Baaa, baaa black…goat

I’m a black goat. Not a black sheep. Sheep are boring, always mindlessly following each other. Goats, on the other hand, they’ve got attitude. They chew things out, trample everything under their hooves and get to the most uncanny places through will power alone. But if there’s one thing they don’t like is being provoked. Because that’s when they get frightened. And no, my horned alter ego isn’t frightened about what others might think. What frightens me the most is getting bored or wasting my time with stupidities.

So, please, step out of my grass! Don’t pull my tail or try to pet me. Don’t insist on making fun of my crazy ways. And don’t ever label me! Otherwise I’ll just have to polish my horns on you!

“You may not be the most social or the most stylish but you are yourself.” Aw, that’s pretty deep, I told my friend. I’ll remember this. When did you come up with this? “I didn’t” she said. “It’s the result of a Facebook test.” So now I’m letting myself guided in life by Facebook wisdom. Lame. But, really, at the moment I’m actually trying to figure myself out. It’s pretty strange for a person who is very certain of what she likes not to know what she wants to do in life. But that’s my case. I love art and writing about it but I am sure I don’t want a career teaching art or working in a museum. So, my art history degree will only sweeten my ego. And I’m pretty passionate about politics but unlike my classmates graduating in International Relations I think working in an office at the Ministry of International Affairs would bore me to death. Then again, I have my job as a TV writer. Today, as I’m officially starting my month off, I realized how much I miss that stupid TV office. But I have to admit I’d like something more challenging than writing travel info and documentaries about food plus the occasional snippets on politics. This evening I also had my first class at the Advertising School. It wasn’t bad. Big ideas but also big egos. My question is do I want to be a copywriter for an Ad agency? Or do I want to be a journalist? Or maybe I want something completely different? I just don’t know. Finding the right answer is harder than ever.

Mean Girl

“If someone punches you, punch them back! If someone kicks you, kick their ass! Never let yourself trampled over!” This was the advice I received from my dad when I first got bullied as a kindergarten kid. He’s an ex-marine after all, so that might explain his not so “conventional” advice. And boy, did his advice work. It was a matter of days before I become some sort of tiny queen bee, with a clique and people to bully. And my attitude stayed with me all the following years-giving me popularity, attracting fear but also getting me into a lot of trouble, much to my mum’s chagrin. But somehow, I’ve been thinking of changing. Too much snark really affects your self confidence. And six facial fractures and a couple of days in intensive care make one wonder whether my attitude really isn’t too much. (though in the fracture case I was indeed attacked by a damn psycho but that’s another story).

Anyway, I’ve been making really big efforts to tone it down. But, life isn’t always that easy. So, today the old mean girl got her chance again. One of the general executives from the media corporation I work for annoyed me. ( I am a humble writer for the News TV, this lady is head of the News Agency and of our struggling – and incredibly bad- Women’s channel) She just seems to have a stick up her ass all the time and is really mean to people. Today, she snapped at me. I didn’t react on the spot- my “mean” reflexes must have been rusty. But 5 minutes later I was discussing her appearance with the entire redaction. She isn’t a very attractive woman. And I just happened to point out her strange,wiry hair. And suggest it looks a bit like she has pubic hair on her head. But that wasn’t enough. Even though everybody was laughing at her. When she passed me by I stood up and said “Look, it’s that obnoxious lady from ….channel. God, look at her face! And her hair: it looks like she stuck a carpet to her scalp!” She heard me. Didn’t say a word and left with a really offended face after the looks and the laughs intensified.

Childish, mean and utterly stupid. I know. Yet I felt strangely relieved. The old feeling of power I had in high school came back. Then the guilt hit me. It’s not that I fear loosing my job ( I am taking one month off anyway). But I fear this sort of behavior might only do me damage. I’ve lost friends and was hurt in the past because someone had out-bitched me just by pointing out my bitchiness. And loosing tastes terrible. Now I’m lost. People say my “mean” side is part of my personality and it makes me fun. So, should I give it up or just tone it down a notch?

Surreal measures

I had just pulled the comforter over my head when I heard the doorbell ring. Argh, so much for sleep! My mum answered and I overheard a male voice saying something about Nato, summit and inhabitants of my apartment. I then heard the guy scream and my mum shout “Come back, you bastard!” For a second I pictured my mum kicking the shit out of some secret agent who had come to arrest us. I even had a tiny script in my head: Some evil woman had set us up and pressed some fake charges against us because she was jealous. Jealous of what? Uhmmm, I don’t have the vaguest idea, I didn’t have time to finish off my “script”. And if you’re wondering how I could even think that a 50 year old woman could over power a James Bond type, well, obviously you haven’t seen my mum since her current weight gain.

But, no. The action movie in my brain was cut short. The bastard my mum was shouting at was the cat, who’s always been some sort of escape artist. And even now, when he’s not bursting with hormones anymore, he had decided to seize the opportunity and make a dash for the fifth floor. The shout was comming from the neighbourhood policeman, shocked at the spitting furball who had knocked into him.

So, yeah, after recovering Sasha aka Feline Houdini from attempting to pee in front of my neighbour’s door(old habits die hard!) the policeman finally broke the news to us.

There’s gonna be a Nato Summit in Romania (mainly Bucharest and a Bush- Base meeting in Constanta) from April 2 to April 4. And the authorities are taking extreme measures. Yesterday they banned some Germans from crossing the border because they were carrying leaflets!!!! How can some leaflets on “keeping the earth green” can ever be considered subversive? So, keeping up with this general level of paranoia, all people who live in downtown Bucharest have to get special cards. Cards, that, well…atest they live in downtown Bucharest because id-s stating the same just weren’t enough. So, starting from next Monday I’ll have to flash this special card and my id to the patrols stationed everywhere. Booo, this is stupid! Not to mention that since receiving my public transport violation card last week ( a reminder never to board the express buses while carrying just a regular bus card) my wallet is simply bursting. If only all these cards were bank deposit cards filled with money….A girl can dream, can’t she?

I just don’t get it

Yesterday I was dressed like a kid in jeans and Converse, plus no make up and had to put up with a lot of disgusting sexual remarks. Today I wore my leather mini, black high heeled boots and visible make up and I was left alone. Besides, I wonder why the more superior the woman seems (status, salary, education) the more nasty sexual comments she’ll get? This just makes me sick!

Why?

I laugh a lot. And I’m generally a happy person. But from time to time I slipp into what my mum calls “the sticky jar of depression”. Coincidentally, this happens when I get a lot of hate or when some bitch screws up my plans/day. And this brings me to my point: why do some women hate me? Well, ok, screw that, maybe they have their reasons. I mean, i’m not perfect. But if they hate me or dislike me why the hell do they pretend to be my friends and why do they imitate me? I am hardly role model material. But why dress the way I do if I’m soo tacky? Why party with my gang if they’re all crazy? Why cut your hair like mine or dye it the same color if it looks stupid? Why act like me if I’m slutty? Why borrow my jokes if they’re vulgar? Why pick the same carreer choice or plan as mine if I’m soo stupid? And why hit on the guy I like if you think he’s an idiot? I won’t lie, I am kinda bothered. But I won’t say fuck you (well, maybe I’ll say it in my mind) but thank you- at least your attitude shows me I’m interesting!