Thursday, February 26, 2009

debateable choice

We evaluate everything. We're all coming down with something, a global virus generating a contagious but curable disease: evaluatosis. People are mostly evaluated based on their achievements or results. Apparently that's what makes a person. I disagree completely and i choose different criteria, in my utter subjectivity: coolness, humor, brains, wits, heart, conversations, spirit of adventure, silliness, ability to appreciate the things around.
So i don't care if you didn't increase sales with 30%. I do care, though, if you're a complete bore. Its obvious: between the successful bore and the cool bum i'd choose the one i can laugh with and not the one i'd laugh at.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

pull my finger

i know genius when i smirk at it.

just see for yourself.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

frankly, my dear, i don't give a damn

i was impatiently waiting for my mom outside this big shopping mall. right next to the exit there was a little "play & win" gambling place, the really gloomy kind. i was all into these little blinking arrows pointing to the door (they looked a lot like the ones with "to grandma's house"), couldnt take my eyes off of them, when this guy rushes outside speaking loudly on the phone: "baby i know i rejected your call, i can't talk right now i'm in a meeting, i'm in someone's office. (then switched to shouting) yeah i said two hours, so its more, so what???!!!! i can't talk now!! i know where to pick you up, i'll pick you up!!!! (then softly again) i'm in someone's office, i cant talk." and then he went back inside the little gloomy gambling place.

so i stayed and looked at the arrows, all mesmerized, dumb and outraged in the same time. and my conclusion was, after the inner rage was gone, that it should stop when it stops feeling right, feeling good. but can we really stop it right away or are we more comfortable soaking in our naivety towards love?

Sunday, February 15, 2009

understand i do not

in my dictionary there's a strong difference between clever and dumb. i just ran into the blogs of two people i know, two mind numbing, spirit crushing, dumb blogs. i think they should be together and stop polluting earth. i mean, if they were together they'd be talking to each other all the time and wouldnt have time to blog. and when they would get mind-numbed by their own conversations they wouldnt write on the blog, they would have sex to make each stop talking.
sustainability also means no crap online. wishful thinking. bhag! :)

from tough to cookie

this is the story of how i went from tough to cookie. it should have been an epic tale of love, but it is a mono-dialogue of sorts:

me: i thought you were all tough, not missing home, not emotional.
me: i don't know what happened.
me: wuss!
me: ...
me: do tell, how did the waterfall start?
me: ...
me: wuss!
me: it was that ad in romanian. it did something to me.
me: you're a wuss.
me: i felt home, i felt i'm belonging somewhere, really strong.
me: patriotic wuss you are!
me: i guess i'm an emotional soul trapped underneath this cover of toughness.
me: no, you're a wuss!

and thats the way the cookie crumbles.

i'm flying to munchen and i wasnt born in india

i was never the person who can start a conversation with a stranger on a train, plane or any other means of transportation. i'm still not. i sometimes imagine i do it. but that's it. truth be told, i'd like to be one.
me sitting happy on my window seat, ignoring everything else. old nice guy comes and sits next to me. i ignore, thats what i do on a plane. so he sits down and turns towards me with a big nice grandpa smile on his face and says "hello!". i'm caught unaware, taken out of my comfort zone but in the same time pleasantly surprised. i reply and smile, then, without anything clever to say, i take out my book. he looks at it, smiles again and asks me: "were you born in india?" i stupidly mumble "that would've been very nice". i'm surprised by the question. maybe it was shalimar the clown that provoked it, sitting on my book cover. he tells me he wants to go there someday and i see optimism, that even i dont have, in his usage of "someday" at the age of 70+. i tell him i'm planning the same. a bit later, browsing through his magazine, he shows me this incredible india add with a tiger and growls. he's hilarious. we dont talk much but theres nice chemistry. :) he takes out his book which has a german title by a complicated and unknown author. i could've asked "were you born in germany?" but didnt and couldnt come up with anything smart to say. when the food comes, he funnily pokes me to put my tray down. i feel safe in an unreasonable way with him on the left. the plane lands. i say goodbye, he says goodbye and thanks me. no idea for what, but i felt like thanking him too. only i didnt.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

n-am incotro

si mi s-a facut dor de limunitz intr-o zi si am sunat-o si am ras de accente, am invinovatit baieti si am recunoscut dorinte arzatoare de revedere, de cafea (si ce era de nerecunoscut, dar stiut, de tigari).

si mi-a zis limunitz, aflata intr-un fel de proces continuu delegare prezidentiala, sa mai scriu si eu am zis ce si ea a zis sa scriu despre vorba aia ce-o avea ea cand eram in camin (si probabil si inainte). vorba e mare, asa ca o pun cu ghilimele
daca ai vrea, te-as iubi mult.
oricum nu am ce sa scriu despre asta, dar si a scrie ca nu am ce scrie este ceva scris. adica ce poti sa scrii? toata lumea stie ca pentru a iubi cu adevarat pe cineva ai nevoie de aprobarea acelei persoane. ai nevoie sa fii luat la cunostinta, suferinta, veselia sau eforturile tale trebuie aflate. altfel nu e decat infatuare.
nu exista iubire in taina. exista insa oameni prea comozi pentru a iubi cu adevarat, cu toate gesturile exagerate si declaratiile in ritm iambic, cu tipat, cu alergat, cu batut din picior, cu batai de inimi in usa si in gat. si mi-e frica de ei.

si cine are alta parere poate s-o pastreze, eu am toate semnele sa stiu ca pot sa iubesc zgomotos si daca aleg sa nu o fac e din amuzament sau lipsa de rabdare. :)

si poza asta mi se pare asa kitsch innamorat. si-mi place. si mi-e dor de ele. chiar daca andreea obsedeaza mai des decat asteptat in ferestrele mele. si am zis ca nu le mai las deschise, ferestrele. :)