So, I just moved.

You knew that already, as I'm not very good at covering the truth about myself..."that's why you have a personal blog, silly, haha". Yeah, like she said. :)

But as of today, I also moved the blog on a new page, for practical reasons you will not need to read about.

As a mini-teaser, you should know I'm planning to focus more on letting the world know what my woman-child mind produces in the near future; and maybe I'll dig out some old ideas I have put down in my computer along the time, in the "Red/Blue-pill_for my eyes only" category.

So should you wish to continue reading me, please check out this new place - which currently looks exactly like the current one, I know. Don't panic, though, I'm just too lazy to change the template now. :))

Daca plec, hai, vii cu mine? : )

I'm a true-blue romantic. But sometimes I embrace reality with my cruel soul. 

Many people have seen both sides. And I fear both of them, in equal measures.

I learned that sweet&cute coincidences are coincidences and nothing more.

Because if we start seeing something repeatedly, it may be sweet and cute, but it means nothing to the untrained mind. To the trained mind it means just that it has been trained very good in that aspect.

Rehab is for quitters. I miss smoking and I'm a hypocrite for telling people to stop smoking.

I will give myself an additional year before I will stop feeling guilty for telling people to quit smoking. Until then, I'm still in probation.

Speaking of which, tequila is back in my life. :heart:

Let's take "I will always", but let's just say something about "I never" and a little bit about "I love you".

I equally hate and love the above 3 dangerous words/foolishnesses.

Yesterday evening I dined at a restaurant who is now high on my favourite places' list.

Best sea food and desert I've ever had. I'm starting to fall in love with Cuba.

"Nothing is more powerful than the human spirit."

"Life is about creating yourself."

So do something good, while you're at it.

Returning today from Ljubljana I realised I haven't thought enough above my friend, Paris, in a while.

I will never forget you, Paris. But Paris, you see, we will meet in another lifetime, when we will both be cats. 

We have to.

Hit it, Gary:

Your guitar still brings the chills down my spine.

You either have it. 

Or you don't.

50% chances for you to make it, which is still not such a tragic case, one might say.

But it's not enough. 50% chances are never enough for you to be able to touch the stars from the floor of the small room you've isolated yourself in by now. They can merely help you grab a stool and stand on it, but your hands will barely even reach those shinier 65% chances. 

One might also say that 65% chances do sound better than the 50% you had before grabbing that small stool in the corner. So you listen to one's voice and now you get the courage to go even higher. Thus said, minutes later, you're standing on a stool, with a broom in your hand, stretching your body towards the ceiling. 

85%. 

Not bad, not bad at all, I'm quite a bit impressed.

I might dare to say that you do look a bit ridiculous, you know. ;)) 

A grown up, standing on a stool, holding a broom, stretching like a kid for the candy on the top shelf. :) 

But you're not hearing me anymore, do you? 

Of course you're not. Now there's only 15% chances between you and your desired 100%, so you forget in a glimpse about my annoying voice...now you're thinking only about what you should do to get your remaining 15%. 

You take a look around, but there's nothing else in your tiny room. In your tiny, isolation room there's just a silly grown-up, standing on a stool, holding a broom, reaching to the lamp. 

So the silly grown-up decides to jump. 

50% chances to fall, 50% chances to make it work. 

Oh, Alice...

You go get them 15% chances, girl. :)

You know I rarely lose my words, my kind, serious friend. 

I rarely stop thinking, so I rarely can get away from reality - even when I'm dreaming, I still can't convince my feet to get off the ground completely. 

But when I do lose my words, please, show me patience. 

I know that patience is not my favourite quality of them all, but this is the thing...since I cannot have it all the time, I love quality-patience and the people who can afford it. It's that patience that doesn't give you the sentiment of wasting time, it's that patience that gives you the warm and fuzzy feeling that, yes, yes, a thousand times, yes, it's worth it... It's that beautiful thing that comes up with a bucket of white roses at the end of the rainbow. 

So, for moments when I need you to show me your quality-patience, be sure that, in return, my smile will grow small, white roses, just for you to keep in your upper-left pocket.

Thank you for your patience, meine ernste Freund. :)

As if life wasn't complicated enough, a snowstorm just had to start.

As if it wasn't cold enough, my book just had to end before I even started writing it.

As if curiosity wasn't enough, my fine cat senses made me put my whiskers in the air.

Sniffing...something's happening.

A sandstorm during a snowstorm must surely happen somewhere. No one has ever heard of such a predicament, but it's happening now in a far-far away land, where 43 squirrels are dancing with their mates, as if that's such a normal thing to dream about.

As if it wasn't hot enough, I just know I attract these things, so there's no one else to blame them for.

Might as well embrace them, Miez, might as well embrace them.

Such is life. : )

In the end, I still haven't found the answer to what is stopping me to finish all projects I start. Most probably, the simplest explanation I have found by now is that, if the process is too long, I am getting bored, like every 2 year-old gets bored of their toys. 

Too bad this usually applies to the most important of them, most important to me. You know how sometimes you find a line in a book or see what may appear like simple small talk in a movie, that turns your mind to reflect on it for half a day? I do that often, I split hairs and get ideas, sometimes from nothing. 

