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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Despre cum se fac copiii si alte ciudatenii

Cei care isi mai pierd vremea din cand in cand pe blogul meu, se prea poate sa fi observat widget-ul ala cu 'cine vine, cine pleaca'. Undeva in dreapta paginii, cum mergi in jos. Intai de toate sa zic ce nu face el: nu imi spune numele, grupa sangvina si marimea...nasului nimanui. Nici culoarea ochilor, varsta, adresa sau parola de la mail. Ce face, in schimb, e suficient. Afiseaza intrarile si iesirile. Daca ma uit acolo -ceea ce astazi s-a intamplat prima data in amanunt - vad de unde a intrat pe blogul meu respectivul vizitator - orasul si steagul tarii, acum cate secunde/minute/ore/zile, ce sistem de operare foloseste - Windows, Mac etc - la fel cum vad si DE UNDE A ATERIZAT. Sunt unii care acceseaza direct, tastand adresa linkului, sau clickaindu-mi statusul de la messenger, sau printr-un blogroll.
Dar nu despre ei vorbim azi.

Ci despre cei... accidentali. V-o spun drept, mi-am pus widget-ul ala pt ca intr-o zi m-a apucat trendul asta de "umple pagina aia cu ceva, ca bate vantu`"... Si pana recent, cand am descoperit o oarecare crestere a vizitatorilor, nu stiam toate functiile astea magice.
Intru azi pe blog. Si ma duc la widgetul asta, ma gandeam eu ca el trebuie sa-mi elucideze misterul cu vizitatorii aproape in numar dublu.

Moooamaaaa!
Secretul e sa pui titluri de traffic mare la entry-uri, asta-i tot. Daca as fi om cu ambâţ literar, zau asa ca mi-as alege titlurile cu mult mai multa meticulozitate. Si anume as vedea ce se "vinde" pe google, si mi-as pune dup-aia la titlu. Pentru ca, dragii mei, post-ul cu "cum se fac copiii" e de departe cel mai citit de pe blogul asta.
Da`-i si normal, daca stau sa ma gandesc. Tehnologizare, modernizare, automatizare, globalizare, libera circulatie a informatiei, universul virtual - raspunsul la toate problemele reale. Cum da omu` de o dilema, hop! www.google.com si ne-am scos. Cum nu gasesti o informatie gen "cati kilometri ma despart de New York?", te bagi frumos pe google si da-i sa sune 'distance calculator'.
Da` nu vorbim nici de oamenii astia. Vorbim de aia care nici nu se gandesc ca un 'distance calculator' ar putea vreodata fi chestia pe care ei o cauta atunci cand vor sa calculeze distanta dintre douapuncte de pe o harta.
Vorbim de aia chiar aflati la ananghie.
De cei care nu au idee. De cei foarte in ceata. De cei care cauta in disperare un sfat prietenesc si sincer (ce dumniezo` cautati pe google, fa?), venit din strafundul sufletului pur al acestui motoras de cautare, gugle. Ei, si intra omu` si - musiu se pronunta, musiu se scrie- scrie fain frumos:

- cum se fac copii? - numa` nu credeati ca daca nu stiu cum se fac copiii, or sti cu cati de 'i' se scriu.

Si unde se ajunge? Ca Hansel si Gretel care ajung la casuta de turta dulce, acesti oameni ajung... la mine! Lasati femeile care vor sa afle cum se fac copiii sa vina la mine! La mine pe blog, unde-i cald si bine.

Numa` asa, ca observ ca si post-ul asta are un titlu numa` bun de traffic, pentru cei/cele care ajung accidental aici, si inca nu m-au bagat in origini (eh, vedeti ca incepeti sa va faceti o idee despre cum se fac plozii?), cateva informatii utile puse la dispozitie. Gratis! - pe engleza doar, pe romana nu am gasit nimic in afara de e-referate.ro.

PS - Inainte sa va interesati de-adevaratelea, uitati-va si cugetati de doua ori la imaginea de la inceputul articolului.

