anymore, if he hasn't got out since 2pm maybe is the time and may get to see Bob Dylan. So we stay and after a while two men come and get in front of me, pushing me to the wall and  telling me "there is a line!". Oops, I didn't know there was a line so I move over to the other side of the buses becasue nobody was standing there. 5 minutes before the concert starts, I see Bob Dylan getting off from the bus closest to me, so I'm again the length of his bus away and he walks  to the concert building. Looking at him he felt so good that I was moved by how good can a person feel just by walking from the bus to the building. I don't remember meeting anybody who felt so good. 

2022 June Got my own apartment in Portland Downtown. Escaping by roaming is one way of escaping, another is having your own apartment. I kept looking for years to buy an apartment in a historical building with cool view in Manhattan and then I found flying 5 hours from Portland to NY a bit too much. I didn't look to buy in Portland but I stumbled upon an apartment, the type I was looking for in NY. One in an historical building with a nice view of the skyline and much cheaper. I fell in love with it and bought it as cheap as it could get becasue in 2022 in downtown Portland was really bad still not yet recovered from Pandemic. Buying an apartment for myself is one of the best things I have ever done and I should have done it a long time ago (is not my first time though. I had my own apartment in Romania too). Nobody can live with me in my apartment. I don't find it romantic to constantly live with someone. I have a need to get away from anybody. Being alone makes me happy. Also it's best when you don't see each other all the time. You get to have your own self, and to feel free. Being alone in the house for days, doing exactly what I want every single moment day and night is one of the joys of this life. People can come and sleep over, or can stay in my apartment when I'm not around, which is often, but can't move in with me. This place is only for myself. I moved to be alone, uninterrupted or judged by anyone. I'm a passionate person and when I eat I eat with gusto and I get scolded for eating like a dog who hasn't eat in there weeks. I'm  messy, I eat by hand  (since I was in the village) and food gets on my dress and people call me a pig and my place a pig stall. I'm extremely easy to live with because I don't say anything, I don't bother anyone with anything but it comes to a price for me. If something bothers me or upsets me or I don't like something I will never say becasue it's just to painful and difficult to say  and I don't believe people can change anyway but I just suffer and suffer until I disappear altogether. I go to hide and stay alone in peace and quiet. That's my way . Moving partly in my apartment I discovered I moved closer to the homeless with whom I relate more than I relate to society. I hear their rants in the night and I relate. I saw a homeless person sitting on the bench. I saw him there at 4:30 pm at 6 pm and 7:30 pm. When the night came and there was nobody around  he started shouting "help me!", that's all he kept saying "help me!". I need to be ALONE with myself for peace, joy, freedom .That's my way of meditating. I only can relax when I'm alone. I don't care if people's judgements about me are negative or positive I simply don't want to hear them. I'm so tired of people talking I need to be alone. Somebody who can just be with me and not talk at all would be nice.  People's attention on me it completely drains me, it burdens me. I don't look at others and I'd like others to do the same with me but no way. I dismiss peoples attention anyway, I shut them off but it exhausts me. I want to eat and sleep when I want, as much as I want, with with whom I want. These are all the the life's joys that make me so happy. I don't want anybody to keep tabs on me,  to constantly ask me questions about what I do and about just being myself. I don't want for others to constantly try to align me with themselves and with the society. I don't want anyone to follow me or copy me. I love to stay pure me. That's when I feel the best, that's my vision about my life. I can't tell the controlling fearful people (which are most people) to stop being fearful, too not look constantly at me, to not pepper me relentlessly with questions, to not cling on me like they are drowning but I can do things that are in my control and i've done it one way or another my entire life , 1) keep my mouth shut. I can be asked questions but I just keep on keeping mute (it's one of the best things I've done in my life. It started out early in my life becasue i was so shy and so not interested in talking but it turned out that I found peace, ease, joy, hope and freedom in my quietness. Nobody can connect with me if I don't talk at all with them).I've taken shit for not talking my entire life. 2) keep my room closed and locked (now I got my own apartment all for myself and that's way better than just a room locked. 3) Go places alone every week or all day and night and don't tell much about what I'm doing and don't know exactly when I'm coming back. I come back when I come back. If you keep the door open I'll come back. There is some risk in nobody knowing where you are but its is what it is. You can't be too scared.  I go to see what new exciting vagabond like me I can meet 4 ) Don't think much/ don't be conscious much, preferably not at all. For people who feel deeply everything, feeling is enough. Thinking is the most poisoning thing that happened to me . Thinking, talking and being conscious only brings fear, stress, jealousy, opinions, ideas, categories, labels, pain and confusion. I don't need any of that. For me keeping in touch with myself and my dream at all times is enough. My job is only to live my life and my dream every moment or to be on the path to live my dream . That's all I'm doing

