I woke up with my heart beating like a lab mouse's before a live autopsy. My head was throbbing and my skin felt on fire. While my stomach was singing its Hunger Symphony, I got out of bed and looked out the window. The images came right back into my mind...so vivid and so disturbing. I had done terrible things and I only realized I was dreaming when I had done the ultimate terrible thing.
How sick or morbid or just plane gruesome can our imagination possibly get? Sometimes I think we're split between the nice, socially acceptable people we try to be and the really disturbed creatures we really are. Or is it just me?
Decision time does that to me, whenever it shows it's eager little face. Torn between two continents, two possible outcomes, two possible lives...Am I too small for big decisions? Or I am just as undecided as ever because both the outcomes are not what I had in mind for this time in my life. Or am I afraid I have less time?
I was joking with my best friend these days, when we had no money for food because we spent it all on stupid things like more food :), that it's both so weird and so funny still being a poor student after four years of college. A lot of my friends have to worry about pay cuts and getting fired, while I still worry about when my mom can put some money in my account, so I can eat at the student cafeteria.
Am I that attached to this student life - a life I wasn't so much looking forward to about four years ago? I had so many other thoughts about how my student life should be or should have been like and instead I am constantly surprised. I guess this is the beauty of not having things come out exactly as you picture them to be. Would predictability enhance anything except safety?
Do I want a safe snuggled life or do I want excitement? :)) I wonder if there will be a time in my life when I would pass up an exciting thing for the safe, predictable easy to deal with move.
Again I am tormented. I guess you can tell by the length of this post. I don't know what to wish for anymore. I feel as if as my wishes and desires constantly change, my focus becomes blurrier and blurrier until...No, I don't become totally unfocused, but I do tend to treat the things I experience as things experienced by someone else than myself.
I feel I'm not living in this reality anymore, except maybe when I go out. And even then I escape to my solitude and my detachment. Don't worry, I'm not going crazy, I’m just contemplating myself and what's around me more that usual. I feel as if I'm taking a leave of absence from this existence. I'm not saying I'm having a parallel one, I'm just looking for something. When I'll find that something, I'll probably write more on my blog and you'll have the privilege of being annoyed more often by my posts.
Hypocrisy. Our whole society is based on it. I would just like it if for a while, all the people on this planet would say exactly what they were thinking of, when they were thinking it. What would become then of our puny society? Such a fragile artificial organism, isn't it?
I always seem to stumble on the paradox of choice. The amount of time it takes us to just select our daily clothing items or our food or our deodorant in a supermarket. By parallel, how long should it take us to make a far more complicated decision, let's say which career to choose or which job to take or which person to marry or, ultimately, who we want to choose to be? How long does it take us before we stick to an idea of who we want to be in our minds, in front the mirror, in bed, in the eyes of perfect strangers?
One of my friends once said that only people who don't have a clear and focused agenda ask themselves who they are. That people who know exactly what to do and are constantly active don't ever wonder silly stuff like: Why are we here? and What is our purpose in life? Maybe I'm just not that busy or focused or full of plans and that's why I wonder about my place and purpose on this small planet, in this small solar system around this medium-sized star on the brink of this most probable universe out of all the possible ones. Or maybe the busy people want to be busy so they don't feel lost. Maybe they're afraid of being lost. Or maybe I'm just a bit hallucinating at this very moment. In any case, thanks for coming this far with me! And here's a Teardrop on the fire of your trouble:
Friday, May 15, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Fallen Angels
Young, lost, trapped, poor, sad, needy...we all felt at least one of them at one time or another in our youth. But when somebody artistically portrays them all in 90 minute and exemplifies being like you are part of this world yet not quite, something begins to turn inside you...it did in me.
My eyes are darkened by the circles of puzzlement. Puzzlement you ask (maybe)? Yes, you read correctly. I am traced into pieces, some are there on the board, some are missing. I am beginning to look like a puzzle, I have been metamorphosised into a puzzle, therefore I have been puzzled and surely enough I remain puzzled.
I don't know if I'll recover all my pieces. It's a process. But I do know that I am at place being out of place, more accurately, I am in place without a few places, pieces to be more exact, at least this is what I got from Wong Kar Wai's Fallen Angels:
My eyes are darkened by the circles of puzzlement. Puzzlement you ask (maybe)? Yes, you read correctly. I am traced into pieces, some are there on the board, some are missing. I am beginning to look like a puzzle, I have been metamorphosised into a puzzle, therefore I have been puzzled and surely enough I remain puzzled.
I don't know if I'll recover all my pieces. It's a process. But I do know that I am at place being out of place, more accurately, I am in place without a few places, pieces to be more exact, at least this is what I got from Wong Kar Wai's Fallen Angels:
Saturday, April 4, 2009
The First: When is it too late to...?
Dear Witty Sloth,
When is it too late to start over? Or to fall in love? Or to be good? Or to find your purpose? Or to write poetry? Or to learn how to fly a plane? Or to make friends? Or to make sense?
I was skimming through a book about writing scripts today and while I was reading what I should be writing about I realized another thing. I realized that in order to have some writing done, I should do some living and in order to do some living I have to be willing to get out of my safe, do-absolutely-nothing-except-eat-and-sleep zone. But I am buried so deep in this zone, the trap zone of nothing and nothingness and nobody meaningful and nothing significant that it's becoming a way of life. I've lived all my life fearing routine and not doing anything ordinary and I ended up doing nothing and making a routine out of that. Therefore truly anything can be made a routine. Even doing different things all the time in a chaotic manner can become the routine of doing different things all the time in a chaotic manner.
Some people like routine, they like feeling safe while expecting something expected, others state they hate routine and anything that has to do with it, but the truth is, we all like some things being done routinely, some exceptions to those routines, some things done differently every time and the same things being done the same sometimes. What I'm probably trying to say is that there is never a recipe and if there is, it works only if you want it to work.
It's funny when people come on TV or to your face, either strangers or acquaintances and they say that they used this and that and they solved a problem or several, more than that, this or that worked perfectly for them. And then, maybe, with some skepticism you try it and this or that doesn’t do anything for you. Do you blame the method? Do you blame the people who recommended this or that or do you blame the fact that randomness is not random and that skepticism is sheer predictability of failure? Do you blame the fact that you were born when Venus was aligned with Jupiter or do you blame your choosing to be skeptical despite the success of others? Whatever you blame, be sure not to make a routine out of it. Because once you make a routine out of failure it becomes a way of life...
Sincerely,
Concerned Routine
When is it too late to start over? Or to fall in love? Or to be good? Or to find your purpose? Or to write poetry? Or to learn how to fly a plane? Or to make friends? Or to make sense?
I was skimming through a book about writing scripts today and while I was reading what I should be writing about I realized another thing. I realized that in order to have some writing done, I should do some living and in order to do some living I have to be willing to get out of my safe, do-absolutely-nothing-except-eat-and-sleep zone. But I am buried so deep in this zone, the trap zone of nothing and nothingness and nobody meaningful and nothing significant that it's becoming a way of life. I've lived all my life fearing routine and not doing anything ordinary and I ended up doing nothing and making a routine out of that. Therefore truly anything can be made a routine. Even doing different things all the time in a chaotic manner can become the routine of doing different things all the time in a chaotic manner.
Some people like routine, they like feeling safe while expecting something expected, others state they hate routine and anything that has to do with it, but the truth is, we all like some things being done routinely, some exceptions to those routines, some things done differently every time and the same things being done the same sometimes. What I'm probably trying to say is that there is never a recipe and if there is, it works only if you want it to work.
It's funny when people come on TV or to your face, either strangers or acquaintances and they say that they used this and that and they solved a problem or several, more than that, this or that worked perfectly for them. And then, maybe, with some skepticism you try it and this or that doesn’t do anything for you. Do you blame the method? Do you blame the people who recommended this or that or do you blame the fact that randomness is not random and that skepticism is sheer predictability of failure? Do you blame the fact that you were born when Venus was aligned with Jupiter or do you blame your choosing to be skeptical despite the success of others? Whatever you blame, be sure not to make a routine out of it. Because once you make a routine out of failure it becomes a way of life...
Sincerely,
Concerned Routine
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Salsa, Books, Sitcoms, Friends...my life
Well, this is a post to let you know that I am alive and well and I wish you all to be alive and well :).
These days I'm taking Salsa lessons, reading loads of books, watching a few sitcoms like The Big Bang Theory, Heroes and Battlestar Galactica - I assure you the SciFis are treated with the utmost respect in my dorm room :) - and going out with friends that seem to be glad for my accomplishments and also seem to enjoy a good debate once in a while. About my accomplishments, well, that's reserved for another post :).
Two more things: 1) I have 24 small ZUZU containers full of delicious milk on my window sill and 2) tonight I'm going to a smashing Salsa party.
Stay positive and enjoy life!
These days I'm taking Salsa lessons, reading loads of books, watching a few sitcoms like The Big Bang Theory, Heroes and Battlestar Galactica - I assure you the SciFis are treated with the utmost respect in my dorm room :) - and going out with friends that seem to be glad for my accomplishments and also seem to enjoy a good debate once in a while. About my accomplishments, well, that's reserved for another post :).
Two more things: 1) I have 24 small ZUZU containers full of delicious milk on my window sill and 2) tonight I'm going to a smashing Salsa party.
Stay positive and enjoy life!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
My RED BOXING GLOVES
The big 23 knocked on my door 12 days ago and I feel as if I were 6 or something. Maybe because, no matter how much I grow, I still let my imagination go wild, live of my parents' money and ask for weird gifts, that my nice friends actually buy for me :).
When I was 17 I wanted a chocolate cake in the shape of dog shit and I actually got one that fairly looked disgusting, but was in fact delicious. For many years I've been bugging my friends about frogs and turtles and the fact that I love them, so for my 21st birthday they gave me a turtle (you all know my sweet Jeremiah, who has a last name starting this week: Baldabacescu).
Since high school I have been craving for a nice red pair of boxing gloves, and this year I actually got them too. They're wonderful and they're exactly like I always wanted. And last night I was lucky enough to get an autograph from Ioan Gyuri Pascu on my right boxing glove. He happened to be at the club where we celebrated my big 23 BD - The Peasant's Club (Clubul Taranului) right inside the Museum of the Romanian Peasant (Muzeul Taranului Roman).
After this row of wishes and presents to match, I figured out the way you have to do things in order to get what you want. The solution is to nag just the right people (your friends for presents, your parents for abroad trips, you boss for more money, your teachers for bigger grades, yourself for less pounds of fat etc.) and, eventually, you will get what you want. It all depends on the time you invest in the nagging process and your dedication to that.
Thank you to all my friends for their wonderful wish-granting presents and for being my friends!
When I was 17 I wanted a chocolate cake in the shape of dog shit and I actually got one that fairly looked disgusting, but was in fact delicious. For many years I've been bugging my friends about frogs and turtles and the fact that I love them, so for my 21st birthday they gave me a turtle (you all know my sweet Jeremiah, who has a last name starting this week: Baldabacescu).
Since high school I have been craving for a nice red pair of boxing gloves, and this year I actually got them too. They're wonderful and they're exactly like I always wanted. And last night I was lucky enough to get an autograph from Ioan Gyuri Pascu on my right boxing glove. He happened to be at the club where we celebrated my big 23 BD - The Peasant's Club (Clubul Taranului) right inside the Museum of the Romanian Peasant (Muzeul Taranului Roman).
