she can have her ticket

It comes easily to me to consider moving to another city or country as, after all, it won't change much to me. I keep my microworld in myself and it is me and coincidence who decide what moods and tensions are born inside of me. The environment is important, but what is most important, that is people who are close, just does not happen to me. My base is my parent's house in the countryside – the beginning of the thread, the center of gravity. When I'm away from there, nothing grows around me for good. I'll never start any solid foundations, great gardens, strong bonds. Furniture or walls are something I find after the previous occupants, just like someone else will get them when I leave. In the consciousness of people I meet, I get an accidental and rather peripheral place. This is how I want it to be. The only way I can do it.
So I can change the city – I'm a stranger where I live right now anyway. No place and no milieu has ever been truly mine, because I don't know how to make myself accustomed. And I can change the country, after all I never actually agreed to live in the real Poland. I feel sentimental about the writers, journalists, musicians; about the countryside in summertime and evenings in fall; about the tricky language and a few tastes, scents... But all these are just my delusions, which will turn into nostalgia once I'm abroad. I can change my social circles, because – though everyone is different, important and valuable – in the end my role boils down to silent watching, admiring from a distance. Getting closer won't do me any good. It never has. If it happened at all.
So I may find myself wherever life wants me to be. I belong only to myself. (And my delusions.)

newsflash

looks like there is yet one more Homeric epithet.
"the unemployed Marta".
I guess the audience is already well familiar with it. damn.

may it be a blessing

Today it occurred to me that the way people react to my family name change actually tells a lot about themselves.

My Mom: /sigh/ ...but what for?
My Dad: /laughing nervously/ ... well... um... you are important for us, not your name!
My Sister: ...you're quite a something...
B.: mazel tov!
flatmate: oh... but what did your parents say to this?!
Al.: /quiet admiration/
Bart.: why? when? what for? I feel like I wanna know more but I also feel I'm not going to get it...

to be read as:
- reluctance to diverge from social norms when it is not necessary,
- largely suppressed sensitivity,
- resignation as a lifestyle,
- awesomeness :)
- uptight adherence to social patterns,
- favorable support approach,
- interpersonal communication disorder

respectively.

this really is fun.

Dear National Health Fund,

I'm sorry for being sick at weekends and on holidays as well as on weekdays between 6 p.m. and 8 a.m.
I'm sorry that my clinic is closed on a Catholic holiday and that my surgeon is having his summer leave.
I'm sorry that I can't stand it all and I'm crying.
I'm sorry for the referral I'm holding in my hand.
I'm sorry I've come, I'm sorry I'm sitting in this, sorry, shabby corridor in the hospital basement, right when the nurse is having her brunch.
I'm sorry for the hole in my leg and the one in my back, I'm sorry that the wounds fester and hurt.
I'm sorry I don't have an arm cut off and that blood is not flowing in torrents, therefore, I don't have to be treated at the emergency department.
I'm sorry for the complications developed in my organism and I'm sorry I don't have the hospital ticket with the number.
I'm sorry for my blood and that the dressing has come off.
I'm sorry for my body.
I'm sorry I can't go away cause I can't afford a private appointment.
I'm sorry for being alive.
I won't do it again.

simple present

today I went for a walk with Mom. it was the first evening that felt chilly, nearly like fall. the smell of apples, dampness and grass. the sun still warming our sholders, still dazzling at sunset.
August makes me think of Olg. and of times when what I have now was an exciting, scary future.

Seclusion Near a Forest

last night I went to see a Czech movie (Na samotě u lesa)
then I drank a cup of green tea and ate some raspberries while I chatted with O.
and when I fell asleep, I dreamt of rainbow killer whales
(and of Her).

it was probably the most beautiful dream I've ever had.

in the morning I sent my CV to a company with its premises in the Czech Republic.
at 3 p.m. they already called me back.

Schulz was right.
the parallel worlds always find their way to our lives.

congratulations on your...

"to look life in the face...
always to look life in the face,
and to know it for what it is.
at last, to know it,
to love it for what it is,
and then...

to put it away."

the heavy golden hour

yesterday I met a girl with blond curly hair and we talked for so long that I had a sore throat when I got back home.

I'm learning how to drive. beware.

someone in the neighborhood is listening to the Amélie soundtrack with the windows open wide. it's a warm sunny afternoon.

it is hard to capture the moment when I'm slipping from the serene delight at the simplicity of things – into the stinging sorrow and the sense of lack.

outbox

last night I had a dream about you
this time last year
the golden evening
red wine your tears
it was when it started all over
with redoubled strength

two weeks later I said it was funny though it was already clear we were on the skids

I still think it funny
such a shame
what a pity
nothing left

I'd known
"how she would always always
how she would never never
I'd watched and listened
but I still [...]"