Cand boala nu are somn

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S-a dus la culcare cu gandul ca in seara asta nu se doarme. Desi era 12 noaptea, trezirea de la 6am parea sa fie la sutimi de secunda distanta si nu-i dadea pace. Era singura si auzea ticaitul ceasului. Time is always ticking, damn it. Atat de singura incat parea ca timpul e singurul compagnon. Ea si Timpul. Amandoi mergand in acelasi sens. Inainte. ' Niciodata nu se priveste inapoi '.
- ma intreb daca Timpul a invatat de la oameni sa nu se intoarca niciodata,sau omul de la Timp -

-- la fel cum ma intreb cati oameni au cu adevarat puterea sa nu priveasca inapoi si cati sunt aceia capabili sa se desprinda de Trecut --

...disperarea ca e singura si ca trebuie sa umple golul de 6 ore cu, cel mai probabil, atat de mult plans, incat la un moment dat plansul se va transforma intr-un somn spasmodic... disperarea asta ii macina interiorul si mai mult, si mai maladiv, si mai intens.

Obisnuita cu toate luminile din casa aprinse, se hotari totusi sa le stinga, precum o asortare la starea ei deloc solara.

--- as fi vrut sa ii dau o floarea-soarelui in seara asta, stiu ca e floarea ei preferata, e una din chestiile pe care le avem in comun. In schimb, la rase de caine nu ne potrivim, ei ii plac basset-ii, mie imi plac ciobanestii germani si beagle-ii. ---

Nicicand nu o durea mai tare intunericul, si noaptea, si frigul, si boala. Si era singura.
Dupa 15 foituri si intorsaturi de pe stanga pe dreapta si de pe dreapta pe stanga, era deja 12:30. Simtea organic ticaiturile ceasului, cum dimineata se apropia, cum el nu mai vine si cum casa e tot goala.

'Daca nu s-ar fi inventat cancerul pt mine, probabil nu as fi stiut niciodata adevarata semnificatie a singuratatii.' s-a gandit. Tot e ceva. Omul cat traieste invata. Dar, vai, de ce trebuie sa doara in halul asta?
Nu ar fi vrut sex salbatic, ca sa uite. Nici vorbe in vant, de incurajare stupida. Citostaticele si razele sigur nu reactioneaza la siropuri. Eventual te mai pricopsesti si cu un diabet. Nu ar fi vrut nici macar sa fie rasfatata in vreun anume fel. Niciun banc, sau film, sau cina romantica, nici macar vreun cadou, fie el si o pereche de pantofi, nimic din astea nu ar fi avut efect. De fapt jubilarea era o stare de care se simtea din ce in ce mai straina.

Tot ce isi dorea era sa nu fie singura. Poate o tacere inteleapta, poate o mana calda, un masaj la picioare, o vizionare in doi a tavanului inecat in intuneric, un 'noapte buna' - fie el soptit sau nu, o strangere in brate, sau chiar un simplu si frust somn sforaitor.
O respiratie, pur si simplu. O respiratie, ca sa acopere, la naiba, acel timp ticaitor!

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Stau si cuget la boala. Ce curva...
Un oarecare grad de influenta avem cu totii asupra vietilor noastre. Dar cand Boala si Timpul se fac frati de cruce, poti sa-ti faci cate cruci vrei, ca le faci degeaba. Multi spun ca 'nu-i corect'. Altii ca 'nu ai avut destula grija'. Unii te incurajeaza. Altii vin cu solutii. Cativa te lasa. Cativa te sprijina.
Boala organica devine boala emotionala. Simti totul. Simti neputinta, lipsa de control, frica, toata suita de spleen, noia si agonie bacoviene parca se amesteca intr-un cocktail si iti curg prin vene in loc de sange. Care sange, nici el nu mai e ce-a fost.

Post-ul acesta este o incercare - cel mai probabil ratata - de empatizare cu o persoana apropiata in pielea careia nu as vrea sa fiu in clipa asta.
Si careia ii doresc mai sincer decat niciodata Noapte buna!

I don`t have a solution but I admire the problem.

