July 29, 2012

Let the Games Begin



last weekend, as i was wandering around in my grandma's garden looking for photo subjects and shooting random objects, it somehow occurred to me that i should do another round of project 365. then, when i was uploading and editing the previously snapped photos, i still could not get the idea out of my head; in fact, it stuck with me all week long. i'd realized that i had been getting lazier, and not doing anything apart from going to work, getting the work done, coming home, and spending the rest of my days avoiding reality by immersing between the lines of novels or scrolling down my endless tumblr dashboard and watching tv show reruns. it is all kinda okay-ish (?) (sad? pathetic?), but let's be honest, very passive.

 i knew i needed something to perk my creativity with, something that would awaken my curiosity, make me take that extra mile, and kick me out of my comfort zone every once in a while. in 2010 project 365 did exactly that, and i loved (almost) every minute of it. of course, every once in a while the whole thing got a bit too demanding, and by the end i got tired and felt relieved when it was over. still, i don't regret a single moment of it, because i got to see the world from a completely new perspective, i went to places i would never have gone otherwise, while i also sort of connected with people. it made me happy. not to mention that it was something i did every single day for an entire year. and i made visible progress photography wise too.

i've realized i need to do something similar to that, or, possibly, the same thing again. i played with the thought of doing it again, accounted all the pros and cons. i knew it would be awfully demanding. i would probably end up dedicating most of my days to photography, looking for the right moment, the right scene, the right shot, the right editing. there would be bad days, awful days, empty days, when nothing happens, and i could only take lousy photos not worth uploading to the net, but i would have to, nevertheless. but then again, there's the good side, my rediscovering the city, going to places i have been way too lazy to go, strolling around on random streets, wandering into strange buildings, attending fun events, photographing unknown people, finding the beauty in the details. it would help me count down the days of my last year in budapest. it could color the days, it could make the year count. 

in the end, on thursday i decided to give it a go. i loved the idea of it, but not so much the actual shooting/editing/uploading part. i didn't feel like starting it just yet, i wanted to postpone the thing (until when?). it's hard to come over my laziness, hard to shake up my numb mind, and wake up my long asleep creativity. nevertheless, with one lousy, painful shot i kicked off the project on friday, the opening day of the 2012 olympic games. needless to say, my project has nothing to do with the olympics, yet, finding an olympics-related subject on the opening day of the games and the first day of my project felt like a good omen. 

naturally, i still have doubts. about being able to find interesting subjects every day, repeating myself and coming up with the same shots i did two years ago, having enough time for the whole thing. i especially have doubts about doing it (or doing anything for that matter) every day for an entire year, again. nevertheless, i try. it may bring good things to me. i may bring good things to others. we will see. 

so, the games have already started, and i also started uploading the photos to a facebook album. mind you, facebook's photo uploading/viewing application is really crappy, and the quality of the photos visibly deteriorate upon uploading. i am going to post the photos to my tumblr blog as well (where the quality remains the same), along with other pictures i find worth publishing. 

let's hope this new adventure will be worth embarking on.

July 23, 2012

isn't it ironic?

as i've mentioned in the previous post, i'm at my grandma's for the weekend (even though it's monday evening, it feels like saturday), and i have this comforting, nostalgic feeling taking over me. the atmosphere is pretty much the same as it was a year ago, when i was about to make that awfully difficult decision, and i had no idea what to do next. what's been on my mind in the past few weeks (months, even?) is that i am in the same situation exactly a year later, when i don't know whether  i should follow my heart or reason (or somewhere in between), except it's the other way around than a year ago. this time i am eager to leave budapest behind, but it just would not make any sense.

so i reread those two long, utterly whining, stream of consciousness posts (this written exactly a year ago, and this from last august), and i can't help but wonder how ironic this crazy little thing called life is. and also, i cannot get that great 90's song, alanis morrissette's ironic out of my head. so if you don't remember (after all, why should you?) and can't care to reread those two utterly long but otherwise outstanding pieces of writing which clearly show what a great writer/genius i am (yet again, why should you?), then here is a bit of recap from last year's episode of the never ending drama of my life, a.k.a. growing pains of a scriboholic (working title)/ scenes from the house of quarter life panic (working title-runner up). 

