Question of the day (25th August).

Hi guys. 🙂

I was feeling shitty all day yesterday so didn’t even write anything, so here’s the overdue question for you, another childhood related one.

Did you like school? Are there reasons that you liked/disliked it?

My answer:

Who likes school? Not me anyway. Okay, at the beginning of my education I liked school somewhat, just except having to stay at the boarding school and except all the stressful stuff. It was stressful and challenging but I guess I liked learning. But it didn’t last long. Things were becoming more and more stressful, and I realised that, at least most of the time, creativity isn’t very well seen, and that most of the time it’s just either boring or freakishly abstractive for my brain, and that it was becoming more and more rare that what I learned at school would be either interesting or significantly beneficial/useful to me and bring something new into my life. I much preferred to learn things myself, things that I found interesting, although that wasn’t always possible, or not to a big degree. I didn’t do socialising literally at all at the beginning, then with years I learned to engage with people a bit more but it was very superficial. At the beginning of primary I remember I loved learning Polish and especially English, with English I stopped loving it as a subject very quickly because we happened to have a teacher that no one of us really liked who wasn’t too approachable or likeable, and then for the next year or two we had in turn a very meek teacher who was a lovely person but couldn’t even have much control over the class, and wasn’t demanding at all so things were either boring or chaotic on her lessons. And most of the time I didn’t have luck with English teachers, no matter in which school I was, I had only a few pretty good ones, and I’ve had fair few of them haha. Polish I loved for longer, as long as I was allowed to write elaborate stuff on topics I liked or that I felt comfortable with and could read at least mostly what I liked or stuff that we were reading for school was interesting. I think I started to get seriously disheartened by Polish in 4th grade but still was fairly good at it, and still there were things I liked about it. But, as you hopefully know, at least if you’ve been here for a while, neither English or Polish as a subject has ever discouraged me from liking those languages as such, although it was very close to it with English at some point and I had to rediscover it for myself a bit and, in a way, relearn it in my own way. I never cared much for grades, neither good nor bad, and I was not a perfectionist at school matters whatsoever, though the bigger tests usually really scared me and with time I did started to feel slightly inferior because of my math dilemmas, but only a bit. I hated that they wanted me to be good at everything (thankfully my Mum didn’t and was pissed off with that approach when she found out there is such so I didn’t want to be good at everything either). I guess I must have some sort of ability to learn things reasonably quickly, which was a bit weird but which really saved me at school, because I didn’t like studying hard, I mean repeating what we had at school and just spending more time than necessary with school stuff, I only did homework and repeated things very superficially before tests if I felt like I could fail spectacularly or if I needed to do reasonably good. I just never like to spend too much time doing boring things that I don’t have much interest in. I had to change that approach when preparing to my finals and spend horrendous amounts of time preparing to my math exam, but, as it seems, even studying really hard can’t always save you. 😀 So, especially as time went by, there were less and less things I liked at school. I was constantly stressed and depressed, having trouble engaging with people and doing a lot of daily prosaic stuff because of various things that I was struggling with, I was awfully neurotic and just hated school with a passion. Somehow I guess though that most of the time I at least managed to keep the impression that I’m doing well, unless someone was a bit more perceptive but I didn’t want people to see, or see as little as possible. I’ve also always been scared of changes, and at school you get a whole lot of them sometimes.

When I was 17, I got out of the school for the blind permanently and for a year that I had left until starting college, or however else you’d call it in your country, I was having individual education at my local school, where my brother was going to. My dream was always to be homeschooled, but I knew that was hardly possible, so I was happy that the psychiatrist who saw me at the time agreed with my Mum and therapist and the headmaster of that school who felt I could benefit from doing that year in individual education. And my poor teachers would benefit too, they weren’t really prepared for me appearing suddenly and I know most of them were deadly scared of the prospect of teaching a blind student. So I think it was easier for them doing it just with me than in the class, if it felt so challenging for them. And that year was the best year at school for me. I am sure that had I been at that school all the time it wouldn’t be a good decision, but I sort of regretted I didn’t come there earlier. I discovered that – while I was reasonably good at most subjects before – I was doing much better when learning one to one, and also I liked that I could really get to know my teachers well and they could get to know me well. I had exams at the end of that year, before going to college, but I don’t remember being very stressed about them. I was, a bit, for sure, but not quite as much as I was before previous or later major exams. I only remember finishing the syllabus for most of the subjects ridiculously quickly and reading my Vreeswijk’s poems translations or my short stories to my Polish teacher during our lessons and such. They really liked me there and I liked them. Sometimes I came to Olek’s classroom and had had lessons with the class (we were in the same class even though he’s two years younger than me because I had two years delay) and I kinda got along with a few girls in there even though they didn’t even know where people speak Finnish but oh well, never mind. I had a whole big classroom just to myself where I had all the lessons, and I remember passionately reading “Outsider” by Colin Wilson during most breaks while listening to music on the headphones so, if you know me, you’d figure out I was pretty chilled there, as for my standards. 😀 So yeah, that school I did like.

