last decade in numbers (the roaring 2000s)

this decade that's ending started at a NYE party of a highschool colleague. it was 9th grade, i was wearing short hair and baggy clothes. obviously i cared so little because i hadnt been in love yet. throughout the night i had my pants tear right where you dont want them to (the other snowball effect), i fell in love with calvin and hobbes and i had my best friend pass out from a cigar. we were 15. it was scary. and it was a crappy night saved only by the glory of calvin and hobbes.

some years of blind spotted happiness

followed. skipping school, reading a lot out of own will, going on real life changing adventures, falling in love every other month, writing rhyme-less poems, making awful songs, thinking i will actually record them one day. oh, and the internet. which brought more love. virtual, that is. writing virtual love letters, getting virtually melancholic, falling virtually in love and imagining a virtual beautiful future. basically, like sims without being able to build a wall around them just to see what happens (and what happens is that they die. yes, i did it).

then it got ugly.

my dad didnt just die, he took a whole part of me, maybe 3/4 of my heart and an arm. i always tried writing about it, but could never really come clean.

a whole new era

started with university. alone. absolutely alone. all my friends in distant cities. sharing MY room. MY things. MY privacy! days when i felt like a superhero for achieving so much came fairly quick after days and days of being nauseatingly lazy. the time of absolute aristotelic learning. there was AIESEC, there was FITS, there was the university newspaper, there were so so many things. unrelated (perhaps), before i knew it, scepticism began to cuddle up in my brain. maybe it wasnt that, maybe it was some foolish feeling of invincibility. i had it. some of it is gone.

i must've liked all the fuss

though, cause i carried on. i stepped up. came in front. talked. in front. like i knew what i was saying. soon, i began to actually know what i'm saying. moved to denmark. found that joke so befitting (lovely country, but then they gave them danes). met wonderful people, though. wonderful. really. changed. a lot. or the most. maybe because of some sort of maturity, but a pleasant, non-disruptive form for my ongoing immaturity.

on the other front

i fell in love and i dont know how high up i was before this fall, but coming back to reality implied some more falling, which really hurt. it hurt so bad, for the first time, in an unknown way, a very i want you but i dont want you kind of way, in a near death experience kind of way. and now it seems ridiculous. but then, it hurt. and more love came and went, in different forms. and i knew love will accompany me through life, no matter what. this must've been before the scepticism.

and that's the short short story.

below is the short short short short short story.

greatest discoveries of the decade:

love

sex

friends indeed (i mean "in deed")

alcohol

the feeling of invincibility

omg the internet!

worst discoveries of the decade:

death

betrayal

ego x ego

alcohol? ;)

the feeling of invincibility

why am i telling you all this? because you weren't alone. we spent the last decade together. laughed together, cried together, did stupid things that didnt make us better people together, learned from some together. you just didnt know about it. and now you do.

p.s. happy new decade to you.

un elefant se legăna pe o pânză de păianjen

totul a început pentru că am deschis unul din pachetele de beţigaşe parfumate pe care le-am adus din indii.

absolut nimic special. e vorba de un banal pachet de beţigaşe, luat la întamplare, nici măcar ales de mine, pus între mirodenii de omul cu turban de la magazin.

şi exact, dar exact, adică exact-exact acelaşi tip de beţigaşe îl aveam în liceu, când îmi plăcea mult de tot de un băiat. plăcut e un fel de eufemism pentru aş fi mers până la capătul lumii pentru el care e un alt fel de eufemism pentru probabil îl cam iubeam.

printre multe alte chestii pe care le cred fără să am dovezi, cred că ne îndrăgostim mult mai des decât ne des-îndrăgostim. ar trebui să fie un raport aproape egal, de preferat +1 pentru îndrăgostiri. dar nu e aşa. eu port, într-un sac-au-coeur, multe dintre îndrăgostelile survenite de-a lungul timpului.

şi mirosul ăsta de atunci în camera mea de acum îmi dă palme. palme reci. şi ude. ca înainte de teză.

mirosul e mai tare ca albumele cu poze, oracolele, un cântec sau orice cântec, e mai tare decât crăciunul, mai răscolitor decât o atingere de mână şi mai puternic decât popeye. mă înclin lui. şi, împotriva firii, am să mai aprind un beţigaş.

Merry You and Merry Me!

Yes, the giraphant lives on.

stay shark

i said i didn't know, but it was rushdie. i added "but" to seem like i knew even back then, but the truth is i didnt, so don't be fooled. i just found out, like you probably did right now.

stay shark, cause they're sharper than sharp.

probleme de respirație

vorbeam cu una dintre cele mai dragi prietene după mult timp şi, fireşte, am ajuns la capitolul băieţi mai repede decât ajung la miezul gumei center shock.

mă pregătisem s-o consolez, dar mi-a zis că nu e chiar cazul, că nu e suparată. a adăugat, pentru şocul centrului meu: "eu m-am despărţit de el, dar el nu s-a despărţit de mine."

băieţii sunt mai persistenţi decât halena.

become a poet (bot), now!

all in pretty

All in pretty went my cloud walking
on a derelict joy of simple
into the clear smile.

strange bold dare cried savage and glowing
the intelligent street before.

little be they than blue belly
the sloppy exhausting street
the exhausting intelligent street.

strange exhausting courage at a shy love
the extatic shot before.

block at ship went my cloud walking
walking the mood down
into the clear smile.

strange bold dare cried savage and glowing
the scrumptuos clay before.

sarcastic be they than joyful exhausting story
the bold shy street
the aloof savage n street.

strange aloof belief at a simple elevator
the clean tomato before.

spot at light went my cloud walking
walking the squash down
into the clear smile.

strange bold dare cried savage and glowing
the clean sprinkle before.

insightful be they than generous cigarette
the stupid crazy street
the malicious stupendous street.

strange malicious bottle at the pretty squash
the stupendous spring before.

