Azi nu!

Trag cu sete din tigara pe care de maine nu o voi mai fuma si ma gandesc la nimicuri. Intotdeauna nimicuri. De ce a fost ziua asta atat de seaca, de ce am mancat portia aia de cartofi prajiti, de ce am pierdut timpul in fata unui serial care nu ma ajuta. Atatia "de ce" imi invadeaza creierul ca ceata lasata de fumul de tigara nu face decat sa atenueze sentimentul de mister. Mister si neputinta. 

Ieri munceam cu spor si dedicare, pana cand am realizat ca m-a cuprins un dor. Un dor de a-mi lua rucsacul in spate si a ma indrepta spre nicaieri. Sau spre tot. As vrea as inchid ochii si cu o harta in fata sa pun degetul pe locuri la care nici nu am visat. Sa plec. Unde am pus degetul acolo sa ma duc. La norocul meu cred ca tot Romania as prinde. Poate chiar acelasi oras si acelasi loc de munca. 

Citeam mai devreme un articol despre fluturi/molii in stomac. Ai naibii fluturi vin cand nu trebuie, ajung la picioare, dau la ligamente si apoi se duc in creier si fac ravagii. Sa ai fluturi la cap e mai grav decat atunci cand ii ai in stomac. O iei razna. Zbori de la un gand la altul de parca ai calatori cu un supersonic la munca. Cateva secunde te duc de la agonie la extaz. Pacat ca agonia e mai lunga. Si mai grea. Piticii sunt mai agreabili. Aia mai si glumesc.

Mi-e dor de copilarie. Ore multiple de facut nimic. Si in acel nimic faceam atat de multe. Acum nimicul asta urla. Ca intunericul. Sau linistea. Urasc linistea! Sau calmul. Prea mult calm prevesteste o furtuna. Si niciodata nu iesi intreg din furtuni. Iesi ud. De lacrimi, de vise, de asteptari. Intra toate la apa si se micsoreaza.
Ma duc sa imi iau rucsacul. Sa vad daca gasesc copilaria pe undeva!

What now?

Your lips are slowly whispering words near my face, but all I can see are the curves of the sweet machine that takes me through the night. I turn around and let you embrace me. It's such a overwhelming feeling. I never expected to be wormed by someone's arms. You touch my elbow and shivers pass through my entire body.

I close my eyes and for the first time I can picture a house near the sea. A white fence, a small garden filled with colored flowers. They're lucky to have you as the one that takes care of them... I would kill them without wanting too. I see rainbow like windows without curtains. A big wooden living room and a small kitchen messed up because of the terrible cooking habits we both have.  Instead of making dinner we would start food fighting and end up making love on the cold floor surrounded by vegetables. No one would be surprised of my weight lose, because you would be enough for me. 

A set of stairs would take us to the first floor. Three bedrooms, each telling a story. The main bedroom would be ours. Painted in two opposite colors, each representing one of us, meeting at half. A big bed with autumn sheets and my "sweet corner of sun" filled with small objects that bring warm memories. I always told you I need my sweet corner to enlighten my day as soon as I wake up. Even tough I don't like it, a big TV is staring at us each night. We had to adapt to one another. You accepted my cheesy sweet corner... I accepted your TV. It's not that of a big deal. I have my books, you have your shows.

The second bedroom is smaller than ours, but it's very cozy. A guitar (I always wanted to have one) is laying on a big chair and is waiting for someone to touch it. Next to the chair is a light brown coffee table and on it is the Chi tea pot and two cups. My ebook completes my knowledge corner of the room. A big desk holds up all the papers and two laptops. It's our work zone... warmed by a the presence of my library. Filled with books. I read them all, but they look so good.
A light kiss on my hair wakes me from my reverie.  We are again in our small room with a big bed. It's morning and it looks like a bright day outside. The image of a house near the sea fades as I live trough now. The messed up small kitchen vanishes. The guitar won't be played. The truth is we only have today. Now... You're not mine. I'm not yours. And who knows if we'll ever be.
Until then I turn around to stare at your lips. That sweet curves that bring smiles to my face.

Tu... sau nu neaparat tu...

Ai vrea sa fi tu cel care imi lumineaza gandurile si zilele, in general? Au trecut multi ani de cand raza de soare a sperantei a trecut pe'aceste meleaguri. Pustiita de sentimente si lipsita de mangaierile unui nou inceput, imi doresc sa fi tu acela.