2022 Nov ﻿
The Philosophy of Modern Song
I preorder this book months in advance and usually Amazon sends an email when the book is delivered . Was supposed to delivery it Nov 1 . About Nov 10 I see at news that the book is out and Amazon didn't let me know they already delivered it on my kindle. I wanted to be one of the first to write a review but now is Nov 10. Anyway I  read the book and I write a review that sounded more or less: He is the best since this universe. And there is not even a second best. He is intensely alive, and sensitive as fuck. Has the coolest personal style. Personal style is extremely rare and you can't learn it. It comes form the inside of an emotional soul. He is so wise, says things so much better than the rest of the world. I don't want to miss a thing he says. He sees reality as it is, goes to the core of how he feels. He's the definition of cool. A man with fire and light. What else can be better in life than a fine, fine person. I don't know how this person can feel so good but I'm so lucky to be contemporary with Bob Dylan. I love this man with all my heart. He's liberating, cool, gutsy, full of appetite for life. I read somewhere that you can consider yourself lucky if you find one single person who inspires you. Well, so far I found Bob Dylan and nothing else. How not to like a person so lovable, who vibrates with life, fun, interesting, precise, true to himself, fearless like crazy, so precious and who benefits me. I like that he didn't water down his work for money. All he sells is himself and what he likes and still managed to make lots of money. He has a way of making you feel the best can be over and over and you decide that you want to always feel like that, every moment, every day, all your life. 

Alaska I'm  landing in Anchorage, Alaska. I keep thinking and saying I'm in Canada. I'm  not in Canada. When I travel too much in a short period of time I get confused. I rent a car and drive to Talkeetna where I sleep two nights and see all the neighbors going and coming home by little airplanes. I drive to Cantwell to my next rental from where I drive the next day to visit Denali Mountains. Denali Mountains can be visited only by bus. I take a bus and the bus driver points to a moose resting on a piece of unmelted snow and says "the moose is conserving energy". I thought I'm a lot like that moose. I get bored and fall asleep. I wake up and see the two people in front of me, the one next to me and one behind me all sleeping instead of admiring Denali Mountains while the rest of the bus keeps strong at looking out the window. I try to get next to Valdez but the car breaks down so I have to go back for a night to Anchorage to get another car. With a new car I drive all the way to Valdez barely making it before the dark because there was al lot of pouring rain, creeks flowing over the road and melted snow washing roads and many roads were in construction. The nature is not that beautiful but is very peaceful and wild. We get to Valdez and I get inspired and I fall in love with it. There are no traffic signs because there is barely any car. I said I want to live exactly here. While in Valdeze there is an earthquake I feel. It was only one jolt. From Valdez I need to get to Girdwood but I don't want to drive the same road I just came on. I want to go all around by ferry even though I know the online ferry tickets got sold out months ago. I go to the ferry station and there are no tickets but they said the day of departure to come at 5 am to get a walk in ticket which won't guarantee that my car will have a place but to try. I wake at 4 am and try to be at 4:40 am before others to get a ticket but I was late. In front of me there were already some kayakers and two other cars. By 8 am they managed to fit all the cars on the ship except my car and a motorcycle. Finally they signal to drive my car and I see that the only place left was barely to fit my car and the motorcycle. They fit all the cars so tight and with such precision that there was barely any space left all around my car on the ship. I absolutely love the ferry ride. It's bumpy, its cold, its splashy, its scary, its rainy, I love the ship food, I love it all. I get off at Whittier and drive to Girdwood, a ski resort I want to check out. I love the ski resort and I say I want to come to ski maybe I will even see the northlights. From Girdwood I drive to Seaward and from there I did Kenai Fjords National Park Cruise which was exciting and inspirational. The boat captain, Capt. Mark Lindstrom, was one of the most passionate about nature, fun, exciting and cool persons I have ever seen and he was actually from Tillamook, Oregon where I live some times. Tillamook is a bit like in a different world. Mountain people and cruise captains are some of the most appealing and exciting people on earth. There is something about wilderness and people who live in wilderness that make life feel so real and exciting. 
