cat_eyes

You have rock music in Romania???!!!

2009-10-09T00:04:00.002+01:00

Cum am tot studiat despre cultura, nationalitate si imaginea unei tari prin media, mi-am amintit de o intamplare foarte amuzanta din Finlanda.

Eram acu' cateva luni intr-un bar de gotic in Helsinki si sprijineam o sticla de bere impreuna cu prietenul meu. In jurul nostru, rockeri in diferite stadii de ebrietate si variatiuni ale pozitiei verticale, traiau cu intensitate muzica. Spre deosebire de alte locuri, barul asta nu avea un dj ci un tonomat unde puteai asculta trupa preferata contra sumei de 3 euro. Dupa ce ne-am scormonit prin buzunare dupa cateva monede, m-am dus catre tonomat si am selectat Sisters of Mercy.

In aproximativ 10 minute, am auzit primele acorduri ale piesei si atat eu cat si pritenul meu am inchis ochii si ne-am cufundut in canapeaua din bar. Deodata insa, cineva ne tulbura momentul si intra in vorba cu noi. "This song is amasing, man" spuse un finalandez aflat intr-o avansata stare de ebrietate. "We know" i-am raspuns " we asked for it". Deja ii intrasem in gratii tipului si deja venea mai aproape de noi pe canapea. " So, where are u guys from?" Noi i-am raspuns in cor "Romania".

E greu de descris si de masurat mirarea omului cand a auzit numele tarii. A urmat apoi marea vorba " You know about rock music in Romania???. i thought you were soviets".

Nici acum nu stiu ce as putea sa raspund la intrebarea omului...

despre Mioritza?

2009-09-29T20:30:00.003+01:00

Ieri am luat parte la o discutie foarte interesanta despre nationalim la seminarul pentru "European Nationalism, 1600 to present". Dezbaterea a pornit de la gasirea unei definitii pentru termenul "nationalism" dar intr-un final am ajuns sa discutam si despre Europa de Est si cum a evoluat mentalitatea colectiva in raport cu ceea ce intelectualli fiecarei tari au convenit ca este specific pentru "natzia" lor.

Una dintre teorii sustine faptul ca exista un fel de tipar pe care natziunile il urmeaza atunci cand actioneaza sau reactioneaza la faptele istorice. Cu alte cuvinte, potrivit baladelor germane, ar fi trebuit sa ne asteptam la formarea natzionalismului extrem in Germania..o explicatie destul de facila dar demna de luat in calcul.

Oricum, teoria m-a dus cu gandul la orele pe care mi le-am dedicat citind si descifrand balada Mioritza in liceu. De multe ori m-am intrebat daca atitudinea ciobanului in fatza mortii este un act de lasitate sau de supunere in fata lui Dumnezeu si a sortii avand in vedere ca religia ortodoxa nu a promovat acelasi simtz civic pe care l-a impus crestinismul in vestul si centrul Europei.( de aici si diferentza intre nationalismul occidental civic si cel etnic din est).

Mie imi place sa cred, deci nu am (inca) argumente solide, ca supunerea nu a venit din lasitate pentru ca astfel ar trebui sa demontez imaginea mea pozitiva despre tzarishoara mea iubita.

Apoi, cine stabileste ce balada este tipica pentru un popor? Sau poate ca la vremea alegerii acestei balade, supunerea era o virtute pentru cei care vroiau sa construiasca un caracter natzional pornind de la tiparul vestic dar in dezacord cu el....

Destul de multe intrebari in capul meu. Oare cum o fisa nu iti pese de tzara ta. care o fi varianta cool pentru cineva de varsta mea?

-precizez ca ceea ce am scris este o simpla meditatie dupa o noapte dormita prost, nu o lucrare filosofica.

