About Elvira

I'm a 20 years old college student, who is always curious about the world, like to philosophize (about things I find interesting or important) whenever possible. I love my pet cats, reading brilliant books and I also like to bake muffins.

Names; are they important at all?

We treasure our names, like it defines what we are as a whole. Even though we share it with other thousands if not millions of people. Does it define us at all? Can it be called an attribute or a collector of our every trait, thought and history?

We are more than a name. The words are a poor but needed way of society to temporary call us somehow, make a difference between our existences.
In a way, just for a moment, it does bow down and acknowledge everything behind the syllables, and then it continues on ignoring and waiting for the name’s beholder to react.

It almost seems silly of how fond some people are of their names. I suppose, to them it’s not just a name. There’s something behind it, more than a meaning we could ever understand.


Thoughts from where they barely exist

My head hurts.
The deadline is due Friday, meaning I have two more days. Plus this night if I manage to stay awake; then again, how could I not when I’m this stressed? The publisher, editor or someone’s probably going to call me tomorrow asking about the book and I don’t know what to tell this person. There’s no way to finish it in about 30 hours.
Maybe I could ask them to postpone the date again… Last time, after explaining my tangled thoughts, they gave me an extra month without any kind of complaint.
I felt understood, a little bit comforted even. I don’t want to disappoint them or myself again.

Thirty seven minutes and about fifteen seconds later nothing has improved. Time passed as I wrote a few sentences; I genuinely felt stupid after reading them, and deleted everything right away. They were truly horrible lines. I assume even my cat falling on the keyboard would have created something more meaningful compared to what I’ve been producing lately.

Around five in the morning, one begins to question the worth of their existence. I have some satisfying lies; you may call them answers that I tell myself in these cases. They don’t work though. I would have to be convinced, and that doesn’t happen usually. I still try every time, muffin points for me (Right? Riiiight?).

Usually, there are ideas in my head – thoughts that I consider pleasing enough to work on, slowly turning them into full-grown compositions. What’s happened with this side of me? Have I lost it? Is it possible to lose something that has never been mine to begin with?
Can I call myself a writer? No, this is the renowned muse-less author.
Wait – what muse to begin with? The only thing I know how to do is writing. I don’t need a muse!
In truth, I couldn’t make anything out of the buttons with letters on them for over a month now. I’m a disgrace among other authors. In fact, I shouldn’t even call myself one. This person is just a human who thinks she can amuse others by putting words together, and calling them fancy names.
I shouldn’t be even doing this.
It’s Thursday, and it’s been for a few hours now. In the corner of the screen the white numbers are yelling at me: ten past six, ten past six, do something productive!
Some person, whose name I’ve never heard before called to “check up on me”. I lied to him and said everything’s alright and I’ll be finished by the given time. I wanted to be as relieved as he was when I told him this.
Yes. I have to. I must.
But… but. No.
Y-, ah, crap. The headache found its path back to me again.

After some sleeping I’m back sitting at the table, poking the keyboard.
The annoying numbers (pretending to be the clock on my wall) tell me I have about 16 hours for roughly forty pages. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t even need that much time. Then again, I wouldn’t be putting my cat’s paws randomly on the buttons either.

Slowly moving my index finger over the mouse pad… I open Firefox. Then click on one of my bookmarks: Deviantart. A brilliant site, where other amazing people prove they are unquestionably wonderful artists and not so troubled with deadlines as I am right now. Randomly going through the Daily Deviations, I can’t decide if I’m giving up on my creativity or getting filled with it.

There is a painting striking me with inspiration. There’s a girl on it who has a really sad face, surrounded by clouds, though she isn’t looking at them. She is somewhere else in her thoughts, even though she could enjoy the impossibility of her cloud-swing. She seems human, meaning she probably got there by chance or an accident (maybe magic?). What feeling could it be, that distracts a person from this heavenly place? I’d like to find out.

Friday afternoon, I just finished rereading everything.
I attach the file to the emails, wait until it uploads, click on the “Send” button and take a deep breath. It’s a brilliant feeling; I can feel my lungs getting filled with air.
Slowly getting used to the thought that it was indeed possible for me to finish in time, I get up from the chair to stretch my back. There’s a cup of coffee, I made hours ago, on one of the paper piles. I grab it and go out to the balcony.
I see myself in the glass as I open the door. My hair looks like a bird’s nest; just as messy as the reflection of the living room behind me.

Smiling, I take a few steps out, pressing myself to the fence, looking around casually. There’s no one in the garden below, or on any of the balconies.
– I finished! FINALLY! – Accidentally, I dropped the cup while jumping around and yelling to the walls. A few moments later, it crashed on the ground. It was quite loud for a cup.
As I lean over to check the shattered pieces, a rather angry neighbor from below is looking back at me.
– NEXT TIME, DON’T DROP COFFEE ON MY CLOTHES BECAUSE YOU’RE HAPPY! – She’s screaming and I become a little worried for her health as more blood rushes to her head than I have in my body.
I’m laughing though; I can hear the neighbor marching up the stairs.
Who said I would open the door?

