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Where are you headed? Hold your horses, mister. I gotta clean your nose. B’s around the study area. What can I grab? If I stretch up high enough, then something new. This one. It’s long and thin. Looks funny, if you ask me. Mom shows me what it can do by drawing lines and circles on a piece of paper. Whatever. I want to shake it or just hold it. Mom takes it away from me, giving me a thick marker instead. I protest. I don’t want it. I want the skinny thing back. It’s mine. Give it back or I’ll… Mom is stubborn; I am more stubborn. I throw a tantrum. I know just the right thing to do. Mom has a soft spot for me. I bang my head against the wooden floor, screaming in pain, distress and grief. Mom utters a shriek of despair. I’m back in her arms. She’s holding the thing, letting me touch it. The music starts playing again. I can’t take my eyes off the screen. One of my favorite songs – you put one hand in, you put one hand out, you put one hand in (B. is all ears with his left hand ready; we wonder if he could he be left-handed, hubby and I) and you shake, shake, shake, shake, shake (he shakes his little hand). The pen’s fallen on the carpet. I take it. He notices it but couldn’t care less. He’s shaking, turning and clapping. Way to go, honey! I snap my fingers. He finds it amusing.

I head for the bathroom. B. is following me. Why is it so damn hot inside? Ah, the heating’s on the highest setting. I thought he stopped doing it, little rascal. He must have caught me off guard last time we were hugging.

He spots the laundry basket and begins to empty it. Our dirty socks, underwear, pillow cases and towels are flying all over. Some land in the bathtub, some in the lavatory, some he’ll be dragging on the floor or spinning in circles with one hand for hours. My head starts spinning. The whole apartment seems to be spinning. Next, he fills the washing machine drum. In, out, in, out… In the meantime, I add the laundry detergent in its assigned spot. Seeing me, he jumps up, closing the small container so forcefully that it pinches my fingers. I let out a howl of anguish and startle him. B. steps back. I get down to my knees to comfort him. We both smile. We load the thing together. It opens its mouth patiently. He then unloads it, putting his head inside to check everything’s ok.

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Loading, unloading, loading…I wait to select the cycle until after I’ve closed the door. Ready, steady, go! The party can officially begin. It’s going to be a big splash. As the water pump begins to circulate water, he’s on his knees, pressing his face against the window, touching it, licking it and looking at it very closely. Once the strong rotating currents commence, he’ll move backwards and holding onto the edge of the bathtub continue examining it as if to check it’s working properly or discover any potential flaws. Closely pressed together, we’ll be staring at it hypnotically for a very very long time, listening to it gurgling, buzzing and murmuring. It has a soothing voice. B. opens his mouth, inhales deeply, and slides off my lap, staggering unsteadily to the door. It’s nap time.


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It’s tea time. Let’s get you some tea with lemon and honey, darling. Yummy! Hand in hand, we walk to the kitchen, my son B. and me. He takes a sip from his bottle, puckering his lips. Shall we try the old sippy cup again? He shakes his head. For some reason, it never grew on him. He prefers the new one. But this time he wants the one I drink from. I take the lid off, giving him his plastic cup back. He’s holding it. I’m assisting. Smiling reassuringly, he takes a couple of sips but starts to cough. I tap his back gently as he throws the cup down, watching it hit the ground with a thud and roll across the kitchen floor.

He runs away. He wants me to chase him. We chase around. I run after him, hiding my face behind my hands and peeking out at him when he least expects it. I see you, Peekaboo.


Hide and seek, don’t you peek, count to 10, then we’ll see if you can’t find me. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…He hides under the drying rack, nearly knocking it over. It startles me but luckily I’m close enough to catch it just in time. It’s potty time. I turn on the music – our Super Simple Songs. He loves them; mommy and daddy do too. While seated, he’ll play with his toy cups, nesting one colorful cup into another. He’s been sitting still for a quarter of an hour. The potty’s empty. The time’s not right. Later, in his diapers, where it’s nice and warm.

