Christmas á la Layra

I tried to get into the Christmas mood. I really did. But all I found was purple tinsel. And it was also the day Vlogmas ended.

GRADUATION BALL!!

That is right, everyone!

Time has arrived.

Curiosity won't kill the cat.

It is now.

You can all finally read about this very, very special, once-in-a-lifetime event, which I have mentioned so many times before, yet never truly discussed. You can finally read about my graduation ball, this impatiently awaited celebration, which I had been dreaming about every second night, which didn't go unmentioned for a single day, which ultimately did live up to my expectations and become an experience that will be etched into my memory until the moment of my death. Or at least that's the plan.

So, now that I've got that painful introduction off my chest, I shall first recount you all a little background information, so that you guys actually know what I am blabbering about. First things first: graduation ball is not the same as a prom, or even a Leaver's Ball, or a formal. As a matter of fact, it is not even called graduation ball in Hungarian (we just called it that at my former school, BIS), but "Szalagavató", which literally translates to "inauguration of ribbons". Why ribbons? In Hungary, it's a tradition for seniors to receive a ribbon, with the school's name and the year of graduation on it, which they then wear as a badge for the rest of the year. To help you visualize it, here is mine:

(taken with phone, don't lecture me on the overexposure)

Now, the ribbon pinning is meant to be the most important part of the ceremony, but at some point in history, an actual ball part - you know, with dancing et al - was added, and ever since, whenever high school students or their parents or anybody else thinks about grad ball, they think about the waltz. The waltz, which girls dance in wedding dresses, and guys dance dressed as penguins, to make it fair to everyone. Yep. You think that's all, though? Think again, as once again at a certain point in history, somebody decided that a single dance performance was not enough, so individual class dances are now performed as well.

Yep. That's right. It's kind of a huge deal. And I haven't even mentioned the after-party yet.

So how did all this mayhem materialize when it came to MY graduation ball? Well, my friends, the time has come for you to find out. Now, you shall see a timeline of events:

8:00 AM: Pulling my carry-on luggage behind me and holding a large, purple sack containing my beautiful dress, I hop into my grandpa's car and drive out of town, onto the motorway, leaving my wondrous capital city behind in order to find the very special sports arena with the cheap rent that is to be my home for the day. 

8:30 AM: I turn up. I lock the car and head inside, but only after dropping the contents of my bag in the parking lot and having to climb under a car to retrieve my phone charger. Why did I even bring a phone charger? Anyway, nothing unexpected has happened yet.

9:10 AM: This changing room is tiny. It's also really, really hot. I have a feeling that the school might have accidentally rented a sauna for us to change in.

9:30 AM: Dress rehearsal commences. My tutor and substitute tutor have baked us cake, and instead of pinning our ribbons, they hand us brownies! They are the sweetest, and I want to hug them. The teachers, not the food.

10:00 AM: Rehearsal of my speech. Everything's good, I am convinced that I will ace this. Little do I know what is waiting for me...

 ~~fast forward (a.k.a. I don't have a vague idea about what happened in these next couple of hours)~~

13:00 PM: Waltz rehearsal, stylishly late. These dancing shoes they gave me are murdering my feet. It's a slow and painful death. Also, all the girls are wearing their underskirts, and we look ridiculous. I am no way going to dance in these shoes. The skirt will hide my feet. How does that Patti Smith song go? "I'm dancing barefoot..."

1:30 PM: Let's take five! Let's take five! Now!

2:00 PM: Make-up session. I spent about $50 on this foundation, and I bought a separate brush for it. It better be good.

2:05 PM: Two possibilities: A) Estée Lauder foundation is crap and I wasted all my money. B) Estée Lauder foundation is good, only I don't know how to use it.

2:50 PM: Make-up done. Not even all the tears and sweat can ruin my look. Only my false eyelashes are falling off, but I've kindly asked the make-up artist lady to fix it for me. I should probably offer to pay for it, but I have no cash left thanks to...

3:00 PM: The hairdresser! She pulled half of my hair out the last time, but she is actually doing a decent job now. My hair looks like that of a normal person. I mean...kind of. Yeah, only kind of.

4:30 PM: I put the uniform on, but my head doesn't fit through and my hairpin gets caught in a thread and disaster follows...

5:00 PM: I phone my mom impatiently, and scream at her. They'll be late and all the good seats will be taken. And then they won't be able to take good pictures of me, which I then won't be able to upload to Facebook hang on my wall.

5:30 PM: People are arriving. People are weird. I'm starting to worry that someone else will have black lace on her dress as well. Because these are the things I worry about. Not the fact that I have to submit a university application the following day. That's right.

6:00 PM: People have arrived! Everyone is here! Yay! Yaaay! LET THE SHOW BEGIN!

6:15 PM: We emerge  on the basketball court on stage, triumphantly snake around for a minute, then take a seat. You guys, it's happening! It's real!

Tryin' so hard not to fall over.

