Yesterday my mum told me about a Roman girl she met the day before. She's been living in Spain for so long that she feels she's from nowhere.
I wanted to be a journalist. Not a war reporter but a local one. Or a political specialised. I wanted to be a pop star... Hehe NO I'm joking. I wanted to be 'La periodista' but in an uncertain instant I lost my way. It became a dream instead of a career and I tried to figure out what to do in a future.
I haven't decided yet, though. I takes me time to change my mind. It was difficult to assume. In the meantime, I became a teacher, but I still found something missing. I don't know if it's the fact that I have never been paid for working as a teacher or it's only that it wasn't my dream.
Studying marketing is something I have always been interested in. However, I must confess I still don't imagine myself working as an executive, dressing smart clothes in a busy office.
Is it a simple case of fear to change or is my head telling me I am ready to work as a teacher? What a headache!
It's quite surprising how your mood improves as you receive good news. It happened to me yesterday, when I got my results of the Advance Certificate in English (CAE). I passed! Isn't that great?
So, my next goal is... Finding a job. A proper one. Changes are knocking the door and I am going to open it. Next step: looking for a postgraduate program. And a new job. And funding. And holidays... OMG! Apparently, I am going to be really bussy. Wish me luck!
Xxx
Waking up early should be banned. Or, at least, it should be not recommended for people under 30. Or people earning more than £30.000 a year.
It's only an idea. I encourage you to consideer if it worths.
I have to go. See you!
I'm going to try hard. I will. I should promise I'll write here, even when I know I'll probably break my promise.
I just wanted to say Hello blog! I miss u!
But I was busy being an antie and going on holiday.
See u soon!
I had a Brazilian landlady in my last year in Madrid. Well, it was a girl in a man's body. That was my last landlady (named boy but looking like a girl) before I moved to England.
So, when I arrived in Cambridge I though there won't be any more surprises. English/Indian landlord, as usually. How wrong I was!
A crazy Slovenian taxi driver (or Slovakien, I'm not sure) was my next landlord. When he wasn't working he enjoyed drinking as much alcohol as possible. Who wouldn't like a warm beer as breakfast? Would you? Neither do I. What about a shoot of something (which needed an XXX label) before going to bed? When you have a flatmate metting in a language you don't understand any word, you think you won't been in such a strange situation any more. But don't forget it's me who I am talking about.
So here I am. Living in a house with my boyfriend, two Romanian brothers, two Nigerian sisters and a Lithuanian. This seems the UN... In a bizarre version.
My landlord is a handyman. A freak one. He tries to repair everything broken at home. He tries, without succeeding at all. For example, weeks ago we had some problems of humidity on the walls. He painted it in a black plastic paint. Now we have a black coloured square on our room and a leak in downstairs toilet.
I haven't said yet where he is from. Vietnam! I don't understand how can he makes understand with his Lithuanian two-metres girlfriend. If one day I decide to write a novel, I'll write about all the weird landlords I have had. I'm sure It could become a bestseller.
Two whole weeks may seem much time, unless you are on holidays. It was three months since I didn't go to Spain and I was really willing to go.
Toro, Lleida town, Pirineos area, Aran Valley, Ponferrada and Toro again. My boyfriend and me have slept in five different bedrooms. So, it became a bit crazy but amazing. It was good to seed all my friends and family, although I must confess last days I started to feel i wanted to go back Cambridge.
It's strange, but I feel Cambridge is my home, not Spain. Although I have no job (tomorrow I'll start to go everywhere giving everybody my resume), I feel comfortable living here.
Where other than Cambridge could I feel happy? That's the question. Who knows...
