Why Worry?

October 02, 2020

I’ve had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened is something Mark Twain said and is a later edit that just got on top of everything, all of a sudden.

What it feels like for a girl

We listened to Madonna’s ‘Music’ album in the car. Yes, I am a sucker for albums.

Did not worry for a second about losing my slippers in the river. Sometimes, worrying is good, yet, you see? I didn’t loose my slippers, I was just living. As in feeling. But, jees, still, thanks for keeping my slippers. On. I must admit they, the slippers, must have crossed my mind, though. Thank God I didn’t worry then, but hey, should I now, for not stopping this?

Now. Where were we?

This is a jumpsuit and I’m carrying lavender in my right hand.


Here we go.

You know how English people almost always say No worries! as a reply to Thank you! or even to Excuse me? Having my brother and one of my dearest girlfriends in the UK, I got to spend there some time doing the extraordinary just as much as the ordinary.

I’ve never heard it in in my native language. Until just recently, when my heart skipped a beat. It was said in the most genuine way I’d ever heard someone I hadn’t even met before say, so I made sure that I would have met them, and I did, and we lived happily ever after. Wait. I’m kidding, but you know what? This is the drill.

The No worries! I’m speaking about now, though, came from a lady at a bar in a cottage named Hanul Vatra, up in the mountains, I got to spend a couple of days in. We crossed paths and she, first, gave me the most casual No worries! and I, glitterally, smiled straight into her eyes for a split second after having turned my head towards her in no time. The second time she, yet again, very naturally, said No worries! to my Thank you! for the coffee at seven in the morning (delightful sun coming through the restaurant and all, yes, in the mountains, super cozy clothes, fresh air, fresh coffee smell, fresh milk, you get the vibe), when I grinned and, gently, asked her if it’s a region’s thing. This No worries! of hers.

She smiled, a bit shy, surprised, said I don’t think so or who knows. Said she hadn’t even realised she was saying it and we had a wonderful conversation over coffee, yes, the vibe.

Then, every time she saw me, she asked me What were the words I said?, with a not so shy anymore, still shy, but prouder now smile. Cute prouder. So, the first time happened in the restaurant, when I passed her. The second time was over the coffee in the morning. The third time, however, happened when she was leaving work, the cottage I was staying in. I was writing on the porch outside. From afar, quite afar, she asked me, screaming, with a grin, this time, hehe: What were the words I was saying? I screamed back from the top of my lungs: No worriiiieeees!

She smiled.


I laughed.



The moments.






Had I not paid attention, this moment wouldn’t have happened. It was a usual thing for her. For me? The usual thing for me to do was worry. Not the worrying in the typical, mot-à-mot way. A worrying somewhere in the back of my mind. A subtle one I knew I’ve, always, kind of had. I just like it when everyone around (and in the world, ideally) is well. And kind. Yet, oh, the great, magical moments, lived with just the same kind of people (great, magical) I completely forget about worrying with! That’s when the extraordinary happens.

Worrying is a form of staying in the mind. And the mind is cool, super cool, for when you need it. The moment you start feeling, though, enjoying, is the moment you’d think I would call extraordinary, but it is, actually, ordinary what I would call it. It makes us feel home. And only after, the extraordinary. I can feel it in my stomach just saying it.

You know?

Pressure is good on special occasions. I bet I will enjoy, to some extent, worrying about my kids and I can not wait for them to, one day, read this to their father and me, over toasting champagne, on a different kind of porch, post them partying until the morning and us, parents, giving them the looks our parents used to give us when we used to come home in the morning after dancing the whole night through. My parents have been (still are whenever there’s a different kind of special occasion) the good partying kind of people all their lives and even though they knew we knew, they gave us the look, anyway.

Worries seem so real, at times, that you can’t help it. At other times, though, if you pay close attention, all you have to do is relax. Feel. Try to scream, while laughing, in a charming moment, No worriiiieeees! at someone and you’ll see what I mean. It’s a feeling.

Worrying, as a form of pressure, can be good for work, for making your dreams come true, for having your eyes wide open in crucial situations. Does this mean life is an entire crucial situation? Of course not, whooh! But that’s called flying. Worrying during a flight never made sense to me. We’re not talking about that flight we all kind of, at least once, have been and saw our lives flashing before our eyes on. It’s not like you can do anything about it. You’re supposed to just sit. I mean, you’re not only supposed to. It’s the only thing we can do while suspended in a gigantic piece of iron in the air. Just like we’re supposed to just live on the ground, this gigantic piece of a planet in the air, basically.

Live. Stay present and let our mind enjoy a vacation as much as possible, as often as possible.

Don’t ever, though, mistaken not worrying for being lazy. You do you, whatever you do.

PS: now good luck with the not worrying part!

PS to the PS: I, glitterally, enjoyed the cottage, the late night conversations, the shared food, the road trips, the music, the surroundings, the sun, the places we saw, the river we put our naked feet in and the cottage’s owner. Hello, Otilia! Like there’s no tomorrow.

The last PS. I think. See? Think. I didn’t say I feel. So, hm… What I’ve come to understand is that life has a way of surprising you and is, in fact, interested in your truth, so no matter the worrying (I just took a deep breath), things always work out best and people don’t change, they just become more of who they are which is great, because I’m becoming more of who I am, so yay to us!


I wrote it in super bold and big letters to make sure you see it. It was important, no? Just flying.

In your mailbox would be ideal, yet in your e-mail is pretty close, yay!
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Hey, this is Cristina Pavelescu wearing a music cassette sweater, decoding (life) style and writing from wherever, yet always living in OZ, a world I invite you into. To smile in front of our screens (and live one day), put any kind of questions, answer in writing (or imagination) and marvel at fashion which is, in fact, style.


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