Life in the West

When your Yahoo Messenger list gets flooded with pictures of your contacts' offsprings, you should wonder. When the same happens on Facebook, you should worry. When, throughout what you think are only a couple of months, you feel that 'those kids have grown under your very eyes' and you wonder how they got so big in such a short period of time, you're getting left behind.
When you make the annual call to your ex-best friend for her birthday and find she is six months pregnant and thrilled that she's just seen her boy's fetal dick for the first time, through a radiography, then you're reaaaaaaaaly lost...

In other news, Westlife are back. The blue eyed boys, and I don't mean the Romanian Secret Service, are back. Boy bands are back in fashion. When I heard Take That are making a come back, I didn't think they'd last. I didn't think they'd be anything but lame, especially in 2009. It worked out fine for them and I am finding myself enjoying their album more than the new Robbie Williams, who's actually not all that new.
Take That and Westlife are back and they sound quite similar. Both bands adopted a rock-ish kind of sound. Soft rock, nothing fancy, no use pretending nor trying to imitate other rock bands, but the electric guitar is there. And although they used to dance a lot to the same choreography, they moved away from that as well, and adopted the not-shaved look that always catches the attention on a perfect face.
Yeah, I used to say Westlife is a band of perfect guys brought together by someone who was smart enough to take advantage of the incredibly blue eyes some of them had. In their older videos their eyes literally glow and hypnotize the audience. The music wasn't bad either for those times.
In the meantime, they've all become husbands, fathers, businessmen... and they've come back to artists. Wonder if they have the same artistry in them, though. Wonder if their new status changes their perspective and creativity.
I have only seen their new video once, but it has rather pale colors then the ones I remembered. Actually, it was filmed in an Arctic kind of setting (which immediately reminded me of 30 Seconds to Mars) and I also noticed there were only four of them left. Gotta look into it.
And I remember the song didn't sound bad at all the first time I heard it. I'll give it another listen, but I am curious to see what's next. Or rather, which ex-band is next for a come back.

And yes, Robbie Williams is running out of ideas. Same sounds, same lyrics, same videos. Actually, they vary but very very little.

I wish Matchbox Twenty made a comeback ...

Grieving

I never got to express my grief or to even acknowledge it. I am not even sure I ever will be able to let it out. Having lost Michael felt like losing a part of my brain. A very creative, comforting, chilled out part of my brain. The part that was responsible for my childhood dreams, the part that let me believe I had wings to fly wherever I wanted.
I hate growing up. The whole process that will never end and which I refuse to undertake profusely. Unlike Michael, I had a wonderful childhood. But just like him, I refuse to let it go, I refuse to believe it's over and I am making up my whole childhood universe all over again.
Which is why Michael will never die. Not for me. I refuse to admit it, I refuse to think of him as a mere human who can be killed by a mundane heart attack. A Romanian writer said: we are all immortal. We just have to die once before we become immortal. Michael has just become immortal to me. And with that, he's become more a part of me than he ever was when he was humanly alive. He's given me my wings back.

More on Society ...

As if this is supposed to take anyone by surprise.
Someone I know fainted in a tram. He woke to find himself in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. Good thing he wasn't alone, good thing people reacted... He almost felt grateful, when he realized his mobile phone and his tram registration card were missing .
Now, should he have felt grateful all the same? That they didn't leave him come to his senses on his own? Or would he have preferred that to being robbed.
Human stupidity and opportunism is limitless. I can't begin to understand what those people were thinking when they robbed the guy. I hope they can't sleep at night. Cause redemption is too small a step for this type of deeds.
Which reminds me of a joke: some guy phones a radio station and says "I'd like to announce that John Smith left his wallet on the train to X. It had $5,000. I'd like to take this opportunity to dedicate this next song to Mr. Smith."

Mind-boggling.

You too should surrender... to the line on the horizon

The title makes no sense now, but wait till you hear this song.
U2 are back with a mesmerizingly fresh and mature album.
I don't even think I could start a review... it would only diminish the magnitude of it.
They showed me lyrics are back to what they're supposed to be.