Probleme. Cred ca dupa 'ok', 'coca-cola', 'stress', 'euro', 'taxi', asta e un cuvant unanim inteles, experimentat si cunoscut de toti. La Coca-Cola inca am indoieli, ca s-a marit consistent tabara Pepsi, plus ca healthy lifestyle a acaparat o gasca mare care a trecut pe apa plata cu lamaie.
Ana are mere. Ana are probleme. Eu am probleme. Tu ai probleme. Ei au probleme. Noi toti avem probleme. Exista probleme. Noi insine suntem problemele altora sau ale noastre chiar. Vicios mai e cercul asta...
Inclusiv faptul ca frantuzescul 'probleme' e de genul masculin, nu feminim, ca in romana, mi-a cauzat probleme, prin clasa a 3-a.
E surprinzator cum, imediat ce da de greu, omului i se aprinde un beculet pavlovian si ceva in creierul lui urla: "Mayday mayday, ai o problema!"

Zice-se ca omul e cel mai complex si mai dotat cu inteligenta animal. Ca dovada stau multele sinapse produse intru rezolvarea problemelor. Mai mult sau mai putin ingenioase, metodele, ce-i drept.

Top 10 methods of solving your issues:

1. Nu observi ca ai o problema si iti vezi de treaba in continuare. The best of all, de departe.

2. Observi ca ai o problema, ti se rupe, si mergi mai departe. The runner-up, de departe.

3. Observi, incepi sa te agiti, cauti, cercetezi, nu gasesti, o lasi balta. Cam nasol, ca deja stii ca ai o problema, iti pasa de ea, si te simti impotent sa o rezolvi. Tocmai te-ai mai pricopsit cu una. Deci sari inapoi la varianta 1 sau 2, keep it simple.

4. Apelezi la organ.

-- cum pana acum am expus variante prin definitie masculine (tipul outsider, tipul ignorant, tipul frustrat, tipul "baiat gigel"), acum e timpul sa vedem cum rezolva femeile o problema:

5. "Iubitule, trebuie sa vorbim." C-O-M-U-N-I-C-A-R-E, C-O-M-U-N-I-C-A-R-E. C-O-M-U-N-I-C-A-R-E... Avem noi ce avem si de fiecare data cand auzim doua voci consideram discutia respectiva drept o sesiune de COmunicare, desi am putea la fel de bine sa spunem ca purtam un monolog.

6. Ma agit, deci exist. Si eu, si problema.

7. Sa nu crezi ce-ti spun/ce fac acum... Prin a spune si face vrute si nevrute (barfe, limbaj licentios, suni o prietena, plangi la telefon, vorbesti singura, dai ceva de pereti, arunci dupa el cu telecomanda, te duci la sala si scoti untul din tine s.a.m.d.) femeile isi exerseaza puterile cathartice si considera ca se mentin "pure". Sufletul ne ramane imaculat dupa o sedinta de dat afara tot ce ne sta pe corazon. Incearca sa-mi vorbesti dupa ce ma cert eroic cu cineva si l-am facut praf. I`m a hon`.

8. In caz ca nu s-a reusit rezolvarea/eliminarea problemei pana acum, incearca the 3 S`s method: sport, shopping, sex. Nu conteaza ordinea. Daca vin la pachet se ajunge garantat la rezolvare. Daca nu-i cu putinta, se prescriu si, in functie de specie: bai aromate, sesiuni de box, bungee-jumping, inca o tura de shopping.

9. Cand ai o problema serioasa, vorbeste cu mama ta. Figura eficienta in 95% din cazuri. At least you can try. Se accepta si varianta "cea mai apropiata persoana din viata mea", in caz ca varianta cu mama este non-applicable.

10. In ultima instanta, incearca sa gandesti. Dar numai daca nu merge altfel si daca chiar trebuie. S-ar putea sa tina.

Sunday morning love - I have a question

I have a question.

