Password book and naïve unlikes
The day was okay. I tried to talk with Ivan casually, but the result was lame and weak. In the end I sent him a photocard celebrating the upcoming old New Year's eve and left. This is a peculiar date in post-Soviet territory. Because the Orthodox church uses the obsolete Julian calendar that is 14 days behind the Gregorian calendar we all use its Christmas falls on the night to January 7th (December 25th by the Julian calendar) and the New year starts on the night to January 14th. As time goes on the disrupt between the calendars keeps growing. Too good I won't meet the 22nd century. It must be very stressful back there. To end my lamentations about Ivan I've got to say I ghosted his message when he finally answered to my congratulation 'Thanks, you too))' I was told many times the brackets are the easiest way to spot a person from Eastern Europe. ))).
I kept editing that lame French textbook and I can't say that work was that tiring. The more I read it the funnier it is. I check the weather forecast and prepare to wear something even warmer: the week will drop the temperature to -20°C. During my lunchbreak I purchased a cheap tiny little notebook to store my passwords. I was dumb enough to keep them in saved messages on Telegram. Yesterday I erased it all and confided to paper. This passwordary(sic!) costed less than $1. Once home I filled it with everything I had on different pieces of paper, Google chrome password storage and else. I disabled recommendations on Youtube but aimless clicks led to me to [Madonna's Isla Bonita] remix. I look at that red flag in the video and feel something controversial. My parents are very indifferent towards that epoch. As for me, I give it much colder attitude. What worries me is that new USSRs seem to appear on the map again. It's not about communism but the way to treat people like ants.
If Iran doesn't come back to stability, will people flee from there? Will my Persian be a necessary skill again? Sorry for thinking pragmatically, but this page is about me. I am not an X expert to comment on every big boys' act of debauchery. I need to open again Saffar Moqaddam's basic books at least to revive zabâne fârsi in my head. If I didn't torture myself keeping my phone in Persian I think I'd have forgotten everything by now.
While on Instagram my former male friend I had an unhealthy dependent attachment to popped into my DMs with his geolocation. I didn't manage to hide him from the list. He irritates me because I still miss him, just a little but still. Almost eight(!) years passed. This is stupid. We never wrote to each other since April of 2025 when he found my profile. In a naïve will to do something, to prove something to someone (myself) I unliked all his posts I had liked before trying to bait him into starting a chat. Sorry, I know you won't miss me, the one who feared talking to you but wanted to keep it doing as much as I could.
Okay, I admit. I would like to live through it once, to see another man seeking my company and enjoying it without sexual or romantic pretext. It might be thrilling to be finally accepted by the ones who have almost always cast me out as a stranger.