White cars

I need you
You smashing bones for a living
only to set them back straighter than ever. 
I need you 
gobbler of half-baked ideas
Messiah uncalled for
you stubborn fool of a man.
I need you
and this makes me wander
through infernos and back to sample the tar
to go as far
and away
as I can
to make me not want you to stay.
I need you,
tonight not because I have broken my back,
but because I have shattered my heart
in a million billion pieces
and all the king's men
and all the king's fools
can never put it back together again.
I broke it trying to find you
in the wrong body, 
in the wrongest wretch of a man. 
I need to make sure you exist. 
That you're still alive, 
still not mine. 
I need to put a face to the mess 
and leave it at that. 
I don't need you to love me. 
Not that you ever could. 
I just need to know you're still unlovable, 
still blind to me.


And I should never write this. 

It will only be misunderstood. 
And you would never get it fully 
but meanwhile, 
I'm still stalking all the white cars in the neighborhood.

She did a cartwheel
Or two
And she rolled back to you
Through the wet grass
That crazy young lass
You called a friend.

She said you'd understand.
 I think she meant farewell.
How can I tell?
Well, she wrapped you up
In the table cloth
And put you on the shelf
Next to her other self.
And now, why don't you watch her too?
It will be all so clear to you.

She put her hair down.
It's a small town -
They all remember her anyway,
No need for costume play.

She cleaned her face,
Slowed down her pace,
Took off her gown,
Walked straight to town.

"When you go home, you know,
They judge you everywhere you go -
Write down your height and weight.
What did you expect?"

Are you clean? 
Have you stayed good?
Do you still pretend
You're misunderstood?
Cause it can be seen
right there on your skin -
All the games you played,
All the things you hate,
And all of them,
All of the men
You've ever met.
And granny knows best
And now you should rest
Have a cup of tea
Come sit with me
Have you played enough?
Tired of acting tough?
Why don't you settle down?
Why don't you get a crown?
Why do you still run wild?
You're getting old, my child!
Where is your child?
Granny knows it all
And she won't let you fall

As she lay in the sand

Her feet would always itch

But every time she moved an inch

She found  another bump

in the road, another lump

in her throat and

by the time she collapsed in the sand

she had seen

a thousand sunsets

and she had been

a thousand women in between

and if you asked her she would say

she was just waiting for the day

the day when everything aligns

when he would read between the lines

and just show up out of the blue

but she wouldn’t say it had been you

all of this time

and if you offered her a hand

she’d say you couldn’t understand

there’s virtue in her idleness

and only later she’d confess

she was just worried that her weight

would be too much strain on your gait

the weight of all her fairy tales

the wait for all those handsome males

that she would crush

you to pieces in the rush

that you could crash

down or get a rash

and that the demons in her head

are interesting but better yet

they’re better dead

and if you tried to fight and say

you’re willing to help anyway

she’d tear you down, oh, can’t you see

she is as strong as she can be?

she needs no man to tend

to her, no man to send

her chocolates or

flowers anymore

and

as she lay there in the sand

you never dared say the line

that would have saved up all your time

“This thing you’re so long waiting for

that you’re not moving anymore,

this thing as great as it can be

you don’t think that it could be me?”

Wasted time

Wasted 10 minutes of my life over a glass of wine doing online quizzes and yes, I would like to get into the results a bit with you, because I am that drunk right now, and because I am that random as the quizzes say.

1. I am an orchid - a special rare flower, surrounded only by connaisseurs and experts. My friends are all special people who find me charming and dependable

2. I am an eagle - an independent strong bird that will do what it wants when it wants and will rule the world at one point

3. I am a banana - a reliable sweet friend

4. I am a fairy - A whimsical creature, shy at first, ready to dispense its magic to those who deserve it.

5. I am the f**ing colour pink - playful and cheerful, sweet and optimistic

6. I am a beaver - creative, practical and well-organised. Ready to help those in need.

7. I should live in Mongolia - open spaces, tall grass, rides on horseback, a million miles away from civilisation. More nature, less culture.


8. Apparently, my mental age is 22. Got over the rebel teen years, but not quite mature yet. Thinking back to myself at age 22, yes, I may still be there.











So, yes, this is as intelligent as I allow myself to act tonight. Stupid online quizzes, hoping to find my true self. And the truth is, I am all of these. I am a weird creature of habit, who would live alone on the top of a cliff had I not found a bunch of people in my life who need me, therefore, I live an independent yet normal life. I consider myself special, a bit too special for my own good, I consider myself young and strong and cheerful, with the habits and whims of an old wise man. I am a bit too pink for my own taste and I have magic in me. That I do.

