my dear white, curly-haired sheep

Europe » Romania
June 30th 2006

Published: June 30th 2006

that is...my 84 yo aunt. sweet. i came back from florence a few days ago, and rested accordingly in bucharest. translation: accordingly = 5 mini-pitchers of sangria, one beer, one glass of white wine. next day, migraine, as usual, but it was well worth it. so i departed bucharest to arrive, once again in constanza. dad picks me up, noticing a bruise on my neck. well, the bruise wasn't a bruise, it was more of a suction-bruise, that i couldn't explain, simply couldn't. not that i was embarassed to do so, after all, me and dad are like sisters 😊, but i could not remember what had happened the previous night. it couldn't have been the dancers i was mesmerized by at one local pub, because i never got close enough to them (damn it! 😊, and it couldn't have been the guys i was dancing against (apparently, at one point during the night, two guys started a dance contest with me and alexandra) -- i don't swing the straight way, but who could have given me a nicely-purpled spot on my neck?! eh -- maybe it was meant to be just a sign that....??????????? (fill in the blank.)
oh, oh -- not to forget. man, whoever visits romania and happens to land at 2am, make sure a guy with super-short hair, blue eyes, kinda fat , tall, and sleazy-lookin' doesn't pick you up, aiiight?! if somehow he presents himself as your last alternative to make it to the city, then make sure you're not female!!! (that's a tough one!), make sure you're accompanied, make sure you do not speak in a foreign language, and make sure you look like schwarzie! (for those not familiar with schwarzie, he is arnold, the beloved california governor, schwarzenegger). okay. now. why am i saying all of this? because i almost got kidnapped, ripped off, and well, you know, harrased in a very uncool way (just to avoid the obvious term.) yeah, at 2 am this guy offers me a sweet deal on a cab ride. i, an avid believer in human kindness, i said sure. he starts walkling, my bag in his hand, me behind him, almost limping from my old knee having been bent for three hours straight on the flight back form florence. we pass myriad taxis, which sorta kinda made me start a childish game of guessing which is his. could it be the dacia (a very romanian brand of car)? or perhaps the opel (a very european brand of car)? or the old-ish mercedes? perhaps that nice looking tico (a very small car, box-like)? oh no. none of those. we reah for the car parked furthest in the parking lot. i, with acute confidence in this guy, i ask how come we're not boarding a cab? huh? why not a FRIGGIN' YELLOW cab? he answers, quite politely, that blah, blah blah...i don't even want to remember his answer. i accept the blah, blah, just because i was delirious; i get in the car, and start looking THE OTHER WAY.
normally i would even pretend i'm asleep, to avoid unnecessary conversations, but thsi time, somehow, i started answering, involuntarily, this guy's questions. how come i don't have a boyfriend (well, cuz i have a girlfriend!!!, but I COULDN'T SAY THAT TO A SLEAZY ROMANIAN GUY IN A CAR THAT'S NOT A TAXI, AT 2 AM, ON MY WAY TO -- HOPEFULLY -- BUCHAREST), how come i'm not finding myself a guy with money so i can stop working (sure, lemme turn straight and a housewife!! sure, sure!), and how come my lips are so luscious and plump, ready to be KISSED!!!!!!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!! WHAT DID HE JUST SAY? wait, lemme calm down. what did he just say? no he didn't! first of all, i was tired and looked a mess (just to get that part out of the way), second of all, i thought the tone in my voice was enough to say i'm as manly as a woman (with no desire to look like a man) can get, and i was talking about philosophies and sh*t (i knew it would turn off anyone, ANYONE!!! oh no, not him though.) so, what to do? of course i was sweating fear and regrets out of every possible pore, but to show him, to make him smeel my fear, that i couldn't do. and you know what i say? "yeah, i have lips like my dad." very placidly, very nicely put. then, right after, i mention nietzsche.
and it shut him up. it did. for a good 20 minutes i make him listen to my latest adventure into the world of philosohpy, making him have remorse for every single ugly thought he had about and with me. and i talk, and talk, and ASSHOLE drops me off in front of a hotel, 20 minutes away from where i was supposed to get.
now, now, could i have been upset? not at all. i was safe and sound. i was alive. i was still untouched by men (at that point, it sounded just right -- no offense guys reading this blog, i don't hate you, i love y'all, i just don't go the penis way, and it ain't my choice, it's god's! 😊. i had to arms and two legs, ready to walk off the distance. and i did. and i crashed. and i woke up in the morning wanting to get drunk. which i did. and this is where the sangria comes in, and the mark on my neck (bear, honey, babe, really, i do not know where that came from, still love you), dad and the car ride back to my flat in constantza.

here's where the sheep comes in.
today was a nice day. today was a sunny day, as crisp and bright as an orbit smile. today was a good day to visit my aunt. the white sheep, the owner of the apple of her eye, meaning myself. she owns my every thought, and not because she is 84, or that she's got the rad-est (wd?) hunchback in the history of hunchbacks, but because she helped raise me like her own daughter. and i cannot forget that. so i took them for a walk, her and her cane, and we all walked for what could have been miles, but were only 100s of feet, until we reached this nice yellow bench in the neighborhood i grew up in. kids galore, dust galore, grandmas fussing along galore. and i and auntie sitting on a bench, i munching on plump cherries, her sucking on them satiously (she's got two teeth left). so i pop the question: "dear little sheep (i actually call her sheep in romanian: "oitza"), what do you think about me marrying a woman?" well, a romanian her age would die, just die, simply die rather than answer such a shameful question. or, better, they would have just killed me. not her. she smiled, and said how interesting that people can do that nowadays. then she asks how come i know i like only women. ah, so many answers, of course. i don't know either. i just love women, i am attracted to them and only them, and that's that. what more could i have said?!
sheep decides to ask me when this whole "thing" started, or how. i said it started when i was at the ripe age of 7, and continued, more like an admiration towards girls, then, when i reached puberty and the desire to be intimate with someone, admiration grew into a little more than that. blah, blah. how do we call them? crushes, that's right.
to my HUGE suprise, she, the sheep, the 84 yo still-funtioning hunchbacked body in front of me, says that she recalls having an "admiration crush" on a girl in 8th grade, when she was in 4th grade. IMAGINE THAT!!!

i am astonished. i am in awe. i am so lucky to have this crazy insane family that loves me and drives me nuts sometimes, but loves me nontheless.

romania is good. sometimes, but it is good. without the open minds i happened to be born from, they must have been pivotal to where i am now, where i have gone and where i am heading. i mean, new york?!!!! i would have never thought...

my dear white, curly-haired sheep

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