I’m hungry. I put the cheese spread on the cracker. B. wants some. He spits it out. I clean after him. I go back to chewing. He keeps looking at me with his big brown eyes, squealing like a bunny. Surprisingly (or not), this time he’ll eat it up. Would you like some jelly? Yuck! He puts his fingers in his mouth, wiping them against his newly washed T-shirt. Oops! I forgot the bib again and we’re short of hankies. I wipe his mouth with my hand. B. hates having his face wiped. He glares at me, his cheeks flushing. I take him by the hand, humming a nursery rhyme as we enter the bedroom. We take off his shirt together. He begins to fidget. He needs some cuddling. We share a moment. Closing my eyes, I sniff him as the mommy bear sniffs her cub. I love how he smells. I put my arms around him and cuddle him close. He’s warm and tender. I caress his head and kiss his neck. He opens his mouth wide as if for a bite. We’re overjoyed. We change his clothes and diapers; he cooperates.

Back in the kitchen, I’ll put away the dishes. What do you have in your mouth? B’s frowning, looking rather perplexed. His face changes all the colors of the rainbow. He runs into the living room and back into the kitchen. My hands are wet. I am putting my index and middle fingers inside his mouth, moving them around, feeling his teeth, his tongue and palate. Something tiny is stuck behind his lower central incisors. I take it out. It’s a chili pepper seed. A moment of recollection: I am eating dinner. I take a good bite of a red hot chilly paper; it’s so juicy that it bursts open. I see a small seed fall down. B’s sleeping. I’ll pick it up later…

I give him water and honey. It’s no use. Cookies. Jelly. More jelly. He sheds a tear. I tickle his stomach lightly. Though causing discomfort, he is smiling. A moment later, he opens his mouth as wide as he can and bursts into tears. Hey, hey, it’s ok baby. Everything’s gonna be ok. We’ve gone to great lengths to get that smile going. My positive mood is still on. It needs to be. He starts laughing. We’re good.




You all know what it is like to get up on the wrong side of the bed. You haven’t had your first coffee yet, you’re cranky and in a mood for a fight. Then, you check out your blog and find out you have been NOMINATED FOR THE LIEBSTER AWARD by a fellow blogger.

My initial reaction was:

Is this FOR REAL?

Is this SOME KIND OF JOKE? Because if it is, IT’S NOT FUNNY!

It’s NOT a joke. Dammit, I CANNOT do this! I DON’T HAVE TIME!

WHY ME of so many amazing bloggers out there?

I even mispronounced the LIEBSTER as LOBSTER. You see what I mean? I’M NOT THE ONE! PICK SOMEONE ELSE.

To be frank, at first I wanted to turn the nomination down primarily because I’m NOT much of A FAN OF AWARDS (can’t I just take the money and run?) But then, after having my coffee, the world smiled back at me and I figured – It can’t be that bad, can it? So, I decided not to be a 24/7 hater, which I generally am, and accept Rida Yumn Ahmed’s kind nomination.

THANK YOU, dear. I REALLY REALLY REALLY am grateful for nominating me and I’m going to show my appreciation by doing my best to answer your intriguing questions.

MY ANSWERS to RIDA’S QUESTIONS are as follows:

  • What do you think a person with no friends should do even if he had tried hard making them?

I guess, come to terms with the fact that he/she is an introvert after all.

  • You are given a chance to spend a day with your muse. Who and Why?

I wouldn’t say my muse is any specific person. We get the chance to see each other on a daily basis, my muse and me. You see, my source of inspiration and most reliable lover is life itself with all its complexities. Why? Because it’s mine and, despite the hardships, it has shaped who I am today. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  • Your dream destination and with whom?

Every new journey with my family where we haven’t been before.

  • Your views on growing technology and growing boundaries.

I believe you pretty much answered the question yourself. The more technology advances, the more we are connected and paradoxically disconnected from one another.

  • Pressure makes a person better. For or Against?

God no! Pressure makes slaves out of us, executors instead of thinkers. Give people an ability to pace themselves and they’ll show you limitless possibilities. Therefore, no pros.

  • How will you manage a person who is most irritating but still can’t be ignored?

This one looks like an interview question. Read: How do you put up with your asshole boss or equally annoying colleagues every single day of your life? (I don’t. I am my own boss.)

In short, give your interviewers what they would like to hear by showing your excellent communications skills and confidence, and stating the problem which will ultimately seem trivial when compared to how you dealt with and resoled it. Something like:

In my previous position, I had an issue with a coworker that was rather difficult to work with because his lack of follow-through was affecting my work which kept piling up. (DO NOT ever say the truth, things like – who was getting on my nerves. Smile as if you conquered the world and sound positive, turning all possible minuses into pluses). One day, I asked him if I could have a word with him, and we had quite a productive discussion on various topics. It turned out he was quite unconscious of the effect of his actions and that he only needed to have somebody explain the procedure to him in more detail. After working out the agreement, we didn’t have a single problem ever since. NOT ONE. Amazing, isn’t it? Effective communication does miracles.

