As a pedestrian…

As a pedestrian, I always hate drivers. As driver, I always hate pedestrians. But, no matter what type of transportation I use, I will always hate cyclists.

Now, I am not a driver. Hell, I never even started a car in my life. And I’m fine with that. Seriously. As long as there are pretty boys who drive the car, I will always find a way.

But, alas, the winter brings out the worst in us. Being limited to walking and public transportation, I release my hatred for cold weather, humid air, grey sky and wet pavement towards drivers… And other pedestrians.

Now, I like public transportation. The tramways are steampunk here in Belgrade (courtesy of Switzerland, as it says on them), and I often wonder why the hell there isn’t any bar in the middle of those things.  It’s not that I don’t like using them, but when I have to choose between walking couple of stops, or wait 10 minutes in cold weather for transportation to arrive, I always choose the former.

Until I remember where I live.

YES, IN FUCKING SERBIA! Where you are always wrong, and your voice doesn’t matter.

You have to beware of pedestrians AND drivers here. (cyclists don’t exist here. Belgrade is basicallly more up and down then any other direction. Being on hills and everything)

So, I had been planing to go to the grocery store that is couple of stops away. No biggie, I’ll walk. And I always regret it. ALWAYS!

There is a very lousy intersection which I have to cross so I can go to the store. As much as I would like to skip it, it is not possible due to the lack of pavement on my side. This is what you get:

– go to the intersection

– wait for couple of minutes for traffic light to turn green

– watch for lunatics that drive through red

– pray to God that there won’t be any when you cross the street

– cross the street running

– wait 2 minutes to turn green again

– wait for cars that want to make a turn to let you pass

– wait because it’s FUCKING RED LIGHT AGAIN

– start crossing the street

– shoot a dirty look to cars that want to make a turn because you stop them

– cross the street

Now, this happens only if you’re lucky and there are no parked cars and pedestrians. If there are:

– there will always be a parked car at pedestrian crossing

– other pedestrians that do not cross the street will block your way while chatting

– those who want to cross the street will space out when the light turns green

– there will always be that dick who will make you stand in a puddle

– if not, there will always be a completely oblivious citizen who will make you stand in front of a puddle which the drivers oh so much love, and will refuse to move for you to pass.

Pedestrian nightmare, I will dream of you tonight.


…and my family wonders why I hate people…


Faith in humanity


I am still touched and can barely find words for something that happened to me yesterday. Don’t worry, it was a good thing.

Yesterday afternoon I decided to go with my boyfriend to the mall and buy some things that I need (extra fan for my notebook, extra keyboard, etc).  We were walking through the building and I said that I was thirsty. He was also, but we were so excited about buying new things that we didn’t pay that much attention to it.

Nevertheless, we finished our shopping spree and were deciding where to go. Since it was kind of late, we took the tram home (sometimes I wonder if I use proper words. People who read my blog, please, warn me. We are here to learn. Thank you).

It was really hot outside, temperature being around 32 degrees Celsius (89 degrees Fahrenheit). That was when it hit us; out on a hot sunny day, no shops nearby, thirsty like never before. We were getting grumpy and tired – we just wanted to go home. Our ride soon arrived and we jumped in, only to find out after two stops that there was a traffic jam.

So, we were sitting in tram that was stuck, across a girl and a boy. My boyfriend started joking and I started replying with jokes also. The pair across was smiling from time to time, but they were’t talking. At one moment I made a sad face, realizing that we won’t move for an hour maybe and said: “I knew I should’ve bought a bottle of water. It’s so hot I think I may collapse in near future.”

And the girl sitting across gave me her bottle of water that wasn’t open: “Take it. You need it more than I.”

I was stunned. That is something that you never see. Actually, you see it happen, but to other people. I didn’t know what to say, and I tried to refuse, but she didn’t want to hear any of it. I only said thanks and continued waiting.

5 minutes later the doors opened to let us go and find another way of going home.

Those things never happen to me.

I have to admit, it feels nice when it happens to you. It’s like you realize there are good people outside, and you can count on them. On hot days they give you water. On rainy days people share umbrellas with strangers. Some give a drink to people on street. Feed the animals, adopt them, care for them.

We take these things for granted until it happens to us. Then we see how big their impact is.

