in which we revisit some obsessions, and hear a piece of news that makes the knees weak

The graduation thesis paper nightmare is looming closer, but as I have received my confirmation that I have performed like expected from the good little girl, it is no longer /such/ a drag.

Summer is killing me as per always, but I am resigned to bearing the heat and the perspiration and the attraction that gravity always multiplies on me when in such conditions.

The summer plans have all been set out, and they contain certain elements which are making me giddy and happeh and expectant. But nothing, nothing could compare to what my dad propositioned yesterday.

We were at our favourite restaurant, pleasantly munching and having our "conversation of the season" (yes, I really /do/ only interact with my father, beyond the "hello/goodbye" only once in several months, as odd as that may seem, even though, yes again, we live in the same bloody house). When he got this brilliant idea (though I can't let him take all the credit for it, and I guess I did steer him a bit in the right direction). Now I can't even dare verbalize it, that delicious prospect which made my knees go weak and wobbly and my head spin gently. The plane ticket will cost a small fortune, of course but... Bloody hell, I might be going to China this summer!

The Great Wall, the Panda Reservation, and, of course, eating till my stomach pops in Beijing. I can't express myself beyond the KYAAAAAAAAAAAA that is bubbling in my chest. I've dreamt about it for so long, not only because of the distance and the glamour of dropping it into a conversation ("What's that? Go to a concert? I'd love to, but I can't. I'll be in China at the time. Raincheck?"). Gah, the loooove, the squeeness, the the the *faint. Not from the heat, mind you*

There's the visa to get, and our gracious host has to accept me coming there. And I'm so so so afraid of landing there, on that airport, after some 15 hours of trembling in my boots for fear of flying (ah, how I will be tested!), and seeing the traces of destruction, still there, still not all solved and packed away, and the wounds, and the pain that will be barely concealed, even in our gracious host's eyes, because their area was among the most affected. Not that I don't believe that this people is so hard-working and dilligent that they will have tidied up after that cataclysmic mess, it's just that these things cannot just go away so fast. After all, it will only have been a few months.

Go on, smile for me. Keep fingers, paws and ears crossed that it may happen, that everything will turn out alright, as it has had a knack of doing these past few months. Be my luckdragon.

In other news, the campaign that Antena 1 set up, to show support for the Romanians working in Italy by sending sms's with messages that will later be presented to the Italian authorities in an open letter, seems like the dumbest thing anyone could have thought about. Let alone that you get to be ashamed of your own nationality when visiting countries where "so many of our fellow countrymen earn a decent and, above all, honest living", because these fellow countrymen have managed to take our reputation so deeply into the ground that is may be currently found mining for Kryptonite at the center of the Earth. It's just so... wrong! Why flaunt a problem and pity some people that either (1) do not need pity, if they are truly earning a decent and honest living and (2) are there through their own decision and (3) have /nothing/ to do with the general populace?!

They are being turned into national symbols, when half the country does not want /this/ to be what represents them abroad. It's all just so lame.

However... "Etajul 3 s-a mutat la etajul 2" will probably be with me for the rest of my life.

Completely unrelated, the obsessions which I am currently revisiting (by that, read: dancing around the house on):

Starsailor - Faith hope love (ignore video - or don't if you're a One Tree Hill fan -and just feast on the song)


The music - Bleed from within