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Be kind.

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 Dear future hubster, I'm sure you remember where you were when the US last elected a president.  I woke up in the house I shared with the Russian boys in the metropolis of Hatfield, having gone to bed the night before thinking I don't need to stay up all night, I have school the next day, and this is going to be boring.  As we all know now, it was not boring, and I woke up to a world in horror and disbelief, reflected in social media posts. I remember what Zyanya wrote - "the man can't finish a sentence!" -, what Yohann wrote - "So instead of Netflix & chill it's now CNN & panic?" -, what Simon wrote - "fear is a weapon of mass destruction", what Ponyo wrote - "vox populi, vox Dei" -, and, most of all, I remember that Tara's post was calm and constructive, and suggested we reflect, pause, organize, act. That was grounding thought in a flurry of "holy shit"; something I still think back on 4 years later. Yes,...

Some say you will love me one day

 Dear future hubster,  we all know the saying about the way to anybody's heart leading through their stomach. If you're a returning reader here, you also know that I have a tendency (and some skills) to feed people.  While I can be rather adventurous and ambitious with my cooking (I had no issue inviting 10 people for a couscous dinner BEFORE I even asked my colleague for her mother's recipe because, well, I'd never made couscous before?), I also have a few items that I've practised and foolproofed over the years. Some say that one of those will get me a husband one day. Now while getting a husband is not an ultimate priority for me, I also don't want said husband to be disappointed, or, worse, have an allergic reaction. So it's better for you, dear future hubster, to know, that my current list of signature dishes are mostly desserts, although I make a mean vegan stuffed pepper too, and my zucchini pasta has earned some recognition as well. I hope you will f...

That's not my name

 Dear future hubster, in case I haven't told you before: my family name gets mispronounced a lot in Hungary. Not because it's particularly complicated, but because people mistake it for a common although very old-fashioned noun that has a meaning. Also they probably think I don't know how to spell my own name correctly and fix it for me. Outside Hungary, where accents on vowels are a mere exotic and slightly kinky feature, my family name gets mostly left alone. My first name on the other hand gets butchered a lot. Again, not because it's particularly complicated, but because people like to stick to what's familiar and comfortable, and there's no harm in addressing me in a nearly correct but not-quite-there way.  I used to get more annoyed about my family name, because seriously, how hard could it be to put aside your own assumptions and read what's actually written. I used to be more forgiving with foreigners because... actually I don't know why, because...

Even cold November rain

 Dear future hubster,  it's been a while. Time is a social construct and it's perceived differently depending on the circumstances, and the circumstances this year, I don't need to tell you, have been all over the place. Yeah I also moved countries and started working remotely so now I have 3 very distant time zones to manage but that's just the kind of things I do.  And yet. Something has been off, or maybe everything has been off. While rationally I very well understand why it's difficult for the fascinating but also somehow dumb human brain to deal with uncertainty of this depth, width, and length, I do not particularly enjoy the experience. At all. And I have a hunch that I'm not the only one. Maybe you, dear future hubster, live in one of those neighbourhoods where they organise collective screaming at 5 pm, and if you do, I both envy and applaud you. Assuming you do participate, otherwise I think our future marriage needs to be reconsidered. Or maybe you t...

#thisgirlcan

Dear future hubster, if you thought that my saying that I don't need anybody was but a lockdown-induced hissy fit that I didn't really mean and will take back, well, let me tell you that a hissy fit it might have been, but certainly one that results in action. The action being that I used the lockdown to learn how to fold a fitted sheet. All by myself.  I'm getting more independent by the day.