Thank you, kind stranger, I won’t forget this small act of kindness. 

Writing practice no. 1

About 3 or 4 years ago…

Listen, sis”(my best friend/consider him my brother/ future best man/ my neighbor liked always to call me “sis” or “sister” because he never had one, not even a female cousin. Once he said that, if he was supposed to have sister, it is imperative that she is to be like me), there are four types of women, at least the major ones. The differences are obvious. A woman can be physically beautiful, have big charisma, be hideously ugly and, the worst one – have no charisma at all. You do know that a woman can’t have only one of these threats, right? Well, there are possible combinations, but you either have or don’t have charisma, or you are ugly, or beautiful. Nothing between.

The worst type, as I said, is the one type of women who has actually not a single hint of charisma. For me, it is better to buy those “sex dolls” that Japan is so much talking about, than actually be with one of these women. Don’t get me wrong, there are various types of them. You can find a beautiful diamond that shines more than any other in the dark, but reveals to be a fake as soon as it opens its mouth. Beware of these girls. Their words are like a blunt knife – you can see their attempt to crawl bellow your skin, but all they do is make a nice scar that lasts for couple of days. They are only for show, nothing more. You don’t take them to dinner, you don’t talk to them. Hell, I don’t do anything with them. I just watch their pathetic attempts and laugh.

The second type is like that woman in the corner. (We were for a walk in the park and resting on the bench when he was speaking this to me, eating ice cream and watching people pass by) “She is ugly like Hell, even she’d admit it if we asked her. But you don’t know if she is nice, or the proof that ‘dinosaurs still walk the Earth’, in this case, a T-Rex.

I stopped him there for a moment: “You are saying that this woman can be ugly and nice, or ugly and nightmare?”

“Yes”, he said after a moment. “Do you know her? She is a professor in my school. She is the smartest person I ever met, and she always helped students learn and get better grades. How is that for a change? The most beloved grown-up in my school is an ugly woman. This is how I learned what irony is. The next two are obvious. I am not going to bother with explanation.”

Then a thought occurred to me. With curiosity and challenge in my voice, I asked him, no, dared him to answer this question: “Which type am I?”

He took a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, all the time watching two girls in nothing but shorts and tiny shirts as they passed by. I heard him murmur “Thick as a plank” before he answered my question.

You are an extinct race. I know only 3 women and one of them is you that is this type. First is my mother, you are the second and the third is my girlfriend. Your skin is white, not grossly brown from all the trips to Greece or solarium, you wear decent clothes, always did, you don’t put more make up than you need it. You are neither skinny nor fat. You laugh sincerely, say what you really think and you aren’t even aware of what you are. You are a natural girl. Everything on you is real.”

And then, of course, he burst into laughter. “I am joking, can’t you tell?” We started laughing together, now and I finished our conversation with last question: “And where does this philosophy come from?

“Honestly, I don’t know. Just a hunch.”

“You mean, it’s just some random sh** you thought of to find an excuse for watching that girls but.”

“…And that, of course… But, you’ll see, I think I’m onto something.”

“You’re onto bulls***.”


Walking to my favorite place (it has Wi-Fi and very good coffee, what else do I need) to write this blog, I see a girl, blonde, plastic, kind of reminds me of C3PO when walking (in high heels, trying to lift up her shirt revealing her tattoo… the product is “C3PO movement”) and I remembered this conversation, when I came for the first time to Belgrade and he showed me the “village”. And, like always, I made the day to waitress, with my charismatic smile and words “the usual for me”.

Based on true story and a painful monologue of my Father. Painful to me, my brother and my best friend. I had to apologize later to him for that.



P.S: This is a writing practice. I do it a lot lately. Since I started reading, the words popping in my mind drive me crazy and I have to write them down. I have couple of more writings that I can’t publish on my blog, because they are going to enter some contests. Any critic will be appreciated. Thank you.

Are you left handed? I know I am.

When I was about 2 years old, my father noticed that I prefer to take things using my left hand. Of course, for my parents, that wasn’t a big deal. There was a time, long ago, when being a left hander (I don’t know if that is how we are called) was something like a curse. Parents would beat their kids in order dor them to learn how to write with their right hands. Others would take them to psychiatries to attempt to solve this “disease” that their kid had. Horrible right? Well, that was a long time ago… Although there are still isolated cases I hard about.

