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| Florence 2003 |
When I was 23 in my last year of University (btw, I am an engineer working in media, but that's common around here) I got a scholarship in Grenoble, France for 6 months to made my final diploma work there. From technical and content point of view was a disaster. Complete failure. Defaillance. But that's another story. Maybe some other time I'll tell you that story too.
This story is about Dixi's and mine attempt to save some lost souls around us. Dixi (Diana) was a Romanian student working there to pay for her studies, a nice, welcoming friend for many generations of students. (Dixi if you ever read this, it will be great to get back in touch). For reasons which proved later to be false (at least in my case) most of our18 colleagues contingent had chosen us to be their confident. The persons and the place they can talk, cry, spill all the frustrations, problems and sadness they gathered in the unusual situation of being far from home and loving ones for so long. Now is more common but then and there, some very young persons not use to travel living suddenly in a western country (compared to our18 years under communist regime), this generated LOTS of issues.
Love, affairs, romance, money, study, relationships everything was troubled. Somehow they considered me more emotionally stable and wiser so they started the pilgrimage at my student dorm room. For hours, days months. Up to the moment I was accumulating so much negative energy I started to have nightmares. Not mine but others. I was happy. Alone, but happy, writing long love letters to my girlfriend, listening music to my new stereo (btw, I completely trashed my debit card in 6 months up to the moment I had to bet my return train ticket on a bank check on a completely void bank account; Bank sued me and my parents had to borrow money to pay my debit for 2 years) and trying to listen and comfort everybody. At some point it was too much.
Then I found Dixi and we realized we are having the same issues. We made it officially and organized and started this lost soul foundation we named it after the sours of Paris. So, for 3 to 4 months we were the psychologists of the group. Only many many years later I came to realized the effect left on me and that sometimes all of us, including myself, need someone's help.
I realized then that I am good at and love to understand and help people. I'll keep telling you my stories and maybe you will find some comfort and help in them.