la munca, bah!! (doar ca sa ma dau mare si sa "share")

adica yours trully invata sa manareasca chestii pe calculator - (i.e. sa editeze filme)

povestea:

prin septembrie, nashii mei m-au plimbat nitel prin jud brasov (cred). uite'asa am trecut pe langa falnica cetate a rasnovului - si am urcat ca cica mie-mi plac cetatile (si sabiile, si super-eroii... aveam o prietena care avea o sabie veche (si un samovar urias de argint); mi se parea foarte cool; dar eram teenager si mi se pareau multe chestii cool; nu ca acuma... :-P madalinei, georgianei, si altor necredinciosi).

tot ce e de vazut, am filmat io (cu o camera foto! sa n-aud complaints despre calitatea video/sunet, blah-blah-blah). sunt si niste poze - la poze. e si o taxa de intrare (parca 100 000 roli), care-ti cumpara dreptul sa vezi de aproape zidurile de piatra si pe interior (sic!)
ce nu pot sa va arat (ca costa prea mult o poza si io sunt cost-efficient) e curtea interioara - plina de 'relicve'/obiecte 'istorice': o caruta, niste vase mari, o gradina...

"si cam ce e de vazut?" o intreb pe tanti de la intrare... 'cum ce? zice ea... "cetatea!"
'ok, ok', ma inrosesc io ca un turist ignorant ce eram, 'ce anume?'... "pai mai sunt niste camere cu niste sulite d'alea de piatra vechi, niste coridoare, si cam atat" ...
aham...

(adica mereti voi daca sunteti mai smecheri si explicati-mi si mie de ce am urcat tot muntele ala? carute am mai vazut io... ok, ok! privelistea e nice. vezi si poze. si rasuna tare frumos barbieru' pe toata valea... rasuna frumos, ca 'tare' am muncit io sa-l fac sa sune... me=out)

Let's See If You Believe In Me

( I really Do Believe In You! )

“I can't explain myself, I'm afraid, because I'm not myself, you see”

Surreal moment no1.

My 26 year old married +children girlfriends [gf for short], at a party, about some girl they know. Let’s call her ‘Ana’, for demonstration purposes. [notice: actual words were not kept in my records. I made these up, keeping their original meaning].

‘she’s like… old… she’s what? 30?!? What’s wrong with her? She definitely has to lose the attitude, lower those standards! Where is she going to find a man like that?’ If she keeps this up, she’ll end up alone. Who’s gonna marry her in her late 30's? It’s already like too late to have a child!’

I’m waiting nervously for a wink in my direction: Alright, then: go-on. Hit me! I’m ready. old’ .... I’m only 28 for Chris’s sake! What do you ppl want from me?!?

Later.
One gf remembers her dentist: a gorgeous, smart, funny, intelligent, 30-something man, looking for a serious relationship.
Great! Cool. Just what I’m interested in. What a coincidence: me too!
Another gf: hey, we should help. Put him in touch with someone. Who? Who could it be?
I’m like: what a wonderful idea! here I am! Awfully nice of you! Pick me! Pick me!
The other:

Oh, I know! let’s help poor ‘Ana’! I could arrange something later this week…

Later that week.
I pull the pin from the grenade. I ask another gf: wtf?!?
She’s like:

what do you mean? Of course we didn’t think of you. I never thought of you that way…You don’t really want another man in your life, do you?!?

Surreal moment no2.
late evening, this guy from down the street finally finds the courage to stop me:

where r you coming from? School?
I don't see how…
What r u like – 26?
So what if …
listen here!I have a great job! Maybe not much, but I’m administrator at this firm.
Small firm, only 20 ppl or so. But I make good money.
I could take good care of you!
I would go to work and make money. You’d stay home and mind the children.
Cook too – can you cook?
I don’t mind if you can’t! my mum could help us.
You just make sure that the kids are all cleaned-up and do their homework.
I’ll do the shopping, take out the trash. I’ll take care of everything!
You won’t miss a thing! I’ll make you happy!
What do you say? Look at you!
you’re such a beautiful woman, and you’re throwing your life away - doing what?
Reading? Going to school? What do you need all that school for?!?
what can those books give you that I can't?
What do you say? Marry me!
Forget that crap about school and books! I’m not so bad, am I?!?

Surreal moment no3.
Clubbing with a male-friend. Late night

I don’t get it!!! All those nice guys staring at you all night, and not one of them came to talk to you. Only the creeps did. What do you do to them?

Surreal moment no4.
My closest g-friend , one evening:

I can’t imagine why you're still alone!
You’re like… perfect!
If I were a man, I’d definitely want you!

Surreal moment no5.
My mum, when I arrive home:

Your mother-in-law must love you!
I’ve just finished the cooking.
Shall I bring you something to eat?

Surreal moment no6.
Some guy from my neighborhood, I meet every two weeks:

God! I just can’t believe that you and alex are not together anymore!
That was like two years ago, you know… He has a girfriend and everything.
When are you two getting back together? You just gotta… I can’t imagine the two of you separately.

Eu te-am facut, eu te omor!

pic de monicazozo

Ma agat de ‘el’ din incapatanare; din orgoliu; dintr-un instinct de conservare dezorientat. Imi protejez investitia, si reduc riscurile pe viitor in acelasi timp. E aproape perfect. Daca’as fi in stare sa ma multumesc cu asta…



Mi-a fost atat de greu sa-l asimilez in intimitatea gandurilor si sentimentelor mele, sa inregistrez toate lucrurile care-l definesc sub senzatia de ‘familiar’, ‘cunoscut’, ‘friendly’, ‘frumos’, ‘bine’, ‘el’.


La inceput de tot a fost doar senzatia vaga, generala, difuza, care anula tot restul lumii, creand un fel de vid in jurul lui. Eu insami dispaream instantaneu – ramaneam un martor mut, incremenit. Senzatia aia de beatitudine, de inimaginabil de frumos, de sublim, ma cuprindea numai ‘dupa’ – cand ma indepartam, cand ‘el’ era departe – ca si cum distanta ii micsora intensitatea si le permitea simturilor mele sa-l inregistreze, sa-l sintetizeze, sa-l numeasca.


Uneori ma trezeam privindu-l buimaca, de parca doar ce m-as fi materializat brusc, la dorinta lui. Si-l priveam neputiincioasa sa-i alin furia sau dezamagirea – pentru ca eram cu adevarat incapabila sa ma regasesc.


La inceput corpul lui imi era strain. Recunosteam cu bucurie crampeie ale vechilor iubiri, si priveam cu suspiciune restul. Apropierea lui imi era incomoda – pt ca imi cerea raspunsuri pe care nu le aveam, la intrebari pe care inca nu le pusesem.

Mi-a luat luni intregi sa imblanzesc fiecare gand, fiecare senzatie, sa incorporez in mine imaginea lui. Luni intregi pana cand i-am descoperit si am invatat sa-i iubesc si mainile (atat de similare cu ale mele), si umerii rotunzi si moi, si urechile, si ochii cu gene intoarse, si picioarele, si burta, si fundul, pana cand am ajuns sa le recunosc pe toate ca fiind parte din ‘el’.

L-am invatat pe de rost si mi l-am apropiat zi-de-zi, bucata cu bucata, pana in ziua cand am putut sa-l privesc drept, fara frica, stiind ca l-as fi recunoscut oricum, orice’as fi vazut.


Ma agat de ideea de el: din incapatanare, din orgoliu, din economie. Atata munca: degeaba. Un efort inutil, ridicol. Din spatele ratiunilor care m-au tinut departe de el, senzatia aia difuza, de spledoare, de la inceput – a amutit. E covarsitoare senzatia de sila – o greata imensa, absurda, care ma invaluie, care-mi rasuna in urechi mieros, insinuant, cu vocea lui; imi strange stomacul; ma apleaca: umila, invinsa, redundanta.

Mi-e sila sa o iau de la capat. Mi-e sila sa raman aici. Mi-e sila de faptul ca ‘el’ e singura constanta din viata mea, singurul lucru pentru care lupt sa ramana acelasi – tot restul, le schimb iar, si iar.