Cafeaua rece sta pe scaunul de langa pat. Stiu, imi trebuie o masa, insa nu astazi va fi ziua in care o voi cumpara. Peretii albi si goi nu imi mai inspira nimic, si eu tot astept. Era o vreme cand ma uitam in jur si vedeam povesti nescrise. Sticla goala de parfum ma duce cu gandul la viata. In stanga mea, cartile prafuite asteapta cuminti un semn. Melodia de pe fundal nu le ajuta. 

Ce zici sa apari cu un buchet de flori? Nu imi plac, dar reusesc sa ma incalzeasca. O floare iti aduce un fior si un sentiment de bine. Ba imi plac florile! Nu imi place ideea ca ofilesc. Ofilirea in rutina de a sta in acelasi vas cu apa. Am doua flori in ghiveci. Imi dau toata silinta sa le mentin in viata. E greu uneori, deoarece nu imi spun ce le doare. Nu urla ca vor apa. Nu urla ca vor pamant. Sunt ca mine, nu urlu. Ba urlu! Dar nu neaparat din cele mai intemeiate motive.

Mi-ar trebui un dans in ploaie. Sa simt niste brate calde printre picaturile reci. Nu neaparat ale tale. Putem dansa mai multi. Dar tu sa ma duci acasa! Sa bem o ciocolata calda si sa lasam scaunele ude, doar pentru a ne aseza pe canapea. Nu canapeaua mea, ca e mica. Sau merge si canapeaua mea, deoarece ar trebui sa stam apropiati, ca sa incapem. Sa ne uitam la un film. Un film pentru femei, care sa nu iti placa, dar pe care sa il vezi doar pentru ca vrei sa imi faci pe plac. Mda... sa-mi faci pe plac... 

Ai vrea sa fi tu acela care ma tine de mana cand nu vreau sa fiu tinuta de mana? Ti-am mai zis, am o problema cu asta. Dar sa ma tii de mana pentru ca vrei sa ma obisnuiesc cu atingerea ta. Ma irita ideea. Nu imi displace, doar ma irita.

Ai vrea sa fi tu?  Sau nu neaparat tu...

The story of one's love...

I feel like a puppet who's strings got caught up in a painful circle wire from which I can't get freed.

I saw him today. The same self absorbed individual who rather spends his time alone then being with me. Who would have thought I will wait for him. I still hope that he will change. I think of how we met and how I saw a sparkle in his eyes. I named it love, but as I think of it now, I know it was something else. A flickering light playing somewhere in his heart. It must be lost know. Not for me, the hope of seeing it again keeps me steady. Waiting for my story to happen. 

I lived my life being thought about love. My family's love, unlimited. Feeling the warmth of a hug, the sweetness of a kiss, the joy of a laugh. Instead of settling with a realistic sensation of wholeness, I search for breathtaking moments, butterflies in the stomach and unreachable sentiments. The first kiss, the first touch, the firs smile... I can't turn back the time and write the perfect stories. I have to read the ones I have and hope they won't stop at this point.
Who wouldn't have loved to have a warm summer night, with the moon lighting up the trees, a river crossing the soft ground, his hand touching her cheek, his big blue eyes staring in hers and his lips whispering love words. A perfect night of serenity.
The sound of the piano awakes me from my revery. I am still in the same empty room, surrounded by the books through which I live my story, the things that bring smiles to my sorrowed face. Love. Such a big word and yet such a hard feeling to embrace.
Somehow I think of him again. I need a change, but instead of embracing the unknown I continue to look at the damned strings. This is the last time I will be weak. Tomorrow I will stop looking at the phone, praying for it to ring. I will stop seeing his face in everyone and feeling his scent on my pillow.
My bruised wrists bring me back to reality. I am hopeful and weak...

Talking about weird!

Inspiratie si umor. Desi nu duc lipsa de aceste doua calitati in viata de zi cu zi, pe blog se pare ca am atins acel punct in care as vrea sa spun multe, insa nu imi gasesc cuvintele. Sau poate nu mi se mai par potrivite situatiile cu mesajul pe care as vrea sa il transmit. Rutina isi pune amprenta pe viata mea si amuzamentul cu care tratez intamplarile neprevazute nu imi mai pare original sau demn de luat in seama. Asta pana cand incep sa frecventez iar cluburile. 

