Fast.. faster.. the fastest.

Kisu had his first tattoo today. I have the impression that his decision making process has taken a faster pace than before. We found some time to grab a coffee in one of my breaks, we went in a cool place near the law firm I am working and by accident we bumped into James. James is the hot tax lawyer; I never thought in my life that “hot” and “tax” could go in the same sentence. He was sitting with a red head girl, slim as fuck, baggy trousers with all stars and a nose piercing that was connected to her ear. Her bracelets were clinging in a destructive way as she was using her hand gestures to explain a tremendous story I suppose. 

James looked at us and said hello as we were getting ourselves comfortable in the nearby table. Kisu gave him a suspicious look and tried to figure out who his company might be. I could see us starting gossip easily. There was nothing else I needed that time, than a good gossip session with Kisu. Ah.. my day was going bad already and Kisu drove 20 minutes from his place to join me for a coffee for only had an hour in order to have our casual catch up. My day was going bad due to work overload in the office. I did all the file work by myself for the day and prepared the drafts for 2 cases by noon. I also undusted some old case law books no one had used before to find out info for the medical case I was assisting. Now everyone uses Westlaw, Hine Online and few other Journal sources to access all the precedent cases and Law Journals; books are too old fashion if you are under 30. 

I took a sip of my latte and asked Kisu how his day been. He is working on some new project fundraising for Orphans in a disadvantage country and next week is the fundraising race in South London with the rest of the fundraisers. Donations can be given online in the www.Justgive.co.uk website. I promised to him I will visit the website and contribute.

Tax-James started shouting to the girl, she was crying already when we looked, she got her hobo bag and left. Kisu and I were staring shocked at him. He threw some money on the table and left furious. Later in the office he didn’t mention anything, like nothing extraordinary had happened. It wasn’t my business, I know; but still, the whole scene seemed weird. I forgot about it the second I dived into the rape-case summary I was preparing for Katie.

With fear comes respect, with kindness comes abuse.

I was 10 minutes late for work today. The receptionist gave me a look, or he might didn’t.  It is widely acknowledged in my friend circle that I have become more and more paranoid observing peoples’ expressions trying to decode possible hidden meanings. 

Everything started when I broke my leg. I was hospitalised for few weeks and the only company I had was silly videos on You Tube, countless hours of waiting and the downloaded series George had stored in my lap top. My Ex-boyfriend George had downloaded for me some series he had religiously watched already and brought to our discussion every time he thought I was lying while we were still together. The series are called “Lie to me” and illustrated the life of a detective who according to people’s expression and gestures was able to find the one lying. In no scenario I was lying, I find no point in lying. Life is short for wasting time to lie and I wish to keep my nose short too. 

George was the one and only amongst my former boyfriends we actually stayed friends after the breaking up. We managed to enforce the “let’s stay friends” quota which is used in 90% of the teenage break ups. The reason was that I was never in love with him. He was a figure in my life that hugged me, supported me, loved me, really loved me but had nothing to teach me or to inspire me. And here comes the marketing. George is a big bloke with wide shoulders, arms with veins someone can actually count and the strong legs of a footballer; his heart is a kid’s heart with pure emotions. We started with one night stand after meeting in a club. Dub step had just kicked off, spreading its drum and bass vibes around making everyone dance. It made us dance too but it didn’t mean to last since I was looking for affection but not for a relationship. Could be modernity or just convenience that would be handy few centuries ago if people were more receptive to break the norm.

George fell in love with me because after my failed attempt to convince the German for a relationship I begun to figure out my mistakes and to become more spiritual, knowledgeable, I was forming opinions with criticism and my words had more power. All of a sudden I became stronger, even though I was still fighting inside to kill the feelings that stopped me from developing a powerful self. George was admiring those traits in me. I was an inspiration for him, the same way the German was for me. I had to draw the line. He couldn’t understand the reason and he started working out more frequently. C’ est la vie… you only live once.