The music speaks for itself.

Dear Clementine

Society is becoming so predictable. It might be just me finally growing up/old, or it's just that people have run out of ideas.
Last week I was strolling about a supermarket. Well, not actually strolling, but was moving from one huge fruit tank to another, picking my apples, and my bananas, and my oranges. An older couple came behind me, analyzing the quality, texture and firmness of the clementines. The husband muttered unsatisfactorily that he'd never seen such moist, small clementines in Kaufland before. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and, as the wife took the basket further to the next tank of possibly even worse citrus fruits, he grabbed one clementine, stuck it in his pocket, and then looked around to see if anyone had noticed him. He didn't see me, he was much taller than I am and looked somehow above my head, as if I had been invisible or didn't count in the first place.
I didn't think about it a lot at the time, but I brought it up with a friend later on and they challenged me to think about it more. I don't know why, but I completely ruled out the possibility of the man being kleptomaniac. Probably because I have never met one and I can't relate to that. But I kept thinking about the gesture, the image of him 'subtilizing' (like we'd say in good ol' Romanian) that damn clementine. How would a small, moist fruit like that (with this much, I agreed with him) be of so much importance to him as to risk his freedom by stealing it? It would have cost him a lot more to pay for this gesture, than if he had actually bought the thing.
And then it dawned on me. As I went on through the supermarket, I started noticing all sorts of things I hadn't even paid attention to before: chocolate wrappings, peels of apples and opened bottles of soft drinks on the shelves. This was a trend I had never even noticed until that moment, when that man almost drew my attention to it.
Supermarkets used to be a fun place for me to go... back when they were new and the concept was a sign of high trust and civilization. I'd imagined a supermarket in third world countries were people die of hunger and thirst. And I imagined all those people bursting inside a supermarket, filling it up, not caring about cashiers and cash machines, and simply gobbling everything they touched. THAT was to me the difference between civilization and primitiveness. The fact that we DIDN'T starve, and even if we were hungry, we wouldn't touch anything we had carefully selected and placed in our baskets, until it was ALL PAID FOR.
That is civil consciousness. That is what the concept is based on.
But by becoming such a highly civilized society, we've actually merely and lamely returned to the cave era.

When people are free to do as they please, they usually immitate each other.

I got a very funny email today containing this saying and many more of the same type. Funny, at first glance, true at the second... and sad if you think about it more.

... Are we really that different from apes?

Writer's Block?

I have stopped believing in happiness. Recently...
It's too short, too frail, too vulnerable... too boring a feeling to have. It doesn't last, for this reason mainly: stability is boring. Some songs say you only feel alive when you bleed. How do you know who you are if you can't see what you are made of? And again I say... sometimes "I bleed just to know I'm alive".
I started to worship the Kodak moments... Because they last for an infinitesimal amount of time, but they show happy people...

After all, images are nothing but an imitation of life. I have looked through some pictures of myself and people I love. We had taken those photos in moments of "intense living", like I call it. Meaning, moments when there was so much going on in our hearts. I was almost disgusted to see they didn't show that.

"...this avalanche I am not afraid..."

I have stories to tell again. A particular story, in fact. But, unlike the times before, I can't even begin to tell it. Maybe it's because I am not fully detached from it. I feel I have lived so much during the past three weeks of my life, that the experience tired me and turned me into a little old woman.

I have been taught that stories raise the interest and keep the audience on their toes. But, this time, I am not interested in the effect it has on people. Sadly, I don't feel the need to ... "let it out" either. Yet, if I don't tell it, it's like it's going to be lost forever.
Only I will know it, intrinsically. Should this bother me?

It's all about storytelling...