After this row of wishes and presents to match, I figured out the way you have to do things in order to get what you want. The solution is to nag just the right people (your friends for presents, your parents for abroad trips, you boss for more money, your teachers for bigger grades, yourself for less pounds of fat etc.) and, eventually, you will get what you want. It all depends on the time you invest in the nagging process and your dedication to that.
Thank you to all my friends for their wonderful wish-granting presents and for being my friends!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Sometimes...
A lot of free time on your hands means a lot of randomness in the head, at least for me it does. This randomness parleys into thoughts, which trigger emotions, which trigger more thoughts than actions than I would like to admit...but am admitting.
For those of you who were able to follow that, here's another: The carpets would be foot-worn with the treading of my thoughts, if I had such carpets, instead I choose to tread the 2.0 part of my life.
William Butler Yeats once wrote:
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Sometimes I think that the only things that are truly our own, are our thoughts. But then I become socially-labeled-sad, because our thoughts can be twisted and tweaked by circumstances and energies that we, many times, are so unaware of.
I might be so proud and so confident as to state that these are MY thoughts. But what is truly ours? Then again, what is "truly"?
It's raining outside. I'm actually looking outside as I’m writing this. There's a leaf hanging for dear life on a branch in the tree right next to my window...but the leaf is dead...
For those of you who were able to follow that, here's another: The carpets would be foot-worn with the treading of my thoughts, if I had such carpets, instead I choose to tread the 2.0 part of my life.
William Butler Yeats once wrote:
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
Sometimes I think that the only things that are truly our own, are our thoughts. But then I become socially-labeled-sad, because our thoughts can be twisted and tweaked by circumstances and energies that we, many times, are so unaware of.
I might be so proud and so confident as to state that these are MY thoughts. But what is truly ours? Then again, what is "truly"?
It's raining outside. I'm actually looking outside as I’m writing this. There's a leaf hanging for dear life on a branch in the tree right next to my window...but the leaf is dead...
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The Children of Huang Shi
I don't know if you do this, but I sometimes think about what it would be like to mean something to a lot of people for generations to come. I think about influencing people to be good and do good, about helping people.
This is in fact a truly selfish desire of mine, wanting to remain in people's minds for a while, even, dare I say, put my print on history for something. But sometimes, I try to fool myself into thinking that I can actually do things for people out of pure altruism...maybe it's more of a desire than a true thing. I'll get back to you on this one when and if I figure it out.
Yesterday I saw a film about a person who saved a lot of people without an identifiable selfish interest. I confess I cried at the end of it, but not for the fact that he saved them during a very tumultuous period in China, not for the fact that everybody suffers a lot in this film and not because the people in the film remind me of somebody I lost...No...I cried because I thought about what I have accomplished so far and if I would ever be able to do something significant with my life. It's hard when these thoughts hit me, but it happens a lot when you're a leech on your parents' wallet.
Yet again, enough about me. I guess it's my 23rd year crisis kicking in :). Here's a peep at The Children of Huang Shi:
This is in fact a truly selfish desire of mine, wanting to remain in people's minds for a while, even, dare I say, put my print on history for something. But sometimes, I try to fool myself into thinking that I can actually do things for people out of pure altruism...maybe it's more of a desire than a true thing. I'll get back to you on this one when and if I figure it out.
Yesterday I saw a film about a person who saved a lot of people without an identifiable selfish interest. I confess I cried at the end of it, but not for the fact that he saved them during a very tumultuous period in China, not for the fact that everybody suffers a lot in this film and not because the people in the film remind me of somebody I lost...No...I cried because I thought about what I have accomplished so far and if I would ever be able to do something significant with my life. It's hard when these thoughts hit me, but it happens a lot when you're a leech on your parents' wallet.
Yet again, enough about me. I guess it's my 23rd year crisis kicking in :). Here's a peep at The Children of Huang Shi:
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