February 2011

Today I want to write about my mum. She always supports me, I can count on her and I am really grateful that she lets me make my own mistakes, but also she's always there for me. There were many important things that she said to me, but one I remember well and that is a great example of many other conversations we had, is one that happened at the beginning of 2011.

I was going to London on my winter holidays. It was my fifth trip there, but first on my own. I was staying at friend's place, but knew that most of the time I would spend alone. I was surprised that my parents weren't really against that trip (except the 'why can't you go somewhere else. It's always London, aren't you bored?' talks). You can say it's nothing weird because I was 20 then, but I know many parents who don't allow their children, even that big, to travel alone.

When I came back I asked my mum: 'Why weren't you afraid of me? I was alone, in a big city, far away from here. I thought you would text or call me like 100 times a day. And nothing like this happened...'

Then my mum said: 'You know. I was so scared. Before you went to London I couldn't sleep at night, thinking if it's a good idea. But I didn't want to make you nervous about it. I decided I save those fears for myself because you're not a little girl anymore. And you'll be fine. I can't treat you like a child. I was scared, but knew you would be ok. If something was wrong, believe me, I would buy a ticket and fly to London as soon as possible, but after your messages on the first day I knew it was a good idea to support you and let you go on this trip.

My mum is the coolest mum in the world. Of course, sometimes I'm angry at her. But on the other hand I can't imagine her being more supporting and caring than she is right now.

June 2012

I was finishing my final year of Bachelor's degree in East European Studies (that I didn't like). I had no idea what to do next. Master? Work? Travel? I felt really lost and was full of doubts. After one of the exams I had a chance to talk for 15-20 minutes with, probably, my favourite lecturer I met at uni (the subject was also really interesting – The Beatles and The Sixties). I remember this conversation well.

- So what's next Zuzanna. What are your plans?

- I really don't know. There is this new course at uni, master in criminology. I think I wanna study it.

- But do you know what to do with your life? What about work? What can you do after this course?

- I...I don't know. I wish I was this kind of person who had a dream job and do everything to get it. I wish I knew who I wanna be. I would be much happier knowing that.

- You know, I'm not so sure. Let me tell you my story. Since I remember I loved French and wanted to teach it. So I knew what I wanted to study, what exams I had to pass. And now I'm here, doing what I thought I wanted... but am I happy? Was it a good choice? I don't know. I still love what I'm doing. But maybe it would be better to study something connected with EU and international relations and work in Brussels like many of my friends? And do what I love as a hobby? I don't know. But what I want to tell you is that if I had a chance I would probably choose other way. Or at least try something else and then decide. You don't know what to do – it's ok. Try many different things. Experience as much as you can. And finally you'll find your place, ideas what you wanna do. Good luck. You'll be fine. Just don't give up and believe in yourself.

To be honest, this conversation was a big surprise to me. Yes, few students and I were sometimes staying longer to talk with him after lectures, but I didn't expect so personal speech from him. I was a bit shocked but also happy because, as I said earlier, I really liked him. What he said calmed me down. Thanks to him I realised that there's nothing wrong with me. I'm twenty something and have a lot of time to find out what to do. Who I wanna be. I can try many different things. I can change plans, ideas, directions. And I can make mistakes too. I left the room with a big smile on my face. And I try to remember his words everytime I start to panic about my future. 

First note

Few weeks ago I watched TEDxStormont. Especially one of the speeches couldn't get out of my head. John-Paul Flintoff – Conversations That Change Life. I still can't stop thinking about it and not agree with his point. In our life we have loads of conversations with many different people. Some of them are special, close to us, some are strangers we probably won't meet ever again. Even the smallest talks can change our point of view, the way we see the world. Some of them are significant the moment they happen, some will become important months or even years later.

I started to think about my life-changing conversations. There were many I remember, that helped me understand world, my emotions, life... I think that we change everyday a little bit. And every conversation can make a difference.

Last night I listened to James Blake new album, 'Overgrown', playback on XFM. The whole idea is that he talked with the DJ, John Kennedy, about every single track. It was interesting not only because of the music, but also because James was talking about the whole process of creating and who/what inspired him. During his work on the album he also had some conversations that gave him new ideas, helped him, when he didn't know if what he's doing was right.

So. This crazy idea popped up in my mind – why not write a blog about conversations that are important to me? Conversations that help me understand world, that inspire me, that make me believe that life is colourful when I see all in black. I want to write about talks I had with my family and friends, random strangers and if I will be lucky enough, with people who I admire.

Sometimes it will be just one sentence, sometimes maybe a whole conversation. We will see how it works... Maybe this place will become something special not only for me, but for somebody else?

So far, thanks John-Paul Flintoff, John Kennedy and James Blake, because without you I would never decide to start this little blog.

Love,

Z.