semirecenzie de carte

2009-07-17T20:36:00.002+01:00

De foarte mult timp ma rodea faptul ca nu imi place arta moderna( sau o mare parte din ea) si aveam un soi de jena s-o recunosc;
O inteleg, ii pricep si rostul si recunosc si sclipirea celui care a creat-o; dar o detest..
Am primit anul trecut de la Iuliana o carte care se numeste "Un roman sentimental", scrisa de Alain Robbe-Grillet. In mediile culte departe de cei ca mine care asculta muzica "cu porcul la protzap"(cod pentru influentze medievalo-romantico-europene, tot de la Iuliana) acestei carti i se zice "roman modern" sau "basm pentru adulti". Eu m-am hotarat sa ii spun " pornografie cu de-a sila".
Curajul de a o critica si in afara mintii mele mi-a venit in urma unei alte lecturi, de aceasta data mult mai placuta si mai cu folos, un fel de jurnal al lui Paler. El se ferea sa critice cartea lui Robbe-Grillet dar admitea ca prefera oricand un romancier clasic rus. M-am simtit usurata sa citesc asta mai ales ca eu inca prefer sa port rochie si nu pantaloni.
Cartea are totusi un merit. Desi antipatica, este foarte desteapta. Dupa ce citesti cateva pagini si incepi sa rosesti si apoi sa transpiri iti dai seama (prea tarziu) ce ti-ai permis sa gandesti si mai ales sa simti. In final nu poti decat sa te inclini in fatza autorului care ti-a demonstrat ca esti pana la urma doar un animal( ceea ce freud probabil a simtit mai inainte de a gandi). Dar faptul ca recunosc nesilita ca din simplu instinct port fusta si imi las parul lung imi permite sa resping demonstratia practica a autorului francez si sa aleg sentimentul clasic si nu frivolitatea bruta a propriului meu timp.
Raman la parerea ca cine nu poate face arta clasica face arta moderna.
Sa nu uit sa recitesc textul asta peste un an. poate intre timp invatz sa port si pantaloni.

despre nebunie (a mea sau in general)

2009-07-16T11:35:00.002+01:00

Am fost nevoita recent sa imi redefinesc mie ideea de nebunie.

"Atunci cand avea 6 ani, A se plimba toata ziua prin gradina parintilor ei. Parea sa-i priasca statul la tzara, aerul (inca) nepoluat de istorie si mai ales culesul florilor, pe care le rupea greu, uneori chiar le smulgea cu tot cu pamant pentru a-si face o coronitza. Vorbea foarte des cu plantele si se apleca tot timpul sa le miroasa. Parintii si vecinii erau incantati de fetitza si de grija pe care aceasta o arata pentru natura. " Ce copil bun" ziceau cu totii. Vecinii chiar adaugau ca este evident ca familia fetitzei i-a insuflat un bun simtz sanatos.
La 16 ani, A mergea in continuarea cat de des putea in gradina si culegea flori pe care le punea(fara meticulozitatea de gospodina, tipica fetelor tinere care de la o varsta vor sa impresioneze prin talente "feminine") pe masa de pe terasa. Dar inainte de a le culege, A avea grija sa se aplece asupra lor asa cum invatzase recent sa faca si cu cartile si sa le miroasa indelung. Parintii nu mai aveau timp de facut observatii; deja o vazusera crescand drept in sus. Vecinii in schimb schimbau priviri in spatele gardului." Un pic rasfatzata fata asta. Sta si culege flori. Am auzit ca trebuie s-o mediteze la matematica"
La 26 de ani, A. era la a treia facultate. Pe primele doua nu reusise sa le termine fiindca nu gasise inca motivatia sa creada ceea ce ii spuneau profesorii. Acum facea istorie si ii aparusera cearcane. Statea in gradina cu un pulovar gros in jurul talei( de, de la o varsta trebuie sa te gandesti si la viitor) si incerca sa adulmece iarba din jur; dar era din ce in ce mai greu. Cand A era mica, iarba miroasea a iarba. Acum insa, mirosea a chimicale venite de la cativa kilometri departare, acolo unde recent se inchisese un combinat cumparat ilegal dupa ce se trecuse la un regim politic care la randul lui inlocuise un alt regim, impus prin fortza cu multi ani in urma.
Cateodata informatia o dobora pe A care, in semn de protest si apoi ca simplu refugiu, isi arcuia colturile gurii si inspira adanc in timp ce imbratisa unul dintre copacii pusi de ea impreuna cu tatal ei. "A innebunit de tanara, saraca" ziceau vecinii. "