6:40: PM It's time for our pinning! I think I'm about to get emotional...I think I'm about to start sobbing. I don't have any tissues with me. My name is called. My portrait appears on the screen. I take a deep breath, and step forward.

(I'm the one on the left if you couldn't tell...those three words are my name)

The moment the needle penetrates my collar...

6:50 PM: Time has come for my speech! It's OK. I'm not even worried. I've rehearsed it several times, and it went well. Who are we kidding, I even know it by heart! I begin speaking...I'm through three sentences, but then...am I sure this is coming next? I pause. I look at my transcript. I frantically search for the part where- I lost my line I- I- sh*t, I should probably speak on. Sh*t, I just messed up my speech. Dammit. It's all gone wrong. Breathe. Breathe. Continue.

Appearance: calm. Reality: panic & hysteria.

6:52 PM: I finish my speech and traumatized, I walk back to my class. They did not just stick their tongues out at me, did they? Horrible, horrible people. I love them.

7:00 PM: We stride out and prepare for our class dance, and this is when I lose track of time... In between changing and actually getting to perform, this guy from our class and I do a chicken dance along the corridor, at a certain point and for no apparent reason I declare my love for him, I get yelled at for deciding not to go to the after-party, and I realize that said guy is about to put me on his shoulders during the dance. Oh well...

Between 7 and 8 PM: Our class dance!!! The concept is convicts and lawyers, and no, it wasn't my idea. I wanted flappers and cops, and Charleston music. We are wearing stupid fake plastic glasses and I can't see a thing. The guys have stupid fake nylon tattoos and they don't look too comfortable either. I also don't think the shirts we're wearing are made for dancing. An arm raise is enough for this performance to turn inappropriate. Here's what's happening:

Yep. In retrospect it looks pretty cool, I must admit. After performing our dance two times, so that it's visible for both sides of the audience, we sit down and enjoy this little video about our five years at this school. I notice that I appear significantly few times in it. Oh well...

This is my only noticeable appearance in the video, and I look as if I had just come back from a jog. I know it's a USC hoodie, but still. 

About 8:30 PM: OK, so unbeknownst to us, our marvelous teachers have also prepared a dance performance. This night is getting better. The two teachers who actually have doctorates enter wearing lab coats and stethoscopes, and the rest of the staff shuffle in, all wrapped in towels and demonstrating convincing acting skills by playing ailing old people. Geronto-dance! Rad! But wait what...why are they undressing? I might not want to see this after all. What the-

Oh right. Cue ABBA music. Dressed for the seventies. I'm lovin' it. I told you I'm lovin' it.

9:00 PM: Time has come for what we've all been waiting for. The waltz. I'm suffocating. There is no air in the changing room, and my corset is compressing my ribs. At the dress salon, they told me I'm supposed to feel "delicate" in this. I don't, I feel more like a whale. The diameter of the dress is inversely proportional to the diameter of my corset. As one gets smaller, the other gets larger, and I must say that my corset is minuscule.

9:10 PM: I will let the pictures speak. 

(Also, if you're new to my blog, I booked that dress in April. Nobody books dresses in April. I loved that dress. Nobody had a dress like that. I have eternal love for that dress. That. Dress.)

9:30 PM + Meet and greet. I waltz with all of my family members and take pictures with all my friends and try to not step on my dress. That dress...It's gotten kind of busy and thousands of people are crammed on this poor basketball court and I can't find anybody I'm looking for and I keep bumping into people who demand photos with me, but that's OK. It's OK, because I'm crying a little bit, and I have an urge to hug everyone I see. I love these people, I do. And in a couple of months, we'll graduate and I'll probably never see them again. We just danced our goodbye waltz. We looked so beautiful tonight. We probably are, too. All the time. Only, we don't notice it. We're too young to notice...

A while ago, I wrote a song for graduation ball. It's really, really trite, and really, really unlike me, but for an occasion such as this one, that doesn't really matter. It was such an elating experience, dancing there in those swishy, sparkling ball gowns, proudly standing there as they pinned my ribbon, dancing with all the people I've grown to adore. Anyway, I digress. I once wrote this incredibly cheesy song, and it goes something like this:

"This is our night,

Then we'll have to let it all go
We'll have to fight

And not just go with the flow

We'll start our flight

And we'll learn how to cope

'Cause we've survived

And we're unstoppable now..."

Yeah, that song is even worse than I remembered.

*Note: Most of these pictures were taken by my family members, but some were taken by the relatives of my friends. I've done my best to separate the photos based on their sources, but it's gotten a bit mixed up. I'd like to thank everybody who took the time to take pictures, and I'll always be grateful for all the effort put into taking them. 

Updates! Updates! Updates! (So Much Has Happened)

The following things have happened in these past few weeks (in ascending level of importance):

1) I got a 91% Higher Level Matura exam in German, so I no longer have to attend German classes.

Also, 100% speaking test, just to brag a little. Though I've already forgotten everything in these past few weeks.

2) I went to Vienna.

I didn't take any good pics, so this will have to suffice.