All in pretty went my cloud walking
on a derelict joy of simple
into the clear smile.

strange bold dare cried savage and glowing
my coffee blind spot before.

- letzu & e.e. cummings

make friends with the poet bot, NOW! ;)

instict matern secundar

am o nouă letzuremă: dacă nu eşti atrasă de băieţi mai tineri, ba dimpotrivă, e din cauză că n-ai instinct matern. ceea ce e și rău, și bine, ca toate mizilicurile din lume. :)

perception curry

disclaimer: however tempted you are to consider this a prejudiced post, it's merely a few observation of a simpleton, so refrain. :>

only and itself

indians use the words "only" and "itself" like i never heard before. to the question "where do you live?" indians will probably reply "in delhi only" or "in delhi itself". leaves you thinking you didnt hear well, but then, after you hear it over and over again, you realize it's just indian english.

"i put it there only". makes sense? it will if you discard the "only".

this is a printscreen of an indian website. see the abuse of only? i find it painfully beautiful. :)

v and w

i dont mean volkswagen. i mean the letters "v" and "w", which you'd always pronounce in a soft way for "w" and a sharper way for "v". unless you're german, in which case you probably don't have a sense of humor and you pronounce "w" like "v" and "v" like "f". indians are not so complicated, they just switch "v" and "w" completely. it seems innocent, but it gets confusing. eg: in this strange indian english, "vile" is pronounced like "while".

it doesn't really bother me. wait, it does.

phone conversations

indians don't talk on the phone, they talk to the phone. they answer it by keeping it near to their ear, but then, when they have something to say, they move it in front and talk to the screen. yes, they are overly polite. ;)

the paradox of socks

socks

in winter it gets cold, even in india, so women wear their sandals/flip flops with socks. why get covered shoes? better buy skin color split socks (not like socks with toes, but similar, as they have this split like the teenage ninja mutant turtles between big toe and rest of toes).

it looks darn funny, too. maybe it's the way they keep each other amused.

no socks

most indians i've met don't just take off their shoes when the situation asks for it. they take off everything. and by everything i mean their socks. they go bare on the foot. sometimes i wish they didnt.

boys and desktop backgrounds

my mom told me once that for buses and boys you should never wait. there will always be another one. actually, i'm not sure if my mom told me that or someone told me their mom told them that. or even saw it in a movie. really, i'm not sure at all.

but in this saying, buses and boys make sense together.

and boys and desktop backgrounds also makes sense together. but there is no saying for it. yet.

here's the thing: sometimes i choose this amazing picture and i say to myself "wow, i'm gonna keep this forever and ever!". and forever might be a bit over a month. sometimes more. it happened already with so many backgrounds that i feel i have a commitment issue.

but also, on the other hand, keeping the default windows background is very, very questionable.

and doesnt it happen like that with boys? duration is different, but you still think it'll last forever, that this one time you found the perfect one. and then windows pulls some weird stunt on you or you get bored - depending on who you want to put the blame on.

mixed tape

i had a dream. it wasnt pollitically correct, nor was it politically incorrect. it wasn't political at all. there was this girl in my dream, can't recall who but i am positive it's someone i know, and she gave me a mixtape.

i mumbled in front of the artefact, plus, it was slightly bigger than a normal cassette, which made me question it more than the gesture. it was my first mixtape. i liked the idea so much, too bad my dreams don't follow through. or lack audio. cause i never heard it.

i wish people still gave each other mixtapes. or just to me.

I'm dreaming of a CMYK Christmas

I think Christmas spirit (with all it's good and bad) is coded into my brain. or my heart. or some organ, at least. how else could I feel it's coming in this cold, dusty, grey, crowded, mostly hindu and muslim city?

(picture from Awkward Family Photos)

and speaking of which, did you hear bob dylan's latest christmas song? if no, please avoid doing so. he must be undergoing some unusual rebellion.

and speaking of which, no more absolutes. practice spits in theory's eye.

in praise of love

i'm not done saying my "f#%& you"s, but i realized something. what matters is not how long someone lives, but how they live.

and for that i am happy and less angry, cause i know that coco lived more than others could dream of.

(last conference before plunging into the Executive Board team together)

(showing love at NPS 2007 :), with the coolest team t-shirts AIESEC ever saw).

i'll be hoping he knows we know he lived a happy, joyful life, full of love and friends and that we're thinking about him.

rest in peace, coco. you will be very much missed.

forgive and forget?

(late night feverish rantings)

they say that. forgive and forget. they say forgive and forget, but i mostly just forget. i tend to avoid forgiving altogether, because of the massive amount of baggage it comes with, but i am still lucky enough to be comfortably forgetful to not have to worry too much about it.

if you forgive and then forget, what's the point?

you cant even feel like the better person, cause you forgot. and if you are the better person for real, you dont need to feel like that, therefore you dont need to forget cause you'll be all humble about it anyway.

but there are some things you cant forget. nor forgive. indifferent to your abilities. and if you can find those people who did those things and toilet paper wrap their something, you'll be well again.

so yeah, who put the bop in the bop-shoo-bop is important, but who was the silly man who said forgive and forget?

help the blind, or else!

as i was walking up and down in the backyard, lost in thoughts, i see these two men coming towards me. one is guiding the other, who has a stick in his hand, seems like he's squinting his eyes and is keeping his hands forward, like a zombie or like cartoon portrayals of frankenstein. i didnt have time to make all these analogies in the split second between seeing them and having them speak to me, but i know that's what i would have thought.

so i see them, i think it's weird (i did have time to think that), and this guy says to me, in a very imperative tone: "help the blind, god will help you!". and by imperative i mean the kind of tone my mom would use for telling me to clean my room for the 5th time. not nice.

it's a simple syllogism:

where L is letzu, B is blind man, and G is god. but one without a conclusion. maybe more like a vicious circle.

