T - minus half a day

38 days BE (before embarking). Like that word. Am deputizing it. 

Anyway.

Going slightly incoherent from hating job interviews (though the 8-hour pastry chef audition was delicious!), I jokingly snarled: I will only send out thirty more of these (application, scattered randomly into the winds, for any number of jobs imaginable, because I really aren't picky about menial labor and need a change) and the last one will be for a photographer aboard an ocean liner.

The General asked: and you would do that? Board a ship and stay there for a long time and - you know those things sail on water, right?

I replied: I was planning on doing that since before I met you. 

G: Then don't send any. Send just this one.

37 days BE

I carefully asked G if he was being serious about letting me on a boat. We've been together for nine years, with maximum of five days apart and never more than three hours out of text message distance.

We had The Talk. If he promises not to miss me too much, at least not in a bad way, and if he promises to be here when I come back, I promise to see the world, make some money, spend some time slaving away at a galley and getting new stories.

36 days BE

I mentioned my idea to Drej, one of my besties, and she told me of a girl she knew who did that exactly - took off to photograph on a boat. So, I began making contact with people who tried this out for size before me.

35 days BE

Applied randomly to anything having remotely to do with being a photie on a ship. I talked to the professor who made me an astrological card and she said that ye, in mid-April I will have a big shift in life. And that it’s about time, too.

33 days BE

Read a very instructive blog by a girl who worked aboard in a souvenir shop. Not too instructive about what to expect as a photie, but super instructive about how to avoid being robbed by fake agencies.

32 days BE

The first to answer my application was Ocean Images - they scheduled a Skype interview. Didn't have a Webcam or any means of getting it, so General bought me one. Our first expense. Since we had absolutely no money and even less to spare, every expense of the doe we borrowed was making things more serious.

30 days BE

Got two more replies from two more shipping companies, but the Ocean Images interview with a very nice woman sold it for me. They want someone to actually take pictures, not just push the big button. I began to question my age and abilities, because she was either genuinely impressed or just incredibly polite. She asked what does my husband say about this - I said if I didn't have his blessing, we wouldn't be having this conversation. She asked how I will function under superiors half my age. I replied a brief is a brief, doesn't matter if the client is 12 or a 100. She asked how I feel about the tiny bunk and crowded, functional hierarchy. I said: Lady, it'll feel like coming home. 

29 days BE

Got a call from a fella from Ocean Images, saying he doesn't have an ocean liner for me, but there is a small coastal cruiser sailing in a month, if I'm interested. It's so small I would be the only photographer. The only money would be what I managed to sell. 

Exactly the opposite of what I was expecting or was getting prepared for, but, somehow, that sounded made for me. Either they were unable to find a sucker for the worst job available or I impressed them so much they threw me right onto the dance floor. There goes that questioning myself again. I'll add in retrospect which one was it :D

It's March the 11th. Everything major that's ever happened to me, happened on March the 11th. I got into the army on that date. I got into the postal service and met The General on that date. Dad survived a heart attack. I opened my own publications agency on that date. Lots of stuff like that. And now Braemar, which will bring whatever it decides to bring. 

28 days BE

Am calling the road to Braemar - my ship - a Five Bumps Road. 

Bump one: I need to get the medical exam

Bump two: Need to get an English non-criminal-history certificate

Bump three: Got to get Yellow Fever vaccination

Bump four: got to get the Seaman's book

Bump five: need shoes and clothes.

27 days BE

Bumps one and four bumped into each other and I was starting to freak out. The medic agreed with the agency in Zagreb, Croatia, costs half as much as the one in Slovenia, but cannot provide me with results fit for Seaman's book application - even though it is the exact same exam. And the one in Slovenia aren't approved for by the agency. No way I can do both, they are too freaking costly. They are called bumps for a reason - I need to learn not to psych myself into hysteria every time I run into one.

As a result of my hysterics, four of my teeth - two adjacent pairs, began to ache like little bitches that they are. We tried finding a dentist, but none would take us. They all want money to see me on such a short notice. The General said to stop talking about it and let him deal with it. Fortunately that meant he'll find a dentist, not that he will PLAY the dentist for the occasion. I have fucking psychosomatic teeth, man. 