Then I went to that weekend school for adults, which was just boring. I also found it hard to socialise with people, especially with most of the teachers, those who seemed to be plain scared of me or something like that. I was really struggling with math stuff, and the rest was usually quite boring. I had one good friend who was helping me with things like getting around which made it all much easier for me, and I had some other fun people in the class too though a lot of people were dropping out or coming as they pleased since it was a college for adults so no one could pressure them to do anything really, and many folks got some benefits at work or something like this when they were learning at the same time so they enrolled often just for the sake of it. It all felt a bit artificial for me but then school is generally one big faking in so many ways for me so I was just trying to get through that period as best I could. At some point my Mum got tired of driving me back and forth and I was tired of sitting in the class while they were looking at slideshows or doing something from a textbook that I didn’t have and we collaboratively decided to ask my teachers if I could do the learning at home and just come in for exams and such. They all agreed with great relief, and promised profusely to send me what they are doing in class and the topics of the assignments and dates of the exams, but then I had to send them countless emails asking for that and that was rather yucky and resulted in a couple situations where I knew just last minute that I had an exam coming up or wrote an assignment a day before the due date. I hated that and it annoyed me like shit but overall when I stopped having to go to school every weekend life became a bit easier practically, and even more so for my Mum.

So that’s it, my experience with school, quite eventful, but mostly miserable, and made me feel really spiteful towards the whole education system, so that if someone wants to rant about it, I am always open and happy to chime in, just for the sake of it. Though Mum claims I am intoxicating Zofijka with my spite when doing it with her. I’m not sure I even care, is that awful of me? Zofijka mostly thinks what I do anyway, and comes with her school troubles to me a lot of the time, and I have to get my shit out somewhere finally too.

How much did you hate school? 🙂

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Ina Wroldsen – “Mother”.

Hi hi people! 🙂

So, this song, for me, is that kind of song which lyrics are just so ridiculously, creepily or comfortingly – depending from which angle you choose to look at it – relatable to you and describing you, your life and various situations you’ve been through, as if someone just broke into your flamin’ brain and wrote about your feelings. I hear so often that people say things like “Oh God, this song is just about me!” or such things, but to me it actually doesn’t happen very often, not to such an extent that I could literally sign myself with all my limbs under the lyrics, although I did have my personal song as a child and teen, which was “Evacuee” by Enya. This one is vastly different from Enya’s music, but no less relatable to me, maybe even more relatable to me in a way because, thankfully, I no longer have to relate to that child in “Evacuee”, and this song by Ina Wroldsen describes my feelings and my life and my relationships with people in so many more ways, not just a part of my life as it is with “Evacuee”.

Ina Wroldsen is a Norwegian singer, she is very popular in her country and in Scandinavia but also in other European countries, collaborating with many DJ’s and such, I am pretty sure that I must have heard her somewhere earlier before I discovered it for myself, as for example her song “Strongest” was a real hit. I discovered her for myself when I started to listen to more Norwegian music, largely by accident, but I never was very crazy on her, just another cool Norwegian artist out there, a bit too normal for me to like her really really much. 😀

Sometimes I focus on lyrics of my favourite songs, sometimes I don’t. Usually I focus more on those I like more, and when something is just cool but normal I tend to only focus on the music, since it rarely has very striking lyrics anyway. And so was when I first heard “Mother” last year. But at some point while listening to it I focused much more and thought: “Huh, these lyrics sound familiar”, as in, something I knew from my own experience and from my own brain. 😀 And, seriously, when I listened to the song thoroughly, just everything felt so so much like me. And not at all only in regards to the time where I was at the boarding school and struggling with a lot of stuff and wanted outa there, and not only even in relation to my own Mum. Some verses, that I’m sure were written more metaphorically, were about me in such an absurdly literal way that I just had to laugh, other were more metaphorical. I could find descriptions of my relationships with important people in my life in it and things I’ve been through, and pretty much my entire life in a way, but especially my childhood. It feels odd and crazy! And, as always when I find a song that is even somewhat relatable for me in any way, I am still so very curious what inspired Ina to write it, although I believe it was a piece written collaboratively with some other people. While it speaks to me in such an incredible, almost eerie way, I also think that most people are able to find something about themselves in it, as is the case with some songs. I hope you enjoy it anyway. 🙂

Carnival.

