Barbie World

Barbie Logo, 1992-1999
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I still can’t figure out what was (and still is) so alluring in Barbie Dolls. Being 27 I still like to look at Barbie dolls I bought myself during my lifetime- first to play with them, later to just own them. Maybe it's freaky, but I also enjoy browsing through collector’s pages.

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My first Barbie was bought in Pewex. For those who don’t know I must explain that Pewex was a chain of hard currency shops in communist Poland. Only they sold western goods in exchange for western currencies - most commonly the United States dollar and the Deutsche Mark. It was a dreamland of each of my friends. In primary school we used to tour to Pewex few times a week just to stare through the windows at colourful LEGO sets and Barbie dolls in their fancy clothes, looking insolently at children of communism deprived of the pleasures Western children took for granted. We were rapaciously devouring every detail just to later dream of the toys we saw through those barred windows.
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And once for my birthday I got an astronomical amount of US Dollars. It was 1,50. What else could I do? Next morning with mum I rushed to Pewex shop and bought the poorest and the cheapest ( costed 1 dollar and 30 cents) version of my dreamy doll. It had shiny, long, blonde hair, was desperately skinny and had only pink bathing suit on. And though she was almost naked, it was the most beautiful toy I ever got. She was treated with respect, touched only with clean hands and of course the object of envy on the playground. But the most jealous was my own, born sister, who soon after I brought my baby home, cut off her foot with scissors. My instant reaction was sheer fury, I beat my sisters so hard that even my mum had to intervene. But later I found it so traumatic and painful that I cried for few days, promising myself to hate my sister till the day I die.
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Then the political times changed to democracy, the market opened to the flood of goods coming from West and I could finally equip my footless doll with all necessary things. For years my best birthday or Christmas present were Barbie accessories including clothes, furniture and cars. Of course once I also got Ken, so that my dolly wasn’t lonely. She had her wardrobe full of clothes, bedroom, bathroom, dining room and great car for weekends with bed and a kitchen. I spent hours playing, sewing and knitting new skirts and blouses for my doll.

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When my teenage years came, my Barbie doll had to retire and was spending most of her time on the shelf, helplessly looking at the ups and downs of growing teenager. To make her moveless time more bearable, during my stay in US I bought her two new friends. I was 17 at that time, but simply couldn't resist when I entered to the collector's shop in Chicago. Those new girls were shiny new, in beautiful dresses and additional accessories and looked so poshy next to my worn-out old one, but nevertheless the footless Barbie will still be my best. Now they are all packed in boxes, stored deep in my wardrobe and I quess waiting for another small girl, who will bring them back to life again.

Crazy Summer

The most crazy time of the year began for me- almost each weekend over-night singing jobs, many rehersals- earning money to satisfy pleasures. It will be an exhausting season, yet also rewarding, as our hard work brings results.

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But two amazing, though short, holiday trips await for me. Two weeks of sheer relax and selfishness- one by the see, another by the lake. Wonderful! I'm already anxiously waiting for it, carefully planning details to see as much as I can. My great dream is to next year visit Egypt or Kenya, though as I see, Egypt is for now more financially available.

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Yeah, sweet, sweet dreaming. What would life be without it? Aren't dreams and fullfilling Your ambitions the whole our time here for? Each time I have doubts about doing something or I feel tired of work, I remind myself this simple truth- I'm not going to live forever, so I must do everything to make myself feel good, but with keeping myself fair towards the others. So I'm indulging in small pleasures, in my lovely habits, in my peacefull meditations of moments to feel connected to the universe around me and to find balance within myself. Sometimes I lose it, I feel like drowning into the dark abyss, but somehow I always come back to the surface. Now I'm floating on it, deeply catching breath, enjoying my days.

Wishing You the same.

Coming back

I just came back from the other world. The world I very randomly visit- and this time in a rather business matter. It was a disco! I was hired to sing few songs there. Oh my! Am I too old or from the other age? Or maybe I'm an old conservative bitch? Or maybe I'm generally too old for that kind of spending time or, to make it precise, for spending time with such people? Those girls, those guys, the amount of alcohol they pour into their young bodies, their behaviour, their priorities, their disrespect for bodies and souls. It was apalling. Beautiful young girls with tones of make-up on their faces, letting themselves touch for much older guys looking for a bit of fun without consequences, and doing it for a drink, a bottle of beer, few meaningless sweet lies, some kind of false appreciation. Am I that old-fashioned or is this world really going to a disaster?