26 days BE

The agency agreed to postpone the Seaman's book requirement, costing me a visit to St. Petersburg, until I have more money. They also agreed to postpone the required safety training - either because they don't think it's that important or they expect me to photograph stuff when the ship sinks. 

25 days BE

Falling in love with Braemar's itinerary. I take it back when I said I want to sail the world. No, I want to get my sea legs close to the General and going to Scotland, UNESCO heritage sites and the freaking fjords! My route would be from April to December, 8 months. We will have to lie to grandma. At least a little. The agency said that if I prove myself, they'll send me to a pro portrait training in the US. 

    Do you realize I've never been to US and for a little while the world seemed too big for me to ever actually get there? Suddenly the world seems the size of a blue volleyball. 

24 days BE

Offed to get a Yellow fever vac. It would cost 40€, but when I got there, the really nice lady explained not only is my previous vaccination still legit, but also WHO is planning on announcing the one intake is viable for the entirety of one's life. So, that was an oddly pleasant surprise. 

23 days BE

Off to Zagreb, to get the medical exam. Felt really weird to have other people touch me, touch my boobs. Had to give blood, X ray my chest, check my blood pressure, sight, stuff like that. The end result was flawless health and total lack of drugs, booze, STDs, pregnancy or anomalies in my system. I half expected the doctor to tell me to live a little :D

Treated myself to a city archeology museum. Zagreb also has trams. Trams are cool.

22 days BE

Gran warned me I will have to clean rooms and make beds and wash dishes, because that's what work on a boat is like. And I should eat a lot of onions, so as to not get scurvy. And a war may start. And our government is corrupt. And the General will probably find a younger woman. And also there is water and I hate water.

21 days BE

When grief and homesickness kick in in advance, I make small, secret cards for G to open on various, specific dates, like end of May or on his birthday or on my birthday or when it's time to feed the dog... 

19 days BE

The admin over in the UK confirmed all my paperwork is now in order and my gear is splendid (yes, thank you, I love my gear, too, it makes me feel almost invincible), so I’ll be getting travel details in a few days – he said.

17 days BE

Some assholes blew up Brussels airport, killing over 30. My grandma isn’t talking to me anymore, upset with me. She was upset before, threatening me with describing all the duties of a house keeper’s position. I tried to explain that the photographer doesn’t do housekeeping, but she said – just you want and see! Everyone has to do everything on a boat!... I did not have the heart to tell her I don’t mind housekeeping. If the pay wasn’t so ghastly, I’d sign up for that if photies weren’t being sought after. Though my second dream job would probably be - an auctioneer.

10 days BE

Haven’t received travel plans yet, but I did receive the contract. Also went to the dentist and spent most of the time hiding under a chair weeping while he talked to me like I was a small child. He may have over-done the pain-blocking injection – five hours later I still can’t feel my face and he only used it so that he could examine me. I thought my teeth were in a much worse condition. They’re not. I’m starting to suspect they all ache because they’re crammed into such a small mouth. Once we decided it would be possible to come back after my tour, I fled.

 9 days BE

Travel details in. They asked to fly me in a day early and they pretty much had me at ‘may we fly you in?’… Made me feel like Cristina Ricci’s character at the beginning of Pan Am, when they fly her in via helicopter so as not to lack a purser on an important flight.

4 days BE

Packed almost entirely. Only missing some food and bandages for blisters… And which friggin’ paper book to take :/ Impossible decision L Kraut and Tea has 2700 subscribers. Also listening to Sargon of Akkad, The Amazing Atheist, Impression Blend, Jeremy Jahns and Bearing.

3 days BE

They called me from a Croatian shipping agency to attend an interview for a gift shop. Not sure why a photie would be called for a gift shop job, but I am neither young, thin or pretty enough to belong behind a gift shop counter and would never be happy there. I need to move, I need the air, I need the sights.

2 days BE

Made a good goodbye memory with mum and dad – lunch and helping mum spray the vineyard and then we hugged and cried a little and I said the Baltics will never be the same. I considered going up once more time the next day, but this memory was too perfect.

1 day BE

Saw gran and several of my friends and now I’m all ready to go. Will make sure I don’t re-pack until midnight, so as to mess up as much as possible. The plane is a bottleneck of packing. Will re-arange everything once I'm atb the hotel. Still no idea what book to take, but since it’s raining, I’m almost sure I’ll be taking the boots.