The Miró exhibition is the best. I also totally broke the rules and took about fifty photos of the Picasso & Monet exhibition. Hashtag badass. Otherwise, I spent the rest of the day counting all the poor guys forced to advertise iPhone 6 with huge signs on their backs, and shopping at Forever 21. Which is, lets face it, the reason I went in the first place.

3) I got my last ever SAT score back and it's good!!

25th percentile --> 94th percentile

Confession: I still have no idea about what linear regression is.

4) I submitted my application to Vandy, Kenyon and USC!!

Those little green check marks...

The relief! The relief! The fear! The fear, knowing that it's out of my hands now.

5) GRADUATION BALL (separate post to come)

(New profile picture with already 50+ likes. I didn't know I even had that many friends on Facebook.)

Yeah, so that's it in short. Your curiosities have been satisfied. Be on the lookout for a grad ball post.

Yes, Yes, Yes I Know!

Hello Friends and Enemies and Non-Existent People Reading My Blog!

It's been a while, I know. I know. Tell me about it.

I know you probably think that I've grown tired of blogging, or I've died (thankfully not), or I've forgotten my password, or I've converted to the Amish, or I've decided to go on a strike to combat the Internet tax, but no. Although I'd be pretty proud if the last were true.

Anyway, you know what month it is? It's November! And what does that mean? Thousands of bad novels will be written thanks to NaNoWriMo! I am taking my last SAT this Saturday! I will have a Graduation Ball in 25 days!  And I still haven't written my speech and the organizers probably want to strangle me. Yet more importantly, I have less than a month to submit my application to USC! And to Vanderbilt, as a matter of fact. You're asking me how I'm doing? Well, not too well, as it is. My USC portfolio is in tatters. I already hate formatting screenplays, so I have no idea how I will do in the future. But I'm working on it...I'm working on it...

I'm working on it, and that is why I'm not working on entertaining you guys right now, who don't even exist, I know. A blogger always likes to believe she has readers, though, so don't drag me out of my illusion!

I do have a number of posts lined up, however, including but not limited to:

1) one on senior portraits. What a disaster those are. Oh dear. I've even annotated mine using Paint, so I can show you guys how messed up it is.

2) one on college applications, and no, this blog is not turning into The Prospect, which by the way is my latest obsession. Nor are we treading onto College Confidential territory. I won't ask you guys to "Chance me".

3) one on grad ball, once it happens, and if I survive it.

4) oh dear, how shall I say this, I really ought to finish those posts on Paris. No comment on this last point please.

So, yep. That is it. Oh, and I might have had a slight shift in career aspirations. Currently, I'm thinking about becoming an admissions officer. To torture the youth the way I am being tortured right now. Somebody, please take me on a nice trip so I can leave UCAS and The CommonApp behind me. Just for a little while. I feel that they are taking over my personality. I feel that they are "Please elaborate on one of your extracurric-" taking control of "This section is incomplete" who I a-"What makes our college different?"

Erm...they're taking control of who I am.

You have marked this section as complete.

Paris - Day 0

I wrote this post a year ago. I'm still astounded by how much my writing has changed/improved(?) in the past year. Please excuse my awkward phrasing at times.

'Twas on the night of September 25, 2013, that I took a little, friendly Air France flight to Paris. Originally having a seat in the last row by the toilets, I kindly asked the unfriendly lady at the check-in to give me a seat rearrangement, and she granted my wish and gave me a nice place by the window, right by the wing of the plane.

View from my seat. For some reason, I have a terrible fear of taking pictures from a plane.

Being my usual self I was quite early, and had to linger around the duty-free shops for about an hour, looking at overpriced magazines, but soon enough it was 7:20 PM and we could start boarding. The plane was completely full, and the French football fans sitting in front of me did not help. Next to me were a Hungarian couple extremely immersed in gossip magazines.

This is not my usual photo quality, and I have no idea why I'm posting a bad picture of a waiting area.

It was already dark by the time of the takeoff, so I could see Budapest by night from above, and finally Paris by night. It was quite a bit beautiful, if you ask me. No really, it was an amazing sight. Air France also knows how to make delicious salmon sandwiches, so that's another plus.

I arrived at about 10:10 PM, and was greeted by my cousins. Unfortunately they did not have a board that said SPANYI, and that would've been cool. They did take a picture of my glorious arrival though, and send it to my dad, as I found out later. And my mom. And probably all of my extended family.

Then, we had to speed up a little, in order to catch the RER to Paris. which - as I was to find out -cause more ear popping than airplanes. After getting off the RER, we transferred to a subway line, then to another subway line, then I lost count of all the Parisian subways, and then we walked a little only to arrive at my cousin's apartment, from where you can see the Eiffel Tower (!), and the Gare de Lyon, which I originally mistook for the Big Ben. Forgive me, I was tired.

We had baguette with tuna cream for dinner, and at that moment, our habit of eating sandwiches with various fish products was established.