Hangover

Yeah, having fun with friends is terrific, but mixing beer with vodka is a disaster. Truly, I hate waking up after the night in pub or elsewhere with alcohol in the bar, especially, when I recklessly made an appointment with someone for the next morning. Having shower with the constant feeling sick is great. I already ate a sandwich and didn't throw up, so that means everything is getting normal. But no matter what, Hangover Saturdays aren't my best.

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This is my first post written in bed- well the pleasures of having notebook. Generally bed means only nice things and as I'm loving my new bedroom, this is by far my best place in the flat. It's very sunny today and if You could see that beautiful green trees lurking to my bedroom windows. And those persistent birds- singing loudly all morning.

Yeah, it's definately going to be a nice day.

My New Baby

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HP Pavilion dv6000

Eye Pleasure

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The Stroll, Camille Monet and Her Son Jean

(Woman with a Parasol) 1875

Claud Monet

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I continue my quest through world's greatest painters. I try to write about them on my second blog- Painter's Minds , but my greatest pain is the lack of free time. Surely I'll also have to look through Monet's fantastic works. His paintings seem to be alive- their vivid colours and brush handling give make them so dynamic. I chose that painting above for it's spring freshness. Look at the sky- the clouds seem to be moving. Wonderful.

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Inspired by the biopic about Picasso, I already got his biography and the book written by his lover Francoise Gillot of the their years spent together. As soon as I finish Hermann Hesse's "The Glass Bead Game" I'll indulge in Picasso fascinating life.

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It would be great once to have a possibility to devote my entire time for things fascinating me. Just like Joseph Knecht in Hesse's world of Castalia. Although I tend to be fickle and many times I give up on my hobbies for some time, fortunately I come back to them with twice the passion I used to have. And soon I'll have my own new notebook, which means new possibilities for working at home. I hope then I'll have more time for updating my painter's quest.

My Quote- Oliver Wendell Holmes

Take a music bath once or twice a week for a few seasons,

and You will find that it is to the soul

what the water bath is to the body.

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Oliver Wendell Holmes

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Does it work? Yes! And I can tell best having at least twice a week rehersal with my band. They are exhausting (we meet after 8 p.m. and finish at 12) but I would never give away the fun I have from it . We laugh and we make music- if this isn't nice, I don't know what is! The worst problem however is coming back home, as my organism is still working on its top and it's awfully hard to get to sleep ... and I have to wake up at 6 next morning. But well, the sweet pleasure for bitter sacrifice.

Simplicity

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source: www.eclecticlove.com

Scenting again

Another scenting. The smell of chestnuts and jasminum flowers mixed together in that delightful scent bringing back old, cozy memories of the childhood carefree hours spent playing games outside with my friends. Vivid green on the trees surrounding our playground, crazy ideas, tricking elders sitting on benches, constant search for new "bases" where we can hide and secretly observe our enemies from other playground.

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My best buddy- friend Paweł and long hours spent on Lego building and playing games on Atari 800 XL, and dancing. Yeah, when we were 11-12 we went to ballroom dance classes together and it took me long days to convince him to taking up such girlish hobby. He's probably as good a dancer as he was. His girlfriend should thank me then for me being so pertinacious :)

M-letter

The pieces of paper on my office desk are usually full of flowers and M-letters- my way to occupy hands while talking on the phone. As the flowers can say something about my character (naive, optimistic, childlish???), the "M"s are far more intriquing. In fact, I usually realise I wrote them few minutes after I did it, so it isn't something my conciousness registers.

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I'm keen on Freud's theory of subconciousness. Our minds are such complicated mechanisms that we can surely make an assumption our subconciousness drives many of our feelings, deeds and thoughts. So having that in mind, once I tried to figure out, whether those M letter I constantly write are something more than a convienient and easy pattern to draw. Well, try to write down couple of Ms combining them in different figures. The options are limitless. Triangles, stars, flowers ... everything is possible. But if I look at it having in mind Freud, those Ms should mean something.

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My first thought (and first thoughts are usually the correct ones) was that maybe that's the beginning of the word or words that mean something to me. I realised then many of my friends have names starting with that letter. Micheals, Marks, Martins... Yeah, they are all men. And when to think of it deeper, most of them are definately Marks. What's more surprising the vast majority of them are brunnetes (though it blonde men fire my imagination). Yeah ... Mark. Always with an amazing sense of humour, optymistic, open and intelligent. A guy to laugh, to drink, to talk. Warm, sensitive, usually handsome. Guys from my past (those I fell for or those who fell for me :), guys I still meet with. Yeah, that can be one of the answer to my M-letters.

