Ita est!

Ten years ago my parents bought me and my brother a clock, representing a just-married couple in front of a church. I’ve completely got used to living with it. It controls me daily and determines my life in a fascinating way.

When I got up for school on Friday, at dawn, I noticed it told me it was ten past twelve. It got me ruined. I couldn’t get ready to leave at the time I had to. I was in a hurry, but I didn’t know how much how much exactly do I need to speed up. I was going to miss the first lesson for the second time this month, and this time my class teacher wouldn’t delete it as the first time when she told the class “It’s the first one for these 3 years…”.

In the evening, when I came back, after school, a competition in informatics and a hot chocolate in Titanic cafe, I didn’t feel comfortable, because I didn’t see the time right there in front of me. I didn’t feel the lack of it… so… I downloaded a movie and watched it after dinner, and also made an arrangement for the Student’s Night on Saturday.

I went to bed late. I don’t know at what time exactly… but I intentionally put my mobile phone away - the last bridge between me and real time. In the morning my father woke me up uttering “Hey, Ite, I made you lunch, get up, it’s 12″. What a surprise, my clock was precise! No… it’s just 12:10 again, as if the time had stopped for me. Then I had endless time to read!!! However, the missing deadline for me to stop enjoying the book, left the door of my daydreams wide open, and I sneaked through it every time I could, until I realised it was time for me to leave for the party… But I didn’t hurry anyway. I even took a call from a friend, and he told me that what I’d been dreaming of all afternoon, could happen - he told me I could go and be with him in Sofia at New Year’s Eve together with a couple a friends I really miss. When my parents came back, I came back to reality and decided I should go, but i promised him that we could talk at 2 am.

I went to the party, and for the first time in a few months I had a great time. (Since I’ve stopped drinking alcohol, I’ve started to see the uselessness of all kind of parties, but this one, made me believe that I just need to be with people who like having fun in a way more similar to a witty conversation, than to drunken chalga bacchanalia. ). When I came back at 2 am, I didn’t mind the time. I spoke to my friend, and then I played “Traveller IQ Challenge” till later. As a result in the morning I didn’t wake up with my grandma’s occasional loud speaking and again I was awaken by an invitation for lunch, which was followed by a great waste of time, accompanied by a little physics.

On Monday morning, thanks goodness, I woke up earlier than noon, at 6:30, but as I didn’t see I’ve got a little left to an absence at school, I got up at 7:10. I was in an unstated hurry again, but this time I went to school 10 minutes earlier with a decent look, too.

I’ve always been astonished by the way my uncle lives without any clocks around - he says he just can’t have a rest while something is ticking next to him. In contradiction to this, now I see, I can’t live properly without it.

I’ve always felt that as an astronomer’s child I don’t have access to my biological clock. I don’t make any difference between day and night or breakfast and lunch. Naturally, it help me adapt to weird schedules easily, I never get used to routine and thus not only spend a lot of time improperly, but also tenaciously help my body’s disadvantages develop.

I need the clock to be uttering minutes and hours and put some limits to my chaotic world, as time actually does with the whole Universe. Without it, I’m condemned to float into the mix of many unfulfilled wishes to read this and do that, and I will always do less than what I do, because a material point that does not speed up, slows down with the resistance.

It has been a long day. I woke up at 4 am to study for Literature and History tests - the right way to… to realize how essential mnemonic rules and sleep help in those cases when useless and absurd data has to be memorized.

In the afternoon, after I went to the shop to take the large amount of weird lamp meat, which grandma couldn’t bring home, I was ready to plunge into sleep at 6, but again that experience wasn’t apt for my world. The telephone rang a few times and my cousin happened to have a question for me too.

Freezing and wistful I got up and ate with my father. I had to do some SAT reading for the exams for the course tomorrow. It was all I planned to do before going to bed, but as it always happens when I’m determined to be concentrated, I was analyzing the past week. I couldn’t answer a single question without vacillating. I felt confused and disappointed and I postponed the last reading section for later. I wanted to find something interesting and short to read to set me free from the negative attitude to life before I call it a day. Then I stumbled on a blog titled “disarm you with a smile”. It was fascinating. It brought almost at first glance sunny and warm associations in my overloaded mind.

How could people delineate so positive pictures?!

I don’t think I do not see beautiful things around me, it’s just that I am greedy to absorb everything precious and keep it within myself for as longer as… forever This must be what causes my distractions all the time – during studying, or solving problems and doing tests. From now on, I am going to try to put a part of my positive emotions in a peripheral memory stick device and try to both lighten and enlighten my mind. The necessity to express those colours of my personage is maybe what had unconsciously made me choose my avatar and my favourite colour- the one of the skin that right now is tenaciously trying to attract your attention to the background and slay neurons.

Now it’s already time to sleep, I have successfully stuffed my head with incomplete notions and I seem to be as follows ready for the scheduled portion of unpleasing reading test. Tomorrow we’re going to see if what I am is really similar to an unripe citrus –soft, however sometimes difficult to intrude; sour and sappy, sweet and bright .

Last night she was given an advertising balloon. She didn’t let it go. She took it at home, instead. It stood right there, high above her, at the ceiling.

A few days ago a friend of hers had called her a few times on Skype without an obvious reason, just “to say hello”. She had felt she must have missed him quite a lot the days before. It had made her feel so happy that her feet were not actually stepping on the ground anymore. She felt she was flying raised by his unprecedented necessity for a chat exactly with her. For all those years she knew him, he had hardly ever spoken to her for no reason, if he didn’t want to know something specific or ask her for some information. She liked him so much, but she couldn’t speak to him relaxed  and without pressure - he was always in a hurry, without any time left to waste.

On the next day she came back and opened her Skype. He was on-line. She also changed her status to on-line. So unusual of her. Staying “Not Available” reduced the number of people she had to “forget” or “couldn’t” answer to. She waited for many seconds, and minutes, and hours. Still nothing. She couldn’t do her regular stuff properly. She was obsessed with the idea of his call, of his attention, but it was happening like the number of the same situations she had intentionally tried not to ever recall. He surprised her, made her feel happy and be hopeful that she will get closer to him someday, and could have him to brighten her lows. And then followed the void  - nothing of him till the next similar session…

Clung in her thoughts, accidentally she noticed the strange motion of the helium balloon. It seemed exhausted now. It had lost the better part of its helium and wasn’t lighter than the rest of the air in the room anymore. While it was on top of the room, it started going downwards to the middle of the room, and then back to the ceiling. It was shifted towards the heater with every upwards motion. In a few minutes the balloon was already moving above it, every time closer and closer to the heater. It was trying to reach it, but the hot surface was gently pushing it away from itself, warming it, expanding it and granting it the privilege to fly higher above everything else. Still, the balloon was tenaciously determined to get closer.
Eventually, it reached its master. The last vestiges of helium flew off. Its essence was gone…

“Ita est” is a latin phrase and it means “it is so”. It was used as “True with the original”, which we put on the documents nowadays, but… it also means “It is Ita”. I am Ita.

When I first asked them, my parents told me they call me like this because when I had been still learning how to speak I hadn’t been able to pronounce the whole “Rosita” and I used to say my name like this. Now this is the way people usually call me, because… I don’t like “Rossi”, especially if boys say it. It sounds… worse, but I’ve stopped making everyone use “Ita”(or “it”(translated from Latin) ) a long time ago, since I started to meet new people pretty often.

Ita est!