  • Given a choice, which will you choose (any 1)?
  1. Blue Pill – Invisibility
  2. Green Pill – Back into time
  3. Red Pill – Reading other’s mind
  4. Yellow Pill – Power of obviating memories of people
  5. Pink Pill – Power of making a philter or say a potion which makes the drinker fall in love with your aura

I do hope this one has nothing to do with colors and their meaning since yellow is by far my favorite one.

I’d still rather choose number 2, the green one. If I could go back in time, I’d love to witness the birth of Modernity. I would die to walk the streets of Paris with Miró, Picasso and Dali or join my literary idols, the members of the co-called Lost Generation, somewhere in Europe. Let me just mention some of them: F.Scott Fitzgerald, T.S. Eliot, Ezra Pound, E.E. Cummings, John Dos Passos, William Faulkner, Henry Miller, James Joyce, and Virginia Woolf.

I would also like to live in the U.S. in the Jazz Age, the time of the vast creativity, hedonism, Prohibition, bootleg liquor, bob haircuts, jazz and ragtime. I’d sip dry martinis with Fitzgerald and Zelda and enjoy vermouth with Hemingway, preferably pulling out before the stock-market crash (the Great Depression is just too depressing for my liking).


Nominated for: Best Original Screenplay:

  1. George Clooney (alias Wulf)
  2. Mer
  3. DG
  4. Tanya  (Anybody home?)
  5. Jane
  6. Laina
  7. Alyssa
  8. Tom
  9. Aixa
  10. Serendipity
  11. Junaisha
  12. Brooke
  13. Lignum Draco
  14. Lowlife Magazine
  15. last but not least Tony

I’d like to give SPECIAL THANKS to all of you who follow my blog, but are not among the nominees. Much appreciated.

Here are MY ingenious QUESTIONS (please pick 1 option, out of 2, and explain why you’ve chosen it). Knock yourselves out:

  1. Garfield or Oggy? (the ‘anthropomorphic blue cat’ to quote Tom) or Garfield or Odie? (which was what I actually had in mind)
  2. Hot or sour? (subquestion: coffee or tea?)
  3. Horror or thriller?
  4. Beer or wine?
  5. The Sun or the Moon?
  6. The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?
  7. Butch Cassidy or the Sundance Kid?


  1. Answer the questions that were left for you.
  2. Nominate your favorite new bloggers (not more than 15!)
  3. Write 7 questions for them to answer.
  4. Add all the rules and be honest with your answers!

And the Oscar goes to…


I’ve been going in the wrong direction for quite some time now (pretty much like this sad world we live in) and getting back on track in my case means opening both my brain and heart. My optimistic pessimism is telling me some of us lost souls are going to recover some time the future after all, though making an accurate prognosis is not that easy. On the other hand, the prognosis about the planet we occupied, well, you know, we screwed up big time. Nevertheless, the fact that it is peopled by hundreds of thousands of eccentric folks, exotic wackos, weirdos, kooks, crackpots, oddballs, screwballs, fruitcakes, geeks, nerds, nutcases, dudes having a screw loose, let off madmen, castaways and misfits gives me an awkward sense of security, however false it might be.




I am a patient. I am a doctor. I am a nurse. Trust me, being all three at the same time is no fun and can be damn exhausting. Still, I reckon it has both good points and downsides. I can’t think of the benefits right now but I’m sure there are some.

I am excited. I am scared.

You’re right to be wary, but this time I believe we can take my word for it. I have no reason to lie to us.

Who’s that?

It’s me, that is you, that is us.

Wait a sec. You’re going bananas here. Who the hell is ‘we?’ I thought there’s one and only me.

I’ll have to disappoint you; there’s actually three of us.

You mean like in patient-doctor-nurse ME?

I mean ego-id-superego ME, but you can call it any way you please. You know, one’s rational, instinctive and moral being. I guess we’ll have to squeeze in. Don’t just stand there. Move your big ass, will you?

(I hate her smartassness) Let’s drop it for now, shall we, and do the patient-doctor-nurse scene. We can’t keep people waiting.

No problem. You’re the boss.

You bet I am.


DOCTOR: You are a sick woman, are you aware of that?