Why diplomacy fails in bed

He was coming from a family of politicians seeking world peace and higher wages in the deprived countries via the medium of development and creation of business opportunities. I was coming from a working class, seeking booze and freedom; also I was kind of spiritual too using my poor English grammar to express my Romanian myths and fairy tales in a pompous manner. I was given the impression that our “relationship contract” failed to be formed because he didn’t like my hair or my thighs or even my geek glasses. I never thought that I was missing the x-factor. In real life, x-factor is not a mysterious recipe governed by secret ingredients. It is merely a list of things that the candidate partner is looking for, in the other person’s traits. 

This morning I passed by a protest outside the Parliament. The cause was a law that The House of Commons considers to pass related to pre-arranged marriage in Britain. Hundreds of people from several organisations were gathered shouting together their mottos. Most of the organisations were unknown to me, few of them I came across while I was still an activist during my studies at University. 

People that seek world peace protest that everyone is equal and should be treated equally irrespective of race, colour, sex or sexual orientation or any other characteristic. Founding base of the Human Rights Act. How idealistic and anti-conformist it is to defend the opinion that everyone is the same. Sweetheart a cow and a dog are not the same. They both have liver and belong to the animal Kingdom but are not the same. They don’t even have the same dietary requirements.  Why don’t we instead acknowledge our differences respect them and give a friendly match in the closest football court? Then everyone will be happy and the most talented will win. Also there will be profit if we make bets give the profits to the closest charity and everyone will be happy.

Money, money, money... according to Kisu money is the disease with no drug to be cured. Kisu was half way through the rehearsals for his upcoming gig in Bristol. His band managed to get a contract with a very prestigious rock club to play the Friday nights for the following three months. Kisu started fancying the bass player who is 24 and hot indeed; she is the proper rock girl with straight long black hair, few tattoos on her left arm and a handful of piercings in various places. Since he revealed to me his interest in her, I warned him that confusion might be possibly caused with the mix of business and pleasure. Kisu is handsome too, with rich personality and the kindness of a Catholic Priest. He didn’t let me finish my argumentation because his was more powerful. “We only live once... don’t we?” He said with eyes full of desire, dreaming already his rock girl after the excitement at the end of their first gig, and what could possibly follow. “..Or twice” I added. We laughed and toasted with our glasses full of hot tea.

Recalling the past

I was 16. Merely wanted to escape the boredom of living in a small city, merely the urge and the hormones that were dictating my passage from the innocence of adolescence to the sexual active world. The car was uncomfortable; I remember a seatbelt trapped in my clothes. I felt nothing but pain and embarrassment; like I was doing something that I was not supposed to be doing yet. I was always impatient in life. I was grabbing opportunities and getting into things that the rest of my classmates wouldn’t dare…or bothered. I stayed with him for three months; he was 23 and handled it well. Working class was my thing. I was feeling comfortable with the idea that he was not using his brains as much as his hands and body to get bread for the table. 

No matter what one does, it is important to know why they to it. Instincts and all that are great. Knowing why some action happens, will help to identify the possible pitfalls and will aid to improve future strategies.

The next one was love, was big love. His name Fred. I approached him in a club. On the way out of the club he put his coat around my shoulders to cover my exposed skin. I was wearing a tiny black top with a skirt and my mom’s pointy court shoes. He drove me home and asked me for a date. We stayed together two and a half months. We had sex only three times or something, his penis was weak. My love for him was strong. He wanted to take me with him because he found a job in a nearby country. I didn’t even have finished school and my parents were super conservative and protective. No mention of boyfriends or nights out. Escaping at nights from home and lying each and every time I was about to meet him. He broke up with me since he was clearly looking for more than just a fuck every now and then. I was crying non-stop for two days and till now was the only time I cried for a guy.

