WtfHAT is this blog about?

Today – a simple Friday evening. Since I’m all alone, I was trying to figure out what to do to make time pass. Yeah, while others don’t know what to do to make time stop -for a while. Oh well, while „Shameless” season 4 is downloading and since my eyes are too tired for some „Nana” reading, I thought I could browse the internet a bit… ok, a bit more… more like for 2 hours now. – the internet is young and full of cat pictures- what can I say.

Browsing and browsing… I remembered I had a blog years ago (three)so I googled „calatorieprintrecuvinte” and the first link that came out was this: Pe Urmele Eternitatii 

I was quite impressed, actually. I had forgotten how sweet and sombre I used to be. I liked to play with powerful words; I used to put my thoughts undercover – to acts as mere lyrics in poems. My Romanian was good, my Romanian vocabulary was quite rich and my English sucked big time. I was reading some of the posts in English and I remember perfectly what I wanted to convey – but it is only now that I see how much I failed because of poor English. Basically, it’s not enough to have good thoughts to write something; you need to have dem language skillz, man.

Embarrassed as I was of my English posts, I continued reading and I’m going to leave those posts here because they’re part of me; just clumsily expressed. It’s funny how much I changed and how much things changed. If in one post I was categorizing friends on various groups ‘cuz I had so many, now I can only count 2… The more you grow up the lonelier you get, I guess.

Conclusion: this is a blog about some good Romanian writings (poems, short essays – call ‘em whatevs) and some very bad English writings.

If I’ll have inspiration to write something worth reading, I will. If not, see you in 3 years or so when I’ll have a good laugh at myself (again) while reading this.

All the best to all the dear bloggers/writers/peoplewhowatchshameless/peoplelikeme/and people who read this!

Have a nice and relaxing weekend!

^That’s a red couch (du-uh). I don’t have a potato.

:)

When I’m down, I smile. When I’m happy, I smile.  Some might say I’m a hypocrite. Well, I’m not. Crying is of no use for me. Neither is showing my sadness to others. Maybe I just like to convince myself everyday that no matter what reasons I think I have to be upset, angry or depressive some of my friends are going through some real and deeper problems and they’re trying to hide their pain because they don’t want to ruin my day.

Wouldn ‘t it be hypocrisy to complain about my shallow stuff? It certainly would. So… that’s why I keep calm and….smile.;)

On Friendship

           Friendship is one of the most fascinating things that a person can experience during his/her lifetime. I’ve learnt that there are various kinds of friends when we talk about the interdependence relation: Friends you need because they fill you with positive energy, they support you, they cheer you up, they make you dream and then bring the dreams into the real realm, they share their knowledge with you, they know when you fake a smile, they know what’s important to you, they are always there for you and they know that maybe they are the most important people in your life.

Then there are friends who need you, who depend on you, who can’t carry on if you’re not there, who can’t wait for telling you how their day was and whose mood depends on your mood.

There are friends with whom you can either do only stupid things or with who you can only have intellectual conversations and experiences.

There are passenger friends who mean something to you only in certain moments. And last but not least, there are friends whom you don’t necessarily need and neither do they need you but circumstances bring you together and this routine is somehow satisfying.

Sometimes you get to choose your friends, sometimes they choose you and sometimes it simply happens.

I think I’m blessed with friends from each of the categories above, but the greatest blessing is that I have a few who cover all the features from all the categories. Thank you all for making my life interesting and my existence meaningful!

Who am I?

There are moments when you feel like you could climb to the grey clounds because they take you to the absolute. And then, there are moments when you’d rather let yourself fall from the hell of your thoughts for there’s nothing better than forgetting  the way back to the red room. At least, life provides you with both ups and downs and our duty is just to act as if we’re never prepared for the gods’ plans. We may at times pretend to know who we are, where we come from and what we’re supposed to do, but in fact, we’re nothing but ghosts wondering through a labirinth and hoping that we’ll find answers. What kind of answers? We don’t even ask questions but we need satisfying answers.

The scent of purple dust hunts us and we meld with everything we touch. We become objects, flowers, feelings, butterflies or sand. Maybe that’s why we never have a clue about our identity but we don’t admit it. We’d rather prefer to lie than to  accept a rough reality. What is reality? My world is my reality. Wrong! Too subjective. We cannot perceive the reality. We’re not real. We’re mere images produced by a prodigeous mind. My destiny is someone’s dream, my dream is someone’s nightmare. Being aware of this makes you less selfish, less dreamy, less idealistic but more human. At least, that’s what I like to think about humans. I don’t know them but I’ve read a lot about them. I’d like to be a human being.I guess it’s pretty interesting being able to play so many roles during „lifetime”.”Lifetime” is like you only have a particular period of time to do certain things and they call their life „ephemeral”. I don’t really understand this concept since I live forever…The notion of time is just a metaphor.

But who am I? I’ll never now. I might be a heartbeat, I might be a river, I might be a spirit or… I might be a letter .

*+*

In parul tau am pus aroma verii.  In causul palmelor mele marea se zbatea. Nisipul ne fugea de sub picioare caci alergam spre rasarit ca doi rebeli pe alt taram.