PATIENT: Well, I prefer calling it unwell.

DOCTOR: I don’t recall asking for your opinion.

PATIENT: (to herself) I want a second opinion.

DOCTOR: Nurse, start typing please.

Medical history taken, diagnostic tests performed (MRI, CT, ECG, X-ray, blood pressure, urine and stool analyses, blood, breath and gastro tests. Colonoscopy: uncheck – the patient has no colon).

REPORT: Unresolved medical problems. Peculiar condition detected: no disease known to medicine, yet the patient is complaining of the aching soul. Consultations with a psychiatrist and therapist scheduled. Treatment recommended (pain meds a must). Complementary and alternative medicine suggested.

Symptoms of abnormal heart rhythms (investigate the cause of chest pains), abdominal unease, insomnia, absentmindedness, chronic impatience, anxiety, moodiness, tiredness, sadness, and overuse of sarcasm.

NOTE: A highly demanding, uncooperative and contradictory patient, aggressive at times. Refuses conventional drug treatment. Extra effort required!!! (Consider tying up the patient in follow-ups). Long period of healing ahead.

FUTURE COURSE OF ACTION: Proceed to treatment ASAP: reducing inflammation, finding causes, looking deep, looking back (not in anger).

Should the patient show no signs of recovery any time soon, please put her on a wait list for an operation.

NURSE: Breast augmentation, Dr. Strangelove?

DOCTOR: No, either brain or heart removal. Time will tell which one she needs less.




In my previous couple of posts, I voluntarily agreed to serve as my own guinea pig. Consequently, I began to dissect moi. I namely allowed some sort of a psychological experiment to be performed on me with the help of dozens of articles, psycho-tests and studies I had found on the topic. Numerous trainers, coaches and therapists aided me in the effort to analyze the non-verbal body language I habitually use, at least the gestures I’m conscious of, like frequent blinking, playing with my hair, scratching my nose, touching my ears and mouth, rubbing my eyes and palms, looking away, raising my eyebrows, crossing my arms and legs, putting my hands in my pockets etc.

I figure, things are not quite as gloomy as they look. Some people, myself including, have just developed bad habits. Even greatest people use such hand/leg gestures so this doesn’t really prove anything, does it?

You’re doing it again.

Doing what?

Running away. Hiding. Defending, Explaining, Justifying yourself.

I am not. Plus, a professional coach said that ‘body language signals should always be read in clusters for more accuracy.’


Yes, precisely. It depends on quite a few factors, such as the situation and company we’re in (do we feel comfortable or not), then our mood and so on and so forth.


OK, maybe I am. Big deal. Who isn’t?

This is about you, not other people, so stop comparing. Besides, these are the cons we’re discussing here, remember? So shut your mouth and let me finish this. God you’re annoying! If you’re more into bragging, you need to go one step back.

OK, knock yourself out.

Hem-hem (throat cleaning)

Where was I? Yes, this is what my online self study showed.

WORST CASE SCENARIO (or ‘when the body closes, so does the mind’):

As Freud explained it, ‘virtually all speech errors are caused by the intrusion of repressed ideas from the unconscious into one’s conscious speech output’ (thanks Ziggy, you’re a real pal). That’s why I’m often tense, impatient (hence fidgety and restless), vulnerable, uneasy, agitated and in distress. I often don’t know how to relieve persisting feelings of frustration, stress and sadness. I have difficulty opening up to people. I’m often reserved, untrustworthy, suspicious, and reluctant to change my mind (hence my ‘you didn’t convince me’ face/attitude). When I lock (e.g. my ankles), I’m mentally biting my lip. Gosh, this is scaring me. It’s getting serious, doesn’t it?

My body language generally reveals a defensive attitude and a wish to be protected (or at least not attacked), as well as a desire to wipe my worries away, i.e. unwillingness to express certain thoughts and emotions. I hate to lose control, thus choosing self-soothing acts which offer me a sense of comfort and security.

I am the Female Alpha: dominant, demanding, authoritative and bossy. I can be passive-aggressive and aggressive at times. I am angry at life for the disappointments or abuse I have suffered.

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Next, I unconsciously feel the need to frequently moisten my lips because tension reduces saliva flow. Furthermore, licking my lips shows I crave something (be it a kiss, love or just chocolate). I am flirtatious. Guilty as charged.


However (this list is getting longer and longer), I symbolically deny any access to my genitals (Back off, will you? Can’t you see my chastity belt?), namely when I feel insecure and want to withdraw emotionally from the conversation. I am an introvert, energized by being alone. OK, I’m confused now. How can an extrovert be an introvert at the same time? (Make sure you look into it.)

I can’t turn off. I have to work. I strive for flawlessness and setting high performance standards (trust me, perfectionism is a curse, not a blessing). If I’m not satisfied with the outcome or fail to reach my goal, I get depressed. I always think twice. I prefer logic and forethought to making spur-of-the-moment decisions (which can be quite boring sometimes).

Huh. This was exhausting for you too, right? How do you think I feel?

Now, mind if I pick your brain?


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In my last post, I sort of started my body (i.e. brain and heart) scan. This is what my online self study showed.

BEST CASE SCENARIO (can’t get better than this):

My body language says I’m a super observant. I hate banality; therefore, I tend to add zest to monotonous work or try to avoid irksome, dull, and arduous aspects of life.

According to the Internet, I might have a vaginal problem (you don’t say?) or need to pee quite often (hence shielding myself).

I am talkative, open, sincere, humorous, creative, and laid-back. I love to entertain. I’m an extrovert (read: an outgoing, friendly and socially confident person, energized by being around other people).

Moreover, I’m action-oriented and efficient (never a procrastinator). I’m a decision-maker, a good communicator and negotiator. I deal with things sensibly and realistically in a way that is based on practical rather than theoretical considerations. I love rules, thrive on certainty, and ache for security.

My slips of the tongue (and of the pen), along with my misreading and mishearing (or selective hearing), occur more often when I’m tired, anxious, tipsy or stressed out (not comforting at all).

I repeatedly moisten my lips because: my mouth and lips dry up quickly, I’m dehydrated, I have been using bad cosmetics or I misplace my lip balm all the time so I keep licking them (bad girl). What is more, dryness is making my skin itchy; hence the scratching. Maybe I should listen to the tip given by beauty/skin experts and ‘smear some (manuka if possible) honey to the lips and let it sit for 10 minutes’ (manuka??? – look it up later).

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I’m a lax hair-twirler (not a fretful nail-biter). I twirl my hair to relieve stress and when relaxing. I do it when reading, watching TV, inside, outside, when alone or in a group, whenever.

I’m the Female Alpha, its good side being that I love to be the leader. I don’t only practice it in my home (which isn’t really a plus), but also in the business environment. When female alphas are gone, ‘either conversation stops completely or the group disperses.’ This just had the baking powder/soda effect. What a confidence booster!

OK folks, these were the PROS. You’d better stick around for the CONS NEXT TIME. Hang on, bumpy road ahead.


We’re more often than not burdened by how people perceive us and how we want to be perceived. And to influence the way others see us means we have to be wide awake at all times, that is fully aware of our behavior. So we choose to sweep the dirt under the rug because we either ignore and deny our problems or want to conceal from public view something we find unappealing, humiliating or harmful to our reputation.

However, our unconsciousness is quite a wicked player (read: jerk!), which means there’s often a discrepancy between what we say and do. In other words, our non-verbal communication speaks volumes about us (and who gave you permission, if I may ask?). Our body language is irrefutable evidence of our guilt, if you will, i.e. to sugar coat it (ok, ok, just a little. I do have a sweet tooth, you know), a pretty strong indicator of how we think and feel.

In my previous couple of posts (THE ART OF BEING HONEST and DO NEUROTICS HAVE A DAY OFF?), I kinda asked my therapist friend to help me interpret my non-verbal communication. I gotta admit it’s not easy to be me sometimes (ok, most of the time). I don’t always understand my actions and reactions myself, let alone people around me (poor them!) Anyhow, those were more rhetorical questions (and way too much to ask). Besides, I’m too poor to afford a shrink in Germany. So I took it upon myself to perform my body (read: brain and heart) scan with the help of the psychological articles and tests I found (where else?!) on the web. Hail, Internet!


Even though my physical behavior surely conveys loads of information, I bet I won’t get answers to the questions like ‘what the heck is wrong with me,’ ‘why I am so messed up,’ ‘am I mendable or irrevocably damaged i.e. a lost case’(you see, I’m not sugarcoating it this time).  But, I do hope it’ll help me embrace my vulnerability so that I could put up with myself easier (or at least make myself more presentable).

Read next: 2 possible scenarios…