Unable to decide which book to take with me. I've been reading Alabama song – about Zelda Fitzgerald, Wild about that lost hiker and her backpack, and Guns, germs and steel, about evolution of civilisations these past couple of weeks… Neither feels worthy of being my companion for the road. Alabama song is terrible – it portrays the couple Fitzgerald as the most miserable, fucked up spoiled losers who did everything wrong and hated everything, mostly one another, utterly awful people. Wild I’m almost done with and is not the kind to read philosophically. The latter is not the type to take to a boat. It’s okay, just not boats-related…  I don’t want to take a book I don’t know or one I’d miss if I had to replace it… and those are the only two kinds I have. Decisions, decisions… :/

Me today

Bye bye, bitches (How often do you allow yourself to update a sense of self? Almost often.)

If offered three chests - a chest of gold and jewels, a chest of medicine and a chest of books - which one would I opt for? Well, it really depends on what kind of medicine and how good and rare the books? Ultimately, I think I would go for the chest of gold, because with that kind of money, I would be able to invest in my own science institute or my own university. But mostly I would plot how to get my hands on all three.

As I exit my comfort zone – quite literally, getting on a plane and fucking off to wetter pastures – I am considering the person that is me and my excess or lack of conviction. This is such a long post, that I literally changes as a person during. It is true I have always prided myself on NOT being an ideologue of any kind and my principles have been set intellectually rather than intuitively, but still – I watch and listen and read and intend to identify myself as well as some of the people I agree with.

I have so far come up with four principles, though I can only remember two at this point. 

The media – I am an absolute advocate of the freedom of speech and expression and choose to never speak ill of anyone who isn’t already speaking/doing ill, or is a hypocrite or is condescending. But in an argument on whether the media is responsible for something, I will always stand on the side of the media. I believe that there is ghastly shitty freakish dumbass media in this world, but also that there are people – journalists - whose intelligence, commitment and education far surpasses that of normal lot and their reports cannot be skewed regardless of peer and editorial pressure – their integrity is enamel. To say that the media is shit, you’ve clearly been rolling in the mud on the wrong side of the spectrum of the media available. Though, also, there is no such thing as one truth. We’re humans, not traffic lights. 

The dead – I have absolute respect for the dead (I mean the bodies, not the souls), and will never dig them up (archaeology), steal their possessions (grave robbing and looting, also in other name archaeology), ogle their remains (museums and the like), photograph them (either in museum or in an accident or war) or allow a dead body to be treated disrespectfully. Regarding the soul, that is not my problem. We are all given pretty fairly same opportunities to be good or bad people and to weave the same amount of stories and if you’ve chosen to waste your life on being a lame dick, than that’s the story of you. Whether you were dealt the hand of a slave, king, model, writer, inventor or a drug smuggler, how you changed the lives of others for the better – with deeds or words – that was the sort of a soul you were.

..

*(I think my third principle is judging a society based on how they treat their women, disabled, elderly, LGBT, journalists and artists.)

..

The fourth ISN’T that I cannot consider people who look down on creativity or don’t read truly good people, or say things like: I never cared too much about some old paintings and statues gathering dust in museums…  But that is another adamant conviction.

I know I am not a feminist and that I am in many ways a lazy Marxist, that I think we’ve never existed in a better world and that we, thankfully, have a long way to go – because achieving a state of perfect living condition would take too bit a toll on creativity and invention, our two most fundamental splendours. I don’t think we are treating this planet nicely, but I also believe that when it gets tired of us, it will rid of us and forget us in a hiccup of a time. I think western civilisation is superior to others, but I also think that the same person should be capable of equal balance of ambition and tranquillity. I’ve decided to stand against the death penalty, and in my old age understand what ‘quality of life’ actually means.

I can explain this in more detail, wait.