Anyone else here hates carnival?

Well anyway, I do. Or used to do, now I don’t have to bother. But yeah I hated it. Oh but how can anyone hate carnival, especially in such country as Poland? It’s such a colourful tradition! Well, maybe I don’t hate carnival in general, there are or used to be some pretty interesting traditions over here relating to it and I always like to read about traditions be them ours or someone else’s, I’m just overall into folklore as you know.

But in my own experience, carnivals had always been yuck. We always had so many parties and balls and proms and discos and dancings or however to call them. We had usuallly one such event at school, one at the girls’ boarding school and one at the boys’ and sometimes also one at the cafe which also was in that centre.

If I’m totally honest, I don’t know exactly what I hated so much about them. Yes it was socially engaging and so challenging for me, but there were way more challenging situations there for me. Dancing is not my element definitely, but I’m not the worst at it and I do dance if I have to when we have some family parties or stuff.It wasn’t that I was left alone and didn’t haveto dance with, if I wanted I’d surely find someone, therewas a time when I was the only girlin the class and my classmates rather liked me as a friend and I did like them.

I guess that just the general atmosphere overwhelmed me. All that crowd and noise, so that even if you came there with someone there were 99% chances you will lose each other in the crowd even if you’re not dancing. And I always hate that feeling of being lonely in the crowd, way more than just being lonely, even if I talk to someone I often feel this way among very many people. And it’s awful.

So I always tried to do everything to avoid those parties. Theoretically, it wasn’t something compulsory to go there, but it wasn’t well seen for someone to stay on their own in the group while everyone else is out, you know, safety and all. And no one actually wanted to avoid them as far as I know, other than me, so it was seen as odd if you did, and you could be more or less pressured to go anyway. At that time I wasn’t assertive enough to just say no, I still am not sure if I would say if it happened to me now, knowing how pressured I’d be anyway, so I rather preferred to find some excuses, which worked sometimes, most often not very creaive stuff like period. When I was very young, I took an advantage of the fuss when they were going out and hid in the shower lol. I was desperate to not go with them, and then I got out when they all went out. As I supposed, no one even noticed I didn’t go, neither the staff, nor any of my group mates. 😀

One year though I did something particular. We got to know there will be two parties, one at school and one at the cafe, as it was Saturday. It was also my birthday, and I got mad. Why do I have to go to some yucky trashy dancing parties on my birthday if I hate it? Why can’t I do something better? And I was determined to not go, and instead, do something very nice. Well, not going could be potentially possible if I tried, but the latter was quite a brave goal in such a place where you can’t decide much about yourself. But I did it.

Luckily for me, at that time I had a kind of English teacher, well she wasn’t my real English teacher, she was my aunt’s acquaintance and lived in the city nearby my school, and my Mum and aunt introduced us to each other and my aunt had an idea that she – her acquaintance – would come to me while I was at the boarding school, say once a week, so that I could go out of that environment for a while and talk to someone from the outside, normal world and just have fun. We made an excuse that she’ll be teaching me some extra English, and the staff agreed. We didn’t cheat on them, if you’re worried, she did teach me English, but the primary goal was for me to just get out of there and do whatever we liked. We both liked English, so we often did English.

I called my Mum to ask her if she could send me some money, we had them stored by the staff but if our parents wanted they could send some to us too. Luckily they came on time. So I called my aunt’s acquaintance, let’s call her K. and I asked her if she’s free next Saturday because I’d like to invite her to some restaurant in the city for a dinner because it’s my birthday. She said she is and that it is cool, so I told her about those deeper reasons for that so we scheduled our meeting so that I’d be out during both parties. My Mum obviously agreed so the staff couldn’t do anything but agree too.

