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I turned my head, and I saw her. That moment changed my life forever.

It did. If I would retrace the lines, it all comes back to that very moment. I instantly forgot about D. who was my middle school crush at that time, and of course, I was stupid enough to friend-zone myself. Of course, who could blame me? After all, I was a 14-year-old boy just hitting puberty. (My father cried when I first shaved my mustache - funny story for later- but, thank god I wasn't wearing one at that moment.)

Mistake no 1 -- that guy wore a moustache!

Exam 1 : Still life crayon drawings

I didn't know her name, but I was going to find out in about half an hour. There I was, feeling alone in the schoolyard and trying not to look at that goth and mysterious girl. She looked like nothing I've ever seen before, and fit in no pattern (Until that time I considered myself a blonde aficionado). Although it was hot and humid, she was wearing a white jacket, black jeans, and a black top. Black hair. What I believed to be a Guns-n-roses Cross. You could see rebellion in her outfit, but still wearing that white jacket that momma-made-you-wear. (read this whispered)
She was leaning against a brick wall, talking to some colleagues. She wasn't just another brick, and somehow I hoped I wasn't going to be just another prick.

Our eyes met, and of course, I brought my mystery game to the table too. I looked away. I think that happened four or five times until they finally took us in for the actual exam.

As I was headed to the entrance, my feelings of anxiety intensified. Everybody seemed to know everybody. Except me. Luckily, a guy came up to me and we started chatting. I guess he did that because of the Korn t-shirt I was wearing, he looked kind of punk-ish too. His name was S.

Somehow the Universe lent me a hand right there, we were assigned the same workshop for the exam. I quickly recapped what intel I had that far: she must like Nightwish and Metallica and her last name must start with a letter between A-D (I thought we were assigned alphabetically, but I later found out it was random.)

She had the workspace near the corner of the room and there were 2 more people between us, that guy S. to my left, and another girl A. One professor assembled the still life, and the future art high-schoolers started drawing.

I finished the drawing in a couple of hours. The arrangement was simple: A traditional Romanian yogurt pot a plate and two apples. Technique: Crayons.

(I had some practice with that kind of still life). Back then weren't as many cell phone users as there is today, I didn't possess one. My father was the only one in our family to have a cell. It was a brick, and it went around by the name Maxxon. So I planned to meet them after four and a half hours of exam.

Since I wanted to stay and find our her name, I had to act like I was working. The scheme was simple: Let her finish and sign the presence sheet, then go right after her and see what her name was. (Stalker 101). So I started putting the final "touches" to my still life drawing. Although I probably didn't want to at that point, I slowly began ruining my drawing.

CRAYON INTENSITY (6h-8b) -Marked with red are the darkest touches I added to my drawing on large areas, shades.

Time flew by, and my parents were already out, so I had to go. I didn't get the chance to catch her name. You might think I must have heard it because I mentioned earlier that everybody seemed to know everybody, she is to this day a quiet person, so she didn't talk much, although I've seen her hanging around with her colleagues. (they had done the prior three years of middle school at that Highschool - In Romania, some High schools have middle-school classes too).

Day 2: Dynamic Composition with three characters playing in the park" (watercolor-warm colors)

The second day was rough. My dad and I don't get along very well (even to this day), so of course, there had to happen a fight between us right that morning. We left the usual subjects aside like "we don't have money for that" or "mom&dad @ Jerry Springer." and went straight to the button that was pressing me: I didn't really want to go away from the Great Citadel of My Birth (my hometown) to That-Place-Where-I-don't-Know-If-I'll-Fit-In (Art School-Different City).

He pulled a good-old "Do you know how many sacrifices we make for you" trick and I retaliated with a classic "I don't care, I didn't ask you to." And so on and so forth.

Source

So my ego was triggered, and I realized that I had the means to "show him." All I had to do was fail the exam.

However, there's one thing that bonds us energetically, my father and me. He senses my moods and can see my actions, and I'm sometimes surprised, although I have to admit, that's happening quite rare lately. So I suspect he knew what I was planning to do, so he packed our hair-dryer among my watercolors and brushes.

I entered the workshop and tried to keep my sh*t together. We had the same placements as yesterday. Today was the day I was going to find out her name. Just for me. I was so mad at my father, and I didn't want to get in at that point.

We had the same placements.

9:00 - 9:45 I drew three kids playing with a ball. I drew them very small in the right corner of the page. Putting them in the corner was wrong. ;)

9:45 - 11:15 - colored the characters with warm colors in a smudgy way

11:15 - 11:45 - break: I was with S in the bathroom, and he smoked a cigarette while I drank my Cola

11:45-13:00 I painted the park in Deep green (cold color) - that meant covering the rest of the page

----One hour left---

There was this strange feeling of panic that started to overwhelm me. Something didn't feel right. I started drawing the Metallica logo on the drawing board, and the HIM logo too. 15 minutes later came the teacher who was in charge of covering the names on the canvases. Then I had like a mini-stroke of realizing my self-worth: it was none. At least not when I looked at that damn painting. That was happening right after the teacher sealed my name on it.

I think that's my first big accomplishment-ever. Watch me: as he turned away I called for him and asked for another canvas because that one was no good. He was shocked at my request, as there were around 40 minutes left. I felt all eyes on me.

I quickly began working. I put the paper in portrait mode, and started painting on the fly straight out of the watercolor box in shades of orange, yellow and red. Then I added accents and suggested 3 characters playing with a ball. They were large enough this time. They were all yellow. I had the old hair dryer with me, so it was kind of fast. And the creme-du-la-creme: She left the room right as I finished my painting.

So as I turned in the art I glanced at the last name on that list: Her name was E. Funny if you think about it - My ex-crush was D., and my current crush was/is -E. With my high hormones, of course, I hoped to get to the F part fast. At that time, it was the other F.)

Two weeks later I had the results. I was in: 6.50 in the first trial (minimum admissible was 6.00) and 9.80 in the second. When I got off the phone with the highs school's secretary office I was double happy: I got in and she got in. The rest of the summer was driven by my hormones being D.'s "friend(zone)" for a whole 2 months and totally forgot about E until September. Don't judge, I was 14.

----To be continued...

[BONUS] Here's a picture with E. playing with a stray dog we named Samurai.

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I later found out that while I was in the exam, my father went to a small shrine near the high'school. He tossed a coin for the poor, made the sign of the cross and thought like: "God, if that's his call, then may it be." I was around 13:20, he told me. I don't necessarily believe in a divinity that has a beard and white hair and likes to torture his son, but I believe in the power of energy we put in some places. My parents are getting older, and they believe that God is a bearded man that lives in the sky. I believe that "God" is everywhere and that science and religion are looking at the same thing, just decoding it differently. It's all bits and pieces of the same truth from different angles and different ways of expressing it. (I'm not saying it doesn't work, but in most cases, it doesn't. The problem is most people become too radical about their beliefs.)

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Read the rest of the story

Growing up in Romania #1: The ice cream that shaped how I see life

Growing up in Romania #2: How I met my wife (part 1)