Seeing stars

Backpacking last weekend was almost all sunshine, rainbows and glitter.

That is, until I realized that sunshine & rainbows & glitter breed mosquitoes. No amount of bug repellent goo or swatting at the air could deter the little shits from stealing my HIV-negative blood (though, in a moment of utter frustration, I  yelled “I hope you get AIDS, motherfucker!” I know, I wish I could take it back). At one point, I gave into my childhood curiosity and did something that sadistic 10-year-old Cristina would do:
let one land, watch it fill with blood, SMASHITTT!

For the sake of the photo, what’s one more? The total bites on my body are ≈1,900 less than the number of visible stars. This means three things:
1. I’m in a constant state of mild torture
2. I awaken the fear of smallpox-slash-bedbugs-slash-AIDS in people
3. It’s a good time to spot new constellations like Prickus Major:

Adulthood means that I try to ignore these bites and realize that they’re a small price to pay for being in a place where 2,000 stars glitter. Nevertheless, I can’t forget the joy of standing on the bed to throw pillows at the ceiling, killing mosquitoes en masse, then inspecting the red pillowcase constellations. It seems the American buggers got revenge for their fallen Romanian comrades. Touché.

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3 Responses to “Seeing stars”

  1. Sometimes it’s the suffering that gives us something to write about! You are ridiculously hilarious and creative and cute, and I look forward to reading your words. 🙂 I guess you can just be thankful that they weren’t sand-flies. Those bites can last up to 2 weeks!

  2. Ohhhhhhhhhh, maybe, just maybe, I thought I might learn the best wisdom on the existence of the blood-sucking skeeters and their vicious little bites. I mean, why can’t they just suck my blood peacefully, no itchy-burning-madness necessary? “Hungry? Sure, have a tiny bite, I’ve got plenty to go round, just be nice and gentle about it.” But that doesn’t happen, even when I try to be kind. Sometimes I say, “Mosquito, hi there. Please don’t bite me. I don’t want to kill you. But if you bite me, I really will have to, so please, if you value your life, just don’t do it.” Mostly, they ignore me, and then pain and death abound. Sometimes when I’m in the woods or on a mountain and there’s big glory inside and outside and all around, sometimes the mosquitoes come and then I become a girl, dancing, running and issuing high-pitched squeals (errrrrrr, no offense meant to you or the feminine)… and sometimes I even run right back to where I started, miles away to the shelter of a car or… Anyway, as a peace-loving mystic, I still await the wisdom of the mosquito. But thank you, Cristina, for such an entertaining account of your encounters, and I just love the picture of your constellation!

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