We went to the Moroccan restaurant and, guys, I guess there was the best food I’ve ever eaten so far. Although it’s possible that my happiness spiced it up even more because I couldn’t believe my luck and that it worked out. 😀 Anyway, it was one of more happy days I spent there. Or not there actually, as I wasn’t at school practically. 😀 I hate that city but if I’m gonna be there ever again I’ll surely go to that restaurant again. We had so much fun and we also did other things, but, funnily enough, I don’t remember anything more from that day now, even though it was long and intense. 😀 I only remember I came back to the boarding school with a huge Toffifee, I don’t remember if I bought it or she got it for me, anyway I was sharing it with my roommates at night.

Sometimes I tried to get someone from my family at that time so we could spend time together and I remember one quite hilarious costume party on which my aunt came to me, she’s crazy and very funny so we, and others, had a lot of laugh.

But other than that, I always hated those parties and still when we have some family parties with dancing or in huge locals, my brain turns upside down. Dunno, maybe I’m just boring, but if not being boring =liking dancing parties, no thanks, I’d rather stay boring, it’s way more interesting. 😀

How about you? Do you like dancing? 🙂 Have you been to many huge parties with dancing? Do you like carnival?

Remembering… or how to tell your brain it’s over?

I’m remembering

a lot of stuff from the past lately. Lots and lots of memories which I try to ignore, and sometimes I succeed, sometimes not. So I thought maybe writing about it would help, if ignoring doesn’t work out too well. Those memories are mostly related to the beginning of the school year, which used to be an absolute nightmare for over a decade.

I see people from my family and others buying their kids things for school, I hear my Mum talking how she’s afraid of the next schol year for Zofijka, I notice time flying so quickly and September approaching, and each time I see any signs of the school year coming, I have to remind my brain, it’s not you now, it’s over. But it doesn’t listen for too long, and soon I get overflooded by another wave of memories.

I remember all those days and nights before I”d go back to the boarding school when I cut myself ’cause my pain and helplessness were too bad. I remember not being able to eat and sleep because of the anxiety. I remember the feelings of utter loneliness and not belonging anywhere, along with many other overwhelming feelings with which I couldn’t cope, but finally I always had to cope somehow, so I just bottled them up, feeling them rising inside of me with every second. I remember feeling very unsafe and rebelled that I had to leave everything that felt nice, familiar, everything and everyone that I loved, and how desperate I was to not do it. I felt guilty and weak because even though the situation was the same and obvious for so many years, that there was no alternative for me, I still couldn’t adjust to it. Well in a way I did, but the adjustment was only hiding what I felt so it wouldn’t bother anyone else, because well how long can it take you to accept something so obvious and inevitable that if you have special needs and need special education, you need to go to school where they can adjust things to you, and there aren’t many of such so most children have to be away from their families. For me that was an issue, and it looked like it was wrong.

Those feelings always accompanied me when I had to leave home and go to the boarding school, but when the school year was starting, they were particularly intense. Because the school year always meant changes. Changes that could often regard me more or less, but even if they were directly to do with me, it wasn’t a norm that I, or even any of my parents, were asked about our opinion, whether we agree on them or not, whether they’re acceptable. That was normal there. If you had a friend, who was also your roommate, with whom you lived for years, you got to know very well, you should be aware that when you come back to school next year, you may suddenly be informed that you two will no longer live together because… just because. And you could not only be moved to another room, but also to a completely different group. THis exact situation didn’t happen to me, only because I didn’t have real friends there, but it did to one of my classmates and she was just told to get over it, because it was necessary and such situations happen in life so she has to get used to it. I though changed my roommates very often too, and it was often very tough. And many other changes could await you there, hardly, if ever, nice.

So yeah, I was just sick of anxiety every year before the start of school year, and afterwards too.

But it’s now four years since I got out of there, and I am so happy about it, yet each time it’s close to September, my brain goes mad. Even this year, when I’m completely free of that freaky brain washing machine called education system. I even had a pretty yucky dream last night, I haven’t have this kind of memory dreams in a while, but that one was yucky and it took me quite a while to get back to the present after I woke up. Those dreams aren’t particularly scary, like creepy or something, but are just kinda made of my crappy memories so reliving them over and over definitely isn’t nice aND I wake up feeling nausious and stressed out.

As I wrote earlier today in Music Monday Care & Love post, I am trying to fill this week with various self care activities and other enjoyable things, and that helps me to stay in the present and focus on the positive, and there is much positive stuff going on in my life. Plus it helps me to not slip down again to that self-loathing hole, which is always very easy when I’m having memories. But it doesn’t stop my brain from going back to the past, often at least expected moments.

So I wonder, how do you make your brain know it’s over? It seems all so complicated.

 

Disappear.

Oftentimes, I feel the need to just disappear. Even just for a while. Just so that I can have time to set my messy brain in order, and start to function properly, or at least as well as I can, again, to recharge.

When I was living away from home at the boarding school for years, the only place I could go to to have a guarantee I’ll be absolutely alone was… the restroom. Sometimes I was just going there to calm down the chaos of my mind, or just to be alone for a while, but often I did it if I wanted to talk to someone on the phone privately. Of course, I could just wait until there will be a moment when there will be no one else in my bedroom than me, but it was a rare occasion and usually then, I was out too, or was busy, plus, when you really need to talk to someone, you need it just now. So, yeah, usually, when I talked to my Mum, or anyone else from my family, or my therapist, I did it in the loo. I hated it, because the sound echoed there so much and the privacy was minimal because anyone could hear you if they only wanted or if there was quieter outside for a while. But still you had more space than usually in our bedrooms, where there were at least three people living together if not more. Needless to say lots of people often wondered or even asked me what I do so often and for so long in the loo, but I didn’t care and if it was necessary, I was happy to satisfy them with some convincing enough excuses. Later on, I’ve found some other hideouts for myself, where I could just disapear, and feel better afterwards, or just demonstrate my rebellion or frustration by escaping there. I found LD and OOBE very entertaining. And some time later I started to use Doses (sound drugs). I was living half in my own world, made entirely of dreams, imaginings and hallucinations. I loved it there. Only that as it showed later on, there was also a much darker side to that beautiful world, which I tried to ignore. Without going into ethical stuff, as I talked a bit about it before, I can just say it messed up with my brain a little in a longer perspective.

When I got outa there, I was awfully depressed all the time, well I was before too, obviously, but when I got home I fuly realised it because before it happened, I simply didn’t have time to be depressed and I just had to live on. So when I got home and my depression set free, so to say, after so many years of being well hidden, it just struck me with its intensivity. And it was hard to cope with it. So again, I wanted to disappear, hide, run away from my freaky brain. And what I mostly did back then was sleep. Even my sleep paralysis nightmares were sometimes better than my depressed reality.

Now as I got relatively better, I still need to disappear at times. Not only when I’m depressed, but just to stay healthy and recharge my brain from time to time. Well actually I need it quite often, particularly after a lot of stuff happening or a lot of social interactions, doesn’t matter whether good or bad. Then I disappear into another world I’ve created for myself. I don’t always need to be long in there to feel better. Sometimes I just lay down with Misha, very close to him, and listen to all the sounds inside of him, cuddle into his silky fur, feel his little, warm and springy body under my hands. That feels very grounding and soothing. Other times I’ll lock my room, put the headphones on and flow away to Dreamland, a world constructed entirely of my favourite music, and my daydreams. Sometimes I just listen to the music and let my thoughts flow freely, sometimes I only focus on the music and other sensory stuff around me if I want to ground more, sometimes though I go deep into my dreams. I dream about very different things. From those very simple ones to some completely out of my reach, to very exciting ones, to ones that are actually fantastic. Sometimes I dream about stuff I really would like to happen some day, and sometimes about things that I’d rather prefer to stay in Dreamland, so that I can go away from them or come back to them whenever I want. daydreaming feels frustrating sometimes, if you feel like you’ll just never ever be able to make come true any of your dreams, you aren’t even sure if you want it, but most of the time, it feels gorgeous. As Enya sings: “Dreams are more precious than gold” so why not to cherish them? You can always emeerge from the waters of Dreamland if you want to, but you know it’s still there and you can float back there if you only want. And sometimes I listen to music and write something, be it my diary, a blog post, a short story, or just my lose thoughts. And then, I’m able to handle things more effectively. As there are no devices that would be a perpetum mobile, same applies to people. Everyone needs to recharge, and as it is with all kinds of devices, we also vary from each oter and so different rechargers fit us. 😀