Not a feminist. I fucking disdain 3^rd wave feminists and their retarded fucking outcries of injustice regarding big-tittied characters in video games and knobheads giving ‘how to pick up chicks’ seminars. Who the fuck cares, really. It has nothing to do with civil rights, humanity, our well-being and freedom of expression – it infringes on the rights of expression and distracts from issues that are genuinely disheartening. Do these dumb bitches have ANY idea what actual oppression of women looks like?  I am bisexual, or pansexual to be more exact, meaning that I am attracted to everything beautiful, aroused by many things that inspire an emotional, sexual, passionate part of me, and to love I choose exclusive rarities who embody all of the above and more. I am also overly emotional, so it’s not unusual for me to stop and cry at the sight of an amazing forest scene or garden or mountains or a painting or a street or a freak arrangement of details creating an amazing world we live in. Though I’m not so quick to generalize, like, saying I love ALL forests, all mountains, all flowers or horses or books. Every day. No, emotions come in big fat waves and I have always prided myself on being able to be extremely happy or extremely sad and everything in between.  I can dread, I can rage, I can worry, I can be inspired, I can be excited, I can imagine, I can even hope, though I am not much for a hoper.

The General keeps asking me how I feel about going. Am I sad? Am I happy?

I can be many many things at the same time. Like a pancake cake. I’d be a good pancake cake.

But I digress. 

I do not tolerate feminism, because what feminism is today is rich privileged mostly white bitches whining about unsubstantiated horrors that make for click-baits on the YouTube channels that are fuck too many. My family is a family of strong women, generations back – and not privileged rich bows-in-their-hair curly plantation girlies, but women who have worked their way to reputation and status and dependability  from the start up each. Am not talking about Hillary Clinton types, either, blind with greed and political ambition. My great grandmother ran a tavern.  She was the strong woman of her town. My grandma, her daughter, was a hat maker, but she was also known in our city, because all women knew her, respected her, bought the hats from her, gossiped in her shop and she worked very hard, had so much money that we never wanted for anything and she never ever needed to be mean or break any laws to be well off – just hard work, keen eye for business and depending on nobody. My mom was a scholar and a journalist and she took the side of young aspiring artists around these parts, growing into an eminence in our part of the country. She was always extremely just, level-headed and awfully educated in her articles. If she wrote something, it was The truth. Those days nobody fucked around with a journalist, because there wasn’t any tabloids to muck up the waters yet, or at least if there was one, it was not considered journalism. My mother-in-law runs a small farm. She can chop a 3tf log in half with a swing of an axe. She will go on a vacation and cook three times a day for the family, because that is the sort of a person she is. Church-going. Tending to older neighbours. Pig-slaying. Handling the finances of her local Working Invalids Association.

None of these women would in a hundred years cry ‘injustice! We are oppressed! We are offended!’ That is not to say they wouldn’t kill a man if he looked at them funny or laid a hand on anyone that they care about. With a dough-roller. 

My Marxist bit. I haven’t studied the guy too deeply, or obsessively, but some of the stuff he said I agree with and just kind of hopped along. I agree there is no worse form of governing than democracy, except every other one, and that we get the politicians we deserve. The society I exist in shows enough greatness to be considered okay, but still so lame as to show it’s dark side every opportunity we get. As my country goes, it is still fairly low on crime. Though it’s been a weird week, regarding.

So, socialism it is. Fact is, I cannot abide the concept of someone being more important than another in society – that there are people whom we are supposed to bow to and whose lives are worth more and that’s final. That, if there was a train coming and there was an old king and me on the tracks, people would save him. An inbred old fuck who spent his life leeching of other people’s money. I am not saying that between Malala and me I wouldn’t save Malala, but not because she’s declared superior. In a conflict between rich inbreds and the working class, I will side with the working class. There are too many Trumps, Kochs, sheiks and Jong-Ils in this world to convince me the economic elite is able to make the right decisions for everyone else. In an ideal world, yes, I would follow a de-facto king into battle, but I have never abided costumes. A war is never won. It’s always just postponed. There is not good or bad side. The victors make sure they rip the ‘just stories’. We spoke about Magic Mike-like evening in jest yesterday, about how Tinka was appalled to see women of some money and reputation behave like drunk fucking animals at the sight of a male stripper. How is that woman worth more than Tinka, because her husband sucked more money from a withering company and the whole family now drives Ferraris? 

The planet. I know we are treating is awfully. I know we are scraping of its skin, drilling into its body, fucking up the air and the oceans, ripping out things we call precious, spilling its oily blood and throwing the organic balance between all living things out of balance. I know that. I just don’t care. Firstly, because this planet has been infested by obnoxious life-forms many times before and lastly, because there is not a damn thing we can do to this planet that won’t be utterly and entirely forgotten in a million years or even less. We’re melting the ice? Who the fuck cares. It’s not going to go into space. It will freeze right back after this party’s over. Species going extinct? They always were and we haven’t even noticed 90% of them. Overpopulations? Clearly you’ve never been to Norway. Exterminating the forest?... haha. Between the forest and humans, I guarantee you, forest will have the last laugh.