That is my day #0 in Paris in a nutshell, You think this was a long post? Wait until tomorrow's. And I didn't even mention the infamous fountain yet...

September Is Sad + I Watched Boyhood

I was originally going to title this post more inventively. Think along the lines of 'September Is Originally the Seventh Month, So Let's Pretend It's July' or 'No Wonder September and Sadness Alliterate'.

However, I am currently midst a writer's block, it's 10 PM, and let's not once again forget that September is a sad, depressing month that sucks the creativity out of you like an overfunctioning vacuum cleaner.

Please do not be offended by my subsequent bluntness.

So, where do we start? Oh yes, the first day of school. Not much to say there, the incoming 9th graders had distressingly short skirts, but you know what they say? The younger you are, the shorter the skirts get. Or something like that. But who am I to judge?

Which leads me to my second point. Recently, I decided that I no longer want my closet to be made up of black pants and matching black tank tops, with occasional metallic spikes thrown in. That's why, on a whim, I decided to go shopping, which turned out perfectly, except now everybody's like:
"Where did you get those over-the-knee socks?"
"Wow, do you think floppy hats would look good on me to?"
"My gosh, I should wear skirts more often, too!"
"Did that tragus piercing hurt?" (Oh yeah, I got a tragus piercing over the summer, along with some others. After 8 years, my mom couldn't stop me)
So no, I don't follow fashion. Fashion follows me, apparently.

Anyway, what else? I've finished my CommonApp essay about five minutes ago. The struggle was real. I'm still not entirely convinced that it can be submitted. I mean, I absolutely love how it turned out, but it reads more like a contemplative short story than an essay on how great I am. Yeah, we'll see about that.

Oh, and then there's graduation ball. So, I've been waiting for this since I was 15. I've got a beautiful dress. I've carefully considered whom I'd like to invite. I created a Pinterest just to find hairstyle ideas. I watched 34 make-up tutorials and spent more than I'll admit on make-up. And it's all falling apart. Why?

• The music. We'll be dancing to this song, which just about sets the mood for a lap dance. Had I known we were to dance to this, I'd have ditched the ballgown and gone straight for the latex bikini. Honestly, I was a strong advocate for this and this song, but you can't convince the mob.
• The class dance. We're basically doing aerobics. And we'll have to dress as lawyers. Again, I had a great idea for a Charleston dance, but again the crowd wasn't impressed. I mean, they liked it but that's as far as it went. Now I have to kiss my flapper fantasies goodbye.
• Thirdly, nobody seems to consider the fact that parents and grandparents and teachers are invited to this thing, who are now going to watch their beloved grandchildren and kids and students shake their asses to screeching music, in miniskirts. 'Cause that what we'll be dancing in. Oh well...

On another note, I watched Boyhood. I don't know why this is news, but I did, and I was pretty impressed. It was just what I had expected really, it wasn't better nor worse. I'm not sure if it really deserves all the hype around it, but it's a solid film. I'll probably review it on my tumblr, but for now I'll just say that what I liked the most is how it isn't like a film at all. If you've read Syd Field's screenwriting book, you'll know how a film has 3 acts, and two plot points. Well this didn't, and that's what made it so realistic - there was no obvious plot, it's just bits and pieces of somebody's life. It's also set in real time, with music (and an Obama campaign, which might have been my favorite scene!) indicating what year it is, and that's simply genius! And-

Oh, yeah, did I mention how once I start analyzing a film, I can't stop? If not, I'm mentioning it now. Intervention has been called, so I won't continue. Find the review on my tumblr. Though it might take a while till I post it...my posting has been so sporadic there recently that it's become the haunted house of the Internet...

 I also went to the Bristol open day, but I've just noticed that I haven't posted about my time in Paris yet either, and that was a year ago. So yes, you might read about me visiting Skins filming locations next September.

Quick photo before watching Boyhood. And no, I haven't kept to wearing black. My tights were turquoise, for the record.

Festival of Folk Arts

I know, I know what you're thinking. Another festival?! Really?! This is what, your fourth festival this year? Don't worry, though, the Festival of Folk Arts is not that sort of festival. In fact, it's more of a fair, where people sell their handmade goods for a shit load of money, and you can't even buy anything useful, but you still spend all your cash. Yes, that's right. For instance, I bought a jellyfish magnet today, even though last year I bought the same sort of magnet from the same guy, only that time it portrayed a frog. So necessary.

You can say what you want, but that jellyfish is adorable.

So wait, now you might ask "Layra, why do you keep going there if it's so pointless?" Well my friends, because it's kind of a tradition, and I've been going ever since I remember. Missing even one single year is not an option. Of course when I was a kid, I enjoyed it so much and wanted to buy everything and went hysterical when my grandma refused to buy me kürtőskalács, and now I walk around going like "Yes, this would be a nice souvenir if I were a tourist, but I'm not and everything's so expensive and I've already spent all my money on kürtőskalács, because now I get to buy my own and ugh." But it's still nice. I even found a hat I liked, since that was my main mission this time, but then it turned out to be about $80 and I sadly gave up on my dreams.

