Natural Blues

 When you are always there for everyone, probably the most difficult part is to have patience with yourself. It's difficult to show your vulnerability to others (and your physical limits). It's more difficult to acknowledge this vulnerability to yourself. 

Joy

“We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives.”

Toni Morrison

De mult nu mi s-a mai făcut un chef nebun de a citi, de dor de Sabato, DeLillo, Cărtărescu, Auster, Iuga, și de a nu ști cu ce să începi... . Rămâne cheful nebun de a porni la drum, sentimentul acela pe care-l ai și pe care-l porți cu tine după ce îl citești și-l înțelegi pe Kerouac, dor de drumuri lungi și oameni altfel. Asta rămâne la capăt de drum lung și anevoios. Asta, și după ce începi să te dezmorțești din amorțeala extenuării fizice și psihice, rămâne acel sentiment de liniște ce nu poate fi tradus, nu neapărat că ai ajuns aici, ci pentru acea întâlnire cu tine însuți și acea parte din tine lăsată și pusă pe-o coală de hârtie.

The Ordinary

 All I have ever wanted was the ordinary. 

I close my eyes and I imagine a world away from the sound, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees and water. And close, real people. No phones, no noise, no world to be saved, no papers to be finished, no memories to keep you awake. Just silence. 

I open the eyes and hear the fury of life. Everlasting. The one that makes you want to smoke it all away, drink it till it disappears, numbing your feelings and conscience, drowning your own self, having the illusion that the next day it won't be there. Who cares of the fucking next day, if it can all go away for a couple of hours? Pretending to be a rock, when you are the one who needs to be caught. 

All I have ever wanted was the ordinary, the world behind closed eyes. 

164.

 There is a thunderstorm of words inside my mind, of dreams deferred, of what society has written for each of us and of how small and unaccomplished you feel for disobeying its rules, of feeling nothing but fear, and anger, and angst, and feeling your accomplishments, and battles so lost and insignificant. And still, you have to carry on, swimming on your own, as you are used to, not sinking deep into this huge wave you have no control over. 

Looking for the Summer...

 

“Forget about life for a while…” – these were the most beautiful words that I have read, on a street in Germany. There are many times when we let life govern us, succumbing into its greatness and abysses, colours and greyness, complexity and simplicity, and hours/days, when we forget about life for a while.

Life means struggle and memories. And traumas, and finding oneself, reinventing oneself, and moving on. Of being aware that you are not the only one who suffers, of learning how to survive, and live, with those deep wounds, and not letting them reflect on the way you treat people, of not repeating ancient stories. Because I really believe when you really give up on yourself, and your dreams, indeed you are old and lost. Life is fever and thirst.

Life sometimes means avalanches – of events, of painful memories, of things that you simply can’t control. Right now, this is what Life means to me, of moving on, of keeping my sanity in all this insane world. And as it rarely happens, there are those moments when you forget all about life, and paradoxically, in those moments you return to yourself, to a part of what Life could mean, and find energy for its avalanches and the unavoidable.

   

Carpe Diem

"Well, I may have some doubts

But I hold the shovel tight

Digging into the frozen ground"

Dincolo de filozofii, teorii ale cunoasterii, ani de studiu si tot ceea ce ne face sa crestem intelectual, cred ca suntem definiti prin genele pe care le-am mostenit, amintirile instinctive cu care am venit aici, si mostenirea nostra ca popor. 

Cred ca indiferent cat s-ar vorbi, nu vom scapa niciodata de acele ,,atentii" care trebuie date la un eveniment mai important, de la sustineri de grad/doctorate la medici/oameni de care avem la un moment dat nevoie. Pentru ca dincolo de munca studentului/profesorului, nimic nu e mai important ca acea ,,mica atentie", ca acea masa pompoasa, pentru a incununa un anumit numar de ani de munca. 

Cred ca indiferent cat s-ar scrie, oricate studii s-ar realiza, oricat am suferi de la incalzirea globala (unii mai sensibili ca altii), noi ca popor tot nu vom avea cultura necesara de a face ceva concret pentru mediu. Sau daca chiar va aparea, posibil sa fie atunci mult prea tarziu. Sau, la fel, oricat de constienti am fi de felul in care viata se va schimba in urmatorii 20-30 de ani, tot vom avea instinctul de a aduce un copil pe lume, fara a ne gandi la anii ce-l/ne asteapta.

Cred ca mereu ne vom uita in ograda celuilalt: cu ce se imbraca, ce masina conduce, cu cine iese, ce face in zilele libere. Poate pentru ca viata nostra ni se pare prea fada, prea lipsita de sens, poate ca ne-am invatat cu niste repere sociale, si tot ceea ce e prea normal, sau prea diferit, e mereu ceva extraordinar. 

Cred ca indiferent cat am dori, mereu ne scapa ceva de aici, mereu nu vom putea avea tot ce ne dorim. Si mereu nu vom fi multumiti cu ceea ce avem, pana nu va fi prea tarziu. 

Underwater

Terrified by water, by change. Terrified of all the things that I see them coming, like a hurricane taking everything in its road, not being able to stop it. Terrified by all the “I”s that starve for a piece of freedom. And tired as hell of everything, just wanting to close my eyes and breathe, forgetting, escaping, somewhere far away, but right now having to learn to breathe underwater, feeling all the pressure from within. And the fear that this time it’s too much.