Clubul este un izvor nesecat de povesti. Mai bune, mai proaste, invaluite in ceata de fum de tigara si amestecate cu aburul alcoolului consumat. Din ce in ce mai multa lume frecventeaza micutul loc pe care il iubeam in urma cu cativa ani. Acum, intr-o incapere 4x4 se ingramadesc vreo 30 de insi in picioare, inca vreo 20 la mese si 15 impreujurul lor, sleiti de perete, lipiti de bar si/sau asteptand pe scari cuminti, pentru ca cine stie, poate mai apuca sa dea din fund si sa bea o bere. Sau poate una din gagicile care fac "show" sunt dispuse sa mearga acasa, caz in care ar marca in stil mare seara. Intr-una din serile in care faceam parte din persoanele sleite pe langa bar (practic dadeam din maini si picioare intr-o incercare esuata de a elibera spatiul in jurul meu, ca sa ma numar printre "gagicile care fac show"!!) a aparut un el. Nu observasem ca purta o conversatie cu prietenii mei si m-am postat langa bar, fix in fata lui. Chiar daca muzica urla in urechile mele, am simtit momentul de liniste pe care l-am cauzat. Ca sa imi cer scuze am vrut sa ma asez in dreapta lui si am reusit sa ma sui pe picioarele respectivului, care la randu-i voia sa iasa din conul de umbra in care l-am impins fara sa vreau. M-am rasucit pe calcaie si m-am postat in fata lui. M-am uitat in ochii lui si cu un zambet jucaus i-am facut semn ca poate sa isi ia locul ocupat fraudulos. Apoi m-am asezat cuminte in dreapta lui. Mi-am ridicat privirea spre el si vazand ca a inceput sa se miste un pic, am facut un pas minuscul spre dreapta si i-am spus "Observ ca te misti atat de bine, incat meriti mai mult loc". Ca raspuns la actiunea mea a ridicat mainile si a mimat un dans nebun. 

Pe masura ce se evapora berea din sticla, si locul parea ca se goleste. Nu exclud posibilitatea ca datul din maini si din picioare sa isi fi facut efectul. Desi imi este al naibii de dor de R&B-ul din cluburile norvegiene, the eighty's music nu este chiar asa rea. Cum necum, intr-un final mai fericit, am ajuns in bratele tipului si usor dar sigur am inceput sa ne unduim pe sunetele lente ale unei piese vechi. Exceptand faptul ca s-a prezentat de vreo 2 ori, si in loc sa retin ca il cheama"Ion" l-am tot numit "Gheorghe", exceptand ca am dansat mai mult pe picioarele lui, decat pe langa el, am ajuns sa ne sarutam.
Ce sa mai, suna a poveste de dragoste sau cel putin al unui one night stand minunat, insa... nu avem parte intotdeauna de ce ne asteptam. Sa ne intoarcem la relatare ... ca si cum s-ar intampla acum.
Ne sarutam noi cu patos, cu foc, cand deodata "Ion" ma opreste si imi spune resemnat "E prea mult pentru mine". Ma impinge usor si de indreapta spre celalalt colt al barului. Sincer, nici daca exploda ceva langa noi, nu cred ca as fi putut sa raman mai socata. Probabil ca un calator in timp, care ar ajunge din anii 40 in 2013 nu ar fi atat de socat de ce se intampla in jurul lui. Ma intorc catre prietenii mei si pentru prima oara in cei 27 de ani ai mei sunt muta de uimire. De-a dreptul fara cuvinte. "Ion" apare iar in peisaj dupa vreo 10 minute, ma ia in brate si ma saruta cald pe frunte. Isi ia geaca si pleaca. Cred ca m-am holbat la usa pe care a iesit vreo juma de ora.
Cine poate sa imi explice ce s-a intamplat? Libidoul meu isi linge ranile si sta ascuns intr-un coltisor asteptand o explicatie valabila!!!

Scared and damaged...

Women are complicated creatures!

Everybody knows that!

Let's face it, we all come with packages from our past, packages that makes us who we are. But we, we tend to become our packages. If somebody screwed us in the past, we start to see a threat in everyone that comes in the future. Since I can't generalize this to every women in the world, let me personalize the thread.

Like most of you, I had my share of drama, but somehow I tend to look for/find/end up surrounded by the same drama. Don't get me wrong, when it comes to life, I live as much as I can, but when it comes to relationships, men-women relationships, I have a thing for dead ends.  As soon as I see a jerk, my inside lids and I literally start drooling like a dog at the thought of something more.

