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.

Fara ezitare spun ca ne simtim inveseliti de obiectele mari, vazute in miniatura si de obiectele mici, vazute mari. 

Adica ne plac puii de ciobanesc mioritic, pentru ca sunt asaaaaaaaa draguti si ne plac casutele in forma de ciupercuta, pentru ca sunt asaaaa de simpatice. Adica ne plac elefanteii in ureche si turnul Eiffel ca breloc si ne plac stropitorile in forma de floricica si sa ne dam in gargarite in parcurile de distractii. 

Da’ normalitatea de cand nu mai e feşăn? 

Si de ce? :)

poza de aici

Da. 

Ce te faci cand o parte din solutie este reprezentata chiar de o parte din problema? 

Te-ai aflat vreodata in situatia in care sa complici lucrurile si mai mult prin aplicarea solutiei? Desigur, asta nu inseamna decat ca solutia respectiva nu era chiar cea corecta...probabil ca ai putea sa te arunci cu capul inainte si sa presupui si asta....dar eu cred ca solutia este cea corecta pana la proba contrarie. Si mai cred ca nu ai cum sa iti dai seama care e solutia potrivita, pana nu incerci. Si pentru ca am divagat destul, o sa zic doar ca de luni intregi ma zbat intre solutie si problema, ca amandoua ma contin pe mine si ma rod pe mine de ganduri si ca sper ca solutia potrivita sa vina curand. 

Altfel plec in Brazilia, unde o sa imi iau in grija 2 pisici. :)

Bula se intalneste pe strada cu un prieten care il intreaba:

- Bula, am auzit ca ti-a murit soacra. Ce-a avut?

- Ceva bijuterii, un televizor si putine economii...

- Nu asta te-am intrebat. Ce i-a lipsit?

- Pai, masina, o casa sau un apartament proprietate personala... ...

- Bula, de ce a murit?

- A fost la noi in vizita, eu i-am spus sa mearga in pivnita sa duca niste cartofi, sa facem pireu. A cazut pe scari si si-a rupt gatul.

- Ce ghinion! Si ce-ati facut?

- Macaroane cu branza.

"Unde sunt oamenii? ... esti atat de singur."

"Singur esti si printre oameni."

LE: din Micul Print

Nu credeam ca voi ajunge in punctul in care voi spune ca nu am un animal in casa. Sintagma este corecta de cateva luni, adica de tot atatea luni de cand m-am mutat din casa alor mei. Dar aveam animale in casa lor, deci pana la urma sintagma asta nu era chiar corecta, si pentru ca inca nu m-am dezobisnuit de a scoate pe gura cuvantul "acasa" atunci cand fac referire la casa parintilor mei.

De mult nu m-am mai lovit de o melodie ca asta. Care sa ma loveasca si ea inapoi, care sa se lipeasca de creierul si centrii mei nervosi de parca ar fi ceva caruia nici macar nume nu-i pot gasi.

Ca si cum ar fi ea insasi un adeziv, un adeziv care sa mi se lipeasca de minte si de tot aerul pe care il respir.

"Cum sa nu-ti gasesti locul? Cum sa stai locului si sa nu-ti gasesti locul?" de azi dimineata ma gandesc cum sa raspund la intrebarea asta.

viata fara pisici e ceva ciudat.

Ok, ce-am scris/linkuit gresit in postarea asta, astfel incat sa primesc zeci, ba chiar, sute de comentarii spam in ultimele luni? :|

Si oare de ce scriu asta aici, eu oare chiar nu stiu ca de cand am lasat blogul asta sa zaca in paragina, mi-am pierdut si mana de vizitatori pe care o mai aveam? :-<

Pur si simplu asa e. Cuvantul asta imi vine in cap de fiecare data cand ma simt neputincioasa.

Stii ca in jurul tau se intampla lucruri pe care, oricat te-ai stradui, nu ai cum sa le impiedici sa se intample si pe care stii ca le vei regreta, chiar daca nu esti responsabil pentru ceea ce se intampla.

De cele mai multe ori cand am sentimentul asta, se intampla ca in jurul meu se intampla lucruri pe care mintea mea naiva crede ca ar fi avut cum sa le schimbe. De fiecare data cand aud "s-a facut tot ce era omeneste posibil", imi vine sa crap de ciuda ca sunt doar atat de putin om si ca n-am putut sa fac mai mult, astfel incat "tot ce era omeneste posibil" sa insemne ceva cu adevarat important. Ceva care are un sens pozitiv, despre care oamenii sa stie ca e ceva bun si nu doar un premiu de o stranie consolare, ceva ce aduce semne de tristete, inca de la rostirea primului cuvant.

De ce oamenii aleg sa faca ceva ce duce la distrugerea propriei vieti, nu voi avea niciodata capacitatea de a intelege. O sa refuz si-o sa ma incapatanez cat am sa pot eu de tare, astfel incat sa nu ajung sa inteleg de ce un om alege un lucru care ii face rau, in detrimentul a ceva pozitiv. Astept un om capabil sa-mi explice cat vrea el de mult, despre cum uneori nu ai de unde alege, ca uneori totul se imparte doar intre gri si negru si ca albul nu se intrezareste printre bucatile de durere. Il astept eu pe ala care stie sa-mi spuna de ce.

Mi s-a spus sa scriu ca sa nu-mi pierd indemanarea. Problema e ca de cele mai multe ori am scris cand am fost la cate o extrema sau alta sau cand pur si simplu nu aveam altceva de facut. Am ajuns sa scriu si sa sterg, pentru ca cel mai probabil, pana la sfarsitul frazei, deja ma simt mai bine. Dar pentru ca nu prea am momente la extreme, iar timpul, oricum insuficient pentru cate ar fi de facut, mi-e pretios, nu scriu. Nu mai scriu. Mi-e dor de scris, dar mi-e somn, mi-e foame si uneori mi-e prea lene. Sunt la baza piramidei si de acolo mi-e sila sa ma ridic pentru a scrie.

Anotimpurile mele trec de multe ori diferit. Uneori vara imi dureaza ani de zile, alteori iarna, neagra si friguroasa, tot apare si nu mai dispare.

De cateva luni traiesc intr-o primavara, caci nu ma simt mereu in comfort zone-ul meu, dar imaginea pe care o am in fata ochilor ma infatiseaza imbracata intr-un tricou colorat, cu o hainuta subtire pe deasupra. Mustacesc un buchet de flori colorate si de cele mai multe ori ma simt ca si cum ar ziua de nume a mamei. Fiecare Constantin si Elena pe care il traiesc ma face sa o vad pe mama cu bratele pline de flori, motiv pentru care zambesc cand recunosc ca mi-ar fi placut sa fiu nascuta primavara.

Dar si cand mi se face toamna...ma duc acasa si ma bag la un film. Acum suntem doi tomnatici, asa ca iarna nu mai are cum sa invadeze cotloanele micului nostru locsor, cand impreuna ne concentram zambetele si fabricam primavara dupa primavara. : )

Nu pot promite, Radu, ca incep din nou sa scriu, desi asta mereu a fost una din bucuriile libertatii mele colorate, dar voi promite ca incerc sa scriu din nou. E greu cand timpul meu se imparte mereu la doi, dar e bine ca voi sa stiti ca daca nu scriu ... sunt bine. :)

Muz[ic]a: Concert Alexandrina @ Guerilla