White Star

White Starhttp://whitestar.blog.co.uk/Ivona Iftimie's pageen-UKhourly82000-01-01T12:00+00:00White Starhttp://whitestar.blog.co.uk/http://data5.blog.de/design/preview/15/9ab373d60c9fdeed07785c7cad7e95_160x200.jpgMy sishttp://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/07/14/my_sis/2005-07-14T20:41:26+02:00 My sister is in America now. I had been a bit worried about the damn Dennis hurricane that killed so many people. She is living in the Washington area, and she is just fine. Actualy she is working there in a hotel. There are great programs for students nowadays, they can go anywhere they want as long as they pass through an interview and a language test. Anyway she was bathing in the ocean and having a great time in the jacuzzi. Well she has two jobs and no direct access to Internet, she has some excuses. Still she didn't send any pictures and I am curious. <a href="http://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/07/14/my_sis/#comments">Comments</a> My sister is in America now. I had been a bit worried about the damn Dennis hurricane that killed so many people. She is living in the Washington area, and she is just fine. Actualy she is working there in a hotel. There are great programs for students nowadays, they can go anywhere they want as long as they pass through an interview and a language test.
Anyway she was bathing in the ocean and having a great time in the jacuzzi. Well she has two jobs and no direct access to Internet, she has some excuses. Still she didn't send any pictures and I am curious.

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]]>Slim!http://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/07/01/slim/2005-07-01T08:58:08+02:00 By the way, 8.3 and dropping. Only if I wouldnt't eat so much during the week-end... <a href="http://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/07/01/slim/#comments">Comments</a> By the way, 8.3 and dropping. Only if I wouldnt't eat so much during the week-end...

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]]>Progresshttp://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/23/progress_2/2005-06-23T08:58:02+02:00 Hello friends! I am 8.6 and still going down. Well at 8.2 I think I am going to reward myself with something pretty to wear... <a href="http://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/23/progress_2/#comments">Comments</a> Hello friends! I am 8.6 and still going down. Well at 8.2 I think I am going to reward myself with something pretty to wear...

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]]>Name of the Starhttp://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/21/name_of_the_star/2005-06-21T18:58:11+02:00 It occured to me that my blog name is different from the other's. Since I didn't wanna put my name on it (but I have it underneath) I thought I might find something to represent me. And I had been searching for a long time when I actually found it. It was a picture I took one afternoon, in one of my photographic expeditions. There was a little flower, star-shaped and white, which seemed so lost in a carpet of other flowers, practically identical. But that one offered itself to the camera, gracious and beautiful, and it became the best picture ever in my gallery. <a href="http://data1.blog.de/blog/w/whitestar/img/steluteblog.jpg" title=""><img src="http://data1.blog.de/blog/w/whitestar/img/steluteblog_small.jpg" border="0" alt=""></a> That is the main motive. Another motive is a phrase my manager said one morning. People don't like him because he is always keeping the distance making himself a hard-to-get-to person. We know his army formation makes him like this, but people are like children, mean and ruthless. Well he said when I gave him the paperwork at the end of the day 'Thank you Ivona, you are a star.' I don't know if the expression was pejorative to him or he was just so relieved he had finished that he needed to express that to the messenger. And it makes no difference to me, because I am a star after all, I am unique and I am special. This is the story of the blog's name. <a href="http://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/21/name_of_the_star/#comments">Comments</a> It occured to me that my blog name is different from the other's. Since I didn't wanna put my name on it (but I have it underneath) I thought I might find something to represent me. And I had been searching for a long time when I actually found it. It was a picture I took one afternoon, in one of my photographic expeditions. There was a little flower, star-shaped and white, which seemed so lost in a carpet of other flowers, practically identical. But that one offered itself to the camera, gracious and beautiful, and it became the best picture ever in my gallery.

That is the main motive. Another motive is a phrase my manager said one morning. People don't like him because he is always keeping the distance making himself a hard-to-get-to person. We know his army formation makes him like this, but people are like children, mean and ruthless. Well he said when I gave him the paperwork at the end of the day 'Thank you Ivona, you are a star.' I don't know if the expression was pejorative to him or he was just so relieved he had finished that he needed to express that to the messenger. And it makes no difference to me, because I am a star after all, I am unique and I am special.

This is the story of the blog's name.

