Joie de vivre

"[...] And three little gestures that made my day collapse, and another one that made it back completely. Or that's what I hope. I hope I don't deceive myself again. I don't want to write about them, though. I only want to highlight that if I don't stop exaggerating things, I will probably not survive. But this is simply a part of my personality that it seems impossible to change. The advantage is that I'm easy to please; there are those little gestures that you're not even aware of, that matter the most and that make me the happiest. It's proven: the little gestures show you the sheer feelings of that person. But can you even imagine how it feels when you realize that that 'special' person doesn't give a damn about you, when they actually say they do? In a way, this is a quality, so you know who that person actually is. On the other hand, it's the most painful shortcoming. A single sentence, even a single word, a tiny gesture, ...

Have you ever had those songs in your playlists that throw you in melancholy and dreaminess whenever you listen to them? It's the same kind of 'empty' feeling you experience when you listen to a song from your early teens, for instance; however, in this case you know what it reminds you of: the blanket forts, evenings with your best friend, your first love. And this is not the type of melody I'm talking about. With these songs...it's like they throw you somewhere; somewhere in the past, in no known space or time, in a past you don't know when it happened, or IF it did. They remind you of something you're not sure exists, they make you return to some place you don't know where it lies, or if it's even there. They make that usual emptiness even emptier by making your soul long for...that something. And the more you listen to them, the longer a distance they build between you, the listener, and your object of contemplation. It's weird, and fasci...

Ne dorim sa ne putem alinia "lumii civilizate". N e intrebam de ce ne construim o imagine proasta in fata Europei. Exemplul depre care voi scrie este unul mic; mic, dar care m-a intristat si care este aplicat, totusi, si la alte niveluri. De cand m-am mutat in Olanda, nu am avut nicio interactiune cu televiziunea romana; nu ca mi-ar displacea, dar nu sunt fana televizorului in general. In seara asta, brusc, mi-am amintit de Selectia Nationala; in viziunea mea, un show destul de important, avand in vedere ca si el participa oarecum la construirea unei imagini a Romaniei in Europa. Intr-adevar, producatorii nu dau doi bani pe SN, pe ESC in general, pe constructia unui show adevarat, demn de integrarea in economia experientei de astazi. Zicem ca Romania se poate schimba daca exista suficient de multi care sa vrea si sa actioneze in directia asta. Dar atunci cand din juriu fac parte oameni care nu stiu sa vada dincolo de aparente, care se pierd in stereotipuri si cad victima gand...

'What keeps you up at night?' 'The thought of him ignoring my unsent messages.'  Source unknown   

Spuneam eu acum ap roape doi ani ca nu-mi voi schimba culoarea curand. "Curand" e foarte relativ, asa ca abia de trecusera vreo 8 luni de cand am marturisit ca-mi iubesc culoarea si cam 6 luni de cand mi-am zis ca nu mai pun vopsea in par, cand o cutie de la Syoss mi-a atras atentia intr-un supermarket: Source: http://www.syoss.ro/syoss/ro/ro/home/vopsirea_parului/color/saten0/saten_aluna.html In teorie, saten-aluna.  In practica: Ce? Saten? Nu vad :(. Am asteptat o luna, si iar la supermarket: Source: http://www.syoss.ro/syoss/ro/ro/home/vopsirea_parului/color/saten0/saten_deschis.html Si, cum socoteala de acasa nu se potriveste cu cea din targ (sau, in cazul de fata, ce e pe cutie/Internet nu se potriveste cu realitatea), a iesit asta (uitati-va pe lungime & varfuri): Daca ala e saten deschis, inseamna ca am ochi albastri. In plus, reflexiile roscate sunt inca acolo... Imi spunea cineva odata ca roscatul e cea mai pacatoa...

His smile...is still here. It's haunting me. It's everywhere. In every photo and in every memory. In every corner of my mind and of my sight. In my every move towards getting over him. ...and I was wondering why it takes so long for some people to get over someone they loved.  But I didn't even love you. You can't love someone after only one encounter, can you? "I will remember [...] how we gave each other what was left of us,  and [...] the feel of you, your smile, and the warmth of you  who made me laugh again."

On her wall, a post-it reminds:  "Get out of bed".  But sometimes, her disease makes her blind .