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Who Am I and Other Basics

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Phew, I set up the domain, chose the blog template that will change every few weeks due to my indecisiveness and almost had a nervous breakdown. I turned off the computer, put on some music, took a few deep breaths and did it anyway. The thing about me is that I give up too easily. But another thing, the thing that keeps me going, is that I hate spending money, and when I do spend it, I make the most of it. And since I paid seventeen full Euros for my domain, there is no turning back, is there? So I guess this is it. My first post, how exciting is that? Let's dive right in.   WHO AM I? A million dollar question and my second obstacle. Who. Am. I? On the blog, I suppose I am Lost Supposedly - it took me a few Google searches to make sure I spelt that word right - Funny Dragoness. Supposedly, because I think I am hilarious and my greatest source of entertainment, but not everyone agrees. Dragoness because I just love dragons. My favourite book is The Heritage by Paolini and I al...
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Spring

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It's taken me over twenty-one years, but I've finally realised what my favourite season is: it's spring! Summer is certainly carefree, but it can become either boring or overwhelming due to the high expectations (summer jobs, the urge to have as much fun as possible, travelling). In autumn, it's time to say goodbye to carelessness and welcome another academic year into our lives. I soon start to miss being bored and overwhelmed with fun. The wind gets too strong, it's uncomfortably cold, but I refuse to start wearing winter sweaters. A moment later, the cold wind gets colder, the air in my hometown is polluted and the fog is everywhere. When I go to class (always in trousers, and I hate wearing trousers), I miss the only three rays of sunshine that come once a week, if we're lucky. Christmas is nice and my favourite holiday, I love snow and skiing and everything that goes with it, but at the end of the day (which is at three in the afternoon, according to the su...
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The Easiest Thing to Do Is to Die

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This is not another *whine, whine, whine* suicidal post. Au contraire: it is supposed to challenge me to reframe my way of thinking.  Recently, I made a rather extreme side-quest plan with my friend. The plan is to go on an 8-day hike around Mont Blanc: up to 27 km and 2000 m of evelvation gain in a day. Two Czechs died there last year. Most people lose about 8 kg of body weight during their "holiday". It's a mental torture. We'll be sleeping in some illegal places, risking a hefty fine, and there's a chance it could rain for a couple of days. To make sure we're serious, mentally and physically prepared, the organiser asked us a few questions about our physical activity, hiking history, etc. While he was reading our answers - mine were short and to the point, the friend's longer and full of descriptions of her previous hikes in Georgia and scouting - I was talking to the friend about the plan. We realised that the easiest scenario was for the Czech to deci...
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I Hate Hugging

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I hate hugging. Everyone knows that, so they usually leave me alone respectfully and just smile. I flinch when people touch me. Everyone knows that, so I'm the only one in a group of classmates who doesn't get a quick hug from a girl who's just arrived. I roll my eyes when my sister shows me affection. Everyone knows this, which is why they awkwardly shake my hand on my birthday at family gatherings. I hug loosely and awkwardly. Everyone knows that, so my dad gives me a loving, but superficial side hug. I don't hug many people. Everyone knows that, but that's why my mum appreciates my hugs all the more, hugging me tightly and telling me that my hugs have always felt the most natural to her. I rarely hug. Everyone knows that, but sometimes I crave physical touch more than anything.
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"It's A FlixBus Experience!" Or How FlixBussing Makes Me Insufferable

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This post is not only about my experiences with the transport company mentioned in the title, but also some other bus lines, trains and even planes. Gotta love travelling! SLEEPING BEAUTIES Yesterday, as I was returning from Munich to Ljubljana (it's a five-hour drive) on FlixBus. I was exhausted from an exciting concert (yes, I got a photo with the band!!!), walking around for hours and not sleeping, taking the bus from our capital to the capital of Bavaria and actually relying on myself (I'm not used to travelling completely alone) and waiting for the bus for three hours in the cold with a dead phone battery all in one day, so falling asleep on the bus wasn't a challenge. I got on at three in the morning and got a solid two hours sleep when a man's alarm clock woke me up. I'd probably have no trouble getting back to sleep if the sleeping beauty of a man (head tilted back, saliva dripping from his mouth) woke up and turned the volume down. But given that I wrote th...
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Lavender Tea With Fir Honey

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It was raining outside, I was home alone, and I'd spent most of the evening dancing around the kitchen, listening to one of my favourite melancholic songs, while I made oatmeal for the next day's breakfast, and baked a single-serving date fudge cake, to be iced with more sweet and sticky date caramel. I hadn't been sleeping very well the last few nights, so I made myself a cup of lavender tea with fir honey to calm down. I read a few poems aloud and watched an episode of a reality show with the cat purring in my lap. In short, what I'd call a perfect evening. The lavender tea - or its placebo effect - seemed to be working: I could feel myself getting calmer and sleepier. Then, out of the blue, I started to feel a little sad and couldn't get the lyrics: "and this is just a tune for when you feeling shite, your world's upside down and you don't know why," out of my mind. That there is no happiness without sadness, no love without hate and no war with...
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"I Must Be Fine 'Cause My Heart's Still Beating"

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 Last October, I'd just missed a bus, so I was waiting patiently at the bus stop with my headphones on, trying to read a book, when two women with children stopped right next to me. I'm not sure what book I wanted to read, but it certainly wasn't an interesting one, as I managed to overhear their entire conversation: they were talking in childish voices and simplified language about little bees on socks and teddy bears and the best organic spoons for babies. What I heard made me want to bang my head against the metal structure of the bus station's porch. I'm not even being dramatic: just the thought of my life being yellow-ducks-on-blue-hats centered made me anxious. It became a good motivation to start the new academic year strong. I swore I'd never let myself drift through life like that. But the weeks and then months went by and the overwhelming thought that I might end up like those mothers wore off and, to be honest, I even forgot about the incident until a...
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What Stays With Them, Stays With Us

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It stays with them. It stays with us. What you say not only directly to children, but also around them, and about yourself and others, stays with the little ones. And then they grow. And when they do, it doesn't magically go away. It stays in the back of their little and then bigger minds, and it can be a perfect breeding ground for mental health problems. So be kind: not only to children, but to yourself and to other beings. I've been deeming whether or not to write this post, as it's been chewed and spat out by so many people so many times, but here comes another sleepless night (the fourth in a row if I'm counting correctly) and I've been feeling - as visual learners like to describe it - a little blue. So I guess it's better to write a text that's an absolute piss than to roll around on my bed, rethink all my life choices, mindlessly scroll through my phone or read a book about a guy whose life is all about money, sex workers and hard drugs. When I was i...
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