See? It's a different kind of festival. A one for minors and senior citizens.

Also, the whole festival/fair is located in the castle, which is probably one of the main attractions of Hungary, and even through I go there at least three times a year (which means I've been there 54 times already), I still find it surprisingly beautiful. The view is also unsurpassed, at least by Hungarian standards, and as I happened to discover that my new camera has special effects right there today, I was experimenting with those.

Now I know how people take their really cool photos. It's just the filters and effects.

This shall be my new Facebook profile picture.

Oh, and this is mostly off topic, but on our way there, as we were waiting for the tram, I looked up and saw this:

WARNING, GRAPHIC CONTENT AND I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING!!

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.

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Poor little pigeon...is it even a pigeon? :-(

I  think I might have scared the passers by with all the screaming I did.

SZIGET Festival - Day 2

Also known as the Hungarian alternative to Glastonbury*.

Our second day of Sziget was unfortunately less sunny and more muddy. We woke up to a mild drizzle, which then quite quickly escalated into a STORM. That's right. So after switching our pants from long to short to long about three times and doing our hair and make-up for an hour unbeknownst to the raging weather outside, we took off on our next adventure.

When we got there, we once more split paths - Nisa went to the regular entrance while I headed towards the VIP tent, because I am a very important person. After we met up for a quick raincoat selfie on the bridge, I went in, and while she was in the queue for another ten minutes, I was listening to some very nice arguments the staff were having with people who wanted to take their umbrellas in with them. "But I von't yuuz it! I've got uh reinkoot. I'll put it avay, but nooo, I von't give it to yuu!" And such.

This time, we didn't spend our time wandering around, we bought a water and headed straight to the main stage, where people were already amalgamating to see this random unknown Hungarian band Bastille. So we were standing there for about an hour, in the pouring rain, wearing raincoats and talking to a girl from Venezuela (well, Nisa was, mainly) who came only to see Bastille, and the Hungarians were doing their sound check, which I wasn't too impressed by. But as it turns out, they're not that bad! Seriously, I'd only heard one of their songs before, which is the soundtrack of the American Express commercial, but they did have one or two good tunes. And in the end, this random guy appeared on stage and proposed to his girlfriend, which was quite a bit romantic, and the band sang a song for them, and I even teared up a little and got all emotional, but that was all gone when the newly engaged couple got back into the crowd and was trying to push in in front of me. I mean, I'm happy for you guys et al, but bitches, no way are you getting my spot! Especially since I had been repeating "Be aggressive! Don't let anyone in front of you!" for the past hour. Though now I have all these fantasies about Shane proposing to me at ACL, during this year's Lana Del Rey concert. Or Kodaline. I wouldn't mind either way.

Once the Hungarians ended their show, the gods had worked their magic and it stopped raining! Honestly, just as Bastille came on, the sun came out. I kind of felt bad for Mary PopKids, though, because they thought all the people were there to see them, but nope. Anyway, as on Bastille. Fucking. Amazing. All I can say. They might even be better live, especially with Dan Smith's comments all along. Plus, he learnt how to say thank you in Hungarian, and that was adorable. He was also telling us to dance, because he "can't" (spoiler: boy, he can dance), he went down into the crowd, he climbed up onto a scaffold while singing Flaws (!!) and then got stuck. The best part was, however, when he couldn't hold it back and started laughing in the middle of a song. Oh yeah, and when he got the crowd to wave their raincoats. Honestly, it might have been the fact that I was close up, but Dan was just doing so much to communicate with the crowd, and it seemed like he was having such an amazing time himself, and he really did appear to be a decent guy who appreciates all the love he's getting. No, scratch that, all the members of Bastille seemed to appreciate it. (By the way, how do you pronounce Bastille? I say it the French way, but everyone else, even the members themselves, say it the British way.)

After Bastille sadly left the stage, we went to the bathrooms, or whatever those stalls are called again, where of course Nisa also had to start a conversation. This time with two Welsh girls. It went as follows:
"Wales is awful. Wales sucks. It's SO boring. We don't like Wales. I mean, we love Wales. It's great, if you're from Wales. But if you're not from Wales, it's boring. London's nice."
Then they entered the stall together, and after a minute, we witnessed the whole thing starting to shake violently. I think they were having sex and I stand by that, but Nisa said the place was too small. (I mean, it kind of did take a short time for them, so the question is, what were they doing? Leave speculations in the comments below.) They were also covered in glitter, one of them was barefoot, and they were completely drunk - so, average festival people.

Then we walked back to the main stage, now full of enormous baby bottles, for Lily Allen. As on Lily Allen, she's alright. I knew about two or three songs and I could sing along to those, nothing special, but maybe we were just too far. However, they released about 200 beach balls onto the crowd, which might look good on the photos, but was a horrible idea at the time, considering that it had rained half the day. Within five minutes, my hair, my hands and my clothes were all covered in mud. At least my camera was spared... I repeat, not a good idea.

