Pollyanna Rules

Silver line in the cloud, there surely is no hurry, but would you mind showing up?!


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things to be grateful for – night shift

No, I’m not grateful for night shifts, even though I must admit they did pay pretty well, at the call centre I worked in back in the days.

I lost count of the “things to be grateful for” drafts so far, but tonight I will just publish, whatever road this post decides to take me.

It was an amazing night. With amazing people.

I have been reading and studying and analysing people’s reactions to war and violence for years now, and I never cease to be in awe at the strength and resilience they show.
The humanity that never dies.
The life that screams through them.
The hope that refuses to fade.

And still, when I meet people who have been through all the violence and danger and war and risks, when I hear their stories, their will to go on despite all the evil they faced, despite the pain, the fear, the death around them, I am amazed.

A night out with my young brave Kurdish friend is an experience that left me lost for words.
The struggles she went through, as a Kurd in Syria, as a woman in a war torn Country, as someone living in a besieged city, as a stranger in a Country that is not hers, where she had to face hardship and sneering, and yet she never gave up.

Listening to her story, how she made her escape, the times she feared for her – and her loved ones’ – life, the new version of her she built here, I could not help feeling small, and humbled. Wishing to be more like her, and knowing I will never be.
And grateful for this friendship, that came unexpected, and is one of the greatest gifts this year had in store for me.


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A patient family

Clearly tired of sitting all day in an office, writing papers no one will ever read – except demigod and the centre of the Universe – I decided I have to go back to the field.
See people’s face, understand what’s needed and what we only suppose is, see the change, hopefully for the good.

So I started – more seriously – browsing through open positions, and found many interesting ones. It’s a wonderful area of work, difficult to find dull jobs. How did I manage to get my current one, is still a mystery.

When I was in Africa my family was worried all the time – same happened to me last month, with my loved one being “unaccounted for” in Damascus for three weeks, guess I had more reasons to be worried, honestly, but anyway  – so I browsed this list and decided to skip the top Countries, so they don’t need to worry too much.

But I have good chances to go to one in seventh position.

My mum will be so proud! Continue reading


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Demigod and the Centre of the Universe

As I said, I have a plethora of bosses.

Let’s focus on the two we’ll probably talk about again. And again:

Demigod: high level officer who sometimes behaves as if he were a demigod. Which is apparently the rule among his peers. We work in the same building. Me confined to the attic, which is not as cool as it sounds. Except during the winter, when it’s really cool. 

Centre of the Universe: in charge of the project I currently work on. An extremely indecisive person, he recently resolved to rule the World. He works far away, which is the perfect distance.
I am not sure what he does, to be honest. He probably is the one I should refer to as “supervisor” when applying for other jobs. Which of course I don’t. The supervisor thing.

Monday last week I receive an a-mail from CoU asking to pick up his passport and send it to his office. Half an hour later another e-mail says no, don’t send anything, I am coming to see Demigod next week.

Now, running around to pick up stuff is not exactly what I am paid (???) for,  but given the rough spot we’ve been through lately, I try to be nice. And win a morning off ;).
Passport at my place, I wait for more instructions. Nothing. For two weeks.

Yesterday, around five, I get a message for CoU “Demigod was supposed to arrange next week’s meeting but I haven’t heard from him, send the passport now”.
Next week? I thought it was this one.
Demigod arrange a meeting?! Like, the Queen cooking dinner. I was impressed. Well, I would have been, had this meeting actually taken place.

Am I supposed to go around with his passport with me all the time,  just in case he wants me to send it immediately?
Shame on me, I had no idea.
We had a weird exchange

 ” I’ll try to do it in the afternoon (it was something past five by then, no way to get it done), otherwise on Tuesday. I told you I would be leaving tomorrow”

“No, send it now, I need it. Oh, and I won’t be coming to work until Tuesday too”

I was puzzled.

“So there’s no need to rush through the city with this storm? I don’t think it’s sensible to risk my health for a passport you wouldn’t be able to have in your hands before Tuesday anyway”

“Tuesday is perfect”

The subtle art of pointing out the obvious.

Needless to say, quarter to midnight he decided I need not send the passport after all.

How many more will I get before Tuesday comes?


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of swallows and crows

I moved into this house a few months ago.
Winter, snow, cold. And Silence.

Then the spring came, and so did the crazy swallows.
Now, I do not usually judge birds, or dogs, or animals in general; except moths, to be honest, but that’s another story.
But those swallows – oh dear – they were absolutely mad.
They started flying at breakneck speed, and singing as if they wanted to be heard on the other side of the world, at five in the morning, and would go on for hours.
The joys of living in a park.

Then, one Sunday morning, I woke up at some very strange sound. Not the kids upstairs. Not the alarm clock. Not the swallows.

Wait! Not the swallows?!

It was so scary I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I went for a walk as soon as the sun came out.
And there was no one around. Not a soul.
Just crows.
Not a dog, not a cat, not a cockroach.
Only crows.

Sad, worried, and by then convinced that the world had come to an end while I was sleeping, I hid in the house. Surrounded by crows.

And then they struck back.
Four in the afternoon, the swallows arrived. Crazier than usual.
I wish I could say it was an epic battle but it wasn’t. They just flew around the park and sang, and the crows left.

The order was re-established.

Now they’re all here, crows – not as many as on the freaky Sunday – and swallows. And blackbirds.

I wish it might be this simple for humans.

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