 

Healed for a month
This year I went for a month back to Europe. I couldn't believe how good I felt.  Where I stayed, in the middle of nowhere, just peaceful nature all around,  at this charming inspirational beautiful old Tuscany house with red brick floors, stone walls inside and out (more like a small castle), with tasteful exciting art, with an old usable piano, its grounds with red and pink geraniums, roses, plum, fig and pear trees, olive grove, grapevine, cypress trees, umbrella pine trees, no other house around, with 360 degree views of the surrounding fields, hills, valleys and old towns (inspiring Montepulciano town with very few people ), with it's location in Val D'Orcia (an area listed Unesco's World Heritage). It had a covered outdoor area you can stay or eat when is raining. It also has fireplaces with wood and I think would make a romantic getaway in colder months.
In this house I immediately got in touch completely with myself became one with nature and my dream and the whole world, any sense of time completely disappeared. I thought I want to live and feel like this for the rest of my life. I could see myself living in that in nature with my lover through springs, summers, autumns, winters forever. I had  a feeling that I won't be able to go back to States or I if I do I won't be able to function in States anymore

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2024 Sept 6 Somerset, WI Bob Dylan Outlaw Music Festival   I listen to music a whole lot but I don't know what I'm listening to. I usually listen to a song on repeat until I get sick of it. I never  ever listen to a whole album. I took all Bob Dylan's  albums one by one and listen to all only in Feb 2024. I listened before  to his song here and there but not to any album. From all his albums I picked 34 songs I have on my Spotify playlist that I like. Most Bob Dylan popular songs are not on my playlist. On my play list I like songs like "this dream of you", "the man in me", "early roman kings", "you're a big girl now",, "romance in Durango", "i'll remember you", "new pony", "slow train", "three angels", "Brownsville girl", "under your spell", "when did you leave heaven", "million miles", "one more weekend", "i shell be released", "born in time", "disease of conceit"., "gotta travel on". Bob Dylan is a story teller and these songs resonate with me.  As a lover of Bob Dylan, I haven't been to as many concerts as his fans but I'm trying to make up for it (better late than never) and went in 2014, 2022, 2023 in Chicago and this Sept 6, 2024. From his list of places and concerts I picked Somerset, WI because was next to Minneapolis and wanted to visit the area Bob Dylan is from. I know he only spent a little time in Minneapolis because he was raised in Duluth and Hibbing but it doesn't matter, I wanted to go somewhere. I was looking for inspiration, for a feeling, for a dream that I may have forgot about and for whatever reason I knew I could find it there. I booked  3 nights in Minneapolis ( Old Town because I heard has a European feel and I miss Europe), Sept 4 - 7, 2024 . I buy myself a second raw ticket and I said I'll Uber even though I'm kind of scared to Uber in the night and I'll see how I'll do with coming back to Minneapolis. Sept 6 in the morning I see that is forecasted rain around 4 pm and on the festival's website says we can't bring umbrellas so I'm going shopping for a poncho. I walked for 2 hours and barely find a single one left in Target next to Minneapolis University. I book an Uber who drops me at 3:30 pm on the Main Street in Somerset, WI. I walk the 10 minutes through a field that was about to be filled with parked cars coming to festival and being daylight it was no problem but doing that in the night I thought I'd rather not. I get to my sit which was second row, pretty close to the stage. First, played Southern Avenue and I see on the website saying Bob Dylan plays from 8:00 to 9:15 pm, it sounded late for me  so I'm trying to reserve an Uber for 9.20 pm but I can't. It gives me "reservations not available for this location". I thought I'll have a f* adventure with how I'm going to get back to my hotel in Minneapolis. There were a few diehard fans in the front raw staying on their feet and I stayed too when I took a few videos and photos but they stayed far more than me. Here and there were fans staying alone on their feet but most people were not.  