Daily Prompt

Back to School

Technically, I am still in school, but there’s always wondering somewhere back in my mind about forbidden what ifs.
What if I went to study literature instead? Japanese? Finnish? Music when I was still a kid? Dancing? All of them?

To tell you the truth, I’m greedy, I still want each and every one of these. I like to believe there’s still time, since I’m pretty young with my twenty years of existence.
Other times I wonder if I’m still young enough to achieve any of them at all. I’m aware that if I really want them and work hard to get them, I could reach every one of these goals within the next ten years. Maybe I will. Time will tell.

Then again, there’s always the what ifs for dreams above the sky we call real. These thoughts in my head feel more real compared to the sky. Let’s skip this conversation with myself, I’ll probably rant about it soon in another post.
So, back to what I was trying to say: I’d probably try to learn some kind of magic, alchemy or the trick behind becoming a Time Lord/Lady.

I forbid myself to use the what ifs consciously, for a simple reason. They waste the precious time of the present, on things I cannot bring back, cannot change. Also, I seperated them from achievable dreams.
Other than this, I think I’m completely free to (day)dream about the impossibilities of my life.
Like suddenly waking up and realizing I can play the piano. Eh.

I’d like to finish my short philosophizing with a quote by a brilliant poet and author, Sylvia Plath.
“I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life. And I am horribly limited.”

Champagne of words

Books should be called something like that. The word itself doesn’t sound nearly as exciting as the worlds they have inside them.
It’s not hard to guess what made me think of this topic. I just finished one…  A trilogy, to be exact.

How brilliant it is, when the book you start reading draws you in, making you lose your sense of time, hunger, everything otherwise stated as important.
At one point, I realize and look up from the book to smile. Like a sign to myself or the little someone (who I like to think everyone else has in their thoughts as well) in my head, to be sure she knows I’m aware too. I fell for the taste of this champagne.

I keep on reading, drinking the words, thirstier than I even thought I was, for more and more. The truth is, it’s past 2 am already, I can’t see properly anymore but I just have to, have to read one more sentence. Paragraph. Page. Then start again, and I’m suddenly done with this chapter. All too soon.

Finishing the first book and knowing there are two more is a privilege, because I only found about the existence of the trilogy after all three were already out. It’s a feeling of comfort. The end is a perfect cliffhanger, but I can open the second book and go on with the story right away. And that’s what I do. I’m becoming alcoholic if the author wants me to be. It’s all too easy, when the drink tastes this pleasing.

Time is so short when I spend it doing something I love. Days were not designed for me to read. I couldn’t finish the second bottle in one day. Not that I could sleep, since thoughts about the plot adding slowly up kept me awake, making my so-very-wrong theories. Then, the next day I’m so eager to get to the third and cautiously final book, though once again, I can’t keep up with myself. Suddenly, there was a puff (believe me, I could almost hear the sound when I looked at the clock), it was almost 3 am. Though I have only reached till the half of the final story, I went to bed.

Here I am now, knowing the taste of this particular trilogy as well. It made me very drunk for days.
Just after reading the last sentence, I had to go back a few lines to make sure this was the end. For a few seconds, I unconsciously made myself enjoy the ecstasy of it all. It tasted perfect. I knew I fell in love with another one.
My system scheduled the daily reality check just after these intoxicating feelings and it felt like someone shook my head for me. Every drop of the liquid was removed from my thoughts in a blink of an eye.
It’s over. The plot, it’s not finished. IT COULD BE CONTINUED.
But it won’t be; only in my thoughts.

This is the part, when you take out the next drink, wanting to taste the same sweetness, falling again. Obeying the need, I got out the next series. After the first sentences, the first sips, I smile again, for the person inside. I can’t do it. I can’t mix the drinks. They taste their best without the other. Although the little someone in my head already knows this, of course.

DPChallenge:Chocolate psyche cupcake

Time for dessert!
– 6 introvert base powder
– 4 curiosity fruit
– chocolate (as much as you’d like)
– life sweetener (I prefer the brand ‘Music and Friends’ but it’s totally up to you)
– 7 book aroma drops
– 3 philosophizing powder
– 5 enthusiasm extract
– just a pinch of self-doubt baking salt

– ‘the blue rose of impossibility’ butter cream frosting
– cute black cat shaped icing
Recommended lace wrappers:
(A.N. :They are usually made out of sarcasm and spider webs but if you’re lucky, you can find some simple, recycled paper ones.)

1. Preheat the oven to 170C(325F).

2. Put all the powders listed above into a big bowl. Make sure not to add too much of the philosophizing powder, it could give some kind of a reaction when mixed with enthusiasm extract. The dough might grow too big and we might hear unexpected, sometimes unwanted facts coming from inside the cupcake.
After taking time to decide how much chocolate you want in your life at the moment – no, don’t. I have to tell you the truth. No matter what amount you decided on, you probably need more than that. Go, get all and every chocolate you can find at home, then cut them to pieces and put them in the now mixed powders.
(None found at home? RUN FOR YOUR LIFE.
I mean, to the store, of course.)