I have learned something important today. People HAVE to tell stories. People love to tell stories. People TELL stories. Period. Everything about them is a story. And they don't have to utter a word to do that.
I have looked at photos of a bunch of people I don't know anything about. I can guess their nationality, but other than that... I knew nothing about them.
Yet, a photo told me so much. My imagination did the rest. From imagining their lives and how they got to be in that photo, to trying to guess their profession and age, social status, etc.

I also learned I am fascinated by names. I used to hate learning about plants and what they were called... because the way I perceived them rarely corresponded to the name people had found for them. To this day, I can't tell plants.
But with people... it's a whole different thing. I tried to guess their names. I have no idea how well I did ... I probably never will.

Bottom line is I am sure I would be able to write infinitely starting from one portrait... Isn't that a wonderful thing to find out?

Musical Soap Opera

I had a very musical weekend. I had wished it would be more like a literature weekend: lots of reading if not even more writing than the usual. Instead, I ended up listening to all sorts of songs I hadn't heard in years. On Saturday was Madonna's birthday. I think it all stems from my dad with me: he's a math teacher and all that was passed on to me was a good memory with numbers and dates.

So, with it being Madonna's birthday, it was natural that VH1 aired … Michael Jackson all weekend…

I was ans still think I am the biggest MJ fan ever. I would still be if he were still around… in both ways (as an artist and as a person. And no, I am not sorry he didn't die young like Elvis. At least I know the world got the best of him. At least he gave as much of his genius as he could. And listening to the songs I used to hum when I was 8 was a thrilling experience (if you'll allow my choice of words!).

I used to take pride in my collection of whatever you can think of related to him.

But if there is something I will always be grateful for, it is that I developed a passion for the English language, old black music and literature thanks to his music. It's such a complex experience, such a complex education process that I induced upon myself that it is almost impossible to describe it. I remember how difficult it was for me to find music and the books I wanted. I remember how I saved all the money my parents gave me to buy food at school and I would buy tapes and magazines sometimes only for one photo or an article with his name in it. Then again, who didn't do that when they were fans?

I remember I would strive to understand his lyrics and I would focus so hard that I would end up crying out of spite and anger that I didn't understand anything. That's how it started at least. Little by little, I deciphered the language and everything was less of a mystery.

What I find conveniently wonderful is that it would take someone at least 5 or 6 days to listen to all of his songs once. I get bored easily, so I chose the right artist to be a fan of ;-) Although there is only one song that sticks with me after this weekend: who's loving you? So, who IS loving you, Mr. Jackson?

 

On another note… I watched this very interesting documentary of the best 50 tracks of the 90's. Why I found it so fascinating? Because it not only mentioned 50 of the best songs of my teenage life, but it also showed the artists now and told the story of their lives AFTER the successes they had. So, I feel ashamed to admit I had no idea Mr. Foo Fighter himself was part of Nirvana back when I was 12 and listened to their unplugged album. I had no idea Vanilla Ice 'grew up' to be a notable rock star … Salt and Pepa have their own reality show… and a comeback; Mc Hammer became a reverend… East 17 went bankrupt; Hanson became family guys…

And you think life is dull… I wonder who the script writers are and how many thousands of episodes they can come up with …

As long as the soundtrack plays, I know I'll be enjoying every second of it. And I will know the ticket is worth it.

Telling Stories

Much as I hate clichés, there is one I learned a lot about lately: it's a wonderful world. It's a terribly different, varied, colorful world. Travelling around Europe was the amplest thing I have ever done, and I didn't even realize it until I was back. I remember my previous trips to different countries of Europe when I was younger. And I remember how I felt when I came back: every time there was this newly-found enthusiasm within myself, I perceived the world around me differently; through the perspective of a cosmopolite individual. I would tell the stories of the places I had visited as if they had been heroic legends in ancient books and my friends would listen as if the places I had visited didn't even exist on this planet. The people I had met in my journeys were these queer creatures who brimmed over with happiness and kindness. Not like the people you know here, I would say. People would smile at me in the street.