(This isn't my photo.)

And yet another not too good idea - moving so close to the stage for the next act, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. We were about in the 15th row, but I couldn't really tell, since there were so many people, and the couple making out loudly next to me distracted me quite a bit. I also lost Nisa in all the pushing and shoving and punching. Macklemore himself was pretty decent, though. I'm not a big fan of his music, but guy sure does know how to make a show. The crowd went absolutely crazy, and all parts of my body were sore from standing the whole, but they kept dragging me up and down, as we were all standing so tight. In contrast to me, who knew three lines in total ($20 in my pocket/ this is fucking awesome/ like the ceiling can't hold us - and even there I thought it was "the city"), everyone else seemed to know all the lyrics and were singing along way too loudly. I mean, all I could hear was really false singing. And then this happened too:
"Who came with his/her boyfriend/girlfriend? [screaming] Wow. That sounded like twelve people."
On another note, the concert was never going to end. Macklemore had finished about three times, made us cheer separately for every single person on stage, made us sing happy birthday to a backup dancer, promised to (verbatim) fuck our mothers in a tent, and then he of course had to declare that this night was so crazy that they have to play 'Can't Hold Us' again. I was slowly dying inside...

(This isn't my photo, as I couldn't even move) 

Two years later, after the concert finished, we went back into the mud, slipped a few times, decided not to collect trash and thus lost 500 Forints, had some pasta, took our Festipay cards back, met some more typical festival people, and went home. We took a last selfie that nobody is ever going to see because it's that bad, and said goodbye to the best festival ever. I was sad. I was sad, but I didn't realize just how much, because I was way too tired for that.

Yep.

So this has been an unbelievably censored version of our Sziget experience. Hope you enjoyed.

*Nisa said this, got to give her credit.

PS. I'm abusing the strikethrough font, I know, I'm sorry. But it's really addictive...

PS. 2 How do you pronounce Bournemouth? This was our major argument with Nisa, so I'd like to how YOU pronounce it. But be careful how you answer, because this is my blog, and I'm watching you!

More photos of Bastille on my Flickr.

SZIGET Festival - Day 1

When something interesting happens in my life, I usually write about it once I've calmed down. And as we all know, that can take some time (I still haven't published anything on Paris, even though it was last Spetember!) Well, I didn't keep to that now, so if this post takes a turn to "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I went to Sziget, yaaay!!", I'm sorry about that guys. That said, you've been warned.

So, one of the big events of this summer was the Arctic Monkeys concert, which you all probably know about by now. They're my favorite band, the concert was a blast and I thought it couldn't be surpassed - but as it is, I was wrong!! And here goes why...

I went to the SZIGET Festival, which is probably the largest music festival in Central Europe!! The whole thing started out as me wanting to go to the Imagine Dragons concert only, but then Jake Bugg and Bastille were announced, and as I absolutely adore them too, soon I was standing with two tickets in my hands. Two tickets and nobody to go with. Really, finding a friend who was free at the time, was willing to go and willing to buy tickets was a real pain. That is why I was so grateful and relieved when my friend Nisa said she'd come with me, even for two days! She had to come here from a different country (!!) and she even stayed at my place, so that's commitment, but honestly, I'm so glad that I went with her in the end, and not anyone else. Really, I am. Also, her amazing dad offered to take us there and back every day, so we didn't need to use the public transports and deal with the canned tuna effect for two hours.

Our first day didn't start out so brightly, as I - unsurprisingly- left my camera at home. Yay me. We had to go back. Then, once there, we didn't know where to get out of the car. Yay once more. But once we stepped out onto the street, everything suddenly fell into its place. With my ticket, I could go in through the VIP entrance, which had no queue, and boosted my ego quite a bit. I was in within five minutes. Of course I had to wait for Nisa, but that too was way easier standing in the shade, leaning against a tree (maybe it was a fence) and fanning myself with the passport I was given.

So once we were in and noted that there are more than a few people around, we got out Festipay cards and went on a quest to explore the island. As it turns out, we were not that successful, and we missed quite a lot of fun places, like the 'Before I Die' wall and the Luminarium, but at least we got to the main stage soon and had a first row spot for Jake Bugg...

...who was the first act. He was about five minutes late probably since, as we kindly observed, he was just doing drugs backstage, but then he put on a show that went way beyond my expectations. Thing is, I like Jake Bugg. Not as much as the crazy fangirl next to me who was screaming "Fuck me Jake!" all along, and whom I wanted to beat up by the end, but I like him. And even though I used to think that's embarrassing, it really isn't. Because he might only be twenty, but his music is damn good. And he might walk onto stage bored as hell, already thinking about going back backstage to continue doing drugs, but the crowd still went pretty crazy, and most people still knew the lyrics to his songs. And that probably means something. Wait, where am I going with this? Anyway, he's ridiculously good looking too, though Nisa doesn't agree with me on that one. She also kept calling him Jakie Boy, so that's his new name from now on.