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]]>Hungerhttp://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/21/hunger_6/2005-06-21T09:01:35+02:00 I am on my diet again. My bad awful diet, one meal a day and nothing else. I drink a lot of water and I am still hungry. And still can't see losing anything. I have straberries and cream in the refrigerator, raspberry Pavlova and caulyflower cheese...I am hungry I could eat a horse. I am 9.1 trying to get to 8. I have 6 weeks to look good for my holiday. Nobody cares, because all my friends like me the way I am. I can't really find a serious motive for all this self punishment. Could bullimia be the only reason for bullimia? Too hungry to think about it. I'm going for a nap, I might forget food... <a href="http://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/21/hunger_6/#comments">Comments</a> I am on my diet again. My bad awful diet, one meal a day and nothing else. I drink a lot of water and I am still hungry. And still can't see losing anything. I have straberries and cream in the refrigerator, raspberry Pavlova and caulyflower cheese...I am hungry I could eat a horse.

I am 9.1 trying to get to 8. I have 6 weeks to look good for my holiday. Nobody cares, because all my friends like me the way I am. I can't really find a serious motive for all this self punishment. Could bullimia be the only reason for bullimia? Too hungry to think about it. I'm going for a nap, I might forget food...

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]]>Interviewhttp://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/20/interview_8/2005-06-20T19:21:05+02:00 I have applied for a job inside my factory, it is a QA job. I managed to do well - better than they expected anyway...I could have done better, but I thought I didn't wanna be perfect. You know, especially for jobs that you are overqualified for, don't try to be too smart. Your boss doesn't like to employ someone better than him, he would be afraid that you would take his job. Not that I would like to be a Quality Manager, I really don't want it. What I would really like would be a HR manager. Yes, I would be the perfect person to do that. What a challenge... But so far so good, you can't jump from nothing to sky high. You need a base and some steps. I have the base - almost a year on the factory floor. I know the jobs, I know the company and I know the people. It would be one step this QA job, IF I could get it. It is only for 6 months, but it would give me the chance to meet some managers and work with them. And who knows? Maybe someone would see my value. Dream on, sweetheart. <a href="http://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/20/interview_8/#comments">Comments</a> I have applied for a job inside my factory, it is a QA job. I managed to do well - better than they expected anyway...I could have done better, but I thought I didn't wanna be perfect. You know, especially for jobs that you are overqualified for, don't try to be too smart. Your boss doesn't like to employ someone better than him, he would be afraid that you would take his job. Not that I would like to be a Quality Manager, I really don't want it. What I would really like would be a HR manager. Yes, I would be the perfect person to do that. What a challenge...

But so far so good, you can't jump from nothing to sky high. You need a base and some steps. I have the base - almost a year on the factory floor. I know the jobs, I know the company and I know the people. It would be one step this QA job, IF I could get it. It is only for 6 months, but it would give me the chance to meet some managers and work with them. And who knows? Maybe someone would see my value.

Dream on, sweetheart.

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]]>Yellow Roseshttp://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/18/yellow_roses/2005-06-18T08:22:44+02:00 I am writing today about a very sweet memory of mine. It is about the first few days I have spent in England. I remember coming at night and not feeling very well, a bit confused and with a terrible headache after my first ever trip by plane. My husband waited for me in London and took care of the bus tickets and the going from one site to another. And then we arrived at the house we were supposed to live in, and we had a lovely room with purple curtains and a small chest of drawers and a red-with-flowers little carpet in front of the bed. And the next day I remember discovering the garden. We lived at first floor, and underneath us there was a sweet old lady called Olive. She had the prettiest garden I had ever seen before, with dozens of yellow roses. I used to sit on the fence and look at them roses. So perfect, so perfumed, so yellow... <a href="http://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/18/yellow_roses/#comments">Comments</a> I am writing today about a very sweet memory of mine. It is about the first few days I have spent in England.

I remember coming at night and not feeling very well, a bit confused and with a terrible headache after my first ever trip by plane. My husband waited for me in London and took care of the bus tickets and the going from one site to another. And then we arrived at the house we were supposed to live in, and we had a lovely room with purple curtains and a small chest of drawers and a red-with-flowers little carpet in front of the bed.

And the next day I remember discovering the garden. We lived at first floor, and underneath us there was a sweet old lady called Olive. She had the prettiest garden I had ever seen before, with dozens of yellow roses. I used to sit on the fence and look at them roses. So perfect, so perfumed, so yellow...