I do not mind these quizzes tonight. I am everything good and everything strange. I am what I am and I am alive.

And utterly alone tonight.

Day 41 - Strange strange day today

I wish today didn't happen at all. We would all be happier for it. And by all , I mean me and you, darling one, far away.
But it did. And it wasn't pretty.

However, true to my commitement, I shall keep the happy things:

1. The taxi driver this morning who braked so hard that I bumped my head on the seat in front of me, and all to avoid hitting a pidgeon. Because this is what good people do.
2. A horrible day and your inability to comfort me made my decision much easier in the near future. Good-bye, sweet stranger on a bus, your time in my heart was awfully short.

This makes 37 happy days

34. luni, 7 aprilie - Furry sister love, early in the morning.

35. Marti, 8 aprilie - A heart-warming eye-to-eye chat with this guy. 

36. Miercuri, 9 aprilie - A sunny day off, playing host for a special friend. Lost a night's sleep cooking a meal, bought food, cleaned the house. Cats loved my guest. Guest loved them back. Guests are good for my health and well being, if you know what I mean.

37. Joi, 10 aprilie - I learnt how to draw Minnie!!

Day 31 - Just a day in

I've been really tired and really busy lately. Took half a day off and just slept. Not very proud of what I've achieved today, but it will give me a clear head tomorrow to do greater things.

Day 30 - A dream

I do dream, and I make up the most incredible connections usually, weaving a tapestry of mind-blowing events and storylines and characters. I have wicked dreams at times, don't we all? I imagine all sorts of adventures with the most random people in the world. 

Salvador Dali
 Dream caused by the flight of a bumblebee

I've been talking to someone lately. 

I haven't dreamt a lot lately and before last night, I had never dreamt of them either.

Probably because before last night I still wasn't completely sure that they really existed. Yes, we've chatted online, yes, we've met once, in the most random place in the world, at a most inconvenient time. Yes, we've made plans to meet again. 

But before last night, when I finally heard that voice again, I still wasn't really convinced that this person was real and not just a figment of my imagination. So, since I wasn't completely sure they were real, I never dreamt. 

Until last night, when I did. 

Sweet, random, uninteresting, totally bland dream. 

No adventures, no surrealism. Just a plain ol' "I dreamt I went somewhere, don't know where it was, met someone, we did something, though I can't remember what and we talked somethings which I also forgot."

And today was a better day because of it.

Day 5 - Teaching

Azi, doi copii fericiţi că vine profa.
Cu inspiraţie de la Taylor Mali:

You want to know what I make? I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write.
I make them read, read, read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.

SOURCE: What Teachers Make, full text 

Şi pentru mai mult efect, Taylor Mali himself.

Despre FALLING IN LOVE

Warning ! Mai jos sunt doar idei. Nu am cercetat prea adânc din punct de vedere lingvistic. 

SOURCE

În engleză, îndrăgosteala e cel mai lesne de înţeles: Falling in love. Adică nu te duci şi tu aşa uşor, ci te afunzi de-a dreptul şi eventual mai dai şi cu capul de caldarâm când te duci. 

Nu e nici becoming, ca la becoming a doctor, becoming better at doing something. Deci nu e devenire, transformare.

Nici going, ca la going mad. (E şi aici de discutat, going mad, de parcă te duci la Paris, de parcă înnebunirea e o călătorie.)

Nici turning, ca la turning 18, să ajungi la maturitate, să atingi un prag şi nici măcar ca la turning into a dragon, să te prefaci în altceva.

Nici getting nu merge, ca la getting married, getting engaged, să îţi schimbe statutul social. 

Nu, e falling. Ca la falling asleep. E dragostea ca somnul? Ceva departe şi misterios şi ascuns în noi de trebuie să cazi în puţ ca să îţi găseşti pacea? Nici măcar aşa. Somnul e pace, linişte, împlinire, îndrăgosteala numai pace nu e. De ce falling şi nu climbing? Nu e dragostea cel mai nobil dintre toate simţămintele umane? De ce e în jos şi nu în sus?

Dar să acceptăm că îndrăgosteala e cădere. Şi căderea e de multe feluri. 

- Căderea din Rai, în care îţi pierzi complet reperele şi te revolţi. Dar bună şi aia la ceva că altfel nu exista omenirea cum o ştim noi.