Another time when I want to disapear, and that’s a rather common thing for all of us I guess, is when something triggers my anxiety suddenly. Be it social situations, crowds, some sounds, or speciffic things that always make me anxious and almost or completely freak out. Like yesterday. Since a few days, there was something stinking awfully on our backyard. We had a doghouse on our backyard, although we don’t have a dog nowadays, but the doghouse is still there just in case. And the smell seemed to come from there. Yesterday my Dad was doing stuff around the backyard and finally he just went there to see what it is stinking so horribly. It was just like a carrion smell. So he came closer and here’s what he saw – a dead cat lied wrapped in the cover that previously was our poor dog’s, Bobby’s. My Dad removed it and ran into the house. At the same time I was going downstairs to the kitchen, I wanted to pour myself a glass of orange juice that my Mum made. And I heard him falling in like a storm. I only managed to ask what’s up and then I heard some very scary and disquieting sounds from the bathroom. He was throwing up. I can imagine now how disgusting that view had to be. I wanted to disapear! Run away! Into the kitchen, back to my room, wherever. Wanted to scream so loud that I wouldn’t hear him doing it. But I just froze. And that was the worst thing I could do. I just couldn’t move. Just stood there on the stairs not able to do anything. I could only move when he was done with it. But luckily he was OK afterwards and it was just a single incident.

Are there times when you want to disappear? Do you do it then? Where do you go? What do you do there? 🙂

 

Question of the day.

Do you like picnics? If yes, what would you take on your picnic?

My answer:

Picnics… hmm, in theory, yeah, it sounds nice. But in practice… is it really so cool to have to keep all the possible bugs and insects off your food all the time? Plus I don’t have the best associations with picnics, because all of those in which I’ve taken part took place when I was at the boarding school and I never liked them. Either my group was going with the staff somewhere to have a picnic or a full bivouac and simply have fun, and as I’ve never felt truly like a part of them I never knew what to actually do with myself on such occasions, just didn’t feel well at all at those picnics and I felt like the atmosphere at them is so artificially joyful that it really bothered me and made me literally nauseous. Don’t know whether it really was artificial or not, anyway that was how I felt about it back then. Or there were large events organised for the whole school and called picnics, where lots of people, even famous people were coming and there were lots of things happening. I felt even more like not in the right place at the latter. I think if I could go on a picnic with the company I would really like and felt comfortable around, it could be real fun, but not the first activity I would think about when thinking how to spend time with someone I like. I think I have too much bad experience with picnics to be able to say I like them, and too little experience overall to say I don’t like them at all and that I would never take part in one again if I got a chance.

Question of the day.

Have you ever had to deal with any kind of pests, in your house?

My answer:

In the house we lived in previously, there was a while when we had to deal with mice. And no Misha wasn’t with us yet, and even if he would be, I really doubt he’d be able to hunt mice and do something about it. My room was in the attic and they particularly liked it. It was so that I’ve never had more than one at a time in my room, but after we managed to catch it and put it out of action, soon another mouse replaced it. I am not afraid of mice, but I was quite concerned about it, my Dad didn’t seem to be able to catch them easily, I didn’t know what to actually expect from them, I’ve had a lot of all kinds of wires in my room and was afraid what if they’d bite them or something. Plus they were extremely annoying. They were silent during the day, so that it made it more difficult to find them, and activated at night, maybe weren’t noisy, but still, those weird grates they made were annoying and sometimes wouldn’t let me fall asleep which pissed me off greatly. Sometimes – like when my anxiety was higher or when Dad had to get up for work at night – Mum would sleep in my room on the matress and we both were entertaining ourselves with imaginings what if that mouse would come out and decide to “make friends” with my Mum. She’s generally afraid of such little creatures, more of spiders than mice, but still. Luckily it wasn’t a long period, but it was rather pissing off.

When I was at the boarding school, there were some cockroaches there. I didn’t realise there were cockroaches until I was 8 and when I moved rooms for one of the multiple times I was moving rooms there. I just came back from home, a lot later than usual, it was after 10 PM so actually all the other girls that were already in were in beds and one of the staff had to open the building for me and my parents and she notified me that from now I am no longer in the room I was but in a different one. When I was making my bed in that new room, it was like 12 pm and I was quite surprised when I saw something small and hideous sauntering leisurely on the matress under the coverlet. I had no idea what it is, I just knew it was gross and that I have to get rid of it, so I just grasped it quickly and rushed to the bathroom, crumpled it and threw the stinkard into the loo. Yuck! I remember I washed my hands for about 5 minutes afterwards. No one else was around at that time so that was all I could do. I didn’t know it was a cockroach and I didn’t observe it or wonder what it could be, but so said my Mum when I told her about the situation. I’ve never had another direct meeting with a cockroach there, but lots of other people had and it was an issue. I’m glad I didn’t have to deal with it more, it was quite awful. 😀 Although my Mum said that if she was me she’d start to scream and wake up everyone, so I guess it could be much worse for some people.

How about your experiences? 😀