ce am visat azi noapte

2009-02-04T19:59:00.003Z

Era o zi galbena si atat de calduroasa incat zgomotul ramanea undeva in fundal si cerul se scurgea peste mine. eram intr-una dintre plimbarile mele zilnice, un fel de mars de recunoastere a mosiei si eram insotita ca de obicei de cei doi caini ai mei. M-am uitat in sus fiindca intotdeauna am simtit ce cerul de deasupra gradinii mele imi apartine tot mie.
Se intunecase brusc. O nava spatiala se rotea amenintator undeva la cativa metri desupra casei mele. Si totusi nu-mi era teama fiindca citisem in adolescenta ca daca o civilizatie este indeajuns de avansata atunci in mod clar reprezentatii sai sunt pasnici. Asteptam deci un semnal.
O trapa s-a deschis in scurt timp si sub forma unor fascicule de lumina au coborat doi indivizi care nu aratau deloc asa cum vazusem mereu in filmele sf americane. Nu erau nici pitici , nici verzi ci aratau intocmai ca niste oameni; un barbat si o femeie. M-a frapat insa portul lor care imi era oarecum familiar; il intalneam zilnic in tzara mea. Un mozaic de materiale lucioase peste care atarnau multe podoabe de aur.Straluceau ca niste stele intr-adevar.
"Buna ziua" imi spuse femeia pe limba mea. " Am venit si noi la picnic". Apoi au inceput sa se instaleze comod in curtea mea. Foarte nepoliticos dar nu avea nici un sens sa le spun sa plece. Stiam exact cine sunt si eram suparata ca atatia savanti se inselaseara cand emisesera teoriile despre evolutia civilizatiilor. Cine spune ca daca avansam tehnologic, nu or sa conduca navele spatiale tot cei "inlantzuiti" de straluciri stravezii?

despre copilul meu

2009-01-24T10:52:00.003Z

Stateam in fata oglinzii, pe jumatate in intuneric si pe jumatate intoarsa, ca si cum nu as fi indraznit inca sa admir noua parte care crestea pe corpul meu. In camera era un aer umed si imi inchipuiam cum sub toata padurea de umbre ascutite care se tot intindeau catre usa intredeschisa creste o patura groasa de mushi sau mucegai. Nu mi-a placut niciodata sa am grija de plante dar le-am admirat cand am invatat ca pot sa apara si singure acolo unde gasesc motiv sa creasca. Iar acum eram exact ca ele. Prinsesem radacini si eram sigura ca atunci cand o sa-mi cada si ultima frunza au sa creasca unele tinere in primavara urmatoare.
Mi-am intors capul catre usa din stanga mea. Ma deranja fiindca scartaia atunci cand in casa era curent si se misca in voie. Apoi zgomotul se amesteca cu trantitul altor usi din casa si cu muzica la radio sau cu cu clinchetul paharelor puse fara grija inapoi in dulapul de deasupra chiuvetei din bucatarie. Era multa miscare prin casa dar nu atat de multa cat in mine. Am privit iar in oglinda iar pantecele meu era si mai mare decat fusese cu cateva minute in urma. Parca nu mai avea rabdare. Mi-era teama ca nu cumva asta sa nu insemne ca de fapt eu nu mai am timp si usa sa se inchida de tot din cauza curentului.
Trebuia sa invat repede sa iubesc partea asta noua a mea. Imi fusese destul de greu de-a lungul timpului sa iubesc anumite bucati din mine dar de data asta se anunta a fi mai usor. Forma noua era una sferica , perfecta. Se misca si avea un ritm propriu.
M-am luat in brate si m-am tinut strans dar cu drag. Mi-am lasat capul pe propriul umar ca sa pot sa-mi ascult inima. Era un obicei mai vechi de-al meu. Si oricum, nu mai eu stiam cand bate fiindca imi cautam cu grija motive s-o pornesc. Acum inca n-o mai puteam controla. Imi trecea prin vene un tren vechi cu abur. Il simteam urcand prin maini si apoi inconjurandu-mi pieptul, incalzindu-ma in acelasi timp. Intotdeauna mi-au placut trenurile vechi cu abur. Inca de cand eram mica mi-am inchipui cum pentru deschiderea usilor sale ar fi fost nevoie de mana puternica de barbat si nu de simplul apasat de buton asa cum se intampla la trenurile noi.
O combinatie ciudata. Fierul greu si cald care se tot plimba prin mine si verdele crud care se tot intindea pe peretele din partea mea, acoperindu-mi fereastra. Si mai e si lumina de la becul din camera alaturata.
Iar creste. Il vad in oglinda. Deja mi s-au rupt hainele fiindca e mai mare decat anticipam ca va fi. In curand voi atarna eu de el. Incerc sa-l cuprind si sa-l protezej dar e deja prea mare pentru a mai putea fi imbratisat doar de mine. Ideea de a-l imparti ma face foarte geloasa. Fierb deja si simt deja cum mi se preling lacrimile pe obraji alergand cu furie ca niste rauri si cautandu-si o matca comuna. S-au prelins pana pe palmele care deja nu mai suporta greutatea pantecelor. Acum simt o umezeala familiara si furnicaturi in degete. Lacrimile au fost absorbite sub unghii iar acestea s-au transformat in ramuri subtiri care au inceput sa creasca si sa infasoare partea mea noua. Si pe masura ce creasteau, eu ma micsoram si simteam cum inima mea isi trimite bataile catre ghemul verde care se marea in fata ochilor mei.