- Căderea părului sau a dinţilor, care implică lipsă şi nevoie, dar se rezolvă cu frizerul şi cu dentistul

- Căderea Constantinopolului sau a Bastiliei, când se duc dracului autorităţile şi se instaurează un nou regim,

- Căderea în păcat, accidentală, delicioasă, dar nu trebuie făcută des

- Cădere de calciu sau cădere nervoasă, care sunt clinice dar într-un fel sau altul remediabile.

Şi lista poate continua. Poate o voi completa chiar eu cândva.

Dar îndrăgosteala nu e dintre astea. Ea este cădere liberă. Degeaba dai din mâini şi te zbaţi. Cînd te-ai împiedicat, se deschide pământul şi te înghite şi te tot duci. Ca Alice în gaura de iepure.

Dar, hai să lăsăm engleza pe altă dată. Mai citesc un thesaurus-două şi revin cu explicaţii mai concrete.

---

Pe româneşte, aici şi acum, şi aşa cum o văd eu la mine şi la cei din jurul meu, îndrăgosteala e ca o infestaţie cu păduchi. Şi vine în valuri, după cum urmează:

1. Negare: "N-am păduchi, n-am păduchi." (Deşi mă mănâncă tare după urechi...)

2. Disperare: AOLEU ! Am păduchi! Ce mă fac, ce mă fac ?"  

3. Conştientizarea consecinţelor sociale: "Aoleu, dacă ies acum aşa, toată lumea o să ştie imediat că am păduchi şi or să râdă de mine..."

4. Tratamentele clandestine: "Dacă îmi dau cu asta în cap (de obicei o sticlă de ceva) sau recit Doina de Mihai Eminescu înainte de culcare, sau număr o sută de animale care încep cu iniţiala lui/ei, o să îmi treacă. (Adică, dracu', toată lumea ştie că Doinele curăţă păduchii, de la Nistru pân' la Tisa.)"

5. Acceptarea. Un pic mai încolo, te duci la doctor: "Auzi fată/ frate, ia ascultă ce mi s-a întâmplat- eu cred că am păduchi." Abia după ce ţi se confirmă diagnosticul începi să te gândeşti serios la tratamente.

Nu intru aici în detalii despre ce ar trebui să faci după ce realizezi că îţi colcăie, dacă trebuie să înfrunţi sursa infestării sau să te faci că plouă, dacă e de vină purtătorul sau tu sau pur şi simplu păduchii, dacă în ansamblu, e de bine sau de rău să ai păduchi, dacă trebuie eradicaţi sau cultivaţi. Despre toate astea, altă-dată. Am încercat doar să îmi explic cum e când îţi dai seama prima dată, după prima noapte nedormită din cauza mâncărimii.

The Road (J. R. R. Tolkien)

The road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.

From LOTR 1 - The Fellowship of the Ring

Bilbo Baggins, master of eloquence

"I don't know half of you as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve." - this was unexpected and rather difficult. There was some scattered clapping, but most of them were trying to work it out and see if it came to a compliment.

Bilbo Baggins in LOTR 1 - The Fellowship of the Ring, J. R. R. Tolkien

A kind of litany

I am free
I am free because I wear myself inside out

I will defy your prudishness
I will defile the sanctity of your self
I will deface my fears
I will defeat you

No harm may come

No harm may come from what I touch not
Thus,
I shall never fiddle with

Fear
Insanity
Despair
Destruction of self
Longing
Erosion of emotion

No harm may come

No harm may come from you
If I wear myself inside out
There its no need for you to cut into me

No harm may come

No harm may come from all that is you
Thus from the

Closed hearts and closed doors
Excisions of feelings like tumours by means of axe
Long rides on the bus
Language manipulation and
Obvious escapism

This will not harm me

No harm may come from anyone
If one can weigh all my self in advance
No negotiation of feeling is necessary
No side quests
No small print that may be contested

Because I do not hide
I am free

Men shake hands - what to do if not a man?

Why do men shake hands?
Well, they shake other things as well, but I don't want to think or write about that. I want to know about handshakes.

On my side of the planet, when you're introduced to someone new for the first time, male or female, you shake hands. More oldfashioned gentlemen, not necessarily old, stick to the handkissing of ladies as well, but I have a girlfriend that disagrees with this custom so I won't go into that. At least, not now. I'll save it for later.

Now, many things can be said from a handshake. There has to be a difference in meaning between a limpy wet flaccid handshake of some sticky obnoxious person, and a strong vigurous over-enthusiastic endless shake of a groupie, and all the other varieties that come in between. But again, that's a whole different chapter and thousands of pages have been already written on the topic.