Non-existenta lui mi-e comfortabila, calduta, imi intretine anxietatile, depresiile, revoltele, imi alina plictiselile si insomniile. Adevaratele lui saruturi nepricepute, stangace, golite de intimitate, de pasiune, de implicare, de 'el', inca ma haituiesc. Amintirea lor ma asigura ca, daca i-as permite sa existe cu adevarat, l-as ucide. In cel mai bun caz, l-as topi in amorteala dupa-amiezilor de duminica, in graba cafelelor de dimineata, in normalitatea sexului cotidian.


Ma agat de ideea de el ca sa-l tin la distanta pe un altul: tactil, bagacios, impertinent. Altul care cere mai mult, care (daca l-as lasa) mi-ar umple si viata, nu doar gandurile, care imi pretinde sa-l privesc in ochi si sa-l las sa se uite in adancul sufletului meu.


N-a murit in mine speranta. Doar a preluat chipul lui - pentru o vreme; chipul care o sa-mi re-devina, incet-incet, indiferent.

It’s deja-vu all over again!

Here we go again. One more scratch on the wall. One more candle to burn out. One more year to end. What have I got to say for myself?

I did this for the past two years. I stated a notebook: each year gets one page to speak for itself. Back then, in 2004, I was pretty sure that was going to be the end of me. The second half of that year felt like the whole world was out to get me.

I lost pretty much everything I had: my faith - in God, in myself, my own feelings, and my own judgment, in the people I trusted and loved. Things stopped making sense, everything I dared to do ended in complete failure (plus a lot of pain for seasoning); nothing worked.

Everything I was crushed in front of my eyes: my relationship, my health, my friends, my school, work, my whole damn future. The fact that what I took for my new chance at real-love turned out to be a cheap trick, and the man I thought I could trust and love, turned out to be a lying, deceiving jerk was just one of those things.

One evening, in November, I remember it vividly because I cried for hours, topped it all. A routine checkup turning into one doctor telling me I was just fine, another doctor telling me that not only was I not perfect, but I actually had some genetical flaw that would a) make life a living hell for me, gradually or b) could be dealt with, by years of treatment and a very costly and painful operation, which afterwards would assure me a life of a real-life robocop (with steel-plates and screws in my skull). Lucky me - I had come to the one doctor who would've dared to perform it (him, I liked: quietly and calmy watching me brake into pieces). What was my choice, they asked?

So I did what only a very sensible, practical, down-to-earth woman like myself does: I called my ex and cried my heart out, for hours. I’ve always said he’s an angel. He sure earned his wings that night. And the jerk? He ‘hated’ me for missing his promotion announcement at work that evening; yet I couldn’t help smile when he let me 'have it'. He was right afterall: had I been there, it’d been in my best interest.

And that was my lowest, so far. I lost a lot of weight; I cried a lot of tears; yet here I stand, in front of you. A bit older, and maybe a little bitter (an acquired taste, for sure); lonely sometimes, happy occasionally. I don’t feel any stronger now than I did before. I doubt myself now even more than I doubt others.
I lost my innocence that year. I lost my dreams.

I’m not going to tell you now that real friends, people who really, honestly care and love you, will be there for you when you’re down; that when so-called friends lie, cheat and betray you, they do you a favor by showing you their real feelings; that the ones you’re left with after hard-times, are the ones that matter; that when a door closes, another one opens; or that doctors sometimes play god, and don’t know when to stop; and all problems have solutions, however imperfect, you just gotta find your own. You know all these, don’t you?

I’m telling you something else, something very useful in hard times: write down the good things that happen to you.
To remind you that, despite what you might think in a moment of despair, you’ve been better. And in the long run, even the bad things make sense – however strange that may seem. And the good and the bad alternate, as you walk towards the end of the line.
Oh, the bad things – you’ll remember those. Don’t worry. And you’ll be telling your friends about them, and they’ll remember it too.
Write the good things down cos you’ll forget.

Looking back now, over what I’ve written, I know that all those things – however painful, they helped made me who I am today.

If you asked me what I did with my life, I’d say “nothing” – cos there’s nothing that I’m particularly proud of. So many ridiculous mistakes shame me. Going back, I would make them again (be it in a different form, but still make them). I failed at the things that matter the most to me – my relationships. I gained no greater control over my emotions, nor am I any wiser with the years. I still have no idea what’s the point to it all, or what the hell I am to do with my life.
But all-in-all, you know… despite all the odds, I guess "I" turned out all right. I could've made myself a better life, and I sure as hell could’ve been a better person, but…oh, well! I’ll give myself a brake for the holidays. If only to impress Santa. I plan to ask him a huuuge favor...
Cheers!


P.S. Why do you think we celebrate endings?

The Secret Ingredient

.......................................................

Martha: I swear to GOD George, if you even existed, I'd divorce you.

......................................................

George: Martha, in my mind you're buried in cement right up to the neck. No, up to the nose, it's much quieter.

.......................................................

Martha: I disgust me.
You know, there's only been one man in my whole life who's ever made me happy. Do you know that?

[pause] George, my husband... George, who is out somewhere there in the dark, who is good to me - whom I revile,
who can keep learning the games we play as quickly as I can change them.
Who can make me happy and I do not wish to be happy…
…Yes, I do wish to be happy…
"George and Martha": Sad, sad, sad.
…Whom I will not forgive for having come to rest;
for having seen me and having said: yes, this will do.
.......................................................

George: I'm very impressed.
Martha: You're damn right.
George: I said I was impressed. I'm beside myself with jealousy. What do you want me to do, throw up?

.......................................................

George: Well, you make me throw up.
Martha: That's different.

.......................................................

Martha: [derogatorily, to George] Hey, swamp! Hey swampy!
George: Yes, Martha? Can I get you something?
Martha: Ah, well, sure. You can, um, light my cigarette, if you're of a mind to.
George: No. There are limits.
I mean, a man can put up with only so much without he descends a rung or two on the old evolutionary ladder, which is up your line.
Now, I will hold your hand when it's dark and you're afraid of the boogeyman and I will tote your gin bottles out after midnight so no one can see but I will not light your cigarette. And that, as they say, is that.
.......................................................

Martha: I looked at you tonight and you weren't there...

.......................................................

George: You're a monster - You are.
Martha: I'm loud and I'm vulgar, and I wear the pants in the house because somebody's got to, but I am not a monster. I'm not.

.......................................................

Martha: Is that a threat George, huh?
George: It's a threat, Martha.
Martha: You're gonna get it, baby.
George: Be careful Martha. I'll rip you to pieces.
Martha: You're not man enough. You haven't the guts.
George: Total war.
Martha: Total.

Quotes from Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966)

How Do You Know?

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a powerful King. His was a land full of riches, but his pride and joy was the brightest jewel of the Crown. For the King had a son, whose good looks and bravery were only matched by his remarkable wits.


And then, the time came for the King to pass on his Crown and Kingdome, and they sent word to the Far Lands for every Princess in the Whole Wide World to come to the Palace for The Greatest Ball of all, where the Prince would chose his bride.

And thousands of Princesses jumped at the chance, as the fame of the Prince had reached very far. Beautiful, smart, educated, rich, all sorts of Princesses passed by in front of the Prince, in their best dresses, the brightest jewels, setting whole countries and their riches at his feet, yet his heart had not skipped a beat.

Night came, and exhausted, The Prince decided to walk out his disappointment along the paths of his palace’ rose garden. For in the old books in the old library he had read about ‘love’: the most noble of all the feelings, something magical he had never known before. And his noble soul was exhilarated that he would find this ‘love’ and make it his own.


And while he was walking along the red-rosed paths, he passed by the kitchens, where a simple, poorly dressed young woman was helping with the dishes And with the night breeze along came a trail of the Prince’s perfume – and the young woman lifted her eyes, in wonder. Her large, brown eyes opened wide, as they met the eyes of the Prince. And right then and there, the prince-heart stopped beating for a while, and the wind stopped blowing, and the stars stopped blinking, for that was a meeting of souls.