What are you saying? There is no cure?

Well, that’s because we live in a society where being left handed is a rare thing. Only 11% of worlds population is left handed. So we can say that we live in the “right handed society” now. That has it’s pron and cons. There are things we fight on regular basis and sometimes it’s okay, but other times it’s so damn frustrating!

Maybe you didn’t notice it, but all the doors in the world are made for our right handed fellows. Try it. When you have to open the door with you left hand, it, suddenly gets a little harder.

Computer mouse is on the right side of our computers. Sure, you can adjust it for left handers, but I know that I don’t.

The notebooks! It is so difficult when you have to write on the right page in the beginning so I usually place something bellow the left side of it so I could write. Sometimes, I even miss those pages because I don’t want to bother with it.

I have a problem with opening a bottle, mostly because I have to open it with my right hand which is to weak for that. So I stay thirsty sometimes ((but that is my problem).

We could use one of these in my neighborhood. Seriously.

But, whatever the problems are, we adjusted to them. We aren’t even complaining because we are used to that. It’s a part of our everyday living. We must please to the majority of people, we can’t ask them to adjust to us – that would be too much work.

The good thing is that, being a left handed is not the only way we are special. There are thing that we are better at than others.

– We make a good company: left handers have better imagination, they are good when it comes to arts, music and emotional expressions. But, we lack logic and math skills. Shame…

– We don’t have problems writing Hebrew (they write from right to left, contrary to right hand).

– Left handed people don’t think linear. They often see bigger picture. Also, they are better at multitasking. Like women. And now imagine how I, a left handed woman, do multitasking. Yup, I am good at that.

– If you are left handed, there are better chances that you’ll write a book. It has to do with that “imagination” thing.

– August 13th. The International Left=Hander’s Day.

A brain… What? You knew I had to place this picture!

And now it’s time for a list of  left handers. I will name only some, but, if you want to know more about it, go here.

Napoléon Bonaparte

Fidel Castro

Lewis Caroll

Kurt Cobain

Jimy Handrix

And my favorites: Sergei Rachmaninoff and Maurice Ravel.

It’s funny that I started writing this post because I couldn’t open a bottle of water. Due to dehydration, I remembered one conversation with my boyfriend about being left handed. He’s ambidextrous.

If you want to know more amazing facts about left handed people, go here, and of course, fell free to tell me your view of left handed difficulties and advantages.

I’m with a famous

Today i got a call from my boyfriend telling me to check one magazine because a picture of him appeared in it. That is a success, right? It is a known computer magazine in our country (yeah, he’s kind of nerd) that goes public once a month.

It’s funny, actually. He appeared by accident there. He was on some seminar about computer animation or something (didn’t really pay attention) and they took a picture of him and published it (without his permission, but, what the hell, he got in the newspaper).

And after he sees it, and, believe me, someone told him about it, he calls me and tells that I am now dating a celebrity and I can wear that T-shirt whit word “I am with the famous” written on it.

Does the red carpet go with celebrity status?

Well, I just had to say something about that, and I thought of only one thing that would kill this joke: “Honey, you are already famous. Hell, you’ve been dating with celebrity for 3 years now, how doesn’t that make you famous?”

Oh, that was not the end. I wanted to stomp on his ego and crush it now, before it’s too late. So, I continued talking.

“And not to mention that you were famous in your school, because everyone knows that guy who helps other people understand the material for exam. Of course, everyone in our town knows you (we have about 15 000 citizen) and my friends know about you too. I also showed them pictures of you, so they can recognize you in the streets when you go for a walk.”

Now back to his “dating with a celebrity”

You see, I’m writing a blog. That is something very public and most people I don’t even know are reading it. most of them I don’t think I’ll ever meet in my life, so, doesn’t that make me famous? I mean, every blogger is famous, sort of. To be clear, I am not talking about celebrities that are f-ing famous all over the world – I’m talking about a group of people that spend time reading my blog and thinking about what I said. For me, that’s being celebrity.

Okay, joke is on me.  We are not celebrities. We don’t want to be famous. There is nothing really special in that. We are just an ordinary couple in which the girl writes a blog that other people read, and a guy sometimes appears in the newspaper. There is nothing special in that. My blog doesn’t hit much of the traffic, but it does make me happy. If only one person reads something you’ve written, that is a sign that someone in this world cares about what I’m saying.

