Charcoal Class.

There was much more at stake than it seemed to be at face value. It was not merely getting to the last year, but what it also meant was a kind of undeniable prestige which has been granted upon me due to this fact. More still, it will have been after the graduation. The status [something that the masses are in a perpetual frenzy to snatch these days] is said to will have increase significantly if not dramatically. These are all the things which one realises once one is in it and experiences them first hand. Promising though it appears on the surface, it nevertheless requires a certain repertoire of soft skills to process all the data. Then, it is not every experiencer who is at the privilege of making such inferences. Because, really these skills these qualities I acquired in the course of studies did contribute to sculpting the person, even more, the almost impeccable interlocutor I have become during these years of painstaking research on communication, interpersonal as well as international, cross-cultural, intercultural and transcultural. And up until this moment, I'm sure, you haven't given it a thought that when it comes to talking, there's nothing more simple and mundane an activity contingent on accident where not much can be steered nor manoeuvred. Hah, nothing more misleading these days.

Stressy-mood musings.

Am scared, feeling lonely, wanting to marry a professor whom I could have looong, looong convos with, wish it was already over. I also wish, I had such a huge book case as above. With that couch attached too. I don't know whom am I longing after, you know. There is more than one option to go.

Perks of being a linguist.

I say 'what can be less predictive than the following, complementary part of 'sacrum''. By complement it's 'profanum'. This and countless other obviousnesses you can't but stumble upon when studying linguistisc. And the world has never been more boring and predictable a place... I swear to God, I know everything people want to say before they even reach the second syllable in their up to 3 syllables words...!

Candid M.

And now, children, let’s step into something more fun, namely… Yes, and even though he does look attractive to me on the photos and he does evoke some unnamed feelings meandering on my inside, I still cannot comprehend that immense intimidation he falls in[to] when he sees me in person… As if he couldn't take it at face value. The most weird happening to happen to me. Ever. Eee, I know the feelings' name! They are Poignant.

Coming back to these unnamed feelings. Despite the time that has flown by, I still do kinda feel something inside me. Some positive vibes, to be precise. Not that you are to analyse it within the R-Principle, no, it’s nothing like that. It is more of the I-principle that , let me remind you, says that what isn’t said isn’t. Pre-cisely. So, following [this principle], there is nothing more than pure liking and not even a hint of any deeper feeling whatsoever. So as 'to be on the safe side' [E. M.-W. 2011].

Another thing I wanted to dwell on is that, the minute I saw he sent me a friend req, I rushed checking on my wall… Isn’t it intimidating…. Hehehe. But I’m sure I’m not the only one who does so. Going through my photo gallery and all pics I’m tagged on, was a duty I had to exe-cute immediately so as to prevent any stuff which is... which is baaas and/or not cute getting in front of his eyes; revising all my recent posts, so as to secure a positive social presence image of mine. Am I already going online-insane?

And the funniest part will be, I bet, when I will dash to the ‘X’ on the right of the tab to escape him seeing me on our grand portallismo and not to get in any closer and/or synchronous contact/means of contact. This is as it is just for now. I am thoroughly and seriously [if I may so say and juxtapose these two and would not be scolded by our noble Ms B., PhD.] taking us meeting in RT.

O’my God. I just glanced at the email time and it turns out that it has been sent at 8:30-ish p.m., that is, close half an hour prior to when I turned my laptop on. Shut the front door… He was there and perhaps an even more paradoxal vision is, he was actually shutting the tab because he saw me.

But, I am content of one thing. He did respond in the lingo we do correspond in emails . That is to say, I kind of had a sense of forboding that upon my comment in the foreign lg, he might feel this is a bit over the top and so respond in Polish, ridiculing, mocking me, or not respond at all, feeling, my entry was too showy.

One more thing which boggles me is that he, being such a downright punk, anarchist, and all the other adjectives he entitles himself with, and me? He to me? Don’t get me wrong, all I wanted to say was that I can’t really, entirely grasp this idea, this part where we, such absolute opposites, got together. Maybe I, we weren’t so different by then. Or, maybe, he doesn’t realize how much I did change since the last time we met, spoke. Albeit, I do not implicate in any of these sentences that he would not be able to comprehend my otherness. Nonetheless, what our relationship would be like if he eventually got to know? It would be a shame [for me] if he quit it then.

I am aware of the fact that all we share is a piece of the cyber world trajectory from time to time. It’s that often, but it isn’t too seldom that I would feel inclined to complain either.

To be honest, I would like to and I have an undeniable and untamable penchant for boggling this guy’s mind. Just for the fun of it. And I, unfortunately, can’t say where it comes from. He makes me feel, I want to downplay my boyfriend. But, if you ask me, he’s an anarchist after all, so he should not care about it.

Old flame? Is this what it should be called like? Can this be called like that? Can I call it like that? Should I call it like that? Now you know everything, to play candid, I did not put much effort to make it implicit.

So tell me, who do you wanna be in the future? Why are you a punk? This is not meant to be offensive, however. Perhaps you will never get to know how it's been meant or what tone it has been spoken in if you won't ask as the Q has to be asked. That is a rule. One rule in the system. Will you succumb your anarchy for such a one-time instance?

Socialite suicide.

The owners of blogger.comwould have charged me with these huuuge amounts of money if I published the flaws my mother has comitted at her b-day soiree this Sunday... The flaws are numerous and difficult to count, however, one thing could be stipulated for sure - they are incommensurable. Lately, there were hords of different topics I wanted to devote cyber space to, nevertheless, although I did intended to do so, I did not got myself round to actually put them into effect. Why have I actually chosen this particular topic if it is of little, to say the least, relevance, interest and fun to me? Well, the answer might be as following: I could not stand IT happening for the millionth time again... The party-failure[s] my mum is responsible for and a master of. To enumerate just a few there are for instance not letting your guests to utter a word, speak louder than is needed, interrupt when a guest actually GOT to speaking [God, I wish she was accustomed with the floor management rules and or principles... Mr. Grice is revolving in his grave, literally...]. Then, to make things worse, her mum, my grannie, that is, cut into my mum's utterances more than often. This, on the whole, contributed to make the ensemble's rendition[występ] even more chaotic than enthropia... I'm telling you... a social nightmare... social life suicide...

Hello.

Throughout histiry, there were certai entities. Not so out-staning they were. Nevertheless, they had one feature in common: they knew how to do it so that they will have it all, by stealth... Life's philosphy that allows me to do my thin and ridicule from and downplay yours? Nothing less improbable. This is me. No matter what. No matter what your cryptic manipulative technique. This is God working in me. And the best part is, you wouldn't even presupposed that since it's so not your league. It's those chosen ones belonging there... These were words. Non-verbal ones. So subtle in their very nature that you almost slipped iin comprehending them. So you had no recognition whether it was real, only alluded to or alternative. Violate me. Try to force-feed me. Make an attempt to know me. Have a stab at makin me buy yo' s#?|. Have ya evah seen sth lika tha be'foa???

Fcuked ^p.

Am ever astounded by the way people think; they are convinced in a subconscious way that they will actually pass that shit. Me excluding. Really. And the worst part is, depise all my transfo- and refo- rmation I do perceive all the others inferior... FAIL.