About a second or so later, the Prince came to his senses – and even laughed in his mind at the silly feeling that had dared to trouble his inner peace. Surely this ‘love’ business would prove far too troublesome than he had hoped, and such being the case, the Prince pondered whether in wasn’t far better to abandon his plan. As the important business of the Kingdome were at stake, he could not afford to let ‘love’ mess with his head.

And he hurried back to his quarters, hushing his heart away from the sweet memory of a pair of brown eyes that seemed to have stuck in there. He drank some fine wine, and ate some fancy dinner, and had the clowns and the magicians put on their best show to entertain him; read from his books, had his old deuce tell him his favorite bedtime story, had some more wine, and yet the hours of morning caught him wide awake.

The next morning came over him with a cold breeze when he opened his windows. And there, in the shadows of the old oak trees, a dark silhouette made his heart jump with joy, and troubled his mind with the promise of unwelcome distress.

First he jumped right out, and then hesitated. Gathered up all his strengths, pulled his hands into fists and walked right up to her. ‘Back to the kitchen! his common-sense shouted, yet when he finally spoke, his voice was trembling with desire and a soft, dazzling shiver made him all warm inside. And as the sun rose, a pair of young lovers walked deeper into the gardens, overtaken by the rose smell and their own heart-beats.


But as the new day was taking its rightful place, the Prince felt time was not on his side: the Whole World was waiting for him to make up his mind. Trapped between his duty to his country and the call of his own heart, the Prince was dangling in despair. What should he do? How would he know the best course of action?

And the young woman saw the pain he was going through and did not want to be the cause of it. So she told him, “Don’t worry. I’ll be here tomorrow night, and the night after tomorrow. You do what’s best for the Kingdome, I’ll always be here for you.”

“Listen, answered the Prince, thinking he saw some vague promise of light at the end of his troubles. If you wait for me here, in the garden, every day and every night for a 100 nights and days in a row, I’ll chose you as my bride.”



And so the days and the nights passed by, and the young woman hadn’t move an inch from her bench in the garden, overlooking the Prince’s window. Every now and then, he checked to see if she was still there; had her love for him fated away? Had her determination died out? Rain came down on her, and cold nights tried to frighten her away, but there she stood, firm in her belief, unshaken.

90 days and nights later, she was but a sheer trace of the beautiful, healthy young-woman she used to be. So many un-slept nights, the lack of food, and water, and the cold and the winds had taken a heavy tow over her body. Like a leaf the wind blew her around, but she gathered all her will to stand her ground. And the Prince watched from his window, amazed by her determination, wishing he could find that sort of sureness in his heart.



And the 99th night came, and the Prince spent it at his window, still wondering, still not quite sure what to do, what he wanted, looking at the now skinny, ill-looking woman shaking out in the cold; half impressed, half bemused by her stubbornness. She was hardly any prize at all, in her cheap cloths, over her bony, fragile, pale body, with her once bright brown eyes half closed – hardly a match to any of the rich, beautiful Princesses awaiting for him in the Throne Hall. Surely, she was no Queen material.

And as he was lost in his thoughts, with the first light of the 100th day, his eyes caught some surprising movement in the garden. Trembling with all her joints, the woman rose for the first time in almost 100 nights and days, and looked up at the Prince, tears wearing down her face, clouding up her eyes. He rushed to open his window and as he looked down, their eyes met once more. Only this time, not a single star moved in the sky.

And as the Prince stared in disbelief, the young woman turned around and walked away.




After a story in the Cinema Paradiso, a film by Giuseppe Tornatore

You’re Nobody ‘till Somebody Loves You

I met the most gorgeous man one evening; 38, never married, hasn’t had a steady girlfriend in ages. Terribly smart, perceptive; very polite; very funny too. Flirtatious to the bone. Shameless. With that boyish playfulness that I find so irresistible (until it turns to selfishness and irresponsibility.)


So what’s wrong with you? I ask him – half mocking him, half wandering. He looks straight into my eyes, hardly containing his delight. Hold on my heart, I think to myself. Was it a trap? Did I fell right in?
No, seriously, I recompose myself. If you’re so darn perfect, how come nobody wants you? How come you’re so alone?

I’m not, he says smiling. I’m with you.


Right, I gulp. Silly me.
He’s playing with me and he’s better at this game than I’ll ever be. I stumble. I feel my way in the dark. He’s enjoying himself. I should pull back. That twinkle in his eyes spells trouble – he’s a swindler, a playboy, the wrong kind of man for me to play with. Not again. What was I thinking?

Only … I wasn’t playing. I was honest (alright: and naïve) – and it took like forever to get him serious about it, into my territory. And a bottle of wine. And when he starts talking he stops looking me in the eyes.


He’s happy with his life – just the way it is. He loves his job, his dog, and the fact that ‘nobody tells him what to do’. He’s ‘the lord of his mansion’ – comes and goes as he pleases. No one to answer to. He’s free to enjoy his life to the fullest. Every moment of it. No regrets. No looking back. No complications.

I listen in silence. I know, by the hesitation in his voice, that it’s been a long time since he actually talked to someone. If ever. No games, no charades, just him. I get that a lot. I recognize it by the butterflies in my stomach.

Hours into the night, the story of his life pours out. Bits and pieces, like a puzzle coming together, to complete the image I was so curious about. Stories of loss, unfelt grief, of betrayal, of being let down, left behind, hurt, unloved. He says he’s fine, and I hear the words. Yet they tell a different story in my heart – one of such a terrible, hopeless sadness, of deeply buried emotions, unspoken fears. Lost Faith. A story of complete, self-imposed, self-protective loneliness. And even though it looks like he’s reaching out to me – he’s so far away that I can barely touch him.


By his way of life, the whole thing would’ve ended (gloriously) with sex, thus restoring the order of things - to make him safe - to get me back to my rightful place: that of a toy, a dolly he’s playing with for the night. I’m supposed to turn into a ‘complication’ by day-light. I get the point, only too well. But I don’t like playing Barbie.

And there’s no button to push to make me ‘happy’ again, after everything he’s told me. It weights heavily on my soul. I feel all the pain he’s ignoring. And I feel like crying. His un-cried tears; the ones that drawn his dreams into a puddle of repressed despair and anger.

But there’s no way I can make him see. He’s already made up his mind, and he has the perfect theory to back him up. The fit words to hide the pain, and the fear. And the brains to defend it ever again, against every argument I could think of.

And yes … I could've stayed. (I would've; I wanted to) I could've found a way to accept that tiny place in his life he’d prepared for me. But I know that, at best, he would pretend this never happened. He would never look me in the eyes again. All these… ‘things’ he’s told me - only to re-enforce The Fact that he’s Just Fine. He’d get even better at his game – to better show me that he doesn’t need me, or anything.


And the truth is … I don’t want to be needed. I don’t want to be ‘strong’ for you. I don’t want to pretend I don’t care. I don’t want anybody else’s tears – I’ve got my own. And I’ve got my own fears to struggle with, and my own faith to keep.

And if you are reading this – I hope you’ll forgive me for walking out like that. And there are no words in the world to reason our way around it. I know you think I’m very smart, but that’s not how I chose to live my life. Mine is the way of the heart. Since you have no respect for your own feelings – how could you respect mine?

To you it was just a game; but I was falling for it. And it’s not fair, you see. You can do this with anybody – you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

But I would.

A song by Frank Sinatra and Judy Garland. "You're nobody 'till somebody loves you, so find yourself somebody to love!"

Catch Me When I Fall

Yes, yes! I know: Don’t. Look. Down.

Trapped. No way out. What do I do? What do I do? I can’t breath in here. My heart ... is like trying to beat its way out of my chest. I press my hands against it: calm down.

Calm. Down. Breath. Gently. Here-we-go. I can do this.

Sure I can. I know I can. One step at-a-time. Here-we-go. I can do this.