Isn’t that enough?

How lazy are we?

Couple of days ago I was at my friend’s house. I haven’t seen her for a while so I payed her a visit. At the end it proved to be a good idea because she made think of something.

You see, she has a TV in her living room and dinning room. Why? I mean, is it so difficult sometimes to walk from living room to dinning room so people have TV in both places so they can move as little as possible? Look, I’m not thinking only of TV, it’s about everything. How many times I saw crowd fighting for place on escalators. Some people use elevators just to the first floor and I know they are healthy.

Do you know what was the last drop? When I realized we have a button for 2x click on computer mouse. What, we’re now too lazy to even push one button two times once in a while?

We became a lazy civilization. We rely too much on couple of working people. And by working, I mean people who have very little technology. Why are people going to gyms so they can run? Why can’t they run outside?  Technology is doing our work instead of helping us.

Do you want some other example? Let’s see… Oh yes, there is the big question of vehicles. When I was in visit to my boyfriend, we often went to the store using city transport. Only for one bus stop, so we can pass the bridge across the river. Yes, we were lazy. It was only couple of minutes walking. The point is that we are not the only ones. People often do that even when there is no need to.

Why are we so lazy? Is that the real nature of people, or did we become like this when the age of technology came? Can we blame someone else or not?

Would I want to live forever?

This is funny. I was thinking about it these days. It has something to do with the conversation I had with my friend.

We had a deal years ago. The thing is, we always admired vampires. They are noble, fearsome, smart, intelligent, beautiful, and most important, they live forever. So here is the deal: If one of us becomes a vampire, he has the obligation to make another one a vampire. He MUST! That is imperative.

We have it all planned. We would have leave our parents and people that love us in exchange for knowledge and eternal life. We would find some castle that is abandoned and live there. Not to mention that I would spend early years learning arts, languages, and making money.

That is what eternal life is, right? It’s all about ever learning and never be satisfied until you reach perfection (which yo can’t because, let’s face it, no one has). No one loves you, because, everyone you know, will grow old and die eventually. Is that right?

But, since that book, “Twilight” everything changed. I think that, if I were a vampire and read that book, I would seek Stephanie Meyer and kill her in the most gruesome death. She deserves it! For, God’s sake, vampires don’t sparkle! And they drink human’s blood and animal blood isn’t compensation for human!

Vampire is actually a Serbian word. We know the best how it looks like. I read the description at the library and it doesn’t look anything like the one you know.

Let’s get back to our question. Would I live forever? Probably not. Why? Because, no one else I love or respect doesn’t. The most powerful men and women in our history didn’t live forever and they left a mark.

To be remembered…

In my country there is a saying – You can only talk good things about a dead man. And that is something that is appropriate. We always remember all the good things and forget the bad ones.

So many times I asked myself how do I want to be remembered and I realized – I want that people remember me while I’m still alive.  Like Johan Sebastian Bach.

He was a genius when it comes to composing music. We often say that his music is perfect – there are no mistakes. Anyway, he wasn’t so much famous while he was alive, but people respected and admired him. That is something I want to have.

I think that you don’t have to be a genius, or wealthy for people to remember you. You need only to have a kind heart and help people. That is enough. That is what Bach was famous for when he was alive.

Anyway, I’ll try and do my best that people remember me for my kindness and forgiveness. It is up to people if they will acknowledge that or I will be just another insignificant person in their life.

I cant change the future nor minds of other people.

I hate…

I hate when I have to get up early.

I hate when I have cold.

I hate when my neighbors are to loud so I can’t watch a movie.

I hate when someone smiles at me but talks bad thing behind my back.

I hate when there is no sugar in my house.

I hate when I’m broke.

I hate rain,and clouds.

I hate when it’s cold.

I hate when miss my family.

I hate when someone messes up my plans.

I hate when I have to lie.

I hate when others lie to me.

I hate when people tell me everything is okay so that I can’t feel bad.

I hate when someone breaks a promise.

But, most of all, I hate when I’m broke, and my parents call and ask me if I have money and I tell them: “Oh, I have for another week, it’s fine”, because I know they don’t have money too.