Fetele din clubul de rock

2009-01-11T09:06:00.004Z

Acum cateva seri am iesit intr-un club. Nu conteaza care fiindca de data asta vreau sa comentez putin oamenii de acolo si, mai ales, fetele.
La un moment dat eram singura la masa si ma uitam in jur. erau multe grupuri de cate 2 sau 3 fete, toate in jurul unei sticle de bere sau de ceva mai tare si ,de asemenea, toate negandu-mi mie dreptul la aer curat. Atunci am inceput sa ma amuz fiindca mi le-am imaginat pe toate inapoi in timp cu vreo 200 de ani, imbracate in vii si acoperite de naframe albe, stand, daca asta ar fi fost posibil in acele vremuri, in birtul satului.
E ciudat cum imaginatia mea le-a facut brusc frumoase pe toate fetele de acolo, feminine si neinconjurate de fum si fumuri.
In visele mele, fetele poarta intotdeauna rochii sau fuste iar baietii au curaj sa priveasca de sus.
In club, fetele poarta pantaloni si esarfe groase in jurul gatului.Miscarile capului sunt rigide si ele se uita rece la mine.
Eu imi port cartile citite in suflet fiindca ele sunt patul in care dorm; nu vreau sa-mi impart patul cu toata lumea.
Fetele din club si-au propus sa si le intipareasca numai pe fatza. Mie mi se pare ca s-a cam intins cerneala si s-au uratit pe parcurs...Ma gandesc, cu mintea mea care imi zice mereu sa port fusta, poate ar trebui sa le dau niste fond de ten sa tempereze toata cerneala aia.

2008-12-03T22:48:00.004Z

Iata-ma din nou intr-un peisaj de acolo de sus, de unde vin ursii polari si oamenii tacuti. De data asta este un vis despre mine si despre ce inteleg eu din bataia inimii mele.
Am ochii inchisi inca fiindca vreau mai intai sa simt. Dupa cate imi dau seama, sunt intr-o imbratisare. E suficient de stransa cat sa ma simt in siguranta.
E foarte ciudata imbratisarea asta. In mod clar vine dintr-o nevoie nemarginita de comparatie cu ceva mai puternic dar, in acelasi timp e foarte rigida; ca si cum si-ar unii crengile doi copaci batrani. Pe mine inca ma trage ceva in jos, niste radacini groase si noduroase ca niste maini batrane care se tin cu toata puterea de pamantul sudic. E ingrijorator cum am nevoie si de seva de acasa dar si de lumina moderata din nord. Cred ca asta este si motivul pentru care am inca ochii inchisi. Acum cand e vorba de bataile inimii mele am impresia ca pot vedea mai bine cu mintea decat cu ochii. Unii ar spune ca asta e romantism. mi-e teama sa nu fie vorba si de frica.

Cand am deschis ochii, imaginea era neclara, ca intr-o ceatza; asa se cade. Insa era asa cum am sperat. O intindere alba in jurul nostru. Un aer rece ca sa cred ca totul e adevarat si mirosul de conifere pentru a ma simti in siguranta de atunci cand eram copil. Zambetul ce a urmat a fost pentru el. M-am uitat numai cu coada ochiului. In el era acel cer al nordului la care imi place sa ma uit fiindca ma inspira. Dar cel mai mult imi plac trasaturile lui dure fiindca ele ma lasa pe mine sa fiu in continuare opusul si completarea adusa lui.

2008-10-27T22:12:00.002Z

When i closed my eyes and I could no longer measure the distance between us I had to rely on my other senses. My mind had persistently failed in dictating a dignifying posture for my body thus i was entitled to indulge myself with an uncarefully directed frivolity.
My fingers were so dry and thirsty that they were slipping too rapidly for the reasonable me to have any time to oppose. I knew he was looking at me because i was feeling warm. Strange how his eyes of the coldest depths could tie me up like that. What was even more strange was his embrace. I could hear his heartbeat like the countdown towards a resolution unacceptable according to the appropriateness i was used to. I was then in him for a moment and we exchanged blood and tiny bits of ideas about feelings. I used my hair to surround him for a while so i could make sure he wasn't going away too soon.
I was shaking so hard that i was drawing an imaginary aura of heavenly happiness around me. It was a feeling i had buried together with my teenage years in my parent's home. A florescent and volatile ray of emotion couldn't possibly escape from under the weight of heavy history books. It had been so distant from me that i started thinking it was actually the dust I breath when i flick through the smelly pages.

