I Owe You an Explanation

It's midnight. I’m scribbling these thoughts aboard a cramped Lufthansa Bombardier CRJ900, bound for what I once called home. The cabin, dimly lit and sleepy, awakens under the halo of my reading light. The quiet is often disrupted by the loud interactions of a mother and her two children, who are making themselves heard from behind me. The children are buzzing with excitement. Perhaps this is their first flight. Every now and then, I peer out the window into the darkness. The full moon casts a pale yellow glimmer, illuminating the black sky with its delicate light. A recent conversation about the moon surfaces in my thoughts. A friend wondered if the Supermoon influences our moods—maybe it does, maybe not. I haven’t mulled over it much, nor have I consulted Co-Star recently, nor do I plan to for the foreseeable future. For now, esoterics, cosmology, and tidal forces are beyond my mental capacity.

The woman behind me accidentally spilled coffee on herself. I suspect her son played a part. She’s visibly exhausted, yet in a way, we are kindred spirits—except I’m without children. The difference, though, is her resilience. She still finds the energy to laugh. Her laughter, loud and contagious, cuts through the jet lag. Meanwhile, I retreat into the cinema of my thoughts. These are brief flicks—small photoplays—interrupted by brief dips into reality. Then the reclusion returns. For a few minutes. A thought emerges. A sudden return to the present, and back again. The film reel continues to play. Just like a Super 8 film, my thoughts run at 18 frames per second, each 3-minute reel looping vividly through my consciousness.

As we hover above the vast and lonely Hungarian puszta, I'm attempting to address the question I initially intended to when I opened my journal: why am I starting a blog? Am I experiencing a quarter-life crisis? This doesn't seem so far-fetched at first glance. After all, my 25th birthday is just around the corner. Maybe. Maybe not. Probably not. I guess not. I don't know. Yet, I feel a compelling need to share and write. Considering all that's on my plate with the PhD, why on earth would I start a blog?

The children behind me are throwing temper tantrums. I struggle to maintain focus against this chaos. Their mother is trying to catch some sleep before we descend. As a side note, Budapest at night is breathtaking. I realize this as we pass above it. Die Lichter von Budapest, as a certain law professor would title his book, indeed shine brightly. Similarly, a fervent desire to share and connect glimmers within me. Perhaps this is the reason I embarked on this journey. Or perhaps I finally listened to the advice of a friend who enjoys my Letterboxd reviews and has long encouraged me to start a blog. It might be all of these reasons combined.

In all honesty, I don't really know what I'm doing. However, I do know that I won't be just another Carrie Bradshaw. And just like that, the thought of Carrie fades into oblivion as we make our descent into the Transylvanian Highlands. I suddenly notice a distinct smell—someone has farted. The culprit must be either in front of or behind me. I quickly turn on the air nozzles. I can't help but grin at the absurdity of it all. The boy behind me is screaming. Safe and Sound by Capital Cities blasts through my AirPods, yet it battles in vain against the screams. The synth beats are uplifting. Perfect for bad days. Or good days. Or any in-between.

At this point in space and time, I can't give you a definitive answer about what this blog will be about. I'm still figuring it out myself. Perhaps it will be a collection of random thoughts. Culture talks. Travel anecdotes. Life outtakes. Maybe it's my way of directing what happens next, much like how I'm learning to use my new Super 8 Camera—a 1972 Canon Auto Zoom 814 Electronic I purchased from Kleinanzeigen. But first, I'll need to buy some ECN-2 film rolls when I get back to Zurich.

On repeat:

• Going Kokomo – Royel Otis
• Rollercoaster – Bleachers
• Guess featuring Billie Eilish – Charli xcx
• Iris – The Goo Goo Dolls

On my nightstand:

• The Years – Annie Ernaux (I intended to finish this memoir before leaving for Romania; alas, I didn't manage to do it)
• ca și cum nimic nu s-ar fi întâmplat (Comme si de rien n'était) – Alina Nelega (I've been postponing this book for far too long)