What I wanted to know is why do men shake hands when they meet, again and again? Even old friends or co-workers that see eachother every day. There is this stupid convention, if a men approaches a mixt group, he says hi and shakes hands with all the men in the group, ignoring the females.
And I am not sure, but I tend to believe that close friends, when they meet, they give eachother a strong hearty handshake, just to say 'I'm glad to see you again-reality check completed-now let's gobble down that beer.'

The first time it struck me, the awkardness, was in a rather semi-professional semi-casual environment, in one of the English classes I was teaching to a really nice group of people, all my age or about. One of the guys came late, and as he entered the class, half-way through a sentence of mine, he smiled, apologized, shook hands with the other two guys in the group and sat down. Me and the other three or four girls in the group were left hanging, rather hoping for a handshake or something ourselves. But of course, there is no convention saying what to do between men and women who know eachother well, but aren't close enough to kiss on the cheek or hug.

I know that sometimes, girlfriends kiss eachother on the cheek or throw those fake noisy air kisses over eachother's shoulder, but I try not to stick to that rule. I only kiss and hug my girls when I haven't seen them in a while and miss them dearly.

The next time it struck me, the weirdness of men shaking hands, was in a very close group of friends. There were two guys, some of my best friends, me and another female. We were saying goodbye for the holidays, the guys shook hands, I hugged the girl and ... it's gone...Hugging or kissing the boys felt awkard although we all felt that there was something missing, a touch, a gesture of some kind, one of those stupid pats on the back that men sometime give eachother. 

And then, there's tonight, which is another level of weird-how-did-it-get-to-this-fuck-i-screwed-everything-up-again-I-can-never-touch-him-again moment.

Which takes me to the real point of this post:

I've always been a no-kissing-my-hugs-are-expensive kind of girl and I need a bloody convention to tell me what kind of gesture is appropiate between me and my male friends, when saying hi or goodbye, if I cannot do any of the following:

- Cannot shake hands, cause that's what men do
- Cannot hug cause that's too - just too - too much - and sticky. I keep hugs for birthdays.
- Cannot pat on the back cause we're not beer buddies or team-mates, plus if they pat back, it would be really weird
- Cannot high-five, or bro-fist or who-knows-what-other-stupid choreography, cause I'm a lady goddammit

- And, starting tonight, cannot kiss on cheek every time we meet and say goodbye, cause it doesn't really mean anything anymore, plus it wasn't my thing from the very beginning, it was just something I did, since there is no other bloody thing to do.

I promiss I'll be ok

This is for the two special people I've been spending a lot of time with in the past few days, my sweet degenerate fairy and my dear brontosaurus.

Ok, so I am not ok.
Just for a while. I promissed I'd keep it together. I promissed myself first of all. I swore I would always find something to cling on, as small as it is, anything, my family, my friends, my passions and if all fails, my cats. I have to keep it together for the cats, cause they depend on me. As far as people depend on me, I'm fine, I can work it out. Would like a break though, from time to time, like when I was at home, you know, the only real home there is, and it was summer holiday and just for a few days at the very beginning I would just lay back and relax and sleep late and not do anything at all, and there would be coffee in the morning and breakfast. Just one or two days of being spoiled. That was nice.
But then again, this is just part of growing up, my dad would say, less breaks more work, just try to enjoy what happens in between. Since I've left, I've been sick countless times and I always took care of myself the same way he taught me and sometimes it doesn't even matter that you're sick, you just need to keep going, keep going. And sometimes, I wish there would be someone to take care of me.
But this is not about being alone. All in all, I KNOW that, were I to feel really bad and in need of help, there are at least 7 people, off the top of my head, that I could call anytime of day or night who would rush to the rescue.
I swore I would never do a job I don't like, trying to keep up with that. And also, I swore I would never compromise. And I have. And it hurts. And I promissed myself  I would stop.
So what is it about, after all? Why do I feel like I'm in the wrong movie? Like I am playing the wrong parts every time? There are stories that just pass me by, like they don't happen to me. Like this house and these cats and these notebooks and clothes are not mine, like they don't all stink of me and my touch. As if I am just watching this absurd projection and chewing on popcorn while my whole life is rushing by.
But I will catch the train. There is a train and I will catch it no matter what. And I will survive.
How do I know I will survive? Because I laughed, goddamit, because I laughed.
Because I am still impressed and I am still looking for the good in people, whatever happens, because I am still inlove and wish to remain so cause at least I can write poems about it, if nothing else will ever come out of it. Because I can still read and draw and paint and because I made my own damn dress and I felt like a princess. Because I am still looking for nice things and I am still able to find them, because I can still be happy and hopelessly inlove at the same time.