2008-10-20T18:35:00.003+01:00

" Era o femeie foarte ciudata A. . De fapt ,ea doar arata ca un adult caci inauntrul ei locuiau 2 copii, un spirit si un demon. Privea mereu in gol atunci cand era singura dar vorbea intr-una la petreceri; si slava Domnului, erau multe petreceri pe atunci. Toata lumea cunostea pe toata lumea si atunci cand se intalneau pe strada era obligatoriu sa se pupe de 3 ori pe obraji.
Cei doi copii care locuiau in A. erau foarte neastamparati. Cel mai mare ca varsta locuia in ea inca de cand se nascuse personajul nostru si era foarte greu de educat. Citea mult si recita teorii memorate cu usurinta dar atunci cand era trist, se napustea asupra oricui ii iesea in cale. Plangea des, mai ales cand se intersecta cu demonul. Stia ca fiecare intalnire insemna garantia ca nu va creste niciodata; si ii era foarte greu sa umble de atatia ani cu un corp atat de mic in niste haine care atarnau ca o povara.
Sa nu intelegeti gresit. Demonul era dragastos si mai ales usor ca o amintire; Ca in orice relatie, problema era abordarea si lipsa fermitatii. Si pana la urma, nimeni nu il putea invinui de raceala, doar era un demon- la randu-i creatia unui lucru mai mare ca el.
Cel de-al doilea copil nu avea inca o personalitate a lui. Traia in proiectia celui dintai si venea din viitor. nu era nici baiat nici fata fiindca cel mare nu se decisese inca. Il tinea in brate si ii spunea povesti. Il invata sa se uite in sus.
A. era detul de impacata cu viata ei. Era simplu sa ramana asa atata vreme cat cei 3 locuiau in mansarda. Nimeni nu avea de unde sa-si imagineze ce avea sa se intample.
Intr-una din zilele acelea cand ai impresia ca ninsoare nu se mai opreste si totul e intepenit, au inceput sa se auda zgomote ciudate de la etajele inferioare; ca si cum cineva ar fi dat cu picioarele in tot ce-i iesea in cale. Mai curioase erau inca tipetele care tradau disperarea. "O , nu" isi spuse copilul cel mare " iar si-a pirdut spiritul linistea." In inima casei locuia un spirit care de fiecare data cand reusea sa scape din laturile in care era tinut, distrugea linistea casei si aducea rusine celor 3. " V-am spus de atatea ori" cuvanta demonul, " locul animalelor e in padure, nu in casa doamnei".
Cei trei au hotarat sa se elibereze de cel care ameninta siguranta linistii lor.Nu au mai stat pe ganduri si au deschis usa care dadea in camaruta unde locuia spiritul. Acesta i-a intampinat cu un zambet crezand ca venit cu ganduri bune. Era in firea lui sa gandeasca pozitiv. Nimeni nu vroia sa recunoasaca dar el adusese cel de-al doilea copil in casa; sau poate uitasera. Isi imaginau probabil ca din adierea rasfoiutului de carti se nasc nu numai idei ci si copii.
L-au aruncat in vatra si s-a tarat singur pe horn pana cand a vazut lumina soarelui si s-a evaporat.
"S-a stins" au zis cu totii.

2008-10-19T23:37:00.002+01:00

Today I am writing about my trip to Iceland which i consider by far to be my oddest this year.

I went to Iceland this june because it was my friend Sunna's birthday and also because i had the once in a lifetime opportunity to see Bjork for free...well, sort of as the plane ticket was quite expensive.
The first thing that stroke me when i landed was the air. i felt as if i were on the top of a mountain..some 2000 years ago when green was much cooler than grey...My friend came to pick me up from the airport and we stopped first at her workplace which is the Reikjavik Zoo. It was slightly different to what i would consider to be a proper zoo as many of the animals there would just be considered pets in Romania. I made friends though with the seals..they were sunbathing in the solitary ray of lights that i witnessed only the first day while being there. I just couldn't believe how cold i felt...
The feelings i experienced during my stay there have been very intense. I kind of reminded me of my troubled teenage years when everything i felt was intensified and interpreted using Bjork's lyrics. I was very excited about seeing her the next day and my expectations were really high. I had seen Bjork before in Paris but i knew that being in Iceland changed everything. My ideas during my wait could have very well been part of Bjork's video "Who is it?". A wide frozen landscape, husky dogs and a smiling girl who occasionally gets mistaken for a lunatic. I don't know why but for some early from childhood reason I felt atrcted to open spaces, snow and an icy blue sky. I am not nordic and my eyes are brown...my skin is not too bright either , especially during summer, yet i feel so rooted in that far away land.
The inevitable happened..I was very disappointed with the concert and I actually liked Sigur Ross better( they opened the show). Many poeple say that meeting your idol may leave yiu with a slightly bitter taste as they don't live up to your expectations. I don't believe that even if i have been disappointed twice. The first time, in France, it was just too many rude people who had forgotten the basic idea about Bjork- the warm feeling of thinking- and were acting like animals while thieves were looming around and booing towards the stage.
This second time I found myself surrounded by hundreds of french people who came to be cool in front of other french people. Of course they outnumbered the icelandic population by far. The cold was worsening my health which , i should be honest to myself, has gone from bad to worse the last 3 years...still the pain didn't make me leave and it didn't infuriate me.
My relationship with Bjork implies me, her and the need that tied the connection between us.The people in concerts are destroying the balance between the fragile elements of my system. I don't listen to Bjork because i like it but because i need it and it has grown in me as part of me. It helps me enjoy my well hidden quirkiness and legitimizes my thinking.