so, back then, circa one year ago, after i'd learnt that i wasn't accepted to grad school and lost my room bed at the dorm i had been living at the previous four years, and thus became pretty much homeless in budapest, i had no idea what to do. i was glad to be finally out and rid of the glorious system of hungarian higher education, and even gladder with this enormous freedom i had, all of sudden, on my hands. but, as i learnt, freedom comes with a great deal of uncertainty, insecurity, and, in my case, anxiety as well (who would have thought?). anyhow, i had that lousy job at the language school (alas, i still do), which sentimental former me did not want to leave back then, but it wasn't enough (it is still not enough, in fact less enough) for me to rent a room. the sensible decision was to move home to miskolc, back to the nest, safe and sound under my mama's wings, and settle for a much less fun, entertaining, and culture-filled but way more secure life (or at least that's what i believed back then). then there was this other, much more entertaining, fun, friends- and culture-filled life i already had in budapest, which i admired with every fiber of my body and which i wasn't ready to leave at all.

so, in the end, i followed my heart, decided to stick it out with budapest. i chose the road less travelled by (it is? did i? still, nice allusion, isn't it? shows i've got the highest of all high educations, doesn't it?), i chose to struggle, and, in the end, i made it through (no madonna quotes today, sorry). once my accomodation was sorted, a mate of mine told me that whatever i want, i always find a way to get it. back then, i was surprised to hear it, but then, as i gave it a bit more thought, it occured to me that he was actually right, and now i am really grateful to him for pointing it out. because that is exactly what my mama always says to me, life was like a box of choco whatever i get in my head, i can always achieve it in the end. if the will is strong enough, somehow, i always manage to find a way in the end. i just have to want it strong enough. so now, whenever i am struggling, or feel like losing and throwing back those bloody, ever so yellow lemons in life's sour face, i just keep muttering under my nose, i will find a way, i will find a way, i will find a way.

in the end, i found a way, and stayed in budapest. but in this past eleven months quite a few things happenend, and i just cannot get that line from the perks of being a wallflower out of my head, "things change and friends leave and life doesn't stop for anybody". things have, indeed, changed, friends have left (or vica versa), and life just keeps rolling on. and so am i. you know, like a rolling stone. i have become fed up with budapest. i just can't see its beauty any more. i don't roam the streets, and don't take the thousand pretty photos of the million little beautiful spots. maybe it's just because it's summer and i loath, i mean l-o-a-t-h summer in the city. i literally cannot breath there. i feel like there is not enough oxygen in the air to fill my lungs. all i feel is filthy smog filling my lungs as i am waiting for the bus at astoria. i am sick of people. sick of commuting at least two and a half hours every day. sick of bkv buses, metros, people, all those bloody, filthy, stinky people.

 i miss trees. i miss the woods. i miss green. i miss grass, let alone sitting on grass. i can hardly wait for friday evenings to be done with budapest, to be able to hop on the train, to come home, and breath. i am sick of travelling, back and forth between budapest and miskolc. paying all that money (you sooo don't want to know how much i have to pay for bloody tickets for trains 30 years old, filthy and stinky and always late), the constant packing and unpacking, rushing from place to place, dragging that big black massive suitcase behind me. it feels like i am dragging my life after me, always going uphill in dead wind, and the road is filled with potholes. i feel like budapest is eating me alive, and i really don't feel like biting back. in fact, i feel like moving on.

i miss my home. i want to settle down. i want a stable home. i want all my stuff to be in one place. especially all my books. i want to take my pretty little typewriter out and enjoy the clickety-clack sound as i hit the keys.  i want to be close to my family. see my sister growing up. see my grandma growing old. get close to my brother. i want to live closer to nature. i want to be able to go to the forest. go hiking. go swimming. hop on a bike and ride around. i want to live in a village. i want to be a village girl. gardening. grow my own strawberries or peaches. teach in a primary school. i want to try myself out as a small town primary school teacher. i want peace and quite and small town living. i want to get to know my roots. i want to go back to basics. i am fed up with always being on the go. i want stability. i want time to sit, breath, contemplate, and write. i am fed up with rushing. i am fed up with not being able to breath.

i don't want to be this grumpy sour annoying bitch with a stick in her butt which i have been in the last few months. i want to be content and balanced. i don't just want to read in order to avoid life. i want to enjoy both life and the pages. so this is why i have made a decision. i am staying one more year in budapest, but then i am off, moving back home. the sole reason of my staying is the journalism/editor gig i've got going. now, that i've managed to get a spot on the magazine, i don't want to throw this good chance away after so few months. it would be really silly, even if i am not building a career, in fact, i don't give a damn about it. but i figure, it's a good place go gain some experience at, to have another line i can put into my resume, not to mention that i can learn a thing or two while writing for four hours every day.

one thing i have already learnt is that writers' block is a fine piece of bullshit. there's no such thing as writers' block. lazy writers came up with a term to have an 'official' excuse for procrastinating. you simply sit down, and write. because writing is nothing but work and discipline. to get better, you need a hell of a lot of exercise. there's no  trick to it, you simply have to write. the more you practice, the better you get. if you have to write something, you simply have to sit down, stop bitching about, and get to work. the first few sentences might be lame, but then, as you warm up, you will get better. period.

anyway, i am spending this one last year in budapest. i am looking for a flat to rent from september 1st with two mates of mine, as there's no way i can stay in the dorm for another year (and i don't want to stay anyway). i often find myself counting down the days, even though i am not sure where i should start counting from? should i start in september? but that would mean i have more than one year left, and that would seem awfully long. i like to think i already started counting in june. because i cannot bear another summer in the city. deep in my heart, i do know that i should stop counting the days, and, instead, i should make this last year count. but that just seems quite difficult now. 

anyhow, reflecting on those two posts from one year ago, life is, indeed, as ironic, as it can get. it's one year later, i am still living in the dorm, but again, about to move out and move on with my life. and, as it turns out, i am sticking with mark twain, when it comes to post-university setting-my-foot-in-adult-life decisions. i have found work for myself, even though it's not the hard labor kind, i do work a lot, and have two jobs, in fact. i am meeting a bunch of people, forever rushing, roaming, facing, aching, hurting, reading, noting, writing, and gaining some serious experience out there in that crazy little thing called life.

 i was going to write that the hitting-the-road part has to still wait a bit longer, but then it occurred to me that i have, actually, been on the road since i was 18. i only got a bit stuck at this current station, but i am already getting ready, sorting my things, getting rid of the redundant items, stuffing my backpack, almost ready to move on. because shorty, i shall be off, on the road again.

July 22, 2012

Baby, It's Cold Outside

source
...at least in my neck of the woods, and i am lovin' it. 
i am home for the weekend, for a long weekend, as a matter of fact, as i managed to snatch two (and a half) days off work, so i don't have to go back to the (currently) loathed budapest until wednesday morning.
i am at my grandma's for a couple of days, enjoying the chilly weather - i am actually wearing SOCKS and a CARDIGAN while all the windows and the door are closed. nice, isn't it? i simply admire chilly, autumn-ish weather, especially when it comes in the middle of summer. i can hardly wait for the actual autumn to arrive.

anyway, i am playing countryside living for a few days, and i have this comforting, nostalgic feeling. i remember being here (almost) exactly a year ago, the weather was sort of cold and greyish back then as well, i was reading the friday night lights book and franny & zooey, i had just learnt that i wasn't accepted to elte to do my ma studies, and i did not know what to do next. i was aching, and suffering, and shitting my pants while making one of the hardest decisions of my life. and now it's a year later, and this has passed too. i made it through the wilderness, somehow i made it through (i do hope you noticed that i have just quoted a madonna song). i found a way,  because there was a will. i feel like i should do a proper retrospective/comparative post.

but not today. now i'm going to make a cup of tea, crawl under a thick blanket, get back to my agatha christie book, get lost in between the lines, and go back avoiding life completely.

July 15, 2012

Dear Autumnish Weather,


Please stay, for I've missed you and all of your grey clouds, cool showers and chilly breezes so much.
And now I shall celebrate you with a cup of elderflower tea and freshly baked rasberry muffins. I may even watch You've Got Mail, just for the sake of perfect autumn atmosphere.
Love,
A

The Prodigal Blogger Returns

I started writing the following post over a month (or two? three?) ago, sometime during spring, but never managed to finish it, let alone publish it. So, here it goes, somewhat completed and finished with a bit more recent thoughts.

Well, after a three months of hiatus (except for one lousy post), I guess it's time I started writing again.
These last three months have slipped through my fingers, and I am not sure what I did with all those hours of the days. January is always a gloomy month for me, as the days are grey and uneventful, especially when there's no pretty and comforting snow covering all the surfaces. So during the depressing days of January I am just trying to make it through the day, inhale and exhale, put one foot after the other, and escape to the colourful and much more exciting world of my pretty and comforting books. I harldy had any inspiration to do more than curl up under a soft blanket and read line after line, let alone write blog posts or taking photos. As you may have noticed, after about two weeks I abandoned the "From Where I Stand" project, because I ran out of creativity and got bored staring at my ugly brown boots. But thank God, I survived January!

Then came February, and slowly, somehow, days became lighter, brighter and a bit longer as well. Suddenly my gloom was all gone, and did not feel the need to escape into the pages anymore. Time slipped through my fingers ever so quick, February was over in a wink, yet, honestly, I don't remember anything I did in that months.

In March I finally pulled myself together enough the send my CV out to a few places, looking for another job beside the not-so-exciting teaching at the language school. Then, in early March I got accepted as an intern at the Budapest-based English language program magazine, Funzine. I hesitated long about it and I had a fairly bad feeling about taking a non-paying position and giving up my freedom (or at least most of my free afternoons), but I have to say I did not regret the choice I made the slightest bit.

 After three months of internship, the editor in chief was satisfied enough with my work to hire me part-time, twenty hours a week. So, since June 1st I have been (a paid) editor-intern, as I am spending my three probationary months. This means that in the last few months I have been working all day from Monday to Friday, as I still give lessons at the language school in the morning (although, very few and ever so descreasing in number, unfortunately), then pop back home for a quick lunch, and leave again a bit after 1 p.m., and work at the editorial office from 2 p.m. til 6 p.m. It also means, that I always get home after 7 p.m. (often later), exhausted, both physically (two and a half hours of commuting every day which is way too much for me) and mentally (it's not too bad, though), and I don't feel like doing anything productive the rest of the day, let alone gather my thoughts, and write funny/entertaining/interesting blog posts. Somehow, four hours of writing a day is enough for my mind, and once I am home I don't feel the need to sit down again in front of the flickering screen of my laptop and start clacking away again. Then, at the weekends, there's always so much to do, sleeping to catch up on, exhaustion to get rid of, so many books to read, places to go to, people to talk to, fun to have, or home/Grandma to run to where I can be in the comfort of my dearests and nearests. I just can't seem to be able to find space (and time) for blogging.


But I do miss it, catching my thoughst before they dissolve into thin air. Should I be able to write down the personal stuff, life would make more sense, it would seem easier, especially making decisions. I wouldn't (have to) be in this pothole of not being able making a decision about staying or leaving, following my heart or reason, cheesy as it sounds. So, I guess, I am back at basics, scribbling away, writing my way through quarter life panic, a.k.a. growing up without cracking under the pressure of society.