so if god will help me if i help the blind, why doesn't god directly help the blind himself? obviously, being the allmighty he is, he could help them more. i'd give them 5 rupees. he could give them anything ranging from 5 rupees to eternal bliss. and what happens to the B-G relation?

is god trying to teach me a lesson? why does he have to use such transitive formulas?

god, if you're reading this, i dont get it.

by the way, i said i wouldn't help the blind and noticed the smirk on the guide's face. that is another thing i didn't understand.

vorb-aia, mâna întinsă care nu spune o poveste nu-şi primeşte răsplata.

fuck you, cancer!

if any of you ever said life sucks repent now. i am. life doesn't suck. death does. so it goes.

i worked with coco in the same team. we were more than team mates. we were friends. one time, when i was feeling down (and stupidly felt its the end of the world), coco gave me these little green pieces of paper which i spread in the room when i was running for president, 9 months back. i couldnt believe he kept them for so long, but he did, and gave them to me as a sign of support that we was already showing anyway, but giving me those just made it so much more special and i still have them. i wanted to give them back to him when the time was right, when i heard he was sick, but i didnt get to. i loved coco and i think he was a great person, he was full of life, enthusiasm, craziness, kindness and love. and i mean it. he was the kindest and most loving person i met. in my life. in my whole 25 years on this very strange planet.

yesterday i read these words: "coco is no longer". i froze in front of the computer. in disbelief. but my reaction is of little importance and absurd, anyway. coco really is no longer. the most kind, fun and loving person i ever met is gone. at the age of 23. how does the world make sense? it doesn't. but he's in my heart, he will always be in my heart, even when it will get rusty and days when i won't even think of coco will come. in my heart, on my blog, and in so many other hearts, i know it.

my dad, before he died, wrote in my notebook "life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans". that's when i decided: no more plans. just taking it a little bit at a time. you might think it's impulsive, i think it's the way i want to tackle life.

whenever i'll hear someone saying life sucks i will slap them. that is my commitment. i swear. i will slap them so hard they won't know what hit them.

coco, i will miss you a lot. i hope you can read this.

and cancer, fuck you. you're the dumbest, meanest thing i ever got the chance to know.

ring a ding ding

escape boring/unwanted conversations by using ring4freedom. you give a computer command and they call you back and you can pretend to have an important conversation.

but what happens once the pretend conversation is over? wouldnt you have to go back? and

what if you dont have a computer in reach?

still, i like it. if it's not crazy enough to work, at least it's crazy enough to make me laugh.

(ps. you must see all of them!!!)

on photo fags and life

i never told anyone what i think about (some) photographers, but i will do so now. my opinion has no scientific back-up, but it has a logic that convinced me. and even less than that was reason enough to write about stuff in a very confident manner.

since photography is an art, that theoretically makes photographers artists. and that's completely wrong. there, i said it. i think photographers should not consider themselves artists. at least not all of them. at least not nowadays.

i know what you might say: her camera broke so the grapes turned sour. first of all, grapes don't turn sour because of cameras and, second of all - no, no! i feel photographers can call themselves artists if they have other (verified) means of creative expression as well. if all they do is peek through a visor and wait and wait for the right shot or even click incessantly (maybe something cool will come out - like i do) - all that on their super amazing cameras then what they are is lucky bastards with a lot of patience and advanced technology.
yes. even a panda can do it.

and a question that has been bugging me is why are there so many famous photographers and no famous camera men? it's the same thing. the squinting, the peeking through a visor, the sitting/standing behind a large lens, the usage of technology etc. ok, its almost the same thing. so why?!

the whole post could've just started from meeting too many self-absorbed talentless people who need to cover it. sometimes you have to cover it, or else you're a pervert, but in this case, let it show. :)

why are girls so strange?

(click to view the entire strip)

actually, i dont care. just wanted to share TheDogHouseDiaries with you.

and then i though it would be fun to see what google has to say:



so most people are curious why girls are mean. why?

how printeresting!

Dont know if its true, but it seems that the quarter of the century (my own) is the right time to get business cards printed. And ever since i read Breakfast at Tiffany's i dreamt of having a business card that said "wanderer", just like Holly Golightly. Back then, the rationale was that if my card would say that i'd be having all these great adventures. Right now i'm doing it sort of to celebrate the ingenuity of the older days.

So i made the design, pretty much (and unintentionally) inspired by Up! which i recently saw (in 3D) and loved. next step was printing. In case you didnt know, I live in New Delhi. And if you do know Delhi for sure you know Nehru place, the ultimate piracy place. Well, besides that, Nehru place is one place in Delhi where i never thought i would go by myself. Ever. But i'm there, i find Amit's printing joint, a place easy to get to, guided by orange spit marks on the walls. I go in, say i want my business cards printed, "ek minut" is their reply. After five (or more) of those, a guy who speaks some english comes and takes my memory stick. i show him the file, i tell him i want it in 200x200 size, he is saying things to me in hindi. I really hope its about the business card, but by the giggles around i'm afraid it might not be. He prints the first A3 page and i am stunned - he has printed 17 by 24 cards on one A3 sheet. that means a lot of nano-cards, 1,5x1,5 cm. i try to reason and my argument is "i actually need to use them". he understands and i'm grateful, he goes back to his desk, does some measurement with his ruler and figures out the right size, prints again, right size this time, the colors all smudged, i dont even mind, i just want to get it over with.

then, while going to the basement to get them cut, guided by similar orange spit marks, i dont even know i'm in for the biggest surprise of all. they cut all those manually, by the way, there is this job, of being a cutter boy, its along the lines of all jobs that end in "boy". so he cuts, tries to rip me off by asking for 25 rupees for cutting one A3 sheet, i give him 20 cause i simply cant explain i know i'm being ripped off since he doesnt speak english and i also ask him to tear them apart and put them in a bundle. and now the surprise: they're stickers. my business cards are stickers.

