Now, really

I'm going mental. I know I write a lot of bullshit. I only want to write when I'm messed up and when I sit down only nonsense comes out. It's deadline season. This week, one policy brief. I'll be writing on WWF. Maybe I'll publish here an executive summary. Should be fun. Next week another one, on subsidized medicine and an essay on the social function of corruption, based on the discussion of informal exchanges in former socialist countries. Sounds fun? Just getting started, the deadline for a take-home exam is getting closer and I'll still have two papers to go. An essay for ethics and a research paper for rural development. Not much, 3000 words each. It's gonna be fine in the end. I always finish papers by deadline and some are quite nice. This year it's crowded, but I'll be writing two of them at home. Yep, eight days from now, I'm home. Or on the way, at least. Booked my ticket already. Yes, I'm a bit nuts. Hope it all starts making sense when I get everything over with. Because then I have to start thinking of internships and thesis topics and applications and following projects and lots lots of stuff. Real life might be much like this.

Porn chicks try to hard

Desperate women everywhere... what do they reach out for? Why do they keep hoping, why do they sell and torture themselves? I wish I knew what drives us, where from we get the strength to take all the shit every day. I guess it's where we make the biggest mistakes too. Craving was only designed for whatever is forbidden. We sacrifice the most for the most stupid things. The good ones come easy. We just don't want to go easy.

CEU for dummies

It's not that hard to make it at CEU. It's not hard to keep the pace here. But it's stupid to assume it's gonna work out when you're shy, lazy and cognitively challenged. It works when you're a charismatic hard-working witty person. Which I failed to see most students here are. Exams were not hard. They were designed to separate the amoebas from the homo sapiens. It's funny that even when you're not used to being the smartest person in the room or have no elementary self-confidence, you can still be surprised of how defective your upper engine is. However things turn out, I know I don't belong here. But I guess that's easy to tell from my crybaby attitude lately.

Nevermind the little girl blues

How much more can one toughen up? I'm a marshmallow. I hold on too tight to people. I used to think giving in to loving them means losing my grip. Seems like now I have too many strings attached. I'm scared and not funny. You were right. I brought all this on myself. But it's not for being selfish. It's because I'm not strong enough to be selfish. It's because I care so much that even places and objects can hurt me. If one day I'll turn tough, I'll learn how to ask for change. I'll not care and is that really who I'll be?

The Garden of Eartly Delights

It's where I stand alone. With no fear of judgment, with no fear of being wrong. Where I can be undressed and forgo all manners. It just happened that I wasn't alone all the time. But that was a long time ago. And I've learned so much ever since. I've become acquainted with the patterns of my mistakes, the small bugs that make me go wild. So here's learning to be be a good girl. I'm keeping all the wild for myself. I'm keeping it all to myself. I sometimes open some doors. Sometimes, when special people come along. Just when I was about to say the "having you as my friends makes me want to be a better person, I'm grateful you're in my life" speech, it makes sense that I drew back behind those walls. People don't build walls because they want the worthy ones to climb them. We build walls because we want to be left alone.

Gotta love rainy days

God bless the Budapest metro! I'm blessed with the priviledge to sweeten my eyes with pretty guys every morning as I go to the university. But today I had such a ride, it almost gave me a heart attack. The king, his knights and the joker. As soon as I sat down, this royal looking-like tall beauty came strolling along the wagon in a long peacoat and boots. I skipped a breath and didn't have time to rebound. One by one, three knights came in and stopped somewhere around my bench. The young noble kind was just to my left, with his amazing baby skin and blond hair. Then, of course, the lady's favorite, wearing leather gloves and a pair of big black eyes. And the lone-rider, in his leather coat, reading a book while standing, just close enough for me to see a shade of rough beard through his curly locks. I was so intoxicated, I didn't notice the guy in front was looking straight at me. Your regular urban hipster, but just gorgeous enough to make me wonder why it doesn't rain every day. I almost forgot to get off (the metro!) and then, while wondering up the stairs if all the hot guys in Budapest hide in the underground, I almost hit this rasta-looking hunk. I'm still wondering of I was dreaming. Either way, I'm just like a diabetic in a candy shop. Oh, my!

Italians do it better

We had to give in our evaluation forms for the Microeconomics teacher. I just hope they get the point. That is... if you know people in the class have no basis to work with, as in no elementary logic, maths and graph-reading skills, send in a high school teacher. A good university teacher is just wasted on a bunch that will never understand what he's talking about and will continuously interrupt the class. The title is a quote he dropped accidentally. If you can imagine Botticelli meets The Simpsons there you have it. The course was entertaining, the teacher knew what he was teaching, just not what he was doing. It takes a lot of nerve to control such a class. I can see how not everybody has been in the academia the past year, but it's not mandatory to go to master's if you can't handle it and I think that consultation hours are there if you did not get stuff that have already been explained. I just assume. There are many things I didn't get throughout my academic experience. I'm not that shy to ask, but I'd rather use Google before asking stupid questions. No offense.