Oh God. Oh God. I don't know if I can do this. I don't think I can. Wait. Waait! I'm not sure. I’m not sure.

falling for - falling asleep - falling under - falling through- falling apart - falling away - falling in - faling off - falling out - falling behind - falling down - falling back

falling "1: suddenly losing an upright position; 2: decreasing in amount or degree; 3: becoming lower or less in degree or value; 4: coming down freely under the influence of gravity"

WordNet ® 2.0, © 2003 Princeton University

“We have art to save ourselves from the truth.” Nietzsche

what I've tried for myself - and works. read the whole "so you want to be creative?' by hugh macleod here

1. Ignore everybody. (YES!)

2. The idea doesn't have to be big. It just has to change the world. (you and me, baby! you, me, and the power-puff girls)

4. If your big plan depends on you suddenly being "discovered" by some big shot, your plan will probably fail. (don't wait for some else to say you're 'great'; this is a chance you'll have to take)

7. Keep your day job. (I know; this is not what i did; but I'm not the best example to follow; honest! I got away with so many things in my life... the risks I take are always planned, I know myself well, and I'm lucky... I haven't made this work yet)

8. Companies that squelch creativity can no longer compete with companies that champion creativity. (yeah, sure...aaah... that's why i resigned.. i couldn't take the constant pressure to be creative, inventive, smart; maybe we'll get there someday)

9. Everybody has their own private Mount Everest they were put on this earth to climb. (told ya so; see this and this :-)

11. Don't try to stand out from the crowd; avoid crowds altogether. (it's a figure of speach, dip-wit! it doesn't mean you're 'better' than everybody else, just that you need to do your own thing : just because lots of people do something, doesn't make it a good idea; actually...)

12. If you accept the pain, it cannot hurt you. (aaah: very zen, or something; No, not really. pain is pain whichever way you take it: it will hurt. but, take it like a wo/man. don't run cos the it will only stab you in the back - and that hurts even more)

14. Dying young is overrated. (but, as I said, it makes me warm inside knowing I'll always have a Plan B; of course, you wait till the next morning. always wait...)

16. The world is changing. (no kidding)

17. Merit can be bought. Passion can't .

18. Avoid the Watercooler Gang. (i.e. people who tell you to 'calm down', 'take it easy', 'get back in line'.... tell them to fuck off - my way; they don't take it well; and then I have second-thoughts about it ... maybe they're right, why fix if it ain't broken? why change at all?.... or, you can try the gogu kaizer way)

21. Selling out is harder than it looks. (not sure about this one; i guess you need to offer something of value)

22. Nobody cares. Do it for yourself. (... or do it for me, if it makes you feel any better; they don't care)

26. Write from the heart. (yes: it's your emotions that will come through and win your public over; they don't care about what you say...)

27. The best way to get approval is not to need it. (yap. i stil need it. badly - that's why you are the only one reading this)

28. Power is never given. Power is taken. (this is a dangerous, two ways sword - in the wrong hands (ethics) ... yes, 'm looking at You, hitler-wannabe!)

29. Whatever choice you make, The Devil gets his due eventually. (they do say that money is evil; so if you starve to death...; only trying to help here...)

...

very important:

bette davis said that "the hardest thing to do when you are successful, is finding someone to be happy for you".

It's a good thing to make really sure who your friends are (before you get there): people who like / love you for who you are, not what you can do. When gods fall, their fans simply chose other gods to worship.


Something I learned the hard way: in the most important moments of your life, you are always alone.

If you had it ALL, where would you put it?

I'm under siege. And deep down I fear that maybe I should be ashamed to complain about being offered ‘free’ stuff. But, I can't trust something that just pops right into my arms; something I never even asked for.

Call me ungrateful and suspicious, but I believe that nothing really worthy comes for free. Anything of real importance in life must be earned. Sometimes I feel like I stand alone in this line.

My mum buys about 5 magazines weekly, and even though I’ve told her many times that they’re crap, she’s very determined to share. And for some unexplaned reason, I can’t say ‘no’ to women’s magazine.

It takes me about 5 minutes to go through 50-some pages… usually. Today, I stared for a long 30 seconds at page 43, moved on, but then returned to make sure I got it right: the unbelievable promise made by the “great unique lady” who calls herself Eva Gabor.

“As you can easily see, her face reflects devotion and love for fellow humans” (what I could see was this old lady pointing at me with what must have been a seductive, luscious stare; rather strange for her years).

“she’s decided to offer her exceptional help to this magazines’ readers” (lucky us, eh?)

“she can transform anyone’s life into a fabulous destiny”. ANYONE’s!!! anyone’s ?!? aah… why such disbelief in your eyes? Patience! Patience! There’s more!

You see... because "she’s aware of her tremendous powers", she’s doing all this for free! That’s right, you’ve read correctly. You get “5 money-wishes fulfilled for free, before the end of this year!” (am I the only one who feels the irony here? Free Money?!?)

All you have to do, is chose which 5 wishes you want. Hard work, you-bet! why? Here… see for yourself:

Wish no.1 win a large amount of money.
Wish no.2 win the jack-pot at lottery
Wish no.3 get an important salary bonus
Wish no.4 win a free house or a free car
Wish no.5 win at least 1 million lei (~30 euros)
Wish no.6 get a regular income, for life
Wish no.7 get your dream-job
Wish no.8 be lucky at any games
Wish no.9 become the owner of a house or apartment
Wish no.10 get a money gift from someone rich
Wish no.11 win at a casino
Wish no.12 get an unexpected inheritance
Wish no.13 be invited at the palace (?!)
Wish no.14 meet a rich and famous man/woman
Wish no.15 meet the important men of the world
Wish no.16 travel to the most beautiful places of the world
Wish no.17 marry someone rich.

I’m curious: does anyone ever not chose Wish no.2?? I mean – the jackpot is usually into millions of euros…. You’ll buy yourself everything else, afterwards… right?!? And you pick the other 4 wishes just for laughs…

I bet you’re just dying to know which magazine offers this once-in-a-life-time opportunity, eh? A worry-free life, from now on… who’d say “no”…

Well… err....I’m not saying… I’m keeping this for myself – me and the other 200 readers of this magazine. I'd tell you , but... you see… this stuff is “100% FREE AND GUARANTEED”… once you've chosen the 5 wishes, there’s no going back!

I’m not sure if it is at all possible that we all win the lottery (by this year's end), but I know this: if we’d all have everything we dream of, it would stop being a dream… if we’d all have “fabulous lives”, ‘fabulous’ would translate into ‘ordinary’. Life would be such a bore. Imagine, the horror: we’d have nothing to wish for!

hei! i'm doing you a favor!
This damned woman is taking our dreams away from us! For free.

"Destin" e un cuvant ce are sens doar in nenorocire, Cioran

I believe in karma.

it’s based on the assumption that the Soul reincarnates several times, taking along the journey whatever lesson it learns.

It implies that one cannot run away from the consequences of one’s actions. They follow you around, from one life to the next. Sooner or later, you will pay your dues!

Another implication that I find particularly exciting is that the whole bouncing from one life to the next has an educational purpose: this is how a Soul learns - lives are but opportunities to try on different personalities, different perspectives. And thus, each life has its own lesson(s).

Karma is directly connected to the lessons. If they hurt, it’s not about punishment. It’s about learning things you don't know (yet). Things you need to learn in order to move on to the next level. To grow. To get closer to 'everything'.

The things connected to your lessons – people, situations, problems – they keep showing up in your life, repeatedly, until you take notice, until you “get it”, until you learn. These are the patterns in your life; look for them, ask yourself: what am I missing here? what is this trying to teach me?

Naturally, people are lazy, and prefer comfort, and easy ways (out). They tend to shun away from responsibilities and difficulties, they shun away pains, avoiding them, pretending them away. Well, they don’t go away because these “difficulties” are the reason you are “here”. And they're meant to be ...well, "difficult".

There is such a thing as “accumulation of karma” – meaning that a specific lesson has been avoided several lives, too many lives: and the time is up. Yes, there is a time schedule. And things get worse as your time runs out. At some point, karma takes over, forcing you to face the issues you are avoiding. You cannot run forever (maybe a few lives). You can live in the moment - only for so long. Like it or not, all these moments are like a huge puzzle (i.e. your life), and they are connected (their connection is you).