Another thing that drew my attention in Iceland was the distance; the distance between the house the shops, between the house and all other houses and the distance between friends. Everywhere we went we had to drive..and most of the times we were the only car on the street..(.which is more of a highway in the middle of the town). This made me think about the relationships between people in Iceland. There is obviously love there..as the population still exists. However, i didn't see people laughing on the street nor holding hands. My friend is a joyful person although she doesn't speak much; unlike me. I felt overwhelmed by the silence. I felt incapable of staying silent. I met her family and they were very nice to me. We had dinner and we chat. They asked me about Romania. As usual, i tried to say good things about my country and paid great attention to any word I said fearing that any mistake may lead to them thinking bad about my home land.
Funny thing this politics. While talking i realized i was among people to whom history and politics wasn;t really important when trying to understand me. Why is it that we, the ones coming from smaller countries, countries that have struggled with ideology and not with nature, have developed this need of always explaining ourselves. Why are we obsessed with the way we look and the way we are seen. I guess this icelandic silence made me hear more things that i would have dreamed of.

I learned many other things while being in Iceland. I learned that people had a harmonius way of living and respecting laws before Christianity conquered them. This wasn't good for my thoughts as i obsesively defend my religion all the time. Most people in Iceland would rather believe in nature than in God. I guess it is a bit more pragmatic. You do need to take care of nature so that it takes care of you whre as for the other lot....i still need some answers for myself.

One day I went wimming at the public pool. It was just me and 20 old icelanders who were doing their morning workout. they were dancing in a circle and singing their national anthem. Strangely, no one made fun of them and they were actually enjoying themselves. Some nations never forget how to live untill they die. I wish I could say the same about the people in my country.

I went to see a glacier one day and it was breathtaking. I believe that this is Iceland's greatest power, to shock you and to remind you that your most precious gift is to be able to fascinated by what you see . However, from my own experience, I believe it is better when you experience on your own. At this point, i am not able to share. I am only learning how to enjoy..I am a bit frozen after coming back from Iceland.

Politically correct

2008-10-17T18:22:00.003+01:00

Cel mai greu lucru pe care esti nevoit sa il faci in Marea Britanie este sa fii ,, politically correct". Adica atunci cand esti in autobuz, trecand printr-un cartier care nu mai pare de mult parte din Europa iar in aglomeratie, niste copii pakistanezi te calca in repetate randuri pe picioare si pe nervi, trebuie sa privesti sec pe geam si sa te bucuri cu sinceritate de fetele "multiculturalismului". Asa se numeste si o materie pe care o am in primul semestru din anul 2. In fiecare saptamana, profesoara ne explica minunile globalizarii si oportunitatile infinite de explorare a "celuilat".

