I got a call yesterday from a friend telling me I should be a writer, but one of those writers who write books. I didn’t even know people still read books (this surely doesn’t say a lot about me). She told me I should take myself more seriously and I said yeah, ok, sure, but I don’t know what that means. I mean… I sometimes get approached by people, ever since I started this blog, and they tell me they like my writing, but I’m not sure what that means. Yeah, maybe I should take myself more seriously, but thing is – even when I’m serious, I’m mostly just messing around.
Leaving that aside (like my FORMER colleague, Duty, would say when someone talks about something he’s not interested in – rough translation from Romanian), it got me thinking and I asked myself: who am I now? I’m not sure if everyone knows this by now, but in the last few months I decided to take a break from my job as a forensic psychologist working in human trafficking because it wasn’t making me happy anymore. I mean, in other words, I decided to be a bit self-centered and mind my own business. That meant sitting on the couch for a few months and asking myself: Okay, other than human trafficking, what do I do, what do I want, who am I? The only answer that came to my mind was “Well, uhm, I don’t know, I like to write. But I’m not sure what and why”.
Anyway, after I bore myself with such deep thinking, I started to get all these images of what my life has been so far. I’ll share some below:
Once, I was supposed to go to a meeting in the Government building, I got lost and ended up interrupting a press conference. The lady who was moderating it asked me (not so kindly) “And who might you be, young lady?” Whoops. After that, some old man I knew from TV found me roaming around and he roamed around with me until I found the room I was supposed to be in. Thanks, mister.
When I was a kid, my sister wanted to show me she could fit in the trunk of my father’s car (she still can), but she was afraid I would lock her in and leave, so she took the key with her and locked herself in. At that time we didn’t have a remote key for our cars.
When I went to my uncle and aunt in Canada, we took a trip to Niagara Falls and I stayed upset for hours and hours because I wanted us to find a hotel that had a pool and when we finally found one in the middle of the night, I no longer wanted to get in the pool. (I still feel bad, I’m sorry!)
Once, when I was 15, I got lost in New York City and some creepy guy yelled at me in his shop because I said I wouldn’t buy his perfumes because they were fake and he chased me outside.
My mom just called to say I should write a book because she’s already organized a lot of imaginary book launches for me and she would go through trains to try and sell my book. Thanks, mom, thanks. Like you know how to ride a train!
What’s up with all these books?!
When I got to Australia in December, after 33 hours of traveling and drinking champagne ’cause what else can you do when you have such a long trip ahead and you’re a bit of a spoiled rich kid on the inside, I got stopped at Immigration where they asked why I came to Australia by myself for such a long time and I told them I just came to walk around and do “touristy” things, they took me to an office and interrogated me because they thought it was suspicious to come such a long way only to walk around. They let me go after I managed to sober up and tell them I was tired because I was working in human trafficking and I wanted to run as far away as possible. After that, another officer interviewed me for the same reason, but I told her the same speech and she let me go quickly.
When I was in Nice, I was walking home one night on Promenade des Anglais eating some french fries, five drunk guys stopped me and ate my fries.
On a work trip in a European country, I had to go through brothels and talk to Romanian prostitutes, I went and made friends with a transvestite.
When I was a kid, an aunt bought me a bar of white chocolate and, after taking a bite, it proved to be a bar of soap.
At one point, I came back from a summer school in Montpellier with less than a euro home. My parents still can’t get over it. It was 11 years ago.
When I was in the States in 10th grade, a rumour got around that I might be a vampire. I confirmed it by biting some guy’s neck at a school party. He ran scared for his life and I never saw him again.
At a research in a prison I ran into someone I used to go to middle school with. He was happy to see me and he asked me if I still lived on the same street.
Whenever I do laundry, it’s mostly pajamas.
To be continued.