Following Jake, we went a little closer to the stage and ended up in the third row for Imagine Dragons, who came on about 45 minutes later. So much standing, but again, it was worth it. Because, up until this point, this was probably the best concert of my life. Dan Reynolds, the lead singer, was making real effort to entertain us - he walked around the stage, went into the crowd, poured water over us and almost over my camera all while singing 100% on-key. Honestly, he sounds just as good live as in the studio. Also, the bassist guy (Ben McKee, he deserves proper name recognition) just stole my heart - he was standing right in front of me and was smiling all along. Oh, and Wayne Sermon, the guitarist, has a golden mic AND a shiny golden guitar. Because that's just how rockstars roll.

After Imagine Dragons, we went to find the toilets plastic boxes with a hole, which was one of those experiences that made me wish I were a guy. Those stalls are vile. Then following a short break, back we were in the crowd, cheering for Placebo from afar. I mean, Nisa was, I barely knew two of their songs. Not that they were bad, they weren't, not at all. I was actually quite happily singing along with lyrics I just made-up. Little did I know what was to come...

Now, every day has got to have a low point, and if I had to name the one of August 13th, I'd no doubt say it was the Skrillex concert. You know that Inbetweeners episode in which Simon experienced moshing for the first time? Well, imagine that with approximately 70 times as many people, naked and sweaty bodies and screeching electronic music that is slowly sawing off your ears (aka dubstep - sorry guys, not a big fan of it). I mean, the music alone was kind of bearable, but the two incredibly drunk and incredibly shirtless guys next to me, who were shoving me around were not at all. Thankfully though, Nisa - being the outgoing one from the two of us, who can actually make friends - started talking to these French guys who let us in front of them thus blocking the guys who acted as if under electrocution. And then this other random festivalgoer told me to dance, so I did and we had a decent five minutes. But then, of course, the French dude got weirdly inappropriate and it was time to leave. Or at least that's what I tell people, I mean, I'm not going to admit that a Skrillex concert freaked me out. So we were pushing our way through the endless sea of people, having people touch us in all the wrong places, and I really felt like this is the end, but then we eventually made it out, and off we were to Miles Kane.

Miles Kane is known as the less cool version of Alex Turner, and I didn't know his music that well until this point, so I wasn't sure as on what to expect. I didn't even recognize him at first, because he cut his signature Beatles hair. But then we found a perfect spot in the back with space for us to dance - we weren't going into the mass of people following that Skrillex thing -  and were simply having fun for the rest of the night. Miles Kane was really good too, and I felt bad that he got banished to a small stage in a tent, but oh well. Some people, ahem Nisa and I, still like you Miles!

So once Miles Kane ended, we were hanging out for a bit, then Nisa's dad picked us up, which we were so thankful for (we were already being pushed around the whole day, no way did we need more of that on the tram), he took us to McDonald's where we had burgers with meat that probably wasn't chicken but I was too tired to care, and then off we were to bed.

Needless to say, we didn't have to make an effort to fall asleep.

You can find more pictures on my Flickr.

I'm Alive and Such

You guys might have noted that I've been quite lax about posting recently, so I'm here to let you all know: DON'T WORRY. I'M ALIVE. I'M NOT IN JAIL. YET. Now, I don't exactly know who I'm addressing here, since my blog has approximately zero readers (at least none that I'm aware of) but if you happen to be lurking this site once in a while, and if you've started wondering about my whereabouts, well, I'm here. I'm here, it's just that most of the time I usually post when something significant happens and, let's face it, nothing has happened in the past few weeks. At least nothing blog-worthy.

But if you've actually read up to this point, I might be able to gather some minor happenings for you. Such as:

1) I attended my grandma's 80th birthday and, though I'm not too keen on family gatherings, it went very well! Everyone was super nice and my cousin from Paris was there and I absolutely love her and I hadn't seen her in ages so yep, that was fun. Plus, delicious cake as always.

2) I drove on my own in the middle of a STORM!!! Yes, this happened about an hour ago and if you can't tell, I'm very proud.

3) I met up with a friend of a friend who is now a friend, and I bought a pink glittery skirt. Now, you should know that I don't wear pink, I don't wear skirts, and I rarely wear glitter. So I'm quite concerned, as it is, most probably as I don't know whether this is a perfectly normal style evolution, or whether I'm subconsciously transforming into one of my friends, which would, if you know the circumstances, make perfect sense. So I might call a style psychologist and consult with her on the issue. Style psychologists exist, right?*

4) I watched a documentary on Nat Geo about a cannibalistic serial killer and proceeded to have a really morbid nightmare about murdering someone and have a dog eat his head. Then I read this article written by a Penn Criminology professor and found it really intriguing (is this word even used nowadays?) and did I tell you yet that I want to double major in Film AND Criminology? BTW, I have morbid dreams on a daily basis, no need to worry. I'm just a bit paranoid and think way too much into certain things.