Mi se pare foarte greu sa nu fiu rasista. Sunt si nu sunt. Pe de o parte este in firea mea sa ma imprietenesc cu oricine si sa accept umanitatea in toate culorile ei iar pe de alta parte sunt o europocentrista convinsa.
Una dintre ideile propovaduite la curs si in Mare Britanie, in general, este ca o data ce anumite comunitati au migrat si s-au dezvoltat intre granitele unui stat vestic, este normal ca acestea sa primeasca aceleasi drepturi ca si populatia majoritara. Ce este insa cetatenia? Mai este loc de suprapunere a cetateniei cu nationalitatea?
In momentul in care treci Canalul si ajungi pe pamantul englez, iti dai seama ca oamenii de aici traiesc in alta paradigma. Este ca si cum s-ar afla in viitorul Europei dar nu neaparat inaintea ei. Aici, lupta este de integrare si de mentinere in lucru a fiecarei rotite dintr-un mare sistem.
Incerc sa imi imaginez reactia bunicii mele in momentul in care s-ar anunta ca minoritatea "rroma" va avea emisiuni proprii pe toate televiziunile...
In mod evident, in Romania se discuta in aceiasi termeni ca in sec al 18-lea - un stat, o natiune-. Dar este oare bine asa? Mai e loc de diferentiere in post-modernitate? Un sistem, atunci cand este creat, depinde de niste parametrii. In Anglia, acestia s-au schimbat foarte repede datorita (sau poate din cauza) evenimentelor istorice si au determinat sistemul sa se autoevalueze si sa caute conditii noi de functionare. Romania traieste in trecutul romantic european, ale carui baluri si poeme visatoare nu se mai potrivesc cu lumea portilor deschise...mai ales spre vest.
Cred ca cel mai mult vom lupta cu mandria. Mandria de a avea un steag, de a simti o lacrima cand auzi un colind de Craciun sau de a vedea mai multe biserici decat maluri in oras. Intrebarea este cum pastrezi simbolurile proprii tie si cum le integrezi pe ale lor astfel incat sa eviti conflictele?
Cand o sa mai cresc, am sa revin asupra acestei intrebari si in functie de unde sunt in acel moment, am sa dau un raspuns pentru cei care citesc aici. Pentru mine il mai patrez inca.

2008-07-07T22:26:00.002+01:00

by standing with my feet in two boats I will most surely fall between them, in the water i came from... and it will embrace me with its darkness, and consume every inch of me 'till my skin is no longer thirsty. And then, when i will feel its coldness of death, i will come to my sensences and realise it's not the natural way of dealing with my needs. I can't escape though; it seems willing to caress me with a wave and I am willing too to float. yet he wants to take me down...to the depths. I can't see there. I think I will go back now.

2008-07-06T16:02:00.002+01:00

Am sa scriu azi cateva randuri numai fiindca mi-am promis sa nu fac si din blogul asta ce fac din multe alte lucruri, o amintire.
Tocmai m-am uitat la un documentar despre Bjork si cred ca asta m-a inspirat putin. E uimitor cat m-a influentat femeia asta. Toata adolescenta am scris in timp ce ascultam bjork si totul a mers bine; cuvintele au venit cand au trebuit sa vina si s-au si amestecat cum trebuie.

Mi-am propus sa ma inspir si eu din avangarda...desi eu stiu ca nu pot face muzica sau chiar arta asa cum intelege omul de rand ( sau de coloana mai bine zis). Am sa adun franturi din alte franturi de care imi aduc aminte si am sa fac eu ceva care sa conteze.

2008-01-06T22:45:00.000Z

I swear i did promise myself that i would always know how to look back because i believe a crater is less doomed than a blackhole. Yet i seem to hate every single inhabitant of this home-crater; i despise their small souls and their deshumanised walk. They used to be equally poor but now they have become different types of crows. Even skin has changed; birds do need thick scalds to survive as they don't necesarlly live.
So now i am wondering wether it would be better to still watch over them or to let them be swallowed by a red sea of misunderstood equalities.

2008-01-06T22:35:00.000Z

The only one who is truly ironic in this world is God. He has sent me flashes since i can remember myself being capable to receive so i grew up with the idea that i must love the strong yellow light and the deep blue seas; but it's clear to me now that while always looking down darkness has arrived. For women, darkness is a man who promisses magic and a trip to the stars he owns. Unfortunatelly, he cannot prove they are alive and you torture yourself 'till you burn just by wondering if you will ever get to know the truth.
I think the night is burning you worse than an angry sun. Isn't that ironic?

2007-12-10T00:42:00.000Z

When i came to England i brought a book of russian fairytales with me. I knew that, at some point i would need to go back in time and remember the age when i didn't need high heels to be happy. I have proved myself right this saturday when i took the book from the shelf and read 3 stories. I felt so happy to see that poeple do live happily ever after.
What i love most about my fairytale books are the simple drawings they contain. They look like caricatures but they tell a story of their own completing the meaning of the written words. I think i understand now why little children prefer drawings and cartoons to reading. Words tend to dictate their meaning and they keep you still. A drawing, however, tells the story you want it to tell. A few thin lines can say what a sentence can never make you dream.
But where have all the old drawings dissappeared? When i was little, the colours on the page would mix and become fluid and uncatchable. I would sink my eyes for a while and receive the long awaited nightmare for doing so. Now i have a high-tech printer. I was excitingly told that it can give me the perfect stills. It can, i almost think they are real. The pictures of these times don't move and they seem to cover a lot. They stop people from thinking and seeing.
We have created things that can give us everything; or they can give perfection. For the sake of my friends, i wish i were a caricature with one eye bigger than the other.