What does this means? Simple. I don't know how to behave when it comes to dating. I am a mess. I stare at the damn phone all day long with the hope that it rings and he's the one that misses me. I know the rule that says that men have to make the first step, but I am not that kind of girl. The waiting part kills me slowly. I stare at the phone all day... until I pick it up, dial the unwanted number and act stupid (probably my dating age is around 10 years old, although these days I think even a 10 year old acts more responsible). My stupid act involves silly laughter, idiotic lines and a slight ironic conversation. And that's how it all starts. A bad start, of course! 

My longest relationship had 5 months, one good and 4 others like hell. I was afraid that it was my stability phobia, now I think it's only my damaged personality. What else could it be? 

A few days ago I read a post on FB where it said that we accept the love we think we deserve. And it's true. But having a poisoned love is better than having nothing. Knowing that once in a while someone needs the warmth of your body is enough to live in a fantasy world. And not having an actual story is better than having a story. When you lose something that wasn't yours in the first place doesn't hurt as much as loosing something that you care about with all your heart... no?

Besides the "not figuring out when its love and when its NOT love" I have another problem... damaged problem... I have no idea when to get involved. I mean, when do you know its time to hold hands? When is it time to walk home alone? When is it right to call at a dreadful hour in the night, without any reason whatsoever? When is it right to go out with him and your friends? When is it time to talk about your fears and hopes? When is it time to get involved???

If you have any answers, please feel free to enlighten me!!!!

What do you want?

What do you want? A question that surrounds your entire world. A question at which you are supposed to have an answer. When it comes to simple things, like chocolate or a bucket of ice cream to take you trough the day, you always know what you want, but when it comes to bigger things, it gets complicated.
As time passes by, the pressure of growing up leans on your shoulder and what you want affects everything. Kids, married life, should become a part of what you want, but what happens if you don't know or if you don't have the pleasure to afford this kind of "wanting".
I know I want to have it easy. I want to be able to drink a glass of wine or eat an entire box of chocolates. I want to drink my coffee in the morning and to have a smile on my face when i go to sleep. I want to be able to grow flowers and have a dog which throws his tail in every side when he sees me. But that isn't enough to be a part of a community.
"Do you want to get married?", "Do you want to have kids?", "Do you want to have a house?"... Questions at which I don't have an answer. I don't want to have those things just because I am supposed to have them. I want to see a mini me running around and making disasters, I want to wake up in the morning and see a smiling face watching me, I want to have a big house and a medium dog making graves into the garden.
Talking about stereotypes. I want what the entire globe wants. To be happy. But I have no freaking idea how to get there. So if by any chance you have a book on how to stop screwing up ur life, I'm buying it!!!