Wish i could have kept the super small ones. So now, with 40 stickers, maybe i'll start a blog mini promotion campaign. on rickshaws!

In conclusion, next time I'll stick to what works. I promise.

my birthday wish

i met coco in 2006. in AIESEC. i was a stressed out vice president talent management, he was an enthusiastic new member. he joined my department and when i became president he was part of my team as vice president marketing. coco was the cherry on top of our team, he changed moods, he knew how to talk to people, and with words pretty much failing me right now all i can say is that he is someone i feel proud and happy and humble for knowing.

right now, coco is really sick and though i feel like constantly saying it's not fair, i know i have to do something else. he is, beyond everything, my friend. and because of absolutely selfish reasons i want him to have a chance to live because he does it with passion, with excitement, with enthusiasm for the simple beauties of it.

my birthday wish is for coco to get well.

please go to: http://www.constantin-botezatu.net/ and for once give away the future of what you sooo badly wanted to buy for the future of a real, warm, incredibly positive and plain awesome human being!

not all dogs go to india

there's this strange mix in india, extremely confusing for the average foreigner like me, of spiritual vs. materialistic. i always thought, from my eclectic pre-experience of indian culture, that it is a very spiritual one. however, factoring in the importance social status has here (let wikipedia tell you more), things might appear as being more materialistic. whereas i am still a firm believer that they're not.

but take dogs. the only dogs i see on the streets, or better yet the only dogs on a leash that i see on the streets or in people's houses, are toilet paper dog and vodafone india dog. both famous tv dogs, both incredibly cute (like most dogs are).

and you'd think they'd like to be seen walking one of those on the streets of their colony, but i always, always, alwaaaays see them accompanied by what seems to be house helpers. so why get them? why? why? why????

but then i thought, maybe cuteness or the desire to be associated with it(which is nothing close to being a spiritual value) doesnt even have to do with why they're so popular. these dogs are popular because they are popular. its not about their looks, it's about what they represent because of media, and it's about what you represent because of what they represent. plus, they're quite expensive, which, in the quick viewfinder, puts you even higher up on the social scale.

truth is, i'm just jealous cause i really want to have a dog. any dog. preferably a fox terrier that i would not compare to the other one i had, a fox terrier like montmorency, the one in "three men in a boat (not to mention the dog)" by jerome k. jerome.

is this only a desperate cry for hound?

the trivial sublime

i dont know how to write a personal truth as big as this without the fear of making it sound trivial.



there is nothing better in the world than being able to be 100% yourself in the company of someone. there is, actually: being 100% comfortable with being 100% yourself in the company of someone. dont think i could ask for more. maybe hot water.

runner's high

i grew up being taught that you, your doings and creations, should fit within some known (and, most importantly, widely accepted) standards. norms. limits. everything must have a name, a rational explanation, a style, a color, a famous relative, an origin or an end. someone once asked the world "what's in a name?", but understanding the point of the answer required knowledge of botanic.

i grew up being taught all that because of a strange, rigid system, and yet i grew up learning that whatever you feel and think is right is the best thing to do (and i am mostly referring to means of expressing yourself).

i wish i could thank all those people who made me learn.
and i wish i'll dance the way i feel like dancing more, looking silly, but without fears of looking silly.



(i just had this crazy thought that i should start bedroom dancing, a dance dance competition where people dance the way they would dance in their bedroom, when no one would be watching. winners would be determined by measuring the endorphin release at the end of the dance. the whole point would be breaking free, of course.)

left and out

i remember last time i had this feeling i was in a summer camp with my aunt. she was a teacher. i was the most unpopular kid. no it's not true. some boy crapped his pants on the bus once and another girl was sucking her finger. wait, that girl was me. but i was doing it only before going to bed, in secret. that couldnt be the reason but it leaves the boy as the most unpopular kid, which still puts me in a not so bad position, not the worst, at least. that's when i last had this feeling. i dont like this feeling.

it's not a nice feeling. but it's not the worst.

spread your bread

not even in my world of daily maggi cup noodles lunches would i ever think of the alternative of making spread sandwiches.

i guess i'm just not the type of person who makes and/or eats spread sandwiches. plus, i dont know if the name is coined, but it's damn stupid.

good day!

i'm telling you, right now, right now, stop waiting around for other people and do what you want to do.

(some people might talk to themselves, i prefer writing)

modern tragedy

as my first attempt to be publicly artistic was blown to smithereens after my lafraise contest submissions were not accepted, i am debating a quiet retirement from the t-shirt design business vs. some naughty perseverance and learning how to draw. results out within a week.

here they are, my oddly shaped creations, hanging lively on my blog, not even aware of what happened. let them stay happy. for i will be sad.

(1,2 and 3 were made for this contest that had as topic "the ark - endangered species" )


When the tide was high the giraphants went playing hide and seek. Bad timing, cause although very tall, giraphants are bad at playing hide and seek outside the ark. Too bad, they would have made great over-sized pets.

The only giraphant who didn't go play hide and seek was a bit stark. He is famous for being an avid reader and having created his own arc, not as famous as Noah's, though.