2007-11-25T17:28:00.000Z

i wonder what it would be like to accept the darkness in my life again. I think i had enough of my white skin. I guess i miss the chekyness of a strong pigment . I know it will stain me again as i am no exception to "it" and and i will need my left eye to wash it; but as usual, my heartbeat is faster than my thought. i will comfort myself with codes from now on and every sunday and monday i will imagine a feedback of pleasant untruths.

2007-11-22T16:33:00.001Z

Dazz told me i came to England too late. I think we were in front of McDonalds...

2007-11-14T23:33:00.000Z

i was not born with all the body parts i needed; nor were the ones i already had perfect. this is why i started collecting possible perfect parts for me. i bought them from wherever i could. the last thing i bought was my mouth. it caught my eye because it was wrapped very nicely. it was very cheap though...i am sorry for that.

2007-11-14T00:41:00.000Z

My flat mates convinced me to go to the 90's party tonight. once i got there and heared the music i remembered some thoughts i used to have in highschool. i had this habit of hiding under my desk and write pages and pages of this future adventure of mine in the finnish wildness. i would of course have a blond partner during this expedition. while exploring this landscapes in my mind i could hear the type of music they played at the disco tonight. yet it wasn't me...i have dreamed for so long to have the chance to live in a place like in the videos i would see on tv but i just don't fit in....maybe my hair is too dark and it gets into my eyes; it stops me from admiting that all the feelings i have catharticly lived were all in my head.
People here seem to enjoy themselves. what i see now is somehow like that scene in movies when the main character is sensing that something is going to happen but everything goes in slow motion and the music is hiding in the background as if were afraid of what will follow.
i can only imagine that i am feeling a change more painfully than others. i see people and words changing shoes and meanings and kids learning to paint with numbers. i never got maths in highschool. i only like old clothes. they suit me better than digits.
I left the party after an hour; the strangest and yet the most typical thing for me happened. the cold winterish wind blew in my face. as i am someone who lives mostly in the past i took it as a sign. i remembered some other teenage dreams of mine. me wanting to be a scientist somewhere beyond the arctic circle. ..winter has a special music in my ears. only i can hear it (and probably someone who lives by a "generous palmstroke") it has a harsh and cold sound. it usually freezes people...only my smile freezes for me, so i can cry on the inside when memories of future snowstorms and dark conversations run though my mind.

2007-10-28T20:16:00.000Z

i used to have a secret smile that i would use for my secret virtually created friend. dark and bright at the same time...there was no middle color for him; that's why i loved our secret meetings in my little and suffocating eastern world. he could say "no" to me when everybody said "yes"...well, i guess i do enjoy a little pain every now and then.
i have lost him recently. i now live in his world, fast and polished and i wonder if i will ever belong here. i wished i lived in the real world again, where i can touch warm pale skin and read real books.
i suppose i am too strong to be happy. i only wished i told my heart sooner that the darkness one may truly love has to exist only in the virtual world.

i will start doing my homework now. if i want to be a princess and rule the world i need to be bright.
i will miss my darkness

2007-10-24T17:32:00.000+01:00

today i am reading about feminism...its a great movement...a male collegue at university slammed the door in my face while getting out of the building the other day...he doesn't have to offend my intelligence anymore by holding the door for me...i feel equal...he is feeling even (?)

profi pics

2007-10-23T20:28:00.001+01:00

my first professional picture...i am sure everyone will focus on my big heart here

Alina in London

2007-10-23T20:20:00.000+01:00

this is a bum sleeping in the park :)
it looks like the university campus ;)

2007-10-02T21:54:00.000+01:00

mi-am promis ca prima mea postare nu va fi o sfortare de profunzimi ca sa nu cad in pacatul tanarului intelectual roman, deprimat si cinic.
in mod surprinzator am ales numele de cat_eyes fiindca mi se spune prea des ca seman cu o pisica. pe langa asta, torc daca cineva imi ofera ciocolata.
am idei bune la fel de des pe cat am si idei stupide; nu stiu niciodata unde se pune virgula. din lipsa de activitate, voi posta cele mai chinuitoare simtzaminte iar cineva, din acelas motiv le va citi. iar daca gasiti texte in engleza, sa stiti ca sunt si pentru colegii mei englezi, nu din snobism.
bine m-ati gasit