Sistemul de asigurare romanesc : Incredibil... dar adevarat! in Norvegia

Si uite-ma ajunsa in Norvegia. Inca dinainte de plecare stiam ca in 3 saptamani trebuie sa ma prezint la Politie pentru a-mi inregistra actele si cum incerc sa fiu o persoana responsabila, nu eram in a doua saptamana de sedere ca mi-am luat hartogaraia si m-am prezentat la Institutul de Inregistrare al Persoanelor Straine.
Cum nu mai sunt in Kansas, in 30 de minute ma aflu deja in fata unui reprezentant al statului. Trebuie sa mentionez ca acolo te programezi cu o saptamana inainte si ti se comunica ziua si ora la care trebuie sa te prezinti pentru inregistrare. Culmea, cand ajungi acolo, chiar existi pe o lista si in maxim 30 minute se ocupa cineva de tine. Deci se poate!
"Catalina Vasile. Catalina Vasile is here?" o doamna de la birou imi striga numele.
"Yes, I am." ii raspund destul de emotionata, deoarece inca mai traiesc cu impresia ca vorbesc o engleza mediocra.
"My colleague will help you at the second office, in the right" imi spune doamna zambind  si imi arata biroul la care trebuie sa ma indrept.
Un tanar pe la vreo 30 de ani, m-a intampinat cu un zambet larg. Sincer, nu cred sa am vreo amintire din Norvegia care sa nu implice vreun norvegian zambind.Toti parca au intiparit zambetul ala pe fata! Cald si placut.
"Hy, I see you made an appointment for registering in our data base."
"Yes, I have here all the papers I need... I found all the information I needed on your site... So here it is."
"Let's see what we have here" si incepe sa verifice hartiile una cate una.
Pasaportul, actele de la scoala, contractul de chirie, asigurarea de calatorie (mi-am facut si d'asta, pentru ca niciodata nu poti fi sigur) si ... documentul inmanat de la casa de asigurari ce se voia a fi echivalentul cardului european de sanatate.
Incurcat, omul se uita cand la mine, cand la document. Desigur, zambetul nu ii dispare de pe fata (cum reusesc???)
"What is this?"
"Hummm... it's a document that proves I have an European health insurance"
"But... this is not in English" imi raspunde mai incurcat. Daca am fi fost intr-un desen animat, ar fi avut fata gri, un semn mare de exclamare in frunte si acelasi zambet nepieritor.
"Humm... I know. I understand that all you need from this piece of paper is the no from here" si ii arat codul pe care cucoana de la asigurari mi l-a aratat in scarba.
"Ummm.. well... I can't use that no. unless it has some understandable details regarding the owner of the insurance. I mean, you could have written here whatever you would have wanted. I can't understand anything. Don't you have an english translation at least?"
"Well.. the (fucking) lady from the Insurance Institute told me they don't issue documents like this in English. And that you only need this no." ii arat disperata numarul, intr-o ultima incercare de a folosi hartia in scopul pentru care am primit-o.
"I'm sorry. You have to come with a European card or with a legalized paper stating that you have an insurance. Until then I hope you will have a great day."
Cu lacrimi in ochi am parasit cladirea. Cu lacrimi in ochi si ganduri necurate vizavi de idioata care mi-a dat hartia respectiva. Daca ar fi fost in fata mea, as fi dat-o cu capul de birou de cateva ori. Ma rog, nu pe ea. Ca doar cu ce e ea vinovata ca dobitocii iau drept bune documentele scrise in romana, pentru a le prezenta autoritatilor straine? Cu ce?

A story about you : the concert!

There was a time, long ago, when I had a heart. A heart that felt every ray of sunshine, whisper of wind and drops of morning dew, a heart good enough to be given. And then... you came along. 

This is not the story of how I lost my heart, in an already lost battle. This is not a love story, but it's a story about love. True love it is said to come only once in a life time. What happens if it comes in the perfect moment for one, but at a wrong one for the other?

John was walking near me and I could see he was a bit nervous. It wasn't the first time we were going out just the two of us, although every time that happened something was going totally wrong. The last time I ended up in the hospital with a broken leg and I couldn't walk for an entire month. That's behind me now... but I still have to kick his ass because of that. Anyway, it was a tension in the air and for the first time I was really quiet. I was watching the road and even tough I was seeing with the tip of my eye he was gazing at me, I was avoiding an eye contact. We were in the park near the concert and I could hear the noisy crowd and some clogged noises from the music. I finally raised my head and turned towards John. 

He stopped and as he was biting his lower lip. "Why is he that nervous?" I was telling myself.

"Could you give me a light, please? I would like to smoke a cigar here, before we get into the crowd and I have to be careful not to burn anyone. Here I could only burn you and you are a tough one... whiner!" I told him smiling as I reached my cigars.

A shade of smile appeared on his face. I was on the good road. 

"I could offer you a gum, as well" he said with an evil smile on his face. "From my mouth!" and slowly approached his mouth towards mine. 

I don't know why, but every time he acted like that I hated him. Even tough I would always call him a whiner or a loser, cause he was too gentle, I loved that side of him. But each time he was trying to be a bully I felt like kick him in the bolls. 

"You know what, I changed my mind. Let's burn some people at the fucking concert" and I left kicking his shoulder as I passed by him.

I was actually glad that I didn't stay at home. It was crowded and the music was loud. The beer was cheap and the air was fresh, even tough around me people was smoking like hell.
I called my sister and found her in the hell pit that was dancing like crazy and in all the scrimmage I lost John. I wasn't that sad, cause I was still a bit upset with him, but all came to an end when in the middle of the crowd.... I saw you.

Doamna\Domnisoara

Ciudat. 

Azi au venit la usa doua doamne sa imi dea o invitatie la o intalnire religioasa. Dupa ce s-au prezentat, m-au intrebat care mi-e numele. 

"Catalina" le-am raspuns zambind.

"Doamna Catalina..."