The ENVIRONMENT, however, what WE are supposed to live in, that’s an entirely different story. Environmental criminology won’t notice a tree being murdered, but they will notice a tree being stolen from the government. When we are referring to overpopulation, we are actually referring to ghastly poor infrastructure of too-fast growing cities in regions of the world that’s been caught unprepared for the modern era. I’m thinking India, because that’s the shittiest country I’ve ever been to, with truly too many people living in cities that are very badly built and nobody thought to try to enforce laws on people who – literally – still consider it okay to shit in the street. Their waste disposal is so thoroughly lacking, that Delhi is one big garbage pile and their holy rivers a cesspool.  A lot of civilisations have gone from farming feudal wooden-spoon village societies to modern metropolis’ in too short a time. There are African cities that have tried becoming Europe-style cities in too much of a hurry, with too few elements considered. Too much of the environment got raped on account of it. And don’t even get me started on killing whales so that cosmetics can be manufactured. Are you fucking shitting me? By the way, did I ever tell you about the giant lake of drinking water that’s under the Northern America, that we’ve all but sucked dry by now? Why, may you ask? Well, that’s because in North America their very arid and very vast plains have been irrigated so as to make soy fields, so that we can now have soy in everything, but mostly fuel. Ye. It gets interesting, as soon as you look at anything closer. Didn’t you ever wonder why news are so full of which celebrity has new butt implants or who’s sleeping with whom? Puffy cushy blindfold much. Though in truth nobody really cares. We adapt unusually well. We could probably live inside a volcano if push came to blow.

So, I am not worried about this planet one little bit. Our living conditions may in time become interesting, though.

Believing we live in the best possible time, thus far. Granted, on the surface it looks like we live in a time when crazy seems sane. The western world, flawed as it certainly is, is good at one thing above all other: we tend to implement some admirable laws. We abolished slavery sooner than others. We started treating the elderly and the disabled better sooner than others. We enabled women to be more than just baby-making machines sooner than others. We put a tremendous emphasis on medical science and education, resulting in some amazing medical revolutions and amazing philosophy, diplomacy, consideration of peaceful solutions and arts. We are beginning to consider truly everyone equal, regardless of some moronic religious bullshit, or their gender, social status, colour, what retarded bullshit they post on YouTube and level of their harm to others. The reason, I think, why religious cults are not prohibited, is because the stupid deserve to be led by the greedy. Why do we allow masses to vote on the most important issues? Because it shows you what the mass is ready for or not. Why even the wisest must surround themselves with ‘no’ men and women? Because no human is able to make the right decision on their own without tremendous council. One may think they are doing the best thing ever, but that may only apply to Happy Land of Everyone is Brainfull. Marie Therese met with decades of opposition from the masses when she declared everyone must go to school as a child. Like, who the fuck did she think she is?! Kids need to help on the farms and in shops, nobody has time for them to do such nonsense as writing and reading and learning to keep their mouths clean. 

It is possible we are the ones who will fuck all of this up. That it won’t be a comet or a virus or aliens that gets us, but our own awful greed. But so far, I think, for all our flaws, we are on the right path. We’ve certainly come a long way from throwing babies off cliffs for being born malformed or being able to rape girls just because you were rich, calling it the right of Prima Nocte.  Or knowing to wash your hands between shitting and eating.  Or burning books and people… Though that one is not so far in the past so as to give me conviction to say that’s never happening again. I mean in the Western society, not the fucking Islam, where they are burning books and beheading women for not wearing enough blankets on her when going out as we speak.

I did consider punishment such as hanging for people who rape, but this was when I didn’t think much of prisons. There was once a time when putting me in a small room and forgetting me there for ages sounded just about right. Leave me a few books and forbid me to speak and I’m yours. Monastery, prison, college dorm, whatever. I needed nobody, only a roof over my head. But then that odd renaissance happened, when the General told me to fuck off with my constant coffees and movies requests and told me to get myself some friends who will like coffee and movies as much as I do, and 8 years later, I am surrounded by like-minded individuals that I miss dearly if I don’t see them twice a month, if not every day. Now the idea of having to be locked away from everybody, from my movies and coffee comrades, frightens me. Throw in the condition of the 3^rd world prisons and you have yourself the punishment befitting the crime. 

Same applied to my understanding of ‘the quality of life’ – that sometimes it simply isn’t working and some people would be better off dead. I still remember every small thing I left behind to die rather than trying to help it, every kitten, every baby bird, every flower, every bee even. It hit me too late – the realisation, that no matter how fucked up your life is, if someone clever enough comes along to lend you some advice or assistance, the quality of a life can go from 0 to full tank within the hour. 

… and so on and so forth. I could rant like this for days, but I’m getting bored already. There are many things I stand by, many rules, many opinions. Prostitution should be legal. Everything on the Internet should be free. If you break a rule, for no matter how noble a cause, stand strong while you pay for it (unless they maim or kill you.) I am 100% against death. I am 100% for the Socratic method. I think being religious is shameful to your intellect. I don’t care if there is some dorky entity that guards the skies or what the fuck, but I believe that adults who worship characters from books and use them as an excuse (calling it tradition also) to act like fucktards, are wrong.  I like blankies and coffee mugs, baby animals and males with large muscular thighs. I like computer games, YouTube videos on philosophy and politics and going to the movies so I can eat – literally – buckets of popcorn. I don’t think there is a way to visit, properly, every city and village on this planet, but I would fucking love to have a go at it. I love all art. I hate the thought of running out of time. Above all, I am someone who can feel everything in between those two emotions and I want to experience situations that will put the frames to the lot. 

There is no place where I find more serenity and contemplation than libraries and museums, though I also think that half of art history is stuff made so that rich people could look at nice titties. Just because something portrayed is pretty, doesn’t make it art. 

The world is changing. I am changing. This is me now, as I depart. What will be on the other side of this experience, will it be devastating or mundane, amazing or gut-wrenching, lonely or in love, it is impossible to tell. If I could choose, I’d choose all of it. I don’t want anybody I love to die, clearly, but everything else is game. Once more I embrace Neggins’ wisdom: You can be in a land of shit and feel like gold or in a land of gold and feel like shit, the decision what state of mind you’ll employ is entirely yours… Now quit whining, lose that weight, get that energy and stop taking everything so fucking personally.

Good day.
Building good memories of home town, just in case homesickness ever bites me in the bum.

Alright!  Four fucking hours of shopping malls later, I have comfy yet handsome shoes, two knee-length black Cocktail dresses (I know, I was WTF, too, but it’s on the list. And such dresses may look great on twenty year old models, but on a forty year old dumpling, their classiness is a wee lost. I really gotsta lose the weight I gained in the past few years. I miss being able to shop and not keep my eyes closed while people assured me I look… not as bad as they thought.) But my My was with me and she’s a freaking shopping trooper, telling me about which density socks to buy, which fabric clothes for which season, what movement to insist on for which design… Without her, this would be a nightmare. It’s not easy shopping for elegance for a small chubby woman. I’m a photo nerd. I have small ugly shoes you can climb Everest in and clothes that would sustain me in a nuclear holocaust. My car is tiny and old and rattles. My hair looks like it’s from a dead animal. It literally takes HOURS to make me look presentable. Yes, I carry around a backpack with several thousands of euros of photography equipment, but nobody would ever mug me, because I look like a hobo. If anyone ever steals my wallet, they usually put it back with twenty bucks inserted and an apology note.

             And now I own two black cocktail dresses and ladies’ shoes. And a hair curler. Daaamn.

PS.

I had no idea there are so many rivers with so many ships on them. Look at this lot. Where the color code at?!

General's line of the week:

General: I will need a few hours off next Saturday, so as to drive my wife to the airport.

General's boss: We'll make sure that's fine. Where's she off to?

General: She's going to work on board a ship for 8 months.

General's boss: You're kidding! How did you manage to get her to do that?!

General: The impressive bit is not to get your wife to make money abroad, the impressive bit is making her believe it was her idea and you're being a sport ALLOWING her to go. 

General's boss: Wooooooord.....

Men. You can't live without them and you can't drown them (because they're bigger).