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]]>Paintballhttp://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/13/paintball/2005-06-13T18:26:15+02:00 There we are again. And I went paintballing. There is not much to it, actually. There is a forest, and there are areas separated by nets. Each area is different - one is like stonehenge, one has wooden little cabins, one has towers, one has bridges...They separate the people in two groups - odd numbers and even numbers. They write the number on your hand when you come in. One of the teams is the red team, the other one the blue team. And they let you in one area for 15 minutes, with the guns and something to do - like take the flag from the centre and move it to the other's team base. Because most of us were there for the first time, there was a huge mess. Who gets shot is dead and leaves the game. The proof is the paint on you. Well for the private feelings, I am a person of confort. I hate wearing other people's clothes, heavy smells, dirt and miserable toilets. The overalls we were wearing were damp, and it was quite chilly in the woods. The toilet was terrible, I was afraid to take my trousers off just in case one of the spiders in there would visit me. So I would rather save myself for my own toilet - and I waited for 3 hours. The team was of thirty something people - split in two. Me and Maria got to be in the same team. So after I was given the gun and the amunition I was following her. Not very brave of me, but I was disorientated and didn't know what to do. One second we were all together, the next one I was alone and paint bullets were flying around me. Maria said I wanna go home, and I answered the same. What the hell we were doing there anyway? In aroud two hundred people on that site, there were the two of us and just one other girl, tall strong and with pink long hair braided in two pigtails. I shot about ten bullets an then I was hit in the neck. Lucky me I had a rolled neck jumper and it took most of the shock. But the paint was on my own clothes now. We had five games and during the second I got really hit in the leg. It hurts like hell...So for the next one, when one bullet splashed my gun, I yelled HIT! and out I was... My mates were laughing, but it was good for experience. All of them want to go again, but that was enough for me. <a href="http://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/13/paintball/#comments">Comments</a> There we are again. And I went paintballing. There is not much to it, actually. There is a forest, and there are areas separated by nets. Each area is different - one is like stonehenge, one has wooden little cabins, one has towers, one has bridges...They separate the people in two groups - odd numbers and even numbers. They write the number on your hand when you come in. One of the teams is the red team, the other one the blue team. And they let you in one area for 15 minutes, with the guns and something to do - like take the flag from the centre and move it to the other's team base. Because most of us were there for the first time, there was a huge mess. Who gets shot is dead and leaves the game. The proof is the paint on you.

Well for the private feelings, I am a person of confort. I hate wearing other people's clothes, heavy smells, dirt and miserable toilets. The overalls we were wearing were damp, and it was quite chilly in the woods. The toilet was terrible, I was afraid to take my trousers off just in case one of the spiders in there would visit me.
So I would rather save myself for my own toilet - and I waited for 3 hours.

The team was of thirty something people - split in two. Me and Maria got to be in the same team. So after I was given the gun and the amunition I was following her. Not very brave of me, but I was disorientated and didn't know what to do. One second we were all together, the next one I was alone and paint bullets were flying around me. Maria said I wanna go home, and I answered the same. What the hell we were doing there anyway? In aroud two hundred people on that site, there were the two of us and just one other girl, tall strong and with pink long hair braided in two pigtails.

I shot about ten bullets an then I was hit in the neck. Lucky me I had a rolled neck jumper and it took most of the shock. But the paint was on my own clothes now. We had five games and during the second I got really hit in the leg. It hurts like hell...So for the next one, when one bullet splashed my gun, I yelled HIT! and out I was...

My mates were laughing, but it was good for experience. All of them want to go again, but that was enough for me.

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]]>15th of Junehttp://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/10/15th_of_june/2005-06-10T17:51:40+02:00 Today I am starting this. I have decided to write down a little bit of a journal, just as much as the internet can stand. Just a slice of my life. I am doing this for myself, not for the others. Well, today I am waiting for tomorrow. I am going to paintballing for the first time in my life with some work mates. I have to wake up at 7 o'clock, walk for half an hour to my friend's house Maria because she will be driving. Well she is not my friend but maybe she will be one day. I suffer from lack of friends lately. A lot. Because I had a lot of friends who dissapointed me and a few whom I have dissapointed. So I lost them. What should I wear? I was told I will be covered in bruises and the paintball guns will be heavy and we are going to have a lot of fun. Hopefully. See you tomorrow then. <a href="http://whitestar.blog.co.uk/2005/06/10/15th_of_june/#comments">Comments</a> Today I am starting this. I have decided to write down a little bit of a journal, just as much as the internet can stand. Just a slice of my life. I am doing this for myself, not for the others.

Well, today I am waiting for tomorrow. I am going to paintballing for the first time in my life with some work mates. I have to wake up at 7 o'clock, walk for half an hour to my friend's house Maria because she will be driving. Well she is not my friend but maybe she will be one day. I suffer from lack of friends lately. A lot. Because I had a lot of friends who dissapointed me and a few whom I have dissapointed. So I lost them.

What should I wear? I was told I will be covered in bruises and the paintball guns will be heavy and we are going to have a lot of fun. Hopefully. See you tomorrow then.

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