"Domnisoara..." si imediat ce aceasta "corectura" mi-a iesit printre buze, am realizat ca am trecut un prag ce nu voiam sa il trec. Daca la 20 de ani mi-ar fi spus cineva "doamna", as fi ridicat superior din sprancene si as fi spus "Exact!", insa acum imi este mai greu sa accept un statut pe care nu il am. Poate anii numerosi in care visam ca la 25 de ani sa fiu maritata isi cer ofranda si atribuirea numelui de "doamna" mi se pare exagerat, avand in vedere ca visele de la 15 ani nu mai coincid cu visele de la 27. 

Oricum, in momentul in care am inlocuit cuvantul "domnisoara" , in minte mi-a aparut o singura memorie ce imi arde retina si ma umple de groaza : profa de franceza din generala, care desi avea o varsta considerabila (sa spunem ca era la apusul vietii sau apogeul intelepciunii) ne corecta de fiecare data cand ii adresam apelativul "doamna". "Sunt domnisoara, nu doamna". Fapt ce mi se parea absurd, avand in vedere ca nu mai arata a domnisoara, sunt sigura ca nici nu mai ... mergea ca o domnisoara si la 60 de ani  nu inteleg ce ar fi atat de dureros sa iti fie adresat numele cu un "doamna" inainte. Pana la urma ar trebui ca de la o varsta sa fii doamna prin simplul fapt ca nu mai vorbesti tare. Sau ca esti retinuta si gandesti destul de mult inainte sa deschizi gura. Sau poate pentru ca nu mai stai cracanata la barul din centrul orasului.

FUCK! Oare ma indrept vertiginos spre o viata de solitudine, in care imi voi asuma rolul de "domnisoara", desi intre noi fie vorba, sunt departe de a fi una?

A story about you...

There was a time, long ago, when I had a heart. A heart that felt every ray of sunshine, whisper of wind and drops of morning dew, a heart good enough to be given. And then... you came along. 

This is not the story of how I lost my heart, in an already lost battle. This is not a love story, but it's a story about love. True love it is said to come only once in a life time. What happens if it comes in the perfect moment for one, but at a wrong one for the other?

John was trying to convince me to go at the concert. I think he thought it was the perfect moment to come out of the closet. No, he wasn't gay, but he had feelings for me and he wanted to use the concert to reveal everything. I was a bit humored by his sweetness. Even so, I was used with his presence every day. He was one of the few people that accepted me as I was. Mean and ironic. 

I remember the first time we met. I was going to ask my sister for an advice concerning an exam I had that afternoon. She was near her colleagues and John was one of them. As I asked my sister's help, he came along and told me all that I needed to do in order to pass the exam. Instead of thanking him, I raised and eyebrow and told him in a very disgusted tone "Did anybody ask you anything? Could you mind your own business, please? ". He dropped his mouth and left without any other words. Thanks to what he told me I passed my exam. Then and there I realized that he was well intended. But that didn't mean I was any less meaner with him. And I think he kinda liked me for that. 

"Please Cata, let's go. I know you like the bands, I know you like the crowd... why would you stay home? Let's go!!"

"If you wouldn't beg as much, probably I would go, but with a whiner I don't feel that safe!" I was telling him laughing at his sweet tone.

"Cata, stop joking around. Would you feel better if I'd hit you with a bat and dragged you at the concert?"

"There isn't a brave enough bone in your entire body to hit me. I have better chances to trip over something and hit my head!! " and as I finished my sentence I started pinching him hard. 

He started laughing as soon as I touched his skin. I think I always gained points with my pinching. It didn't matter how mad he was over whatever I said, every time I pinched him he was laughing. 

"Come on, Cata!!" he was saying in between the laughs "Stop it!".

He caught my hands tightly and steadied me like I was made of rags. He moved his face near mine and looked me deeply in the eyes. I could feel my heart beat and as I was looking back into his big brown eyes I felt something else. Instead of kissing me, he used one of his hands to pinch me and the moment was gone. 

We started a war and after hitting him lots of times with a pillow I realized that I don't want to stay home.

Sistemul de asigurare romanesc : Incredibil... dar adevarat!!