The good news is that your Soul also takes along the lessons you do learn in previous lives: your dharma. Your accomplishments, your gifts, your knowledge. The Jack in your sleeve, the stuff you can depend on in your new learning experience.

I know: it's a such a drag to even consider such posibilitie ...but then, consider the alternative.

it's hard to translate Cioran... it says that -"destiny' is a word which only makes sense when you're feeling down, miserable, hopeless.")

Lie To Me

Tip of the Week by yours truly, Love Tactics!

“Even though it’s natural to want to spill your guts to somebody when you like them, do NOT be telling them all the negative things in your life and all your dirty little secrets.

Don’t talk about your insecurities and weaknesses.

It only contributes to the loss of their respect for you, which is essential for the falling in love process to occur.”

~ Tom McKnight

w h a t a l o a d o f c r a p !

withholding the truth is a lie;

an incomplete truth is also a lie.

since when honesty makes for loss of respect? respect for whom? a lier? a pretender? a coward?

and WHO would you be in love with, anyhow, not knowing them for who they really are? (super-man /super-woman?)

magic happens when a soul opens up to another.

what this guy is talking about is a magic-show (david copperfield would be proud of).

yeess! sure you can trick someone into falling in love with you (the nice, enhanced, beautiful, perfect, "you") - but that would be a lie. and lies...

they tend to turn back into froggs faster then you can fake a "true-love's kiss"

Piece By Piece Is How I'll Let Go Of You.

First of all must go,

Your scent upon my pillow,

And then I'll say goodbye to your whispers in my dreams.

And then our lips will part,

In my mind and in my heart,

'Cos your kiss Went deeper than my skin.

First of all must fly,

My dreams of you and I,

There's no point holding on to those.
And then our ties will break,

For your and my own sake,

Just remember, This is what you chose.

I'll shed like skin,

Our memories of lazy days,

And fade away the shadow of your face.

Piece by piece,

is how I'll let go of you.

Kiss by kiss,

Will leave my mind one at a time.

One at a time.

One at a time.

One at a time.

Piece By Piece, by Katie Melua

"An unexamined life is not worth living" Socrates.

pic by madalina iordache

Some say that great poetry is born out of lonely, miserable lives. And unrequited love. Somehow, the human spirit blooms out of misfortune and suffering.

Freud rethought his system into a constant battle between life and death, our life and death instincts - that is. He figured that, apart from needing the balancing of energies, the human psyche needs the constant reminder of its human limitations. Like the Creator saying to Adam and Eve: ‘do anything you please, just don’t…’. and they needed that! They needed to know where their limit laid. And, of course, their breaking the limit was a reasonable expectation. Forbid something, and it becomes desirable. Common sense.

Rules and restrictions have been driving our spiritual evolution ever since.


I don’t know what to write anymore. My life is ... fine. Just fine. No more drama, no more tension. Nothing to fix – nothing to worry about. Everything’s fine, and it’s boring the hell-out-of me!

I’ve kept a diary all my life. Alright, not all of it.

The first 14 years of my life have been … well, GREAT; there was no need to write about it, no need to complain. I was on top of the world; my world anyway. I was unbeatable, invincible, ‘my way' was ‘the way’. No one even dared to dispute that. Teachers, parents, my extended family, my friends, even strangers. I was so used to telling everybody what to do that I was never . thinking . about . Me.

I remember everything - back to when I was like 2, maybe earlier. Not even one reflective thought. Nothing. Never stopped for one second to notice who I was, what I was doing, why… Oh, how I wished I had! I miss the old me. Sometimes, I wonder if everything was well worth it.

Not thinking about your life seems such a blessing sometimes. Ignorance is a blessing.

Around 13 years of age, things changed. Many things changed – and I turned reflexive. I stopped ‘talking’, and ‘doing’, and started thinking, watching, observing. The more I watched, the more it scared me, the more depressed I became. It all looked so completely pointless.

That’s when I fist became aware of my limits in life. Outside limits. That depressed me.
Up until that point, I had always felt as if everything was within my reach – everything was attainable, possible. It was only a matter of my will: wanting or not wanting it.

And that fateful summer, I met this girl. And she had something – something denied to me, something not within my power to have: not only did she have a full set of parents, but they were also nice, loving, caring, involved parents. She had a loving family - I had one extremely busy mum; a pushy, sometimes violent, always ignoring-me mum. I was on my own. And up until that point – for 13 years – that never ever bothered me before.

But there was nothing I could do to change that. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how smart, powerful, determined, brave, ingenious, independent I was, it made no difference.
And my powerlessness to make my life what I wanted it to be made my whole universe collapse.

I suddenly became ‘powerless’. ‘Imperfect’. ‘Incomplete’. I began doubting myself, my decisions. Who was I to tell people what to do? My own life was out of my hands – what right did I have to mess with other’s lives?

It was all natural, I guess. I was interiorizing the external limit – that’s how self-discipline is formed. It should have happened long ago, as a child. My parents should have taught me about imposed restrictions – so that I would have learned how to deal with my frustration.


I started keeping a diary when I was 14. Keeping track of my misfortunes, of my depressions, my anxieties, my fears, my doubts, my pain. I don’t write when I’m happy. It would take me away from enjoying the experience. Of course I am much wiser, mature, empowered, self-willed, more complete this way. The thing is… I’ve never been truly happy again ever since.

This awareness destroyed my ability to completely enjoy life. There is always, in the most blissful moments, some part of me that’s witnessing the event. I can never go back to that state of ignorant bliss.
I don’t trust it anymore. Now I consider it an illusion.

In my weakness, I too long for it. I dream of it, try to trick myself again into that state of mind; sometimes I pretend my conscience away, like I don’t really grasp the full awareness of the situation at hand. But it’s there alright: laughing back at me: who are you trying to kid?
When I’m deeply depressed, I toy around in my mind with the possibility of escape.

Madness is one way to escape reality; death is the other. ‘Giving in’ or ‘giving up’.

I’m far too serious I guess to even consider simplistic ways like fantasy, lies, deception. These are the ways of common people! People who lie to themselves. The cheaters, the hypocrites, the weak ones. The ones that never truly dare to make a definite choice - always in the middle, always ready to jump ship, should it begin to sink: “neither dressed, nor undressed; neither on foot, nor on horseback, neither on track, nor aside it” (Romanian folklore).

I am condescendent towards such self-deceptive people cos that’s what I fear. (‘cowards’ I call them capitalizing on my publicly acknowledged courage). I don’t share some people’s fascination with mentally ill patients, nor with death. Because I’ve had first hand experience with both and, having tried them, I feel they are within my power. They are deliberate options one can make in regard to one’s life.

Self-deception, though, terrifies me.
Not being aware and not knowing it – that’s scary! Going back to Eden, losing everything we’ve learned since ‘Adam & Eve were thrown out’: that’s scary! No-way: we gotta keep going!!

And we must wake everybody up. Ignorance may be blissful, but it prevents you from knowing yourself. You never stop to acknowledge who you are, what you’re doing, why…

pentru Ingerash

"The wise lover understands that in losing the battle, he or she can still win the war"

Dear Love Tactics,

I have been seeing the person of my dreams for some time now, but I seem to be at an impasse. I don’t know what more I can do. I have declared my undying love many times, but that doesn’t seem to do the trick to get them to reciprocate. I wish I knew what to do.

Apparently love alone doesn’t do the trick, because if it did I’d be married to this person by now. I cannot imagine a love stronger than I have for this person! What more could I possibly do?

~ Exhausted

Dear Exhausted,

You’ve got to understand, first of all, that once somebody becomes convinced way down deep inside them that you really, really love them, it becomes like a well springing up inside of them flowing with love back for you. They can’t help it. It’s involuntary.

Now the problem is not that people don’t respond to being loved, but that most people who profess to love another just haven’t successfully made their case yet! That’s right! They haven’t convinced the One they feel so passionate towards that what they feel for them is true love.

is it you not being convincing enough? is it that you don't really realy love them, or is it that the One you love is having a hard time believing they are loved/loveable (on behalf of some deep insecurity issue). cris

Dear Tom,

OK, smart guy! How am I supposed to convey this “true love” you speak of?