The experience I had now, as an (almost) adult, wasn't very different. A guy stopped me in the middle of the street in Paris and told me how 'jolie' I was. Not very different from what I get in my own country, but the feeling was different. I wasn't afraid to look him in the eye and say 'merci'. To spend one week and two days away from one's microuniverse can be awfully disconcerting. But I adapted incredibly fast. It was like I had always lived wherever we decided to spend the night. I found the German language not as impossible as I had thought. I even understood everything a waiter told me; especially after the weissbier I had that night. I discovered that sometimes speaking French is like swimming: you never forget how to do it, but if you don't practice it, you get tired easily. To my surprise, I found myself speaking Italian more fluently than French. Although I wouldn't categorize Italy as the perfect destination for a young, well brought up Romanian, unfortunately. In a time when racism is barely an issue in most countries of Europe, Italians bring it to life again.

"Prejudice – wrote a song about it – wanna hear it?" this was 1992.

I felt as if I were stepping on broken glass with every inch we traveled in Italy. I have never been so scared and appalled by a place and the people around me in my life. And the 500 km that separated us from Romania seemed a longer distance than all the 4500 km we had driven until then. Tracy could sing about a revolution there… she is right about one thing, though:

There is fiction in the space between
You and everybody

It's all a matter of perception and labels. And people are fear driven, no matter what their IQ is. I am sure the Italians were more scared of me than I was of them.

And I remember someone asked me once if I was a gypsy…

And then, I got back to my home country. Now, I could try and explain this syndrome for (p)ages, but I am not sure I'll get around to doing it right. When one gets back to Romania, from any western country, there is a period of a couple of days, depending on how much one spends abroad, when there is a feeling of… hypnosis, hallucination… when you think the people in Romania could be different, they could be nice, and smile at you in the street and unpromptedly offer to help; you think you could change minds and preconceptions, and the direction of a whole generation. And you think: if they can, why can't we? Why can't I?

And then I woke up to the reality of my microcosm.

 

To be continued…

Stars are blind

And it's the stars that lie to you. It's the stars that shine the same on the planet. You think you share the same sky with the rest of billions of people on the planet. And you don't feel all that lonely all of a sudden.

But you could share more than the stars with someone and still feel galaxies away. Is it promiscuity to feel the need to be appreciated? Is it his lack of attention that directs her away?
I have learned something quite interesting these days. After I got married, some people asked me why I got married. I love my husband more than ever. I didn't think marriage would change anything. And it hasn't, generally speaking. Except my name ...
So, why marry in the first place? Inertia? Boredom? Assurance? Acknowledgment?
What I have learned is this: "We need a witness to our lives. There's a billion people on the planet... What does one's life really mean, how much does it matter? In a marriage, you're promising to care about everything. The good things, the bad things, the terrible things, the mundane things... all of it, all of the time, every day. You're saying 'Your life will not go unnoticed because I will notice it. Your life will not go un-witnessed because I will be your witness'."
How much does that apply to me? And to the other married couples I know? Are we that scared of loneliness? Am I that scared?

And here is a song I recently discovered. No matter how many times I listen to it, I find it hard to grasp the meaning of the lyrics. It's what happens when alternative rock bands write crappy lyrics. The image is strong and the music is great, though.
Stone Sour - Through the Glass.

p.s. Awkwardly enough, I found this song in my parents' computer and no one knew how it got there. For my parents don't listen to alternative rock, obviously, and no one else has access to the PC. Except my cat... ?

p.s.2: I heard that line in a movie, it's true. Unfortunately the movie was so bad that it doesn't even deserve mentioning. I ranked it 4 on IMDB.

And I am looking at my fingers and I think about all the times they had a life of their own and went on typing the words my mind wouldn't have wanted to type. And I think they could be the fingers of a piano player or a painter.
I am looking at them in the dark and can only perceive their shape, but not their texture. I only see two dimensions. Two colors. Dark gray and black. And they are reaching next to me, as I lie in my bed. And my hands stretch and stretch until they touch the warm skin lying next to my body. And they stop, then lovingly start to touch and feel this alien body.