I finished school and went to college. I purposively abstained from sex-and guys in general- for a year. I even had my hair cut short, really short. Like boy-short. I went in law school and the first week I moved to Britain I started having a thing with Fred’s clone, he was 27. A guy so identical to Fred, it almost scared me. It didn’t last more than two weeks, because I met Mitch. Mitch was a final year law student and I thought he would be a great mentor to me. I was 19 he was 23. At the beginning was all great; my inexperience in relationships and my wounds hadn’t shown yet. I was creating mystery about my past in order to hide the lack of knowledge I had for all the things I was supposed to have learned from relationships. Mitch was the first who taught me of how to be active. His negative criticism towards me was his way of getting himself motivated. I kept all his words in my mind and when we broke up after a year, I starting forming actions out of those words. I was elected president of charitable organisations, raised money, gave speeches, and inspired freshers who had no other purpose than to get drunk.   

I am bored of happy people. I get the feeling they are happy because they have no connection with reality. I actually like problems; I like the heat and stress. Stress keeps me alive. I keep the position in life that since problems exist we have no right to be happy, unless we dive into the problem and act in order to help out in every way we can. Then we can drink a beer and be happy, no matter if the problem hasn’t healed completely. This way we can claim our usefulness in this freaking universe and be proud we don’t belong to the group of people who the only thing they aspire in life is to get famous to feed their ego, get married to prove their status, have kids to avoid having their kind cease existing, get laid or get filthy rich. I like the last two indeed but they shouldn’t be the only ways out of misery and boredom.

London smells of roses today!

London is beautiful today! My Indian best friend Kisu brought me sushi and Stewed Chicken Soup or Dun Ji Tang as it’s really called to heal my fever. Friendships are rare, in the busy city of greyness, unless you are still in high school and listen to mainstream rock while pretending to be a follower of the real hard core stuff.

Social networking has grew stronger; it's been a while that it took over our lives to the extent that I no more have a land line or a CV made out of paper. I found my job via LinkedIn, from a friend who recommended me to S. which I actually had met in this conference I went to in Singapore during the spring vacations with my ex-Arab boyfriend.

S. was the founder of this International organisation and particularly showed interest to me. We had several talks about the future of law firms, the bombarding over a decade in Iran, and the current political status of Russia, also about fine wine, cheese and the rapid growth of the eastern market. Boring stuff that never gets old, unless you are too young to appreciate the effect of globalisation someone who lives in Peru and Hong Kong suffers in the same frequency. But let’s talk about the negative sides of globalisation later.

A year after this prosperous meeting, following the recommendation via LinkedIn I got to speak to him via Skype and this was followed by few consecutive interviews person to person and then…..BOOM! I got the job. He was curious to know what happened with my Arab too; I tried to remain calm and I let my cynical side to reply in full control of my words that petroleum has been going down since the expansion of the alternative sources of energy became more efficient. We both laughed and had a sip of this blue liquor named “balloon” while I was swearing in silence that it was coloured Brandi, I never understood the need of re branding really. Ah... it seems that the world became full of graduate marketing consultants while chemical engineers are getting paid more for the creation of chemical explosives rather than drinkable chemicals.

When I first stepped into the office, everyone seemed too happy in my recently unemployed eyes; It had been only few months I was over with my Legal Practise Course and the chances to get into the market was weak like David, and scary like Goliath. I greeted the receptionist with a warm smile while calling his name; I felt one of those charmers who use their appearance and the newly polished white teeth to make a good impressions. How boring.  That boring that it almost has become a game for me I happily play. Monopoly for instance, I never liked it as kid, I didn’t like strategy games either. I could never imagine I would end up in to the strategy-sneaky field with friends who know my assets but not my middle name. 

I had fever all day today. Going for a walk in the storm after the bad news I had received from home was no good idea. My grandfather died the day before yesterday and I would have almost joined him if Kisu wouldn’t take care of me and bring me take away food. Kisu recently realised that accountancy wasn’t his thing and that the only he wanted in life was to play in concerts as a professional guitarist. He signed up in a band just before he quit his job as an accountant in a small retail business and now he is getting ready for his first gig with B.E.Z.