~ Skeptical

Dear Skeptical,

Here are a few of the elements of true love:

(1) True Love is accepting of, and happy with, a person just as they are even if for the moment that includes their being somewhat judgmental and rejecting towards ourselves;

(2) True Love is discerning, and able to recognize that a person is masking for us, putting on their best selves, and hiding their judgmental attitudes towards us; but that is what it is being secretly critical and unaccepting of our own human weaknesses;

(3) True Love is patient, able to allow the One We Want to progress at their own pace; not trying to force them to love us before they’re ready; and

(4) True Love is longsuffering; able to accept hearing judgments of us by the One we think so highly of and suffering it without striking back in some way;

In final answer to your question, the best way in the world to convey “true love” is to let the One You Want show themselves for who they are, in all their weaknesses of passing judgment on you,

and not let it destroy you.

Persistent kindness in the face of these painful revelations will go far in touching the heart of the One You Want.

Ironically, your best chance to prove your love comes after they out and out reject you. The wise lover understands that in losing the battle, he or she can still win the war.

Copyright 2002-2004 Love Tactics, LLC, Boston MA

I guess it isn't worth discussing why some people, including the One, are out to hurt you. the matter of fact is - people do that. and the scary, twisted thing is that they do it when they do love you, because they do love you.

it may be that they don't really believe deep down they're worth to be loved - so they either test you or your lack of sound judgment (how stupid are you to love someone so unworthy ;-)

it may be that they fear all that hard work they should put into a meaningful relationship, and they're trying for a easy way out: you may just ran away (thus saving the trouble and reinforcing their self-deprecating beliefs that it wasn't love, or it's not worth the try anyway)

and it goes double for you: it’s so much easier to swim in the shallow waters; you don’t get to face any real intimacy, exposure or vulnerability. as long as you keep the One you love away, you can’t get hurt –

because only the one you love holds that kind of power over you. everyone else is incidental.

P.S. so... who wants to go first?

We Both Know I'm Gonna Lose You (by 311)

pic by alex axon

Yes, this is the truth: I like to make an impression. I live for it. I plan it, I wait for the moment, I twist and push the Truth with my ability to twist words into my weapon of choice. I don’t lie, mind you! I enhance reality. I give it artistic credibility. I give it flavor and taste. I sprinkle star-dust over the trivialities of life.

Unlike you - inexperienced seeker of Truth, I know that impressions are everything. Appearances define this world and everything we know - it is someone’s invention. That’s how I like to think of myself: I’m an explorer of realities, an inventor, a creator of meanings and beauty. A magician.

Without me, Life would be as dull as a Sunday afternoon. I practically invented sun-sets and heart-shaped fluffy clouds. I put the ribbon on chocolate boxes, I aligned the stars twinkle along with heart-beats, I marketed rainy afternoons for their sensual promises and the candles dripping on bare-skin.

Don’t run, hiding won’t do you any good. If you see me coming, better get yourself ready. If you’re lucky, you’ll get two weeks of absolute bliss: no extra charge. Just a glimpse at your pure heart, just the regular offering of your true and honest feelings, a touch of your pure passion to warm up this old heart and body.

Don’t worry: I’ll be in and out of your life in no-time. You won’t even know I’m gone: lighter than the flight of a butterfly in the night, I follow the light. My tender heart wasn’t built to withstand the darker sides of the human soul. I’ll have none of the tears and pains of this world! As soon as the magic starts to fade, I’m off. Trust me: I’ve seen it many times, and it’s far better this way. I’ve seen Love and Lust fade away into the … (eaw!) ordinary.

I’ll have none of that, thank you very much. I was made for the finer things in life, for the joys and wonders. And I’ll share it with You for a while, if you promise not to ask for more. Don’t bother me with irrational demands: silently understand the delicate fabric of illusion that I’m creating Just For You, appreciate the intricate details of this beautiful deception meant to make you feel Special. I’m not picky. It can be anyone. Be grateful I’ve chosen You of all the others.

When I’m gone – you will have earned the meaning of True Love; the New, Stronger, Wiser You will face the light of the new day with a larger perspective of what can be. Your tender mind will be amazed to discover this whole new world it never knew possible. Your inner limits shattered, you will be free – for the first time – to enjoy Life to its fullest. Thanks to me, you will have learned to give yourself completely, and freely, you will have learned to suck the pleasure out of every glimpse, of every moment, with no regard for consequences.

Don’t be sad that it’s over, be glad it happened. I’ve taught you about human frailty, I opened your mind to how terribly vulnerable you are and taught you how to hide and defend yourself next time someone like me shows up. I’m not shallow – I’m well traveled, I’m a connoisseur. I’m everything you’ve ever dreamt of, you lucky girl! I am Mr. Wrong.

Trick me once... shame on me

“ …So maybe the chance for romance is like a train to catch before it's gone..."

A friend told me once that I had lost the train; And I spent a long time wondering if there really had been one. Not knowing was the most painful and heartbreaking experience of my life. They say that ‘missed opportunities revenge themselves’, and knowing that made me fear...

…had my decision to pass it by been a mistake?

Unable to trust my own senses – I feared that Fate had taken over, bringing to life my deepest fears. And that was unacceptable. I needed to clear things up. I needed to make sure that the shadows of my past would not tarnish the new life I chose for myself.

An unrelated remark startled me, reminding of something that had puzzled me from the start. "He would only come home when he got hungry. Not having food awaiting for him is the only lack of affection he can remember".

Food is a symbol of life, and trust. The life of a new-born depends on the food coming from its mum. Their everlasting bond starts with the merging of their bodies, one feeding the other into being; and it continues well into a child's life – food and love merging into the concept of care.

We even teach our dogs to only accept food from the people we trust. Food can make the difference between life and death, and it can convey the message of love and affection. So many people feed themselves the love they miss and long for. Dining out is nothing but a social integration of this symbolic reality: we feed our loved ones; we take them out to eat. We are what we eat.
And for whatever reason, I've always been more sensitive when it came to food. During college, my best friend was thrilled when I finally accepted food from her - years into our friendship! She had earned it - I could finally trust her with my life.

From the very beginning, my body must have sensed the deception - and refused to be a part of it.
To my dismay, it refused to take any of it in: my favorites foods, nevertheless! I felt completely betrayed by its stubbornness to not play along, and to unexpectedly shut down in the face of the very affection I had so long awaited for. I did not recognize myself. I was in awe. Everything I had ever wished for... and for some strange reason, I could not trust the love he was offering me.
And now I know what my body had known all along. If it looks too good to be true, it probably isn't.

“There is more wisdom in your body than in your deepest philosophy.” Nietzsche

I know my fate.

One day there will be associated with my name the recollection of something frightful
of a crisis like no other before on earth,
of the profoundest collision of conscience,
of a decision evoked against everything that until then had been believed in, demanded, sanctified.
I am not a man ...
... I am dynamite.

Friedrich Nietzsche

What's Your Story?

This is how you read symbols. Crash-course.
Remember when you were a kid: which story did you enjoy hearing over and over and over? That story can tell you a few important things about yourself.

Here’s how:
My favorite story is that of the little mermaid, by Hans Christian Andersen. I hear it’s the story of his life. Go figure! Forget the Disney version. The original doesn’t have a happy ending – cos it doesn’t deserve one. Curious? Read on.

Let’s follow the story, and the story behind.

---------------------------
The little mermaid is the spoiled brat of her World: as the favorite daughter of Neptune – the Sea God (the Sea/Ocean as a symbol of the Unconscious), she is treated as ‘special’ by everyone. Yet, she waves off the attention, retreating in an imaginary world.

She dreams of impossible things – being fascinated with all things human. What she dreams of is being human – being able to do things that humans do. The underlying motive though is that Ariel is not happy with what or who she actually is. She doesn’t appreciate what she already has.

As Fate should want it, there came a day when fantasy became real - in the shape of a human - a mortal, flesh & blood man – incorporating everything Ariel dreams of. Meeting him is a crucial moment. Loving him is a chance to make her dream come true.

The sudden attraction to the strange man is really a projection of who she wants to be; he is what she dreams of being – loving him is really loving her ideal image. Narcissistic love, Freud called it. Loving him is a like magical solution: she cannot accept and love herself as who she is, but symbolically she loves herself in him. Get it?!?

The man is bound to die, though (a challenge, conflict is necessary in order to grow-up). Her own father starts a storm (emotional upset, crisis; the father, the sea-god stand for her super-ego; Rules, Must-dos; self-discipline; higher-mind), which threatens the life of her lover (classic father-lover conflict; the Oedipus fear –projection that the father kills the lover; in real life, both father and lover usually compete for the girl) .

We should notice that by saving the man she loves from drowning, the mermaid actually breaks the laws of her world, going against her father’s rules/wishes (faced with the choice, she makes the right one: chooses to grow up, replaces symbolically the father with a man she can have; the father is forbidden, taboo of course; the father ‘belongs to the mother, he is her lover’; in real life, the girl identifies with her mum and thus becomes a woman in her right, going on to love a man of her own; Ariel doesn’t have a mum, though. Who will fill that place?).

This is where destiny takes over – just like it did with Oedipus. She is no longer in control, no longer aware of the forces at work: Fate unfolds as it must.

We know we’re off the reality realm, into unconscious territory because Ariel is incapable of finding a realistic path to her goal; she turns to magic instead. Naïve and ignorant, she puts her trust in the hands of the evil woman (everyone else knows she’s evil); Enters: The Witch.
Ariel doesn’t have a mother; symbolically, the Witch stands for a mother figure – enacting the unresolved Oedipus complex: the mother stands between the girl and the man she loves; the projection of the girl’s hate ‘turns’ the mother-figure into a ‘witch’, but the girl needs to love and be loved by the mother figure, and that’s why she trusts her against better judgment; in turn, the witch wants the father’s power – the falic symbol, the trident – and uses the girl to get to the father; (Freud thought that’s all women want; not true; get over it! )

-------------------------------------
Projection: an unconscious process by witch what I want/need/fear ‘becomes’ yours. Instead of realizing it’s mine, I think it comes from you. It enables me to use my needs/fears/wants without owning them or acknowledging ownership. We do this with the people close to us, the ones we love – and sometimes we chose them for this very reason. It can be mistaken for true-love! Be sure you ask and accept the real response of your significant other – instead of what you expect (which reflects your projections). Disappointment is a sign you’ve projected something and luckily! your lover didn’t play along. Be grateful!
---------------------------------------

Self-absorbed, Ariel is unaware of the witch’s hidden agenda. Lacking confidence in what she is and what she can do, she fears rejection and she projects it on to the man she loves. It is she who believes that her ‘imperfection’ (being half fish) would prevent her man from loving her.

Pay attention here: this is the moment when her true motives shine through! Ask yourself: at this time, does she have reasons to believe the Prince wouldn’t love her as a mermaid… as who really is? No, she doesn’t. All she has to guide her are her own fears and inhibitions, her own lack of self-worth. It is SHE who isn’t happy with who she is. But she tells herself that this is what the prince, Eric thinks. It is she who values being human and having legs. For all we know, Eric takes that for granted – and he actually may have been impressed to know she is a mermaid. She tells herself a lie.

This inferiority complex blinds her completely – as it often does. She willingly gives away her voice (her ability to express her individuality, she gives away who she is), in exchange for a human body: feet instead of a fish tail (reality, grounding instead of fantasy, but also reason (earth) instead of feelings (water); i.e. rationalization! A defense mechanism. She doesn’t trust feelings to unite her and the man she loves. She changes who she is for an ideal image (we all do that when we think life would be so much better if we were… ‘thinner’, ‘smarter’, ‘prettier’, ‘rich’, etc)

But the stakes are much higher. Should she be wrong – and fail to be united with her man, she would lose her soul. (she identifies so strongly, so completely with this dream (also the man) that life without him becomes pointless; this mechanism lies behind depression when a loved one dies; you want to die too. That’s why you stop eating for instance.)

A kiss would prove the union, by the third day’s sunset. (the kiss as a symbol for both body-and-soul union, the ‘3’ as fulfillment of the union of the ‘2’: man and woman united create a third: a child; the sunset as the end of life)

Well…true love cannot be under false pretences. The Prince – a practical, down-to earth man – feels the attraction, the magic, but is unable to correctly interpret it (as men often are ;-).
Further more, he prefers the sensual promises of another, more mature woman to the clumsy, inexplicably weird behaviors of the inexperienced Ariel. (who is unable to tell him who she is – ‘has no voice’, unable to manage her new legs gracefully and under intense pressure for fear of losing her life).

Nothing helps, and at the end of the three days time, Ariel heads to the ocean – to meet her end. Fantasy over – we must face reality.

She is met by her sisters (sirens as symbols for unconscious forces) who alert her to another option. She can save her immortal soul, but only if she distances herself from her fate and exercises free-will. The man she loves is her fate, so she must distance herself from him: she must kill him, practically she must end the spell that binds them together.

She must admit failure, must admit that he's nothing but a fantasy gone wrong (her running away from accepting herself as who she really was).

She can’t do it though. Can’t 'give him up'. She hangs on to the lies, the deception. She can’t wake up. She watches him sleep (projection) alongside the other woman (unrecognized fear of competition complex; of not being good-enough) for one last time, and then returns to the ocean. The Powers That Be acknowledge her story as an example - her determination to hold onto the fantasy. She is to be found forever and ever in the foam of waves braking into the shore. (Embracing the legs of humans!). As reminder of the consecuences of fantasy eroding reality (water moving against land).

When an inner situation is not made conscious,
it happens outside as fate.
C.G.Jung

Practical Exercise:

Take a piece of paper and a pencil and close your eyes.
Imagine you are helping God for a few days. A new baby is born, and the baby needs a Destiny. You are The Writer. You get to decide what sort of life this new baby will have.
Clear your mind. Don’t think! It’s all in there, it will come to you.
Write at the top of the page:

This will be the life of…. [your name].

and start writing.

The thing is… you’ve already written it quite some time ago. This is only going to help you remember what the heck you’ve decided back then. You probably forgotten already. But you are living it nevertheless. Every bit of it.

I did this exercise some… 7 years ago. And I’m on track, sort-to speak. Hopefully, I’ve given myself a cross-road to exercise free-will. And luckily, I did. I just remembered that yesterday. And for those of you who know me, you know how dramatically my life has changed just recently. But it was all in the script. As a possibility. I had the courage.

Unlike Ariel, I opened my eyes and realized I could enjoy my fish-tale (pun intended, as many others; have you noticed them?) and have a happy end. Well… I don’t know about that yet, but I took my chance facing reality.

The little mermaid story didn’t deserve a happy-ending cos there was too much deception going on. If your life is made of lies – white lies, little lies, doesn’t matter – you will pay the price eventually. Better wake up now while you can still change something.

It is in your power to re-write some of that stuff. It’s not painless and it requires courage, and it involves risks. Or else… better hope you’ve given yourself a happy-ending. Some people don’t, you know...

Perhaps love is the process of my leading you gently back to yourself, Saint-Exupery

pic by Catalin Alfianu

How to mess up your life in less than 10 hours, with a little help from Him

by Ionut Dipse - in parcul circului

first, you go on holiday with 4 couples, and a hundred or so witnessed kisses later, your own loneliness against the romantic scenery starts to weight heavenly on you.

You go to bed early, to avoid the dark silhouettes holding each other lovingly against the moon light over the sea. You don’t drink, and don’t focus the people around not to see other men and be reminded of how much you long for a touch.
His touch. It Must be that way.

Tension really builds up over the weakened: he might show up. He doesn’t. You try hard to pretend you’re not terribly disappointed and definitely avoid jumping to silly conclusions like that he may just not care enough (of course he does, but he has a really good reason not to come)

It’s ‘next week’ already, and you loosen up. Start to enjoy yourself a bit. Afterall, it’s your vacation, among friends. Have a beer, dance a bit. Life.

Tuesday is a great day for you: all mature and together, you play the brilliant therapist who makes the best of a heated argument with two policemen and pumps up some confidence into a really confused 16 year old boy.

The sudden emotional closeness with the boy kinda gets to you: it’s so powerful, so intense. He smiles away his tears, but you’re left disturbed.

In order to help him, you had to open up a door that it’s been shut tightly for quite a while. And it’s a full moon, and you cannot protect your self any longer. You FEEL the loneliness, the longing, the desire. Damn kid! Why did he have to start crying?!?

2 a.m. The phone rings. He’s coming. Of course, he doesn’t actually say he’s coming for you – he has a good, safe reason to come. But you’re happy nevertheless. Get up, get dressed, try really hard not to burst with exhilaration. He’s on his way!

You actually see the car arriving, but you loose it in the crowd. Instead, you call Him. Twice. When he doesn’t answer, you get paranoid and question his reasons... Maybe what you thought was just an excuse, wasn’t... Maybe he doesn’t want to see you afterall – he’s actually here for his good reason - nothing to do with you... He’s done it before, you know – avoind you by not answering the phone, pretending you missunderstood his intensions... The nerve this guy has! To wake you up in the middle of the night like that. Take you for a fool!

You wander around for a while, aimlessly, hopeless, feeling like a lost dog, like a paria, tears stuck in your throat, but too confused to actually cry. You start writing an SMS: "I don't understand" but don’t send it. What for? If He wanted to talk, He would’ve…
So you go back to bed, petrified, numb. It hurts so much you just don’t feel it anymore. You feel like such a complete dork.

Defeated. Incapable of handling your own life.

7 a.m. The phone rings again. The common friend. You pretend not to feel the flirtatious irony in his voice. By this time you’re furious. You swear you’ll stop loving the jerk the next minute, and burst into tears when you realise you can’t: you're trapped, there's no way out.
When you finally get together, you’re all grumpy. And tensed up. And confused. He keeps close, but somehow avoids you. You missed his touch so much that everything he does or doesn’t do gets magnified by a million. He wants to know how you’ve been – you want to hear He’s missed you. He wants to talk, you want to be held.

He brought a friend along - who really likes you. And when you like him back, his acute flirting gets from a nuisance to a bother; and He doesn’t seem to mind. Does He even care? Does He even notice?

In his own twisted way, He hints that He has come to celebrate his birthday [with you? with the common friend? Damn! You missed it again] cos He’ll be going away for a while [with whom?]
His lack of affection reaches mythical proportions against the enthusiasm of his interested friend. And that whole inside gets bigger, and bigger. He needs to go, and you’re left behind.

Completely drained. Exhausted. Not quite knowing what hit you.


**

---- astro-advice of the week ----
Things may be getting more and more tense this week
as the days progress.

...then, a Full Moon in Aquarius on Wednesday,
is going to bring out emotions
that may have been suppressed for some time.

If you feel tired and unhappy,
then it may be best to keep a low profile

and to refrain from making any snap decisions...

Rules For Humans

* You will receive a body. You may like it or hate it but it will be yours for this time around.

* You will learn lessons. You are enrolled in a full-time informal school called life. Each day in this school you will have the opportunity to learn lessons. You may like the lessons or think them irrelevant of stupid.

* There are no mistakes, only lessons. Growth is a process of trial and error: experimentation. The failed experiments are as much a part of the process as the experiment that lands up working.

* A lesson is repeated until learned. A lesson will be presented to you in various forms until you have learned it. When you have learned it you can then go on to the next lesson.

* Learning lessons does not end. There is no part of life that does not contain lessons. If you are alive, there are lessons to be learned.

* There is no where to run, no where to hide. There is no better than here. If you try to escape the lessons by running or hidding, they will follow you everywhere you go.

* Others are merely mirrors of you. You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects to you something you love or hate about yourself.

* What you make of life is up to you. You have all the tools and resources you need. what you do with them is up to you. The choice is yours.

* The answers you need lie inside you. Look for them, listen and trust your inner voice.

* You will forget all this!

jpg by kassandra (an amazing ucranian artist)

A dog can learn a few things,

but not if you forgive him

everytime he follows his nature

"This is the sad tale of the township of Dogville... up where the road came to its definitive end ; the residents of Dogville were good honest folks...

a beautiful little town in the midst of magnificent mountains. A place where people have hopes and dreams even under the hardest conditions

a man can't really be blamed for being scared,

now can he?

...although, using people is not very charming,
I think you have to agree that this specific illustration has surpassed all expectations. It says so much about being human!
it's been painful, but I think you'll also have to agree it's been edifying,

wouldn't you say?"


Lars von Trier, writer/director of 'Dogville' - a must-see

" Sinceritatea poate ameţi mult mai tare, decât falsul mister al minciunii." Marin Preda

Mirela Miada

“Sincerity can be more enchanting than the false mystery of lies and uncertainty.”

There is a false belief that one needs to play the uncertainty game in order to get the affection they desire. Men and women alike play the game of uncertainty, burring true feelings underneath layers of deception and emotional blackmail.

Some misinformed and ignorant journalist (let’s call him/her Stupid) messed up million of years of spiritual evolution and turned 'love' into the 'game of love'.

A 2 cents per dozen scientist (let’s call him/her Idiot) came forward professing the discovery that men don’t have a soul, only balls – so they’re meant to procreate (i.e. fuck as many females they can, in their everlasting heroic attempt of keeping the species alike).

Being too busy asserting themselves, and carrying the fate (politics, economy, culture, religion) of the entire humanity on their shoulders, Men missed the argument, and settled - for the life of sexual freevolity.

If 'sex' per se isn’t the issue, than 'the freedom' of "I do what I want whom I want to" takes over. As a philosophical stance, it is beyond suspicion. Life offers a rich variety of temptations, and after centuries of forced morality, nobody frets anymore about a little bit of moral inconsistency, or how I would like to call it – the emotional swamp everyone seems to be dying to swim in.

Excuses become trivial and unnecessary – we live in a time of individual freedom and self-empowerment. I think excuses – scientific or statistical or which ever they may be – come from the thousand of years of religious hypocrisy, to silence the remains of whatever consciousness speaks up.

It’s ironic to throw away so many years of spiritual progress, just so we can play the game of love, only at a higher level this time - of course.

People get it when they only talk about it, but practice shames us all just as it has for the whole length of our human history. It hurts me to witness love fail; prey to the mind games people play with themselves. In my opinion, people who love each other, should cherish the precious gift life has made them.

When love meets love is the very moment of our redemption from the dirt God made us of.


We shouldn’t throw away the chances life gives us to rise beyond what we are into the best version we can be. Because Love is not a moment in time, or a goal to meet, yet the process of discovering your truest self and shading off layers and layers of make-belief, deception or pretentiousness. There’s probably a good reason we take our cloths off in order to make love. We should do the same, symbolically, when we talk love.

For once, I’m not being selfish. This is not about me. It’s about the two couples I watched during the past few days. I watched them willingly hurting each other, in some strange and twisted attempt to gather some proof of love.

They have used up the power words have to convey meaning. They’ve used them so many time for the wrong cause, that words have become astray; and meaningless. They are like fugitives slaves, carrying the signs of abuse on their bruised bodies and souls.

I honestly don’t know (as a psychologist, a woman or as a human being) where and how the cycle begins. The cycle of abuse, and treachery, ultimately of alienation from yourself. I don’t know if you lie to yourself first, before you lie to your lover, or if – loving them, you internalize your lover's disbelief in you. It doesn’t matter who starts, or who’s to blame.


" Fericirea nu are istorie, fiindcă nu poate ieşi istorie din veşnica surpriză pe care ţi-o face fiinţa iubită prin însăşi existenţa ei. " (happiness has no history, cos the very existence of the one you love is an ongoing surprise)



It takes two to love.
But it starts with only one to hurt, or deceive, or misguide.
in turn, it takes only one to make the first step on the way back to sincerity and trust, and it takes one to forgive. Or to let go.

picture @ mirela miada;
 



P.S. funny how life is sometimes; as it turned out, this was about me, afterall. about the day things could've been perfect: only had he resist the temptation to hurt me again; the day I learned what he really was; the day I let go.