They go up and down and gently touch the skin's surface. And stir reactions in the person next to me, although he is asleep. And they infiltrate in his dreams and take over his mind.

And I remember the first time they touched this body. I remember how my whole body quivered from just the tip of these long fingers to the heart. These fingers that have betrayed me so many times, that spited me and cheated on me.

The hands whom people have admired and dedicated poems to; with tentacles that entrap hearts and hide the darkest secrets.

And I find myself hypnotized by their power. I become a victim of their touch.

I am turning Japanese...

Who wouldn't?
Just watched Kung Fu Panda the second time... It will never beat Nemo off the first place in my heart, the myths don't bare comparison, but it's a delicious movie to watch. And so deep.
Taught me to return to childhood in order to learn the basic things I sometimes tend to ignore or forget.
Totally worth it - Ska-doosh!

If things were perfect...

By Moby...
Funny, the first thing that came to my mind when hearing this song was Massive Attack. And it made me miss them and the particular state of mind they automatically switch on in me. Profoundity and the crossing of a barrier that I would never be able to cross without music. This music. Feeling you are ready for everything and you can take everything. The feeling that nothing is worth it anymore. Regrets? The past? The future? Just the now. And that it's ok to hurt. More than that, it's even pleasurable. It's what makes you keep walking. And if you have been hurt, then just don't give them the satisfaction to go all the way with that. Show wisdom. And wisdom is not something you acquire. You either have it or you don't.

Mistakes are the chances that life gives you to learn. If you can't learn from mistakes, you are not worthy of the life you have. And things will even out.

I dared to doubt earlier this year. To doubt the order and to think that we all live in some sort of harmonious anarchy. I have been offered the chance to change my mind. I have been shown I was wrong. And I was open to receive the blow. And it hit me at full power. And I am not scared anymore...



I have heard the Google people made a survey on how information is passed on most rapidly. The end result was ludicrously basic: people standing next to each other. That's how I heard about 'musicovery'. You should Google that. It's by far my favorite website ever.
It reads your mind and provides you with the soothing you need when you need it. Through music. How lovely is that?

Trust

There's nothing like letting go. There is nothing like completely trusting someone. With your life. With your darkest secrets. With your most hidden self.
When you trust their vision, their objectivity and their being there, when you expect them to lift you and they do. Nothing like it.
And there's nothing like feeling they know you better than you know yourself. That could make up for the purpose of life itself. To find someone who would be that for you.
It's hard, but it's worth it.
Even if all good things come to an end...

Wiser

There are times when I wonder whether I have lived my life blind-folded or I am simply that ignorant.
I have never cared about the material things in life. Especially in a relationship. The spiritual gain is tremendously more important than any object be it gold or simply money or assets. I have learned that yet again. Some people are born to make a change in your life. Some are born for you to meet them and learn something from them - even if only just how NOT to become. Some of them are too shallow to even notice it. Others see it more clearly than I do.
I don't care if they never know. Maybe I was born to change someone's life. And I might not even know it.
People are complicated. It is true you never know what you have until it's gone. Yet sometimes you never know how trapped you were until you let go. Some relationships are decayed from the start. The kind that make you feel insignificant and enslaved, small and stupid. I wish I didn't have the chance to be there, then again I am glad I was, because I know what to avoid.

Others, however, turn your life around and sweep you off your feet. You're more yourself than in any other circumstances. And they leave you like that, they don't want you to change. They find what is beautiful in you and worship it.
When either of these are over, you are left with the beauty of it. The sheer beauty at the core of life. Even if it hurts, you know you have turned another page. And taken a new step.

And you are left with the memories. The memory remains...

My moment...

Musical people hum a lot. I noticed this on myself. I like to hum, especially when I am tense and there is silence wherever I am.