Stay fit. When you're 600 years old someone may ask you to do something really big.

easy peasy

paragliding this weekend, in manali, gave me a grand new perspective over things. i needed one badly, too. just like robin williams says, climbing his desk in dead poets society, he's doing it to constantly remind himself you have to look at things in different ways.

it wasnt so much the actual perspective, it was a more inward process. ok, basically, i was scared out of my wits before doing it. i wanted to scream "i doooont want to do it" several times. i mean it. i think i even did a few times. i wanted to plead for my life and for sure, if tears came out, we would have gone back or at least my descent would have happened by the jeep that took us up in the first place and not hanging from a piece of cloth with an indian guy on my back.

even though i didnt want to do it more than i wanted to do it, i did it. i felt like if i face this fear i face every fear i have and some sort of magic mechanism would trigger. and it did. i feel braver, stronger, more independent... all these things that india took away a little bit in my first month here. i call it magic because i think its an amazing thing, you can give it some name from psychology and be boring.

i'll be that too, actually, and continue to rant about my big realization. ok? ok. ok. ok thank you. ok. ooookkkkk, thank you. i was thinking (but not over-thinking) about how everything around can be very complex, complicated, impossible for us to do or, on the other hand, just plain worth trying to do, even if you might fail. its all about how you look at it. from now on, officially, i go with the latter one. i realized i was telling myself and the world "live in the moment, do what feels right, stop worrying about everything, go with the flow" and while the world might have been listening, i know for sure i wasnt, what i was doing was complicating things, over-analyzing and, in the end, filling up my head with a truckload of un-useful information (improperly called information, more accurately described as speculation).

so here's to simple things, like love. or genetics. or life. :>

that's amore?!

how the hell is the moon hitting the sky (even like a bit pizza pie) love?

why i need a new wallet

i found out why they call it f bar. the whole fashion tv thing is just a good cover up. they call it f bar because you get effed.

and you also get midget like people with "so called girlfriends" offering to buy you drinks, and that's probably in the expectation of a different kind of effing, later, once the guys at the bar are done effing your wallet and the "so called girlfriend" found a taller guy to hang out with.

so to avoid choosing if you should undergo effing no. 1 (as presented in the first paragraph) or effing no. 2 (as presented in the second paragraph) you might as well avoid going there completely, because this kind of choosing would have moral implications that you might not be ready for.

plus, nirvana house remixes of smells like teen spirit require quite a few drinks to accept, so the effing of your wallet will be an actual rape.

last, and probably least, i would like to thank f bar for the opportunity to glance inside their hubbub club and amuse myself for a while, until my wallet got raped.

p.s. also, i am starting a petition for changing the name from f bar to bar f, as it gives a personal touch to the cold, huge place they have over there. it just fits so much better! bar f! bar f! bar f! ;)

am i wild wild wild why?

my 60 rupees phone charger measures time. every second the little red light, reassuring in it's own silly way (that it is indeed charging your phone and you will not be alone for up to 5 hours of talking time) flickers. i stared at it as to say "i'm wondering why you do that". got no response. everything around me measures time: my cup of tea getting cold, a smoke in the sun, the little bells on my anklet. but in the end i blame my hasty perception, hasty in ways that have nothing to do with time, but with a greedy 'do everything' weltanschauung.

and then i go back to what hit me two-three days ago before i went to sleep. i'll call it letzu's mime-time illusory perception: time feels like it is the one thing we dont have at all, yet the only thing we have, really. it could also be a paradox, but why bother? why i go back to it, i dont know. maybe it's a personal form of time travel.

about what is and isnt cool on saturdays (part 1)

top pick of what isnt cool to do on a saturday: have a full day at work when your stuff is done.

even the horoscope could feel it:"The world may appear to challenge and oppose your dreams and ideals. Harsh reality may seem to ridicule you, and this could come through another person. You will have to hang onto your dreams and uphold your self-image in this rather rough weather."

i think we all know who that "another person" is.

(hint?)

fraction of the action

after my first no-helmet-motorcyle ride came the first take-a-rickshaw-alone ride. and if i had written this post right after it, i'd kindly ask you to come back later as i'd have nothing to say. it was a calm, peaceful and short trip. well, calm and peaceful needs to be put in the context of "delhi traffic", but it's still great.


so since i'm writing it now, after an action-packed day, the feeling that there's too much to unpack is back, but i'll have a go at it. this time with bullet points:

• helmet theft led my colleague to carry an extra helmet (!!) which probably (not) made me the first woman to wear a helmet on a bike in india
• got a strange rash on my hand so i went to the pharmacy and this big, wwf-looking (the wrestling, not environment) guy who happened to be the chemist tells me its either allergy or something really bad
• i spend the following two hours in utter panic, in a disfigured state of mind
• finally going to the doctor to find out its not at all that bad, it's a skin infection from the water and food, haha, sharade you are, will be off non-veg and chili stuff for a while. :( doctor's orders.
  
• of course, other sources claim it to be a spider bite, which you will know of, in case you hear of this super girl saving the day dressed like a spider on the streets of delhi
  
• dreaming of escalating buildings in a hero like fashion, i went back to work to experience a one hour long blackout. i mean power cut, blackout sounds too dramatic. when power gets cut at work the only things left on are 2 neon lights, a fan and my colleague's computer. today this didnt bother me at all cause i got to read up on gaja gamini, husain's movie. fascinating stuff, will capitalize on powers cuts every chance i get.
• too soon after the power came back we had to go back to jamia millia, where the exhibition and events for husain's 94th birthday were happening. it was amazing, i feel i learned so much these past two days and finally got my break through the glass window of the indian world. it's only allowing me to peek, but it's a very revealing peek. ;)
• i wanted to stay for the big iftar that was supposed to happen at the event, just cause it would have been another debut, but i didnt, since my rickshaw turns into a pumpkin after sunset, so i skedaddled home. and i even got there, after insistently telling the driver to take a right while showing him the left.
  