My Mom told me once, in one of our very few argues we've encountered in my mature life, that I sometimes treat the people I most care about, with the least consideration, as if I consider them to be next to me no matter what, without imagining that they someday might just pack their bags and leave. Truth is, what are families and best friends for, if not to stay by your side no matter how much of a perky jerk you are, right? Wrong. That line opened my selfish mind, not a single person around us has to be there no matter what and accept the shit you put them up to just because you are blood related or you share some good memories. After all, blood may mean nothing if you don't need a transplant and good memories can be stained with bad ones, if you choose the wrong path in dealing with anyone in your life. 

I currently have an exact, small number of people whom I can tell I love. Others know that I care about them, but only these few could actually hear the words pop out of my mouth. And I'm proud of it. Nothing good really comes in big quantities.

Did you ever have that dangerous feeling that too much sleep might kill you?

Yeah, me neither.

Sleep depravation, please go away, you're making me tired.
My minds feels as (s)mashed up as this song:

   

Funny how sometimes you feel like 24 hours are just not enough for only one day.

Though your mind and body could definitely stay awake for at least 12 hours more, the corrupted world that we live in and which we are constantly blaming for everything that basically doesn't work around us, tells us that a day has 24 hours. So, fuck you, system.

And even if science proves that days are getting longer, neither of us will live long enough to get to live that 36 hours' day; so the hell with this science blah-blah. Still, such a pity.

But sometimes, you get the brilliant chance to enjoy such a warm and fuzzy feeling that I usually like to call "happiness". And even if reason tells you to go screw yourself with this romantic idea that comes into your mind, deep down, you just know that you're wishing this moment will not end soon. Oh, you dreamer.

So in order to make ends meet, I think we should be able to choose when the days could be longer. We just have to keep in mind the fact that quality things usually come in small portions, like they serve food at fancy restaurants. But from time to time, we should really be able to say "fuck you, reason, I'm making this day longer", so that this warm and fuzzy feeling could stay around for more...making people happier, allowing them to be better, fighting the corrupted world around them, making the system better. Damn you,  you, enthusiastic, you.

I know you share this idea.
While you are reading, I think you have a smile on your face. 

I think that now you are remembering about that day, when you looked at the clock and realised time simply flew and you can't even imagine how some hours went by, without you even noticing. And look outside, it's already dark, hah. But there are still so many things you would do at the very same time and you hear the words coming out of your mouth, like a child is asking for candy: "No, wait, what do you mean it's late and you must go home?" Your mind is now creating a million arguments for the very simple situation in which you are just trying...to make that day longer.

Oh, you hopeless romantic. : )

I had a dream.

I wished for a road-trip, for a new teddy-bear, for a car, for discovering interesting music, for meeting new people.

I had a dream and then I had some more…and fulfilled my small dreams, piece by piece. And then I had another dream. And moved to another country, dreaming some more about anything, everything and mostly everyone I ever had for at least one or two minutes in my mind.

So I dreamt a lot by now, but I’m surely not stopping now. Cause if we don’t dream, how else should we know what is the base for our wishes and how else could we make those wishes turn into plans and then to actions which become dreams…that will eventually come true?

I wished for my Mum to hear the waves, from every sea and ocean I heard, even if she was still back home and not there with me. I still call her, every time I’m near the waves.

I wished that my Dad could go to a rock concert, even if he was sick for more than a year – I stood in my car at the entrance, ready to pick him up and take him to a hospital if anything happened. But nothing happened and we just went home after the concert.

I wished that my Aunt would deliver her child before I moved to another country. 4 days before I left, I met the new member of the family.

I wished that the people I once loved and had relationships with would find their peace, happiness and true halves, as I clearly wasn’t the one for them. Some of them already did, some are still on their paths to happiness. But happiness is a long term plan, so my wish still stands.

I wished for adventures, so I’ve tried some in my life by now. I fell in love with people, colors, music, cats and objects, I drank and smoke until 10am next morning, I danced, oh, how much I danced, I travelled, I took pictures and was photographed by both amateur and professional photographers, I’ve met stars, asked for autographs and shaken their hands, I went to concerts and sports matches, I tried to build up a career, I smiled and laughed, I fell in love some more, I wrote, tons and tons of pages of Word documents,

I wished to be powerful and proud, but I felt both like a powerful animal and a humble human being, I competed and won, I cried and moved on, I kept my back straight, but twice I felt like begging is my last option, I was sad, furious, happy, disappointed, trustworthy, curious, quiet, talkative, enigmatic, open like a book, elegant, creative, friendly, bitchy, stubborn, cry-baby,

I wished to be a better person, so I volunteered and helped, I asked for help and received it, I made surprises and got rewarded with brilliant, genuine smiles, I taught people and learned from the wiser ones,

…

I left the commas where I still have dreams to dream about.

And, to quote a T-shirt text of one of my dearest friends’: “so far, this is the oldest I have ever been”.

“All grown-ups were once children (but only few of them remember about that).”

Antoine de Saint-Exupery – The Little Prince

You can listen to me dreaming, here.