3. Get another bowl for the liquid ingredients.
Start with the curiosity fruit, squeeze out all the juice it has and be sure to check what happens with its peel later. You know, just because…it’s fun?
After checking there are no seeds in the juice, put some life sweetener in it. Make it as sweet as you want it to be, though you should be careful; don’t make it too sweet, since you added lots of chocolate before.
Now comes the book aroma and enthusiasm extract. As I’ve mentioned before, you really have to watch out for the quantity. Too much of either of them can cause overreaction, and side effects* for the people eating them. Be sure to add just the amount stated above and everything should turn out alright. Really. It does in most cases.
[*Side effects include: reading too many things in too little time, reading when and/or what you shouldn’t, losing sense of time completely, writing what and when you shouldn’t, be happy about things when you should be doing more important stuff, be happy about these things for day, weeks, sometimes months, etc. Contact the author for more specific details.]

4. After whisking the ingredients from 3., slowly mix it with the powders from 2. Continue until the mixture is smooth, but be sure to not over-mix as it might look and taste like someone else.

5. Spoon the mixture into the paper cases until two-thirds is full. Sprinkle a little of the salt on each of the muffins, then bake them in a preheated oven for about 20-25 minutes. You should be extremely careful with the salt, its side-effects can be disastrous.
Leave the cupcakes to cool slightly in the tray before taking them out to cool completely.

6. While the cupcakes are baking nicely in the oven, you can prepare the butter cream and the other decoration materials. Check if you have enough cupcake wrappers. If not, just run to the closest supermarket. That’s the heart of the cupcake make up. Run, you fool!

7. Now, I hope you made it back just in time so your muffins are still okay and not a burnt pile of mess. (Next time, maybe try to add some positivity seeds in them too.)
I’d write “make sure they are cool enough that the decoration will not melt”, but I’m absolutely sure it’s not needed. You dozed off after all that running, right? It’s okay; at least the cupcakes can be decorated now. Get up, come on. Finish what you started.

8. First, put them in the lace wrappers. Next, add three little blue butter cream petals on each of the cupcakes. The rest of the butter cream should be used as glue for the cat shaped icings.
Carefully, put the cats to their places and try to make to stay there. Not that they ever will, but give some credit for yourself. After all, you did try.

9. Voilà, you’re done. Be happy with your new creation and enjoy every bite.

Daily Prompt: Party Animals, aka me vs. going out

Daily Prompt: Party Animals (?)
[ http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/07/21/daily-prompt-personality/ ]

After spending time with a group of people, do you feel energized and ready for anything or do you want to hide in the corner with a good book?

The question is basically whether we’re introverts or extroverts. (I advise you to read Quiet by Susan Cain if you’re not familiar with these expressions – or just type them in Google, but the book is worth a glance or two.)
Even though that’s the real question behind the question, it’s never quite that easy. We’re complex beings; black and white is not a way to define ourselves. So if we go back to the topic: it depends – on a lot of things.

As for me, I’m the introvert of the introverts, the really typical one. You can barely see me out of my castle (also known as my bedroom). I’m mostly reading/ studying, usually 27 hours a; I bet I would if there were more hours in a day… In the remaining time not spent sleeping, I usually help out my parents and play with my cats. If I don’t HAVE to go out, I’m not tempting fate by going out further than the front yard, and I’m going that far only for the cats.
Of course, I have friends with whom I go out every now and then.  They know I’m not the party animal in their life so they all respect it. Also, if I meet with a friend, I prefer it to be only the two of us so we can actually have proper, long conversations, catching up with the recent life events, enjoying our time together.

As I’ve said before, our personalities are not just black and white, and I’m usually not the life of a party if I attend one by chance – there was a gig I went to that kept me up for three days straight.
The first day and part of the second meant 8-8 hours of traveling to the concert, then back home, but I really didn’t have to spend the night of the concert and the day after it awake. To tell you the truth, it was probably the work of adrenaline. I enjoyed the concert so very-very much; seeing the band I love live made me so happy I couldn’t stop smiling. The memories gave me energy, motivation.
Just thinking back makes me giggle.

I never thought I’d be the one who gets fired up by a gig, being the bookworm I am, but apparently it’s possible. I became a bit different after this; realized it’s not so bad to go out from time to time, so I’m not exactly as bad as I’ve described myself some lines ago. My friends seem to approve of this change.


I’ve been wanting to do something about my life for months now. There was a sound in the back of my mind, something I didn’t pay attention to at first, telling me this isn’t the way you should do things.
As I got more and more desperate in time, I sat down to have a talk with myself. What am I doing wrong? What am I doing right? Should I change? What?!
As any typical person with available WiFi, went on Google, searched about self-improving, motivation, anything I thought would help. I read a bunch of articles, bookmarked a few blogs and celebrated the never-thought-to-be-found-so-fast answer(s) with watermelon and coffee.

I am officially starting my new life as a college student on her summer vacation today. Also as a (hopefully) future writer, medical laboratory analyzer, a (hopefully->squared) healthier person.