• boohockey, bullet points didnt help me be more concise. they're fired!

truth is all these things i've been through today gave me a sense of security. self-security. or call it confidence, but i'd still be calling it security. the feeling that i, alone, can handle stuff, can make it through etc etc. its quite reassuring. i needed it as much as i need comic books when i'm ill.

p.s. thanks, philosoraptor. you rock beyond the cretaceous!

give head(s) a chance

had my first (motor)bike ride today, courtesy of my co-worker. when there was no helmet for me i froze for a second and then he told me: its' ok, women dont wear helmets in india. so that should have made me comfortable. well, it didnt.

anyway, had a nice day helping set up an exhibition in honour of the 94th birthday of the picasso of india, mf husain, living in exile. i pretty much like my work.

for the rest of the day, i had lots of water, paan and thoughts of how the 17th of september was also the birthday of my dog.

touché

touching is a big thing. and i don't mean just from my new indian perspective. you can go as back as to the creation of adam (if you're into art or religion) or to the big bang, as the finishing touch of the beginning. however, my touching up on the subject of touching will be purely from the newly acquired indian perspective.
while i was on the train (not any train, but the mumbai local!!!!) with tabs' mom, in our very own ladies compartment, i found myself saying a lot of stupid things, as i generally do when i'm with adults i'd like to impress. to my surprise, the remark "i have not seen any couples holding hands since i've been here" rushed out of my mouth into her ear to provoke a smirk and a sympathy look that said "bet your bottom dollar that you wont". and i havent. not once. in my 2 and something weeks in india. what i have seen is lots and lots of men holding hands and i thought to myself "wow, never thought gay people would be so open here". and i thought wrong, because apparently holding hands is something men who are good friends or relatives do.
so, whereas boy and girl in love will probably not hold hands in public, boy and boy in friendship will. and to the ordinary folks, like me, who think if you dig long enough you'll reach china, this is truly a reverse taboo.

but the thing that touched me off was the walking from the rickshaw to the jama masjid mosque (the largest mosque in india), through this extremely crowded street market. so crowded that at times you simply couldnt take a step in any direction. the unbearable crowd gave way to people finding it natural and/or easy to put their hands on you. it resembled that thing you do when you're a kid when you say something and then you have to touch red to make it the ultimate truth, but only here they touch white. touch, grab, or whatever comes in hand. ;)

while at the jama masjid mosque, sitting on the ground with 7-8 more interns, we noticed that quickly a group of people began to form around us, all standing and staring. not any kind of staring, not the timid, glimpse kind of staring, but the intense, non-blinking, intimidating staring. so as i got uncomfortable quite quickly i stood up and started walking back and forth, in this silly attempt to not get eyes fixed on me.
then a little girl all smiles, holding her little brother by his shirt comes up to me and asks me, giggling, "can i touch you?". she's waiting for my answer and she shies away, hiding behind her brother whom she pushes and shoves, he's giggling too, all red in the face. they're really funny but then it strikes me: i've heard "can i touch you before?", in sentences flooded with sarcasm, but her words are honest, clear, no double entendre. i am hit by some kind of hippie haze so i tell her "but why? i'm just like you." she gives me a look, a look that makes her eyes even bigger, pulls her brother by the shirt and runs away.

psycho babble or no psycho babble, we're not the same. we're all as different as it gets and i have falsely pretended to have accepted that long back.

well anyway, india 1 - letzu 0
touché, pussycat!

horn ok please

india is an assault to my senses. to everything i have known, learned, thought and felt about the world. yes, i knew it would be different. a priori. now, what i feel is that i have to learn everything anew. how to walk, talk, climb stairs, cross the street etc. with my set of life skills and cultural gps i am as new and naked to this as a newborn. and please, don't confuse this statement with "feeling like i was born again". the difference is huge.

every street corner, every food-stand smell, every thing around me has the sensory power of 100000 pictures, therefore 100000000 words, therefore no blog post i could every write, no coffee chat we could ever have would allow me to express what is going on in my head. i am having a difficult time absorbing all the new things that are coming my way, deciphering them and stopping the feeling of frustration from constantly trying to make sense of all the non-sense, or better called, chaos. it's not as bad as it sounds because i am comforting myself with the thought that i am a strong, independent woman who will eventually get used to it. :) its my very own sisyphean challenge. i know all it takes is accepting it.

traveling by train in india is like a box of assorted chocolates. some good, some bad, some awful and some surprisingly excellent. it's, of course, a matter of taste. my first train ride was a 27 hour ride in an AC compartment. it was clean, nice, we got good food, a bit too cold (!!!!) but enough electricity to play plants and zombies all night long. almost. :)

goa was amazing, rain or no rain, it will have its own blog post one day. mumbai was a short yet intensely lived experience. we arrived there in the evening and had to leave the next morning, but i still had the chance to ride on the mumbai locals. and that's all i can say. really. nothing more to add.

except for the fact that i was awed. AWED. seeing pictures of people riding on trains or clinging to the outside of the train is one thing, but seeing those people with your own eyes, watching them get on the train even before it stops, hearing them scream war shouts as they cram and push each other in the wagons.the platforms were like a big after-concert scenery. swarms of people coming to you or going in the same direction as you, just like driving, except for the honking - no lanes, no rules.

you know that feeling when you're having rice and enjoying it quite a bit, but it's quite dry, you eat it anyway, trying to finish it fast so you take another bite even before finishing what you already have in your mouth and the minute the fork or spoon approaches your open mouth this feeling of panic hits cause rice might fall out while you bring in the second load? i know you dont. this is the feeling india gives me. surprise, enjoyment and a bit of panic.

the greatest part? i'm having 2l + of water a day. and the cheese to my macaroni! ;)

interlude

let me give you the context. i spent 6 years in a youth organization and i enjoyed every minute of it (give or take 2 hours ;) ). it has forever changed me, open secret windows to myself and the outside, taught me stuff, made me be even more curious and excited about the world around me and i will be forever grateful for that. i am now going to start my internship (so basically i am no longer an active volunteer, but merely a beneficiary of the wonderful abroad experience AIESEC offers) in an NGO in New Delhi, India which i am very excited about. but somehow, something shifted my perspective so much that it's difficult to accept the fact that it's the same AIESEC i was part of.

i want to avoid going too much into details about what that something was, especially so soon, but hearing stories of the people who have been here, as interns, for some time and having felt some of it myself are factors that are urging me to let it out.
a hand picked selection of the finest topics in the intern community: not being picked up from the airport, not having a decent place to stay upon arrival, the reverse or hidden meaning of words (simple ones, like "yes", "no", "i dont know"), the possibility of coming here to do a certain job and ending up not doing anything cause the company you're with doesn't have anything for you to do - an AIESEC committee which either doesn't have the capacity or the interest to manage well all the interns they have.