Under my skin

Nothing new under my skin:
Blood perversely rushes through veins

Every move strains my muscles

Every heartbeat closes Death.

Moja Nirwana

Moment bez myśli-

bez bagażu przeszłości

Szczęśliwe nieistnienie-

nieistnienie w szczęśliwości.

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Nirvana of Mine

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A thoughtless moment-

joyful nonexistance

With no past behind me-

laugh at ego persistence.

Chilling out.

Few free days I lately had were entirely devoted to myself and friends. There's nothing better than a party with bunch of good, interesting, positivly- oriented friends! Great talks, great laughs and a long-lasting good-power recharging. And when you finally recover from the hangover (I've been experimenting lately and I stick with martini for now), there's nothing more pleasurable then the day in bed with the engrossing book and a cup of green tea, especially when after redecorating, my bedroom is amazingly welcoming and cozy.

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I watched a biopic about Pablo Picasso's life and art. What an amazingly prolific and influential artist he was. And his complicated love life- his wifes and lovers- the constant infatuation made him more creative. Women were his Muses, but he treated them in a very cruel and selfish manner. Drained their love and devotion till the last drop to leave them, when the vessel was empty, and so useless for his creative development. The man of the astonishing vitality and apetite for life. The man of the great Talent.

A Post for Blogging Against Disabilism

Come in handy Handicapped
Show us how to treasure
What we take for granted
Without having a measure
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For we can walk
and march for war
For we can speak
but tell all lies
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Handicapped we are
Though having all we need
With no compasion- mentally ill
Looking so fine- rotten underneath

Blogging Against Disabilism

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Please click the image to get know more!

Morning walk

On my walk to work I wandered through a little bit older part of my town, with no flats of blocks but small wooden houses surrounded by tiny yards. Lots of them with well looked- after gardens and trimmed trees. As the spring is soon to show its beauty in all details, the plants are ready to go. Shy tree leaves waiting anxiously to show their vivid green, just anticipating for rain, which will push them out of their brown shells. The grass colour is getting more and more vibrant. Only flowers, the kings of flora, are bold enough to already bloom facing colourful petals towards the warmer and warmer sun. Red tulips, glowing yellow daffodils proudly towering above straightly dug flower beds, brightly illuminating on the yet grey, earthy surrounding.

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I indulge in Ryszard Kapuscinski "Lapidarium". Short forms of carefully chosen words bringing sense to each small chapter of his writing. He always said, that to write one page, one have to read at least 100. And so You can notice in his works- not even one insignificant sentence. Chekhov said "Brevity is the sister of talent" and no doubt Kapuscinski was a true one.

My Quote- Eleanor Roosevelt

The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.

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Life was meant to be lived, and curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life.

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Eleanor Roosevelt

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My Quote- Clare Boothe Luce

Lying increases the creative faculties,

expands the ego

and lessens the friction of social contacts.

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Clare Boothe Luce

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Wouldn't You agree with that? If You instantly say no, please remind Yourself all the white lies You told Your friend about the new haircut or a skirt, or all the sweet lies, which let You get what You wanted. Lying is like the air we breathe. The philosophers however differ in their approach to that subject.

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The philosphers Saint Augustine, as well as Thomas Aquinas and Immanuel Kant, prohibited all lying. According to all three, there are no circumstances in which one may lie. One must (unfortunately) be murdered, suffer torture, or endure any other hardship, rather than lie, even if the only way to protect oneself is to lie.

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Sounds ridiculous? In today's world certainly, but my personal method to avoid lying is to avoid any situation, that will make you prone to lying. Being honest in every life situation isn't easy, but it feels better when You don't provoke or simply keep your mouth shut, and don't go blah blah blah about petty matters. Sometimes though being with peace with myself is worth much more than lies, which are a convenient way to maintain my balance.

Feminist crap?

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Sassy Saturday

My best combination- Saturday morning, smooth jazz and cafe latte! But now in a little bit changed surrounding as the redecorating comes lazy to the end. The sun pouring through still dirty windows brings some optimism into my heart- hopefully for longer this time.