Most of the time I hum something I recently heard, or some song that obsesses me. At other times there is no particular song in my head. That's when creative people just invent a sequence of notes that they hum and sound nice. Not me. That's when stupid brainwashing songs pop up: Silent Night and the USA national anthem usually :))

I was at the office this week when one of my colleagues started to hum the USA national anthem. I started laughing hysterically because I thought only I did that. I explained it to her and we both laughed at it. Later on, another colleague of ours joined us. There was silence in the room again... and we heard someone humming the USA national anthem. I thought my first colleague was still joking about it. She thought I was joking about it. It turns out the latter colleague had the same stupid habit... about the same stupid music theme.

I educated myself out of humming Silent Night and national anthems altogether.
Now it usually is: Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad and Nobody Knows The Trouble I've Seen...
Or some song I heard recently... or some song that obsesses me...

What Else is New?

I was not one of those kids who grew up being afraid of people or whose parents taught them strangers are inherently bad. It turned against me numerous times, I trusted people I shouldn't have and I was easily fooled a couple of times. But I am grateful, because overall it brought more good things than bad. I make friends easily, maybe too easily. Sometimes it scares people away; but if they stick around and are not scared it's a good sign for me.
I have always been enthusiastic about meeting new people. I try not to judge or think of anything good or bad from the beginning. Time will always tell. And if I win a friend along the way, it's the greatest gain of all. If not well, I have got nothing to lose and at least I gave it a shot.
Starting a new friendship is always a bit like falling in love. You find them fascinating, you become infatuated and want to spend time together. Because you hit it off well and why the hell not?
You start sharing ideas, you find common features in your lives, maybe too many. They are not coincidences. I don't believe in coincidences. Everything is there for a reason. Like my dear ol' Gemini Alanis Morissette said: you live, you learn.
And everything is going alright, until they do something. Something contradictory, which you either don't relate to or don't approve of. You try and find reasons and excuses and say to yourself: this is just a slip, I can forgive that. You don't judge, especially if it doesn't concern you. But when they start making decisions about your friendship and start taking actions nobody had asked for, you really begin to wonder: is it me? Have I been this blind? Have I been too kind again? Have I jumped in again?
You'd think such experiences should teach you to know better next time. I have been through this many a times before. I never learn, I never let it damage me. I owe this much to this world. And to the rest of people who might need and appreciate my friendship for a change.
People are a huge load, though... There are 6 billion of us. You'd say you would find a group to hang around with that will not be such a big pain in the neck. Yet, out of these 6 billion people, there are no repetitions. We are all unique, just like everyone else.
Someone whom I considered a good friend told me "friends are replaceable". Whether they were serious or not, I don't know. Yet nothing cut through my inner self like that sentence.
Are they really?

Dirty Little Secrets

I had to walk to the University a few days ago. Seeing all the students running to and fro on the usual path made me remember the times when I used to be one. I felt old and odd. It hasn't even been that long. I used to think with disgust of those melancholic people who thought the same way. I am not going to say: now I understand what they felt. I just refuse to ever feel old. And I won't.

Another thing I remembered was a class I had about 2 years ago. A teacher asked us to think of one dirty little secret that we would never have the courage to admit we have... and just say it there and then. I thought: I don't have dirty little secrets, I'm honest and kind :)

I had to think for a while then I thought of something I do when I am walking alone in the street...
I like to look at people and I imagine them buying and trying on the clothes they are wearing. It's not really a 'dirty' secret to have, but I don't think I would have ever acknowledged I had such thoughts if I didn't have to think about that.
A dirty secret to share would be that I like to analyze the couples I see and imagine them in their intimate moments... That I guess is kind of voyeuristic of me.
Love makes the world go round. :)

Britney Spears ...Latest

Britney Spears was driving her car when a bunch of paparazzi were taking photos.
She got so angry that she just ran over one of them... nothing serious, just his foot.
Well, the guy didn't sue apparently, but he sold his sock on E-Bay. He got 256 dollars for it.
It reminds me of when Britney's chewed gum was sold for an equally large amount ...
Just gross...