and being the silly idealist that society didnt bring me up to be i am left with wondering how can it all come down to numbers in an organization that stands for such high purposes as AIESEC?! dare i mention that India won the most prestigious global award (for overall excellency) in AIESEC? i have to do my calculations again, cause something doesnt quite add up. as a big fan of the organization i will for sure look into the matter in the time to come. feel free to discard these thoughts that probably dont even scratch the surface.

p.s. haven't started my job yet, i am still excited about it but also scared because i really really love the project i'm supposed to work on. tuesday will be my first day of work and the mix of high and low expectations is driving me crazy, without having a honk ;). stay tuned.

spamked

i've got mail! true story. what would you think if you got an email from a guy called Young Colon? Oh, and the email starts like this: "Your career progress begins now!" I think he's full of shit.

chaos making sense

someone, sometime ago, said this wonderful thing about india and everyone else started saying it and ever since people have lost track of who actually came up with it. but that's not even so important, what's important is the high degree to which this saying - "India is chaos making sense" - is so very true and applicable to so many things.

for example, i've realized one thing, in my short trip from the airport around the city: the most important thing for a vehicle in delhi is its honk. it doesnt matter much if it's a scooter, bike, car or auto-rickshaw, what matters is that it can honk, because honking is the way you drive in delhi. lanes or traffic rules might not apply. and by saying "might" i mean they dont. but it works. it works.

ok, speaking of amazed, couldnt believe the heatwave that struck me right in the face as soon as i exited the airport. mostly because it was 6.30 am. it wasnt hard to accept though, the fact that i wont stop sweating all throughout the day. thats because its usually easier to accept things that are out of your control.

so i was looking forward to the shower. and this is the good thing about india. you always have something to look forward to. for example, after i took the shower, i was really looking forward to my next one.

i thought you couldnt sleep much on planes and such, i never do, reason for which i was even so tired when i got at the home-stay, but then, in my helicopter room, i slept like 10 babies. maybe the shower also helped. the only distraction in my helicopter room was the "propeller" on the ceiling which took the blanket off of me a few times. when the AC is on though, my helicopter room turns into an industrial plant, soundwise only. you really feel its a "happening" environment. a magical world.

truth be told, helicopter rooms are a blessing. you can't be too outdoorsy when you're in india. not because you're not an outdoorsy person or they don't have great outdoors, they do. there are pretty gardens, squirrels on the few sidewalks and parrots flying freely from palm tree to palm tree. but there's also this strange air, a bit suffocating, even when you're in the shade, like an elephant who's sitting on your chest. fine, a baby elephant.

and lucky me, i got to go to a party as well on my first day. this party was special, not that i haven't been to a party with 19 year olds before, just that it's been a while. after this experience i can honestly say that some 19 year olds can open beer bottles with their teeth.

they don't call it incredible india for nothing!

intellectual socialism

in an effort to seem more vulnerable, thus be more agreeable, the little girl said: i know too many things and i'm not afraid to use them against me.

(it's applicable to having too many options, as well)

ass in the gnome hat (<3) and the time monster

if you've ever felt wiser than your usual self when listening to friends' stories, you know the feeling i'm talking about. i'm not saying wise as in smart-ass or superior, noway! it's this weird feeling you get from a certain detachment or objectivity, if you please, when your friends share stories. you identify with them, maybe, they could be yours, maybe, they even were, maybe. but listening to them makes you become more objective and therefore see logic in arguments that never worked for yourself.


that's why i think it's ridiculous to say you're waiting for time to heal or solve things. time doesn't do anything (certain restrictions may apply). falling in love again does the trick. actually, i prefer the term "falling in love anew". even if it's indicative of a feeling, it gives it a fresh tone, rather than a repetitive one. falling in love or, according to own beliefs, whatever you wanna call it.

nailing it down

there's a bunch of things that remind me of my childhood. most of them still fit in my house. some were moved to the garage. but there's one thing which puzzles me to this very day in terms of how come my grandma bought it for me. it's garbage pail kids. its creepy cleverness. its funny bizzarre.

and i loved loved loved garbage pail kids. dont know if i got it entirely but i used to stick stuff everywhere and my grandma carefully removed almost all, except this one sticker with handy andy.
of course, it looks withered, colors have faded under several rounds of obsessive detergent scrubbing. before i get too nostalgic and forget, here's a bunch of them. randomly picked, but with some reasoning. no seasoning.

i hat to say it

i dream and long and dream and long for a hat. when i just dream, the hat's a boater. when i just long, the hat's a flat hat. in all other times, even when dreaming and longing come together, the hat is a mix between a boater, a flat hat and a pork pie hat.

dragostea dureaza 5 ani

nu stiu cum isi iubesc altii ceasurile, dar eu mi-l iubeam pe-al meu bine de tot. si dupa 5 ani de iubire, a disparut in mare. dragostea dureaza 5 ani. prin aproximatie, ca au fost cam 4 jumate.

si iepurii din ceas or sa se transforme in iepuri de mare. ceea ce e un lucru pozitiv, avand in vedere ca ultima oara cand m-am interesat erau pe cale de disparitie, iar iepurii din ceasul meu erau destul de predispusi la inmultire. ;)


poza e din arhiva lui moody rudchil, de cand a facut cercetari subacvatice despre iepurii de mare.

patience

it's good to have it, it's bad having to have it.

no title, no function

Caterpillar: Who are YOU?
Alice: This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. I -- I hardly know, sir, just at present -- at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.


I should stop smiling, but some things never do change.

like a fish on a bicycle

down with idealism, at least for one day. down with obstinate dreams. at least for one day. down with impossible is nothing. at least for one day.

since my redescovery of biking while in Copenhagen and my complete love for the contraption (i.e. bike), i decided that i would take my good habit with me, wherever i may go. Since i set foot in the home land i dreamed of riding my sweet new bike and getting that feeling of freedom again. but now, on my return from the first ride in the city, i need to take 100 deep breaths, not drink coffee for the next week and wash my fowl mouth.

it's been a ride from hell and those who think i always exaggerate are right, i am bit, but i couldnt say a ride from purgatory cause that's pretty still. however, my hogwash tendencies need to be disregarded for this time, just for this one time, as they are really really insignificant. it was a ride from hell! chaos ruled. weird remarks about my bike or my helmet flew by like the wacky racers. stopping every now and then cause there are no gradients in the sidewalk (you can't imagine how bothersome that is with 20cm high sidewalks!!) or almost having my heart stop cause of cars driving by so close on the street. cars honking, coming from all sides, wasnt even a rush hour. pfuuu...


if i ever become dictator i'll make huge bike lanes in all cities and ban cars, then force people to listen to cat power. if she can calm me now... ;)

idealism died today. it will be dead for the next minute, no more.

it's not the color

"I think of you in blue and gray
Sometimes you are my sunny day.

The gray seems dusty, but it is
a dear, sweet memory freeze.

You're very much of that right now
a memory of sparks and how
a girl who had a sugar rush
began to fall in love and blush.

This memory will soon be gone
make place for "now", dressed in chiffon,
and the girl with the sugar rush
will hold your hand in utter gush."

leave the gun, take the cannoli

I'm in the mood for one thing, and one thing only, in what regards movies.

Mr. Pink: You kill anybody?
Mr. White: A few cops.
Mr. Pink: No real people?
Mr. White: Just cops.

Must've been too quiet at the pool today. ;)

tidy up, music lover

my enthusiasm for organizing things has grown bigger and bigger. whatever caused it will be analysed later by someone with some sort of degree while i'll be sitting comfortably in a chair or even lying on a sofa, so dont worry about it.

however, my enthusiasm about what i've found this morning is very unlikely evened by anything else that could happen today. just to give a bit of background, decided to spend the hottest day so far in romania (and my second one here) in the lovely breeze of my mom's AC, by working on my relationship with my computer.

me, i really love to have the album art/cover shown in my player. it gives me something extra to connect to, appreciate or not, may be the little kinesthetic learner in me. :) so for him, i found this. Its called Album Art Aggregator and it helps put a face on your albums. it searches on amazon&co and so far it's been only one obscure little album that it couldn't find the cover of. i love it with caramel on top!

it looks like this. :>

but the coup de foudre of the day was Jaangle! I was looking for the perfect music player for sooo sooo long, ever since winamp gave up on me long ago, i've tried vlc, windows media player, windows media center, itunes... nothing gave me all that i wanted. but who says you can't have it all in one man?! someone who obviously settled for less. Im not saying Jaangle is the best, I'm saying it really is the best for me IN EVERY WAY and i just love the little transparent player that you have on top of everything once you minimize. :>


no time to be awed at my sudden need for order, gotta go clean up my gmail.

bah!

maggie and milly and molly and may
went down to the beach(to play one day)

and maggie discovered a shell that sang
so sweetly she couldn't remember her troubles,and

milly befriended a stranded star
whose rays five languid fingers were;

and molly was chased by a horrible thing
which raced sideways while blowing bubbles:and

may came home with a smooth round stone
as small as a world and as large as alone.

For whatever we lose(like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea

e.e. cummings

and the song that plays in my head, heart, ears and cheekbones is
this one. so i'm home. no wrapping of anything else but presents,
no packing of anything else but luggage. and this level of emotional i
'm at sucks. its heart-aching, but not all the way to make something
good come out of it.


fuck, i'll really miss denmark. and when i say denmark, i mean so much more...

relationship dynamics

sometimes i think about stuff out of compassion, because i'm imagining no one really thinks of these things so might as well do it myself. last night i thought about how girls have a dynamic limit while boys have a static or lethargic limit.

i will briefly explain my new theory.
let's take girls. girls will never date a guy who is an inferior specimen to any guys they've previously dated. therefore, their lower limit on dating is dynamic and increasing, as it's constantly goes up.
boys, on the other hand, have a basic set of features they scan through any potential new date and if there is a match any other extra features or lack of features won't be a criteria for dismissal. the basic set of features is their lowest limit, the basic pack which they can't do without. then again, some of the extra features some girl has might suddenly make it to the basic feature package, which will make their limit go a bit up.

but then again, i know girls who didnt stick to my theory. as for boys, its even harder to prove. that's how i realized all this doesn't matter and is completely left to free will. or free willy. ;)

you might say: i know this doesnt make sense, but wouldnt it be cool if it did? and the answer is NO. eventually this would mean the older you get (and the lower the pool of potential dates gets) the bigger your expectations, if not requirements, get. which leaves you in a situation people have been writing about for hundreds of years, foremost known as "shit". or "irreversible blues", for the ones who don't speak french. :)

how cool is what?

"He was a serious fellow but he could make me laugh because a truth first encountered can be very funny. When someone else's truth is the same as your truth, and he seems to be saying it just for you, that's great."

C. Bukowski, Ham on Rye

Some books I really want to read, must be the need for some upper levels of social acceptance, but I get stuck on the 2nd page. Its always the 2nd. Or the 3rd. Other books I can't let go of. I will soon find out why and it will be like the glue to my macaroni. :)
(photo by martin o'neil)
Captain Kurt, I will always love you for reasons that might sometimes be confused with macaroni.

thus far...

...i think i'm really lucky.

later edit: same search for "my life is..." will bring interesting results with a majority of searches for "my life is over" which can be reinterpreted in the search as starting over.

then the searches for "my boyfriend/girlfriend is..." really make you think. or just wonder. maybe wander.

searches are manipulative.