♂ ≠ ♀

-BUZZ! zice de colo un good ol` friend. Ca tuh...sa va bag si sa va scot si sa va asa si pe dincolo, si sa va mai bag o data, sa fie clara treaba.
-Stai asa, ca nu pricep. Cine, fratzika? Pe cine? Care, cum, ce se petrece?
-Ca voi, ca muierile, ca toate! Ca sa va bag si sa asa mai departe (vezi randu` de mai sus)...
-Spune, draga prietene, ce-ai pe suflet. Dar daca se poate, fara sa ma bagi si pe mine si sa ma scoti, ca sa ai iara unde ma baga, ca sunt usor irascibila la o asemenea abordare si s-ar putea sa nu se stie.
-Ca, tuh femeie, cum dracu` sa ti-o spun mai clar: is peste poate de nervos.
-Peste care poate?
-Peste poatele mele, ale unui barbat.
-Pai de-aia ca poatele voastre se termina mai repede decat ar trebui, la cata gura faceti ca sa va preaslaviti rezistenta de fier si masculinitatea infinita.
-...is ase nervos, ca daca ar fi acuma donsoara aici, cred ca m-ar manca palma...Explica-mi si mie: tie cat timp iti ia sa faci un dush, sa te epilezi si sa-ti faci un bagaj?
-Pai, fratzika, depinde. Stiu ca voua, masculilor, va place raspunsul asta elaborat, spus cu un suspin ganditor, cu iz de filozofeala... Depinde daca epilatul e scurt sau lung, daca e total sau partial, daca e la salon sau acasa, daca ceara e de calitate au ba. Apoi bagajul, si ala depinde. Daca mergem in Seychelles, ia ceva, ca pana imi gasesc eu flip-flopsii, ma ia mama dracu`. Daca simplificam totul si mergem un week end la cabana, sansele-s mari sa dureze sub 10 min. Dar, ti-am spus, depinde.
-...ca sa va bag s.a.m.d. !!!
NB: se pare ca amorezii pierdusera trenul spre paradisiacul kingdom of far-far-away din cauza gatelii donsoricii... nu ma bag, ca nu-s mecanic, da` dupa cum am spus, treaba depinde de mai multi factori, nu-i totul asa simplu precum pare la prima vedere pt un mascul.

******

Ma mir uneori din ce motive se pot certa componentii unui cuplu. Daca ma intrebati in clipa asta de ce ma cert eu cu un eventual batut de soarta care ar putea vreodata face parte din acelasi cuplu din care fac si eu parte, am sa imbratisez numaidecat acel suspin intelepto-filozofic si am sa insir motive demne de toate palariile jos, precum: comunicare deficitara, egotism, carenta de tandrete, indiferenta, imposibilitatea captarii unei frecvente comune. Fara vreo intentie explicita de a o lua pe ulei si a plonja intr-un sentimentalism exacerbat si imposibil de digerat pt o sambata seara relaxanta, tre` sa imi exprim parerea pe tema asta (ca doar e blogu` meu, deci ssshhht!) : unu la mana, totul tine de acel little thing called love. Care ori ii, ori nu ii. Daca nu-i, poti s-o freci in noroc cu motivele mai devreme enumerate, ca tot n-o scoti la capat. Daca ii, foarte bine, si acum trecem la doi la mana:

♂ ≠ ♀

ma-ntelegeti? Ar fi fost atatea alte cuvinte care sa exprime asta, dar vreau sa fiu sigura ca mesajul va fi captat si de mintea sexului tare, fapt pt care am supra-simplificat "esplicatia" pana la minim. O zi nu trece fara cel putin 10 exemple ce ne ustura retina si alte simturi si organe simtitoare, care sa vina in sprijinul formulei magice de mai sus. Ca sa am si-un back-up teoretico-stiintific (si meta-logic chiar), da, am citit Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus. Si daca chiar vrem sa "vêtir l'idée d'une forme sensible", atunci citim frumos Metafizica sexului de Evola, mare om, mare caracter, si-o carte excelenta.
Da` nu-i musai. Putem sa citim sau sa nu citim, ca pe noi tot o sa ne manance la infnit aceasta problematica diferenta dintre sexe. Cateodata se gasesc argumente logice, alteori se prefera explicatii mai simpliste legate de organul cu care rationeaza un sex, spre deosebire de alt sex (care sex tare cica n-ar rationa mereu cu capu`...sau da, cu capu`, da` cu care cap? as zice mai degraba ca astea-s teorii old-fashioned, e pur si simplu o diferenta de nivel in ceea ce priveste localizarea encefalului...si nu, nici la sexul slab nu-i mereu acolo unde trebuie, creierasul! si-acuma aud in surdina corul masculin "pai muierile nu gandesc NICIODATA cu creierul, la ce bun o localizare corecta din punct de vedere biologic daca oricum nu-l folosesc?!!"). Adevarul e ca lupta asta pt ratiune si pt suprematia in ceea ce priveste disputa "eu-s mai cu mot!" e un non-sens. Cum dracu` sa semanam daca numai impreuna fac un tot, o femeie si-un barbat? Cum ar putea o femeie sa-si ghideze intreaga-i existenta dupa orientarile unui penis, cand el nici nu exista in pantalonii ei, ci in pantalonii aluia cu care tocmai se tot cearta?(din colectia "numai la futut iti sta capul!) Sau cum ar putea vreodata un barbat sa exceleze in a comunica cu o femeie, cand ea deja produce suficiente cuvinte cat sa acoepre ratia pt (cel putin aman)doi?(din colectia "duuuoooamne, cu ce ti-am gresit?! fa-o sa taca!) etc.

******
-Iubitu, stii ce zi e maine?
-Da, iubita, e duminica.
-Ah, deci nu aniversam nimic?
-Pai, nu stiu daca tii tu neaparat sa sarbatorim Ziua Aviatiei Americane...?! Putem sa facem si-asta, facem ce vrei tu, iubita.
-Bine, atunci tu sarbatoresti Ziua Aviatiei Americane, si eu ma duc la cina, sa sarbatoresc un an de cand suntem impreuna, ok, iubitu?

******
Actualmente, winampul meu oscileaza intre M. Ward si Ben Folds. Pusi pe repeat, alaturi de ultimul album U2. Asa ca luati aminte la versurile lui Ben Folds (scrise, by the way, pun pariu ca nu stiati! de Nick Hornby)

(The answer you seek my son only poses more questions.
Ask many women why relationship has failed.
Each woman offers unique reasons for demise.
One woman may say, "man could not commit."
Or, "man is douche, and is now free to make love to himself instead."
Another woman may say, "man had changed,"
or even, "man no longer satisfactory lover."
But my son, ask many men same question all over the world, "why has relationship failed?" Each man, each time, will give same, simple answer.) -> da-i sa sune melodia.

Confusion...Final Goodbyes

How it has come to this, I have never quite understood. Perhaps, i do. Logically, it is quite possible, in fact, inevitable that it came to this. I am sometimes tempted to be romantic -ok, rarely, but I sometimes am-(and for the sake of threading a perfect novel piece) to say that my heart don’t understand. But the truth is, my heart understands; in fact better than my mind. Months ago, even when laughter and conversation were ample, my heart had already began to beat the shuddery, shadowy beat. It is very much like music; if you were to listen carefully, you’ll hear the faint but definite background pulse going hand in hand with the main composition. That was precisely the case: the main tempo was the joyful, lighthearted beat (oh, how many times a day would I break into a laughter; crack a smile; lean on you and felt safe?) But vague and definite, the shadowy beat of guilt and uncertainty came along side the main tempo. Yes, my heart knew better; discerned better; in fact, much better than my mind would ever.

But it is precisely the sensitivity of the heart that makes it such a contradiction. It understands best for it is most sensitive to the changes in the tides of relationships: foreseeing these changes long before they occur; but yet, because of its sensitivity, it will hurt infinitely. The heart is a muscle, thus, it will ache; it will tire. The mind: a mass of nerves coldly detects, interprets and signals. It cannot tire or hurt.

And how i wished that my heart and my head worked together, flawlessly as a team: that the heart will sense and discern long before any disaster befall and the mind will logically persuade and convince the heart to evacuate from the place of danger. But alas! it is not so at all. The heart and mind, so often, so fantastically mix up their roles and play each other’s part that one is led to walk straigt into disaster, sit there in the middle of it all and not budge. The best part is: we tell ourselves, we have to endure and persevere through the pain. Now, you may wonder how is it possible that the heart and mind mix up their God given, divine roles? But is it not true? The mind does not properl our thoughts forward logically; instead it plays the nostalgic role of the heart and constantly stirs up memories of happier days, bad fights and should-have-been-long-forgotten-but-left-unforgotten pasts alike. And the heart? It illogically persuades and convinces us to make decisions and choose paths. No wonder we stay in the middle of crises to endure when all that we ever needed to do to stop the pain was to walk away.

Now, i have analysed the reason for pain; for sustained periods of gried and the factors that lead one to be “stuck in a moment” (U2) BUt is it of any practical use to me? Not quite. Except that i made a resolution to write this piece titled “Final Goodbyes” (Note: “goodbyes” not goodbye”. Because this is not the first time i said goodbye to this friendship or say it to you aprosophically and neither would it be the last. Until my mind and heart learn to play their own roles dutifully, uncompromisingly, and accurately, i will have to keep saying goodbyes)

“We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun”

How apt that everything is written in the past tense; but why then do we keep singing this song?

Because of the confusion of the heart and mind; that is why. And so we will just have to keep saying goodbyes.

Sweet smell of dawn

Jocurile Olimpice si alte niscaiva evenimente sportive decalate bine orar, saptamana modei la New York, Oscarurile.

Astea-s cam singurele lucruri care ma fac sa imi sacrific somnul, care somnu` nu este nici dansu` prea continuu si zdravan de regula. Asa ca iata-ma jubilanda, mandra ca am dibuit laureatii la 15 din 20 de categorii, cu ochii de marimea a doo mingi de tenis, tastand tot trei de-un leu, la 5 dimineata. Ce de numere! Inca nici nu m-am culcat si deja ma gandesc ca peste 4 ore ma trezesc. Asa ca mai bine nu ma mai culc.

Pentru ca daca ma culc acum, am mari sanse sa visez urat.

Si pentru ca daca visez urat, maine, adica azi, ca azi e deja maine, numai ca in capul meu mainele incepe abia la vazul razelor soarelui, deci si prin urmare mainele nu incepe veci in UK pt ca "aici e nori si gri". Deci, pentru ca daca visez urat, am sa fiu agitata, se-ntelege.

Si pentru ca am vizionat un court-métrage care punea in contrast oamenii agitati (in film astia erau si frustrati. Da` numa`-n film!) cu cei calmi, monumente ale cumpatarii de sine, si mi-am dat seama (vai, ce fraze lungi...) ce penali sunt agitatii in contrast CU CAlmii (suna bine, eh?)... ia beliti ochii si voi si mai lasati-ma cu povestile cu coerenta si logica:

Na-ti o tranta ca ti-am frant-o!

Pentru ca nu ne-am lepsit demult ... si pentru ca m-a "atins" cineva ...

Hai sa ne giucam.

SUNT: punct.

AS VREA: NYC ca domiciliu, Audrey Hepburn ca best friend, un Mac Book Pro si o palarie cu boruri imense ca accesorii. Si ultimately un Ferrari Maranello. Atat.

PASTREZ: medalii de la scrima, bilete de avion. Si echilibrul. A` meu.

MI-AS FI DORIT: sa fi fost intotdeauna eu, mai mult talent la matematica, sa fi ajuns Campioana Olimpica la scrima, sa nu imi fi ros unghiile.

NU IMI PLACE: vulgaritatea, mamaliga, atitudinea non-ecologica si carnea.

MA TEM: sa nu o dau in bara, de Timp, sa nu fiu cat China vreodata.

AUD: emisfera stanga lucrand si atunci cand nu trebuie.

IMI PARE RAU: ca nu am regrete. Si ca nu face toata lumea ce si cum vreau eu.

IMI PLAC: diminetile, orasele mari, agitatia, oamenii carora nu le pasa cum le sta freza in timp ce fac sex, calatoriile.

NU SUNT: perfecta (intotdeauna). Proasta, absurda, conventionala.

DANSEZ: in ploaie si in fata oglinzii fara nicio jena. Cu multa pofta pe Muro Shavo.

NICIODATA: tigari, compromisuri pentru ceva ce nu merita. Niciodata n-am inteles regulile fotbalului american, n-am calatorit pe alte continente, si n-am inteles de ce se enerveaza femeile cand barbatii lasa capacul de la WC ridicat.

RAR: trece o zi fara doua dusuri.

PLANG: cateodata fortat, ca sa ma conving de umanitatea si existenta sentimentelor mele. Pe dracu`, plang unde nu ma vede nimeni.

NU SUNT INTOTDEAUNA: frumoasa.

NU IMI PLACE DE MINE: cand injur.

SUNT CONFUZA: in ceea ce priveste existenta lui Mos Craciun. Eu l-am vazut, da` cica nu exista.

AM NEVOIE: de activitate non-stop, muzica, 4 ore de somn ca sa fiu fresh si gata de actiune. Sa mi se deavoie sa fac mofturi. Si chiar sa fiu premiata pt asta.

AR TREBUI: ca fiecare sa-si vada de treaba lui.

Leapsa merge musai mai departe la Tudor Sirb, Nicu Istrate, Dragos Bucurenci si la Tovarasu`.

POST-EDIT: Si la Mr. George. Pe care il rog sa o ia personally and seriously. Si Maria Veronica dragutaaaa! Fara virgula intre Veronica si draguta. Sa zicem ca draguta e al treilea nume. :)

POST-POST-EDIT: De fapt, ca o leapsa maladiva si non-discriminatoare -care este! - se adreseaza acelora care n-au ce face si au chef sa faca leapsa asta.

Despre Valentin, cu putin rosu

Duminica, 5 am. Comunicare importanta transmisa de la bordul navei Sony Vaio. In urma misiunii "14 februarie. Gimme some love. Daca n-ai, cumpara-mi!", echipajul raporteaza: "A trecut. Si nici macar n-a usturat."
De Sfantul Valentin m-am trezit dis de dimineata, in oglinda m-am privit, m-am gatit sa-ti fiu mireasa. - era o melodie...
Dup-aia m-am razgandit. Mire la bord - din parti.

Fiindca totusi este Sfantul Valentin PARANTEZA si retina mi-e ultragiata de vreo saptamana incoace de toate lucrurile rosii de pe pamant care, printr-un nu-stiu-care procedeu, au iesit la iveala toate, deodata, in toate vitrinele, alaturi de cele mai imbibate de romantism mesaje, gen "Would you be my Valentine? - intreaba telefonul Nokia nu stiu care (asta ultimu`, care se da mare ca il intrece pe iubitul meu, Mister Apple. No chance, baby, no chance) sau "Come inside me and experience the true LOVE" - spune de colo un Citroen rosu (cine dracu` si-ar lua un citroen rosu? Astept cu infrigurare legea care sa ban-uiasca toate firmele, in afara de Ferrari si Honda - am eu ceva cu Honda Civic rosu, mi se pare ca da bine - sa produca masini rosii. E ca si cum Marlin Monroe ar fi bruneta.) sau "Treat yourself at Boots -asta-i o farmacie tip retail - on Valentine's Day!"(da` ce-are sula cu prefectura? "la ocazii" ne cinstim si ne facem cinase, si dup-aia pauza...nzt ntz nzt, this point of view`s just medieval...)

INCHISA PARANTEZA

... azi vorbim despre rosu. Despre the rise and fall of the Red.
Rosu e culoarea mea preferata. Are o importanta maximala in viata mea:

• ma ghideaza (daca m-ar urmari cineva prin Google satellite, ar fi usor observabil traseul vitrina pantofi rosii -> intrat magazin ca sa veni, vedi, eventualmente vici pantofii rosii -> dar oh! vazut si fugit la palton rosu ->admirat, probat palton rosu, apoi pus in balanta daca sa pantofi sau sa palton...probabil mers mai departe la vitrina cu geanta rosie etc. ) ,
• ma inspira ( i)daca vad clowni cu exces de rosu pe mecla, imi dau prin minte toate gandurile horror-istice din istoria cinematografiei din anii `80 pana azi; ii) tanara fiind si, deopotriva, fiica de pictor, am castigat un premiu prestigios la un concurs de pictura pt prichindei pt ca am pictat un curcubeu al dragostei...in totalitate rosu. Pe vremuri cuvantul dragoste avea o singura culoare pt mine si acea culoare nu putea sa insemne nimic altceva decat fluturi, fluturi si inimioare cu sageti infipte-n ele...eh, copiii...; iii) daca pun oja rosie pe unghii, ma inspira la gesturi mai fine, nu mai gesticulez ca o epileptica, o las mai moale ca deh, mai domol = mai vizibil, si cineva tre` sa admire si manichiura aia... ) ,
  
• imi da putere (sunt aproape sigura ca sunt atat de sanatoasa si din cauza alimentelor bogate in beta-caroten, licopen si antocianine pe care le bag in mine). Plus ca ofera un statut de "man in the spotlight" - culoarea, nu pigmentii astia. In Evul Mediu numai nobilimea avea dreptul de a purta haine rosii. Mai recent ar fi de notat faptul ca judecatorii nemti de la Curtea Suprema poarta robe rosii ca un semn al puterii pe care o exercita.
  
• imi da liniste (desi acel releasing feeling "doamne-ti multam c-ai venit!" este imediat urmat de caderi de chef de viata pt vreo 4 zile, cateodata crampe abdominale si retentie crescuta de apa) ,
  
• ma umple de energie (daca esti unul din nesuferitii aia care nu ma suporta in preajma-i mai mult de 10 minute pt ca am prea multa energie, recomand asa: 1) nu-mi cumpara haine rosii - las` ca-mi cumpar eu; 2) nu imi pune Outkast-Hey ya! sau RHCP - Get on top ori I like dirt, ca risti sa ma vezi centrfugand frenetic pe cel mai apropiat corp care aduce a masa, boxa, bar, scaun, capota de masina sau pervaz - astea-s, by the way, toate, bifate la capitolul "locuri numa` bune de zbenguit"; si 3) nu ma duce la un rasarit rosu in Vama, ca in ziua aia-s ca si electrizata. Instant refill cu voie buna de la cromoterapia pe ritmuri de muzica de la Stuf)
• e frumos - a-propos, in rusa, rosu e "krassnyj" si frumos e "krassivyj"
  
• si altele care nu-mi vin acum in minte ca e cam tanara ora...
  

Chilotii rosii in prag de Anul Nou. Eh, de astia stiati? Nu stiu cu cine oi fi semanand, dar eu nu le am deloc cu superstitiile. Maica-mea, in schimb, da. Zice ea ca de Revelion musai musai sa ai chiloti rosii pe tine ca sa-ti mearga bine-n anul care vine. Ca femeie, zic, ca la barbati nu stiu procedura am insistat niciodata. Poate la anu`, cine stie, sa fie mai cu noroc pe plan setimental, il imbat de nu se vede si ii dau chiloti rosii...

Rujul rosu. Desi obiectul asta e in sine o legenda si s-ar putea scrie un roman - in 13 volume, de-ala fresca, A la recherche du rouge manjit pe buze de-a lungul vremii - eu va etalez povestea mea. Daca nu mi-ar fi nazarit prin capsor sa ma fac avocat, cel mai probabil m-as fi facut expert in mascara. Lasand la o parte modestia, tre` sa va zic ca le am, dom`le... daca vreodata aveti intrebari despre mascara, nu ezitati sa ma contactati. Am testat, mirosit, cumparat, gustat - metaforic vorbind - ce-i mai bun pe piata. Si si in afara pietei, ca am luat odata tzeapa, vrand sa fac un good bargain, cica Estee Lauder la juma` de pret. In traducere libera, no-name la triplu pret... Daca sunt cateva chestii muieresti pe lumea asta in care merita investit, alea sunt: pantofii, crema de fata si mascara. Buooon. Pe plan ocular, asadar, niciun stress. Dar vai, nu mica mi-a fost mirarea cand am observat ce deficit rusinos am pe plan oral. Nu stiu de ce si cum, m-a palit asa deodata complexul femeii fara ruj rosu. Parca nu esti femeie pana nu ai un ruj rosu. Fapt pt care m-am pus pe cautat. N-a durat mult, L-am ginit din prima. Rosu intens. Moale si hidratant. Totusi rezistent. Ne-am placut din prima. Mi-era 'nu-stiu-cum" sa-l port, fiind inca virgina si noua in bransa rujurilor rosii, dar cred cu tarie ca e o chestiune de antrenament. Atentie totusi: risc ridicat de prea multe priviri atrase, cum de altfel creste si riscul de a te pricpsi cu tag-ul "ostentativ. artificial. vulgar".

Ferrari. Daca viata mea ar fi un tort, Ferrari-ul (e pleonasm daca spun ca ROSU) ar fi cireasa din varf. Dorinta suprema. Una din nevoile din varful piramidei lui Maslow. Numa` unu`, Doamne, numa` unu`...

Lamai. Cand ma gandesc la rosu, ma gandesc la galben. Deci lamai. Si ca sa combin rosul cu galben pe plan gastronomic intr-o armonie pe care tare cred ca numai eu o gasesc armonioasa, va spun ca mancarea mea preferata vara este compusa din pepene rosu si lamaie. Nu stiu voi cum ii ziceti la pepenele ala rosu cu samburi negri, eu ii zic simplu "lebenita" ca asa se poarta la Cluj.

Tommy Hilfiger. Coloritul alb-bleumarin-rosu e preferatul meu. Marinarescul alb-bleumarin e si el bun, asa, in suc propriu, dar fara picatura aia de rosu treaba n-ar fi treaba pan` la capat. Nimic nu mi se pare mai frumos decat o tinuta simpla, clasica, cu putin rosu.

Obraji si parcul Babes. Fugit 20 de ture de pista, dup-aia sa va vad eu obrajii si sa-mi ziceti cutzu daca nu la culoarea rosie va ganditi si voi.

Daca rosul ar mirosi, ar mirosi a dimineata si mere.
Daca rosul ar vorbi, ar zice: Somebody stop me!
Daca rosul ar fi o persoana, ar fi...eu, dimineata. Si daca nu-i dimineata, atunci ar fi Napoleon.

Nefacand parte din categoria oamenilor cuprinsi de sentimentul "taia-mi-as venele, n-am valentin(a)!", azi am iesit la o tacla (oare asta o fi singularul de la taclale?) cu amicul meu francez. Ne-am cadorisit unul pe altul, desi initial facusem conventia ca ignoram total tot ce se intampla in jurul nostru (si in UK chiar se intampla...body-painting cu inimioare,fluturi si iar inimioare, accesorizare la maxim cu orice e heart-shaped, de la ochelari pana la medalioane si curele, saruturi mai mult sau mai putin aspectuoase din metru in metru, 1.5 din 2 oameni avand la purtator ori trandafir rosu, ursulet de plus, balon sau ciocolata etc). Am primit un trandafir alb, in semn de prietenie. Si am daruit Kinder Bueno si o cafea.

Si acum ca-i gata, si ca economia de p(a)iata nu a ajuns la colaps din cauza ca nu am rasfatat niciun valentin cu nimic special in 14 februarie, v-as pupa pe toti, da` daca cascati ochii cu atentie, veti observa ca s-a dus baba cu colacii, gata cu dragostea si giugu-giugu, ca suntem deja in 15.

Interesting times

Last night I had a chat&drinks session with a French friend, and we were talking about different things going on in Europe these days. There wasn't a shortage of things to discuss. Toward the end of the conversation, we remarked in what a crazy time we live. It feels like we're on the precipice of something, particularly in Europe. Things are about to change, we speculated, and they could possibly go in extreme directions. It looks like we've all been victims of that old purported Chinese curse, "may you live in interesting times." But to continue with the 'mangled cliches claiming to be proverbs theme', the Chinese character for crisis also means opportunity! Could the economic crisis lead to a strengthening of pan-European institutions, or could it just as easily lead to the disintegration of the entire EU project?
The topic that got us thinking in this direction was the unfolding story in the UK of ever-spreading strikes among industrial workers protesting the presence of foreign EU workers in the UK. The dispute started last week when British workers at an oil refinery in Lincolnshire walked out in protest at a contract to carry out work at the plant being awarded to an Italian firm, which then supplied Italian workers. Since then, the strikes have been spreading. Workers at neighboring plants have started walking out to show solidarity with the Lincolnshire plant workers. And now nuclear plant workers have joined the movement. The demonstrators are getting a lot of press, and when interviewed the leaders of the walk-outs all say that the plants are hiring "cheap foreign labour" to save money instead of hiring better-qualified British workers at home because they are more expensive. "British jobs for British workers" read the signs.

The assertions they're making, however, adon't exactly reflect reality. According to the refinery owner, a company called Total, the Italian workers are making the exact same wage that the British workers make. Additionally, not a single British worker lost their job as a result of the contract being awarded to the Italian firm. And of course as EU citizens, Italian workers have the exact same legal right to work in the UK as the British workers. And given that these Italian workers have received the same training that the British workers have, claiming that the British workers are better trained betrays more than a little Anglo arrogance.

Yet the issue has taken hold among the British public. The strikes are turning into the biggest labour unrest since the Thatcher government took on the labour unions in the 1980's. Gordon Brown has condemned the strikes, but they continue to expand (but not quite as fast as the media coverage of them is). Given that people in the UK are jittery already about the dire state of the British economy, which is predicted to be the worse affected by the global economic crisis, it's not surprising that people are on edge and looking for someone to blame. Obviously, foreigners are historically one of the first targets in such situations. But what is it that the striking workers want exactly? They're demanding that British companies shouldn't be able to consider foreign EU workers for jobs, but EU membership requires that EU citizens be able to work across borders. So are they calling for the UK to suddenly pull out of the EU?
This trend toward populist protest is hardly isolated to the UK. As the far-right in the UK has reported increased interest in recent months, last week's one-day strike in France demonstrated to many French politicians an alarming rise of the far-left. The demonstrators were venting their fury that as tens of thousands of Europeans lose their jobs, the bankers who got us into this mess are being bailed out by the national governments. Although the strike didn't grind France to a halt as the organisers had predicted, it really seems to have rattled the French government. The French communist movement is reporting that its ranks are growing fast and furiously. Across Europe, the far-left is sensing that their time may have come, particularly in countries like France where they are still a powerful force. According to the BBC, recent intelligence reports have picked up an "elevated threat" from European far-left activists, predicting a possible rebirth of the "violent extreme left."

Both of these groups are clearly not fans of the EU. The European far-right loathes it for taking away national sovereignty, and the far-left regards it as little more than a dismantling of labour protections for the benefit of big business. If either of these two forces become more powerful with the public, it would be bad news for the future of the European project.

At the same time, the changing economic reality could also have the effect of strengthening the EU. Many analysts are predicting that Ireland's dire economic woes will almost certainly mean that the re-vote on the Lisbon treaty will result in a 'yes' this time, as Irish voters lose confidence that the nation could go it alone if need be. European politicians may be able to use the current crisis to point out examples of how a strengthened EU would allow Europe to develop a fast, cohesive and effective response to such crisies in the future. Iceland is now working with Brussels to develop a fast-track process for them to join the EU and get into the Eurozone as quickly as possible in order to resolve their current crisis. And even in the UK, where debate about replacing the sterling with the euro has been dead in the water for years. discussion of the UK going onto the single currency has suddenly reignited as the pound plummets to historic lows.

So which way are things going to go? It's difficult to say now, and probably depends on who will be calling the shots over the next few years - the governments, or a panicked public. These are interesting times indeed.

Ce-am fost si ce-am crezut ca am fost

5:01 PM Nicicand nu am avut asa o perioada nefasta pt blogareala.
Prin urmare, am sa incep prin a detalia vremea din Anglia la momentul scrierii acestui articol.
Aici ninge de doua zile si totul s-a blocat. Ma uit acum pe geam si vad casele acoperite de zapada, gardul e alb totalmente, strada e nepopulata, la fiecare geam vad clipocit de televizor, probabil lumea sta si isi bea five o`clock tea-ul, bucurandu-se de el mai mult ca niciodata, data fiind temperatura de -3 grade Celsius de afara. Tara intreaga e amortita sub 5 cm de zapada care au facut ravagii. Transportul e dat peste cap, oamenii sunt blocati, nu pot merge la joburi, facultatile trimit mail-uri studentilor spunandu-le sa stea acasa, ca sa nu isi puna vietile in pericol, prin urmare "In view of the adverse weather conditions, the decision has been taken to CANCEL ALL CLASSES TODAY.", la multe magazine vezi placute cu "due to winter conditions, the shop is now closed until the situation gets better". Multi dintre studenti (a.k.a. africani, indieni, unii asiatici) vad zapada pt prima data in viata lor. E incredibil cum o tara care se vrea a fi una din cele mai dezvoltate din lume e incremenita si speriata de niscaiva zapada.

5:03 PM Daca mi-ar fi bine, cu siguranta nu as vorbi despre vreme. Asta e specialitatea englezilor. Eu mi-s latina, nu stau sa disec firu`-n patru despre conditiile meteorologice.

Dar ceva se intampla in ultimul timp. Sufar de apatie. Nu imi pasa. De nimic.
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Am sa continui in engleza, curge mai usor. Si parca maschez mai bine ceea ce in romana m-ar face sa par de-a dreptul patetica.
Sa-i spunem "Povestea de joi despre niste oameni pe care nu-i (mai re)cunosc"

5:05 PM You meet someone. He’s everything you ever wanted. You fall in love. You get to know each other, and guess what? He loves you too! Sparks are flying, and there’s magic in the air. You get along great, and as time goes by you realize how much you really have fallen for him. It seems nothing could go wrong, you’re both so in love with each other, you share everything together, you’re like an ideal couple, in every sense of the word.

Then it happened. Suddenly, you feel like it’s just not the same anymore. He’s no longer sweet, and thoughtful, and caring. He turned from being the most lovable person to practically a migraine-causing stranger. You wonder what you’ve done to cause such a change. You labor over endless assumptions and analysis just to explain why things aren’t working the way they were between the two of you. You wonder, does he still love me? You pluck up the courage to ask him, but he just shrugs and avoids giving you a definite answer. You feel more frustrated than ever. And yet, his actions are loud and clear, even though he’s not saying it to your face. The love he once had for you, is no longer there.

You try to deny it. You hope. That somehow, maybe… you’re wrong. That perhaps, he still loves you and there’s a perfectly good explanation for the way he’s been acting. You desperately want to believe that things will get better. But you know you’re not happy anymore. You cry yourself to sleep every night, trying to think of ways to save your relationship. Trying to revive a feeling that was once there but has died a natural death, trying to mend something that you know is broken beyond repair. But then you wake up, and the truth is staring you hard in the face, it’s OVER. No matter how much you try to deny it, his chapter in your life has come to an end.

So now comes the painful process of letting go. You know in your heart that you have to, that it’s the right thing to do, but you just can’t! You love him. You need him. So the natural tendency is to hold on. You tell yourself to just hold on… even though you know his heart doesn’t belong to you anymore. You come to a point where you blame yourself for what’s happening. But it’s not your fault. You need to understand that there are certain things in life that you can’t control. They need to happen because someone up there allows them to happen.

It’s hard letting go of someone that we have loved for so long. It’s painful to watch the people we love, walk away from us. But if they want to go, we need to let them go! It’s easier said than done, but then again love is never easy. It hurts like crazy, and it hurts so bad that we feel like we’re about to bleed from so much pain. No one can truly explain how painful it is, without having experienced it themselves. It’s not easy, and it will take time. But know this and trust in this, IT WILL GET BETTER. The age old cliché, “Time heals all wounds“, may sound boring and repetitive, but it’s true. Letting go allows you and your partner to become the people you were meant to be. You can’t control love. You can’t force someone to stay with you, if you know they’re not happy anymore. What you can do is move on. Believe that there’s someone out there who will love you with everything that they have and in the way you deserve to be loved.

If we really and truly love someone, their happiness should mean more to us than our own. It’s called selfless love. So many lovers in the world are put to this kind of test. Ask yourself. How much do you really love him? Do you love him enough to allow him to go where he’s happy, even if it’s no longer with you? Do you love him enough to allow him to be happy without feeling revengeful or bitter? Do you love him enough to let him go?

Letting go doesn’t mean we need to GIVE UP, it just means we need to GIVE IN… give in to the TRUTH, and learn to accept the fact that we may have lost love, but that doesn’t mean we won’t be able to find it again. Maybe we just needed to love the wrong person first, before we finally love the right one. And when we finally meet the one that’s meant for us, we will know, because nothing and no one can ever take that away from us. Understand this. Only then will we be able to see the beauty of LOVE for what it really is, and appreciate the twist and turns of this journey we call LIFE.
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Je est un autre. Daca nu se gasea desteptul de Rimbaud sa spuna chestia asta, poate ajungeam eu copilul teribil al Poeziei. Asa, ce-am ajuns?

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