At 9:15pm Bob Dylan is done with his part and I'm out of there even though the concert went on until 10:40 pm. I rushed to get an Uber. At 9:23 I'm placing my first booking attempt to Uber. After 10 minutes, it failed. They couldn't find any cars for me even though the price went from $50 to $90 and I was fine with paying whatever. I waited one minute, as they said, and placed again an Uber request  to book a car, and see right past me goes Bob Dylan with his two buses. I kind of expected his going to leave after his performance. Anyway, so I'm thinking the Uber may not want to take me from that secondary road Sprig Road address so I go back to the Main Street where I was dropped off and I place a third call for Uber when I see my phone is 24% charged only.  Uber failed again and by now was 10 pm. I crossed the street to a Liquor Store that  also  just closed at 10 pm. I place a car request with Lyft from The Liquor store address. Lyft failed to find a car too. I'm looking on google map and I don't see any hotel or motel or almost anything in that village.  It's 12 C degrees I'm in a red tank top dress, flip flops, some light black socks I already put on since the concert's temperature dropped rapidly from 19 to 13 C , a REI all weather thin soft jacket with hood, a light poncho in my pocket  and I'm thinking  " I think I have a problem". I'm going into "help me please" mode where I go around humble, and shameless asking anyone who crosses my path to help me. A person who was directing the traffic said "go to a gas station, Uber won't pick you up at a Liquor store". Liquor stores are familiar to me.  I'm going to the first gas station that was actually already closed and where I find a father and daughter trying to get to Woodbury with no luck in finding a Uber or Taxi. I said "guys can I come with you? " and started to tag along them. They go on a secondary dark road but I wanted to keep on the Main Road so I'm going to Sportsman's Bar & Grill that was open until 2:30 am. In front of the bar I find a couple who was fighting. She was so drunk she barely could talk and he was "not as drunk" trying to be nice with her. He told me they need to get to Stillwater where they are staying, they can't get an Uber or Taxi and she wants to do the trip on foot but it takes 4 hours on foot!. Then another two man come and they said they can't find a Uber or Taxi either and said “lets all relax!!! the key word here is relax. We won't find something at 10: 30 pm and we won't find at 2:30 am but in between there is a sweet spot where we will find someone available to come and get us". One of the men was going to St Paul and the other also to St Paul but said he actually needs to get in the morning to NE Minneapolis ". The two men get in the bar and I get too. They got their own table with real beer and I go at the bar and get an nonalcoholic beer. I called a few Minneapolis Taxis who said they don't come to Wisconsin. Then I called a Wisconsin taxi that didn't answer. Then I called my Inn and told them I've been to a music festival, I want to come back to the hotel but I'm stuck in Somerset, WI. The hotel called a Taxi who said they can get me between 12:30 am and 1 am. I said sure, I'll take it ! In meantime I tried to place one more request to Uber and my phone dies. I thought that was so reckless to not have a power bank with me. I wanted to stay and wait for the Taxi in the bar where was nice and warm but I couldn't because I had no power in my phone just in case the Taxi needed to call me and just in case I need the internet again.  I see through the window there was a gas station right next to the grill called "Holiday" . I saw that name before but didn't think it was a gas station, I thought was a hotel.  I needed to buy a charger and a cable to charge my phone so I pay for my one beer and leave. I get out of the bar and I see the "dad and daughter" passing me again coming from a secondary street again. I go in the Holiday Gas station, thanks Lord open 24h, because it was cold outside and the bar was closing at 2:30 am. I find a charger I could try if it fits my phone and that lady let me charge my phone. In the meantime at 12:20 am my taxi calls letting me know they are at the gas station waiting for me. So I got back to Minneapolis Old Town. The hotel was locked so I had to ring the bell but somebody came fast to open and I couldn't believe that I got to my warm, comfy, soft, cute bed. I couldn't love that bed more. I was so sleepy I fell asleep at least 4 times in the taxi while the taxi driver tried to do conversation with me. He was like "do you have Tualatin River?" I said "Tualatin? Oh yeah we have Tualatin". He said "Do you have Columbia River?" I said "Columbia? oh yeah we have Columbia". He said how do you like Minneapolis ? I said "I like it, it’s peaceful, like country side, I cross the street, I'm not worried a car comes and runs me over" . Then I realize oops is not country side. Too late. I said it. Portland is like country side in many ways too.