Should love be 'natural'?

have you ever met someone, and from the moment of your first words exchanged, it just seemed as if some kind of magic love dust had been sprinkled on the two of you exclusively? you immediately clicked, as if there was just an undeniable connection that the two of you shared, along with cohesive views on life and love, cracking up at the same corny jokes, even bonding over your mutual obsession with butterfinger ice cream and the CNN political news ticker.

well, due to certain events of the last month of my life regarding my relationship, and the relationships of my friends, and coworkers, i have been thinking very heavily about this whole 'love is hard work' thing. call me an idealist, but it seems to me that love should have a certain amount of 'natural feel' to it. it shouldn't be all work. now i know that of course keeping a relationship interesting and fresh and love new requires some work on both sides. but should it be ALL work? should it be a JOB just to love your partner with the same intensity as they love you? i have always been a believer in destiny and soul mates and finding your 'perfect match' (and i think there are several 'perfect matches' possible for any one person), so i guess that is why some things have been troubling me as of late. you see, i've experienced a natural love.

the kind of love where things just kind of fall into place. i've been in the 'just be' love. where the initial newness isn't the only time you feel like you're floating in the clouds. it doesn't just wear off with time because you two share the kind of intensity that people look at and say, 'damn.' if you disagree with each other, you can talk about it without someone's blood pressure rising.

now of course 'mama said there'd be days like this', but how many days like this is one too many? how many arguments based on your core differences/beliefs is just too much? how far of a gap can there be between your similarities and personalities and compatibility before you say "you know what, we just aren't meant to be."

i do believe that marriage is hard work. but that's understandable. when you get married, several other factors are involved. you have bills together, accounts, mortgages, children, legal documents. so i can understand why people say that 'marriage is hard work.'

but should the love itself be just as hard? is it okay to settle for a good relationship with a good mate....or should we all be striving for a great relationship with your soul mate? how much work should you invest?

is it possible to 'grow' to love someone as intensely as you would if it just happened 'naturally'? maybe i'm delusional.

maybe i've just been fortunate in my experiences with love. maybe i'm just being foolish. i just have to believe (because i've been there) that 'easy' love does exist. easy like sunday morning...or at least sunday evening :) that's what i want. more importantly, that's what i deserve. the question is, is it possible to build that....or is that something that fate decides? i wrote this poem a while ago, but i can't say it doesn't still apply to some degree.

the missing piece

there is a piece missing...

i should feel tipsy, right?

the love bug should FEEL like something, right?

the automatic flick of the switch in my heart should click, right?

where are the butterflies?

sweet hellos, long goodbyes?

smiles, hugs, cuddles, adoring stares?

-did i miss something?-

shouldn't there be moments?

time stops, heart drops, outside world fades lost in love?

where are the long walks in the sand on the beach

with interlocked fingers and hearts? where is it?

candlelit dinners, poetry sharing, museum exhibits..

naked beauty at 3am with strong arms,

mind, spirit telling me i'm beautiful...

-where did it go? was it ever here?-

soul searching 6am, bible study,

and church at 10 comforting silences,

stolen glances, sexy ear whispers in crowded rooms.

shoulders to cry on in bad times

arms to jump into in celebration

encouraging, believing, achieving.... together

-SOMETHING is definitely missing-

long heart to hearts have been lost in our busy lives

no time for relationship matters

'just because' gifts morphed into 'i'm sorry i forgot, i'll make it up' promises

gone are the cherrystrawberry aphrodisiac picnics at sunset

rollerblading on the strip..

whenever, wherever, i want you NOW passion..

lip biting, sheet grabbing, sweat dripping explosions of nature....

-where is it, dammit?-

intelligent convo, subjects politics,

self-awareness, society strong morals, opinions,

respect for each other....

home training, home cooking, home making..

working hard to provide, but still making time to rub my feet...

beautiful poetry flowing..

speaks only positivity towards me..

-i am seriously missing something-

strong black man...

got my back AND my front i got his too..

handles his business boardroom to bedroom
from hello mr..

to whaddup my nicca!
got his shit together..

vibing to the roots, jay z, aerosmith and coltrane

without missing a beat

real man.

real woman.

best friends.

the missing piece of my life..

-where is it?-

not here.

excitement, passion, longing
have all fled a shell of what we used to be...

a photo album of happier times is all that remains...

very 'significant other' has become under appreciated 'spouse'
need to find my missing link..

yin to my yang..

i know it's out there...

just have to find it....

my missing piece.