Fac parte din generatia filmelor americane. Am crescut o data cu democratia in tara noastra, invatand treptat, sa ma obisnuiesc cu beneficiile unei tari in continua dezvoltare. De la inghetata fara gust, la desenele animate prea putine, la leii grei, am descoperit alaturi de multi altii felurite sortimente de inghetata, fructele exotice, ItaliaUno cu Sailor Moon si Inspector Gadget, dolarii, euro. Dupa ce citesc randurile de mai sus, realizez ca dezvoltare este un cuvant care ar trebui pus intre ghilimele, deoarece produsele noi aparute pe pietele romanesti nu inseamna ca tara este mai productiva si infloritoare, deoarece valorile si cultura romaneasca sunt intr-o continua decadenta. Un sentiment de tristete ma cuprinde cand ma gandesc ca generatia noastra este ultima generatie ce poate sa mai aprecieze cartile, jocurile de cuvinte si viata. Viata la teatru, opera, plimarile, jucatul sahului in parc...

As putea scrie pagini intregi despre ce as vrea schimbat in Romania, in lume, insa vorbele, din pacate, nu mai ating pe nimeni, motiv pentru care o sa fac ce stiu mai bine, si anume sa povestesc o intamplare tragico-comica.

In urma cu aproape 2 ani, imi pregateam de zor plecarea spre Norvegia (mai aveam 4 zile pana la marea "decolare"). Printre actele necesare se numara si cardul european de sanatate. Cat de greu sa fie sa obtin unul? Mai ales cand sunt studenta si plec cu studiile? Ei bine, in momentul in care esti studenta sub 26 de ani, este foarte usor, insa o daca esti studenta sub 26 de ani cu un loc de munca prin care ti-ai platit darile la stat, nu mai este atat de usor. TOTUL SE COMPLICA!

"Bine, bine, si asta inseamna ca eu nu pot primi card de sanatate european, ca sa plec cu bursa de studii in afara?" intreb vadit iritata de tonul cu care mi s-a transmis ca nu mi se poate face card, deoarece nu mai am loc de munca si in 3 luni urmeaza sa fac 26 de ani, caz in care nu pot fi asigurata prin faptul ca sunt studenta.

"Ba cum sa nu, dar va trebui sa achitati direct din buzunarul d-voastra plata asigurarii inainte de a vi se elibera cardul"

"PAI DE CE!! MAI AM 3 LUNI PANA IMPLINESC 26 ANI!!! Sa inteleg ca in momentul in care mi-am dat demisia de la munca, desi sunt inca studenta, am ramas neasigurata??"

"Eu as putea sa va fac un card de sanatate valabil pe 3 luni, pe asigurarea de stat."

"Doamna. Va rog. Sa ne intelegem. Eu am nevoie de o asigurare valabila pe 6 luni, pentru a-mi putea depune actele acolo. Nu pot ocoli sistemul, nu le pot spune ca in Romania nu mi se acorda o asigurare mai mare de 3 luni, deoarece dupa 26 de ani, daca esti student, esti debil la cap. Pentru ca altfel nu imi explic ce scuze ar exista sa nu ti se mai asigure minimul de siguranta medicala."

"Domnisoara, nu eu fac legea..."

"Doamna, nu ma cert cu d-voastra. Nu ma ajuta la nimic. Va rog doar sa imi spuneti cum as putea obtine un card european de sanatate. Evident, darile la stat platite pana la momentul actual nu ma ajuta cu nimic. Asa ca va rog, un sfat, o indrumare. CEVA!"

"Singurul meu sfat este sa va platiti asigurarea din mana. Astfel va pot face cererea pentru cardul respectiv"

"Ok". Desi aveam un chef monstruos de a o parui, nu neaparat pe ea, ci legea asta tampita, am hotarat sa ma gandesc la telul cu care am intrat la casa de asigurari. Si anume : sa plec cu nenorocitul ala de card. Am lasat-o sa isi faca treaba. 

Dupa 10 minute de tastat, intrebat si raspuns, respectiva dudie imi intinde o foaie A4, scrisa in romana si imi spune pe un ton cald 

"Avand in vedere ca d-voastra plecati in 4 zile, va vom da acest document, pentru a-l prezenta autoritatilor pana la primirea cardului. Cardul va veni la d-voastra acasa in 2 saptamani."

Ma uit catre dansa, ma uit catre foaie, mai citesc o data, extrem de clar, frazele si o intreb cu o privire naiva

"Dar... sunteti sigura ca acesta este documentul pe care il pot prezenta autoritatilor norvegiene?" apasand destul de rar si grav pe literele cuvantului "norvegiene".

"Cum sa nu."

"Dar... acest document e in romana" ii spun la fel de naiv ca prima oara.

Se vedea ca i-am pierdut destul de mