Letter for my dad

Letter for my dad


Dear Dad,


I know I have the ‘habit’ of being too sentimental; a bit lacrimogenic, way too ‘soap-opera’-ish. That’s why I’ll write everything here, where you won’t ever read it. But I’ll write it, because I need to.

There are 3 days to my birthday, and I can’t think of any better gift ever, than the fact that I know you are okay. Everybody is okay and I’m grateful.

Last Thursday it was your birthday. 55 years old and getting younger. I called you and meant it when I said I wished you to get younger and younger, and you were on the right track. Whose father takes up paragliding after 50? Active, full of passion, happy…

But on Saturday, getting that phone call from mom… of course, sis always said you getting in an accident was bound to happen; she said that, and I always thought it as a possibility, but never actually…thought it could happen. Now that I think of mom’s voice, she was scared, that phone call was actually worse than what actually happened. Because you could have fallen, you could have broken all your bones, destroy your nerves…even die. You didn’t. Thank God. It was your foot.. a silly accident, from the man that is always careful, but is still a man and does his little mistakes. Because accidents happen that way.

So we hurried to mom, and I swear to God, I can be so strong when something happens to me, but I am so weak when something happens to you, my family. We visited you in the hospital and you were putting on a brave face…Only it wasn’t as simple as a “broken foot”, putting it in plaster and so on….it was more like “broken foot, in 3 places, your tibia needs a metal something,(I don’t know the word)”. And you asked the doctor how long till you can fly again and his answer changed your face. No more brave face. Three months like this, and then another three months.. The season for flying is just starting..but not for you.

And I know I’m a bit silly for feeling so strongly about this.. since there wasn’t something worse that happened! …it might be the hormones as well. I know I have a lot of those, but not the right kind..

But the idea is.. I’m so happy you’re okay. I love you and you are strong.

Stronger than your tibia, anyway 🙂

The stresses and fears of an insomniac Audrey

The stresses and fears of an insomniac Audrey


I honestly can tell, I don’t know if I’ve ever been this stressed in my life.

I’ve never had a panic attack, I heard they suck, I don’t want to start now..  I know you cannot help it.

What’s stressing me in such a majestic way? I’m like a ship hit from all sides…

It could be:


Well, I work where I have worked and I try to make it better than last time (when my contract just wasn’t prolonged), where I work part time and make some money, but not a lot , of course, I understand that.

Is this a secret about call-centers? The fact that the people you talk to have targets, targets that are quite strict and on which a big chunk (in the case of part-timers, at least, for sure) of their salaries depend on?

People you talk to on the phone, have policies to respect. Some customers understand, some not really. When they give a mark, they either give the agent a good ‘review’ and the company they represent a bad one, or they just give a bad one overall: both agent and company, not understanding that the agent had no fault of its own.

Those ‘reviews’ are equal…in the eyes of ‘God’.

And this is how my salary sucks this month. Thank you, people!


What was I thinking, going to college after taking a 2 year pause? What was I thinking of going from studying English/French terminology, translations to studying…

Automatics Control and Computers?

I’ve been to the courses, to the labs(that’s why I’m working part-time, after all), it is as if I took an advanced class in Chinese/Japanese/Arabic, and I didn’t even know the alphabet…

And I’ve started the exam period. Where I study, and study all my free time, and I’m not sure my brain is like a sponge anymore, because everything I write down in the exam is distorted and different than what I learned. I’m actually more creative than …scientific.


I know, people still have rents and they live very well; that’s what people tell me. Those people weren’t just announced that their rent will be more expensive, and if something breaks down probably the landlord will repair or exchange. No such luck for us. We don’t have a landlord, we have an owner, who takes the money each month and that’s it. Things start breaking down, because they are OLD, and we only have a hand-written contract that doesn’t mean much. We are at his mercy. Why? In Romania laws don’t matter much…You should have a real contract, but then the owner will pay taxes and … well, who wants that?

So, we’re searching for an apartment. Bank involved, money raised… hard. Hard, hard…We’re searching for 2 weeks now, and the apartment’s either on the ground floor, or the last floor…


That brings me to family. When the atmosphere is not so nice anymore, and we’re not getting together so well anymore. Because we want to buy an apartment. Bank involved. And they are concerned. And they make us fear for our lives!! Because behold, bank is involved. Quite a big sum is involved. Every month we would have to pay exactly what we’re paying now for the damn owner. Except then…the little place would be ours. We could have children and not depend on an owner. I could decorate, myself. MAU would have her own walls to jump on and act crazy around 🙂 and so on and so forth.


Some issues with my health. Nothing serious (I think), but uncomfortable. I’ve been to the doctor and I’m waiting for the diagnostic, and that also makes me very anxious.

Very. Anxious. Indeed.


I actually have some prospects of getting another job. Better paid, worse hours, very psychologically demanding, very scary and important, huge responsibilities on my shoulders, but better prospects for the future. I would be doing something with my life.

That involves a very looong psychological exam and some other exams(including English), all in February. I’m so excited, I’m not stressed at all…

… right?

A bit. All this stress makes me lose sleep… I look out the window and I see the moon. I was trying to sleep so I don’t have my glasses on my nose and so I say to myself : “Of course you cannot sleep, it’s a full moon!”

And this is how, at midnight I find myself writing, again on my blog.

Except it wasn’t a full moon, but merely a 3/4 moon.

Photo from here.

28 years and a day

28 years and a day


The last minute of your birthday.

Oh, look, you’re 28 and a day older and you cannot go back. It’s irreversible, hun, sorry.  You are young and childish,  and I love you and it’s irremediably.
Perhaps you have imagined that by now you would have a wife,  not a fiancee and a friend; perhaps you have imagined that by now you would have some children and you wouldn’t be “the most childish in this household” anymore, but you do have a cat. The cutest cat in this household… We adore her.

I know I haven’t imagined this way; but you, I would never give you up. Neither our fights, our tears and your excuses. Our wounds and my excuses. Our rage and our excuses.

I met you when I needed to laugh most, and the Universe knows how much I needed to laugh afterwards, and I still need, life is not easy and sometimes love isn’t either. Job well done.

You haven’t done it any easier and I love you more for it. I know I didn’t either. I wear the “listen to me, I’m right” glasses everyday, and you are nice enough to ignore them.
I keep thinking that you were 25 when we met. 26 when we moved together and 27 when you’ve asked me to marry you…
You’re 28, a day and 15 minutes. I love you.