La mine-n tara-i rece si pasarile nu mai zboara. Nici timpul nu mai zboara. Nici lumina nu mai e clara caci soarele-i zgarcit cu cei ce nu-l adora.

Am vrut sa ma mut pentru totdeauna in cer dar cei de la intrare m-au respins politicos pe motiv ca trebuie sa-mi curat bine hainele. Am mers acasa, le-am spalat de 7 ori. Mi-am  spalat si eu trupul slinos dar am constatat ca frica de necunoscut  ma face sa ma complac in mizeria asta. Fiecare fir de praf imi duce pe umeri amintirile, nevoile si visele. Ma mai uit din cand in cand la tabloul care sta stramb pe perete si  zambesc melancolic. Vara viitoare va fi altfel!

E dimineata

e racoare in camera asta ca dupa o zi de furtuna

dar mai mult, e intuneric ca in sufletele ratacite.

nimeni nu mai are chef de nicio gluma

caci vorbele-s prea dure si pripite.

daca as putea

as lua soarele-n mana mea

sa ard, sa luminez, sa-mi consum existenta artificial

sa fie sunet pe fundal, sa ies din acest banal

sa mor, sa renasc, sa respir energie

sa fac din lumea amortita o lume vie.

Sub pleoape e inca ceata

Dar porumbeii imi canta vesel si tragic.”E DIMINEATA!”

Pe urmele eternitatii

Ai disparut in negura cosmarurilor

Lasand parfum de lavanda pe carare.

Mi-ai promis de la gura cerurilor

C-o sa trimiti ingeri dupa mine.

In zadar… Te astept de veacuri

Cu capul sprijinit in mainile aspre.

Numai luna imi mai zambeste din cand in cand

Facandu-ma fantoma fanteziilor feerice.

O sa-mi iau adio de la vantul aspru de iarna

Si o sa calc si eu tiptil pe trupuri moarte

Imbracata in rochie rosie sa-mi ascunda rusinea.

Sunetul muzicii din interior va inceta

Cand tu, vesnicie putreda, ma vei saruta pe crestet.

Asteptare

Mai tii minte momentul acela in care te credeai deasupra norilor dar  de fapt te aflai intr un cavou care te facea sa te simti special?

Mai tii minte cand mi-ai soptit cuvinte nerostibile ca eu sa-ti cad la picioare?

Mai tii minte cand ma sarutai pe gat  doar ca sa-ti simt parfumul pletelor dure?

Eu imi voi aminti in veci cum ma priveai, cum le priveai ca si cum ar fi fost totul un vis prafuit de prea multe amintiri.

As vrea sa fim Noi din nou,  alergand in castelele vechi ale extazului mascat de chipurile banale ale soldateilor sobri.

Probabil te voi adora si in momentul in care voi muri inecata in raul slabiciunilor metafizice cu aroma de  cafea.

Dar timpul se strecoara printre degetele secundelor si lumea se pregateste pentru somnul  surd.

Insa eu te astept la scara nedreptatii.

Imi doresc sa ma cauti printre cearceafurile albastre si sa  ma gasesti dupa pata inocentei pierduta pentru cateva momente.

Sa stii ca mi-am rascumparat-o in timp ce-ti conservam amintirea coplesitoare.

Te ador pana la capatul universului si dincolo de lumea imperceptibila.

Somn usor izvorul meu de simtiri.>:D<

Fruct

Uneori ma trezesc ca visez o cireasa.

Alteori adorm cu gandul ca voi fi o cireasa.

Nimic din ce am nu e fruct

Numai tu poti avea ceva din el.

 

 

Ai un sambure de suflet inveninat

Si restul, restul e puritate.

Ai carnea frageda si pielea nedemna de atingerea mea.

 

Am aruncat ura si patos inauntru

Iar tu ai venit sa-mi spui

Ca minusul domina plusul.

Cine ar fi crezut ca nu exista viata

in intunericul unui fruct?

Justificare

Celor mai profunde sentimente nu li se permite rostirea caci ele, oricat de poetice ar fi, pot altera farmecul sensurilor.De aceea animalele sunt mai presus decat oamenii.Animalele isi iubesc parintii intr-o maniera uluitoare, fara a comprima iubirea in fraze de prisos.

Mari personalitati literare spun ca „nu exista cuvinte poetice sau universuri nepoetice”*.Adevarat, zic eu, insa nu oricine poate ordona cuvintele cu o asa iscusinta incat sa cutremure fiinta careia ii sunt adresate.Numai prin cantec se   poate reda  ceea ce vrem cu adevarat sa spunem.Dar din pacate am devenit mult prea insensibili ca sa putem recepta sunete divine.

Agitatia, superficialitatea si gloria ne transforma in roboti incapabili a mai concepe dragostea cu care am fost creati.Oricum, menirea oamenilor pe pamant nu a fost sa inteleaga, ci sa creada.Dar indiferent de stimulul la sensibilitate pe care il primim, noi trebuie sa raspundem cat mai primitiv posibil pentru a conserva minunata lume a misterului.Precum muzica, poezia vine dinautrul nostru si nu ne ramane decat s-o ascultam, s-o credem si sa nutrim in noi ceea ce se cuvine.

*Vezi Lucian Blaga si Tudor Arghezi