5) I wrote my Common App essay, and have a very good feeling about it. I've actually written three, and each one started out of the other, and each one morphed into an answer to a different prompt but yeah. My advice to Common App essay writers: don't stick with one prompt and consider the deal sealed. I've also worked on a couple of supplements and the Penn one is giving me nightmares. You know when you've got all the content, but just can't form it into a coherent text? Welp, that's happening.

6) I've studied some A-Level Sociology and have done some ACT prep, but clearly not enough. In fact, that's what I should be doing now.

So, that is all I can think of right now, and erm, I don't know. I'll let you all (I still don't know who I'm talking to) know when something less mundane happens. I've got two tickets for this big music festival next month, so I'll definitely write about that. Yep. I think I should get back to ACT Math.

Take care and such.

*I was hoping style psychology would be something I just made up, but no. It actually exists.

Arctic Monkeys Concert

Prior to attending this concert, I had the privilege of seeing one Arctic Monkeys T-shirt in person - mine. Now I don't know whether I can ever wear that shirt again without sacrificing the last shreds of my individuality. Especially since, thinking it would be completely original to wear a flower crown, I had to face the fact that about 80% of the girls present had the same marvelous idea. So. Many. Flower crowns. So. Many. Arctic Monkeys T-shirts. I mean, where did they even get them from? I had to order mine from Etsy, and for some mysterious reason it shipped from Bulgaria.

Anyway, the concert being discussed here took place at the Volt Festival, which is an annual music festival in Sopron, Hungary. I'm not much of a festival person myself (don't mind the festival, do mind the all drunk people), but, I mean, I'd been longing to see the Arctic Monkeys since SEVEN years, so I had to be there without question. I bought my ticket the first day it was available, and within the first hour. And so began this epic journey...

...which continued at 11 AM at the train station. Now, I was a bit worried about getting there, since I knew absolutely no directions or transfer options whatsoever, but all my worries evaporated when three kids about my age sat down next to me. From then on, the three hours spent on the train were a blast. We talked about the concert, about traveling to London, about not exactly liking our capital city, about how the Russians have a separate word for three-day sleep deprivation and so on... I didn't even get to continue reading my copy of On the Road, which I've been struggling with for a year precisely.

By the time I got to the venue, it was 4 PM and by the time I found my friends, it was 4:30 PM, since during the time I took the bus there, they were walking down to the station. What a perfectly coordinated meeting, right?

We still had a couple of hours to kill until the concert started, so we left the venue and were walking around town and, well, this is the part of the day that is better left censored... Erm, so, long story short, while the friends of my friends were eating shrooms and going psycho with seven other people in a one person tent, my friend and I went to see the opening act, which was The Strypes. And they were surprisingly good, really! I spent my time staring at the lead singer, who happens to be gorgeous, but it turned out that he's younger than me, so I transferred my affections to this random guy standing next to me. So it was perfect. Well, except for the tiny detail that I urgently needed to use the bathroom - which is a total mood killer. Oh, and that I couldn't change my camera's settings from B&W to color. And I couldn't find the flash either...

The first color photo I took - of The Strypes

By the time I got back from the bathroom, a huge crowd had gathered in front of the main stage and I couldn't find my friend. Nice. But after a couple of phone calls, raised hats and aggressive elbowing from my part, I did manage to find her, she dragged me into the great sea of Arctic Monkeys T-shirts, and before I noticed, we were already in the front rows. And we were pushed and kicked and jumped upon, but there we remained.

AND THEN IT WAS 9 PM AND THE CONCERT STARTED. And...they were there!! The four of them, they were there, in front of me, and suddenly I couldn't see because everyone was raising their hands and I couldn't hear because everyone was screaming and then they started playing Do I Wanna Know? and we were all singing along and my gosh, it was good! I mean, it wasn't 2007 Glastonbury good, but it was as good as it gets! Here's a video of it that I did not film (mine turned out to be OK, I just don't upload videos that much) but it's the best you can get!

So the concert lasted about one and half hours, and it was a blast. Really, all the reviews I've read since unanimously agree that it was boring and that they played lifelessly, but I couldn't disagree more. It was a decent concert. Apart from the ones in the UK, it was like every other Arctic Monkeys concert. I don't know what everyone was expecting and I'm sorry they didn't get what they hoped for, but personally, it was everything I wanted to see and hear and experience. The only thing I disliked was the setlist, which - apart from a few classics - was mainly from AM. Now, AM is my least favorite album of theirs, and not hearing much of their previous songs, especially When the Sun Goes Down, kind of broke my heart. I mean, they performed 505 which partly mended it, but still... Anyway, despite that, this was absolutely the best concert of my life. It was also my first proper concert (bad Hungarian bands and that arcane Patti Smith concert don't count), but it was the best.

Here are some photos:

Following the concert, we roamed the streets again, bought/stole posters, packed up, went dancing and before 3 AM, I was on the bus taking me to the station. 

The train was full of sleeping people, and I joined in.