 

2024 Dec "A complete unknown" movie My son loves movies and he studies in college to make movies. He heard a movie called "A complete unknown "about Bob Dylan will come out in theaters on Christmas day and knowing I love Bob Dylan he said so confident and excited "Mom you and me, will go see this movie on Christmas!". He longed all his life to watch movies with his mom but his mom can't and can't watch movies. Movies are fantasy, are like school , are like church, like most people - all too boring for me. Like in school and like in church if I'd like the actor I would watch the movies to see the actor but I don't like any actor.  I only watched "The snowball express" with him about three times (I liked that movie for whatever reason, not for any actor even though they were all funny ) and haven't been to a movie theater in about 30 years. When I heard him talking about the movie, I initially told him I hate fiction and that movie is probably fiction, some person's opinion, analyzation and interpretation so I'm not interested. A few days later I thought my son will be home for Christmas and we have nothing else to do other than skiing so why not go see the movie who knows maybe I like it. We bought the tickets for Dec 26 and a day before, I saw it was 2:20 minutes long, longer than I expected and hoped for but I was still so excited to go. I liked Timothée Chalamet's hair, his sunglasses, his green with dots shirt, some jacket he wore with a shirt and his motorcycle. The first 2/3 of the movie dragged on then in the last 1/3rd started to speed up. That's all I can remember, that's all I could feel. I don't know what the movie was about, I was pretty much not there. For me what I like, what excites me, what inspires me is reading "Eleven Outlined Epitaphs".  I like Bob Dylan Chronicles book, which I read a few times. Reading about his beginning in NY, the rawness, the scraping to get by, his energy, his guts, that's exciting to me. I real exciting man in a real exciting place (Manhattan) doing an exciting thing getting money playing music his way. That is true cool. "Outside the wind was blowing, straggling cloud wisps, snow whirling in the red lanterned streets, city types scuffling around, bundled up—salesmen in rabbit fur earmuffs hawking gimmicks, chestnut vendors, steam rising out of manholes." Bob Dylan. I felt so inspired when I was living in an Airbnb for a couple of days in Greenwich Village very close to where Bob Dylan lived. I felt so inspired, so much peace, and joy visiting and staying in Minneapolis for a couple of days and seeing where Bob Dylan lived in Minneapolis. I watched the movie "Renaldo and Clara" three times and loved it very much. I watched "Masked and anonymous" twice and I understood it and loved seeing the man himself. I watched "Eat the document" once or twice. "No direction home" three times. "Hearts Of Fire " once. "Don't look back" once. " Roads Rapidly Changing" once. "Pat Garrett and Billy the kid" once. I like to see the man himself, his spirit, his aliveness, his passion, his sensitivity, his sensuality, his wisdom, how he looks, how he feels from moment to moment, what he says - that's what excites me, that's what inspires me, that's what's interesting to me. Bob Dylan to me feels like "my man" . I know Bob Dylan is hard to get so I'm looking for somebody like him. I'm not talking about a man with  his fame and money I'm talking a man cute with fire and light like him who doesn't follow the crowd but is real, a person I can sleep with, eat with, live with, walk on the street with. There are a few billions of people on this  planet there must be somewhere somebody like Bob Dylan 

 Shortskies (Skiblades), The skies of my dream Snowfeet 120 cm with ski boot bindings I started skiing as a teenager and my first years on ski was a pain skiing with my cousin's gear but I had no choice. When I got some money, my first equipment I bought was a Romanian brand called Rubin everyone was avoiding it. There was not one person I knew willing to ski with those. It was an equipment the Romanian ski schools for kids were using it. Most Romanians skied with Atomic, Salmon, Blizzard, not with Rubin in any case. A used Rubin was 1/4th or less of the price of any brand name used gear. So I'm 162 cm and buying this used cheap short (115cm) lightweight Rubin skis light with some super thin plastic soft 5.5 Rubin ski boots (even though I'm normally a size 6 ) . Cheap because they were all old, used and for kids . So I'm not going with any groups of people because they would have been too embarrassed with me and my gear but I'm going skiing in Rubins with only a lover. Skiing with those I was the best skier I have ever been. It was so easy and such a pleasure; it felt like flying. It fit me perfectly and I had total control of all my movements in many points and all the points. I could even feel the snow through my ski boots. Before I moved to USA i sold them all for like 25$. I moved to USA where I had more money to buy heavy, clunky cumbersome equipment like everyone has and I hated it every single moment. It was a pain, a drag and a torture I started involuntary to have my eyes glued on any snowboarder who passed by just because they were not stuck in heavy massive limiting irons that they need to carry around, drag and maneuver. I learnt finally to snowboard, but snowboarding is not as easy either having both feet stuck on one board. A week ago I stumble on internet upon this "short skies" and on the spot I knew I needed 99 cm with snowboard binding because I was hating both my skies and my ski boots. Too heavy and restricting for me. My kids freaked out saying I'm going to break my legs or I'm going to sink in the snow with that short type of skies . So I said ok, I can start with a 120 cm with ski boots binding. Today and yesterday, I skied for a few hours with my new 120 cm ski blades and skiing was as I dreamed. It was 75 % easier, no pain only 75% pleasure and 25% bad snow (6 degrees C concrete like snow). I have excellent control, are light enough, small enough. They feel like normal skies but with way better and way easier control of turns. I did fall once just standing on a flat surface right next to where the chairlift starts. I took off my ski jacket and I fell on my back just by doing that. The ski blades don't have the stability of longer skies and I guess I forgot I'm on a new type of skies. No idea how they do in deep snow but I can't be happier with them. I guess I will have many types of ski gear for different conditions. I'm a mellow skier , I come down the mountain for pure pleasure and I don't want any pain. I've been ice skating since I was 6 and I love the pleasure, ease and dancing of ice skating so I'm kind of dreaming and pushing my way into making my skiing like dancing too. 

March 10, 2025 last day I drank red wine.  I'm ready to quit this time.  As much as I love red wine is not good for me becasue I drink too much. One drop of wine only activates me and makes me drink too much, and I eat too much after I drink. I know I'll lose a lot of weight because I drink and eat a whole lot. Now I have 222 lbs. I've had 222 lbs for the last 3 years. We'll see how much I'll be in two months. I will weigh myself only every 2 month. Don't want to stress myself too much. When I was not fat I didn't like to date fat man, not that I rejected them if they wanted me but I would not have chosen them. Now I know that maybe fat people struggle inside and it's a way for them to express pain like people who cut themselves, or do to many plastic surgeries. I have no illusion that I can run away from pain and suffering. For a sensitive person like me pain is part of my everyday life. Sensitive people need to protect themselves either nonsensitive people understand and like that or not. Thich Nhat Hanh has always been for me a blessing and a source of healing, a source of wisdom, he is master of understanding feelings and he has a quote  "Dealing with our overweight - or with any of our life's difficulties, for that matter - is not a battle to be fought. Instead, we must learn how to make friends with our hardships and challenges. They are there to help us; they are natural opportunities for deeper understanding and transformation, bringing us more joy and peace as we learn to work with them." " But because of the real danger in our society-alcoholism has destroyed so many families and has brought about much unhappiness-we have to do something. We have to live in a way that will eradicate that kind of damage. That is why even if you can be very healthy with one glass of wine every week, I still urge you with all my strength to abandon that glass of wine." 

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