And I will never:

• Give up and fall appart
• Lose another friend
• Go back home crying
• Stop writing, drawing, reading (and singing and dancing to myself)
• Lose hope

So, I promissed I'd be ok and I have to. 

Thank you for making me laugh these past few days. You saved my soul again.

Three tall women

Trei femei inalte, la unteatru

All women change their skin
and then the monsters from within
bleed outwards
and take over.

A different harpy every year
impersonating every fear
you've ever felt
when moving close beside me.

Oh, are you sure
you want to stay?
I may not be like yesterday
but surely now
I am much better
than tomorrow.

Tomorrow
I may not even know your name
or maybe I'll be wishing
you into oblivion.

Tomorrow
I may be wiser
I will have been around the world
one extra turn
I will have seen
you in and out
and there's no doubt
Tomorrow
I'll be wishing
it were over.

About me...

For you, 

I wish I could've stayed pure a little longer, 

Unsoiled and white -

But when was I ever like that?

As a child, 

I knew God had to be out of thew way,

Otherwise I wouldn't be able to act

or say

All the things that would, later on, become me.

So you see, 

What I actually wish

Is for you to have met me, let's say,

twenty-five years ago.

It's that drastic, I know. 

Come to think of it, must be the only time

When I really didn't mean harm

Though I'm sure that I must have done some;

If only to those beautiful people

That I forced into becoming my parents

To the rabbits

I would love for a while 

And then feed on

To the puppets

I would opperate on,

Forcing them to change gender and race,

to wear grandma's pink ragged lace.

And to think,

This is was supposed to be a love letter

But it turned out like a therapy session-

I didn't even know I was so damaged- 

I was going to wish

I hadn't started smoking

Or dying my hair

Or loved so many men before you

Or other random things that have soiled me,

But my despair is clinical, I can see. 

I wasn't ever whiter than today, 

These are the nicest things I can say

About me

And the fact that I can actually tell you

This is no joyride that you're signing in to

Should be more than any other truths they can give you

About me.

Soul of an engineer drenched in pur desir de pivoine

Today, I did good. No modesty intended.
Whatever Yoga I've been doing to myself recently, it's working.
I've been sharing and giving and forgiving and smiling a lot more.
Today, I've put my electrical engineering skills (ha!) to good use and fixed a kid's laser pointer by taking it appart, identifying and sticking the two loose wires together. To make it last, I even insulated my repair since I had a piece of insulation tape around. (I usually use it for crafts!). At the end, the kid, mesmerised to see his Romanian language teacher taking appart and putting back together an electronic device, told me in the most sincere tone:
"Miss, you have the soul of an engineer!"
And that made me proud! Having a father which has been fixing my stuff all my life and having been in love with at least two guys who were crazy about electronics, I must say I am living up to expectations, right? And you said I couldn't be an engineer! (kidding!)

---

The second thing I am happy about today is that I looked for and found the English word for peony, and for a good cause. Today, peonies made a friend smile, and that's worth the world to me.

Brute

Yes, I was the brute with an axe
And you faced me bare-handed
Then, you told me more than once
All my tools wouldn't be effective.
Because you kept your white shirt on
While I acted like a rainbow
And you had only one thing to say
Mine were too many to remember.
And at the end of the day
You asked me to draw a line.
And I felt all I had to say
Would probably be a lie,
so I said -
And you asked: ' Where do you want to go?'
And I said:
' No.'

Do androids dream of electric sheep?

Just finished this book by Philip K. Dick. It's a story set on a post World War Terminus Earth, almost deserted. Most humans have emigrated to other worlds such as Mars and have been helped in the accomodation process by skillfully built androids. Back on Earth, only few people still live, mostly endangered by the radioactivty left over after the war. A new kind of religion has come into being, Mercerism, which plays upon humans' empathy capability. From time to time, thanks to so-called empathy boxes, humans can fusion together, sharing feelings and merging with Wilbur Mercer himself. Mercerism teaches love for animals among other things, especially since most animals are now extinct. The story focuses around Rick Deckard, a SF bounty hunter, whose job is to track down and retire escaped androids. During one of his most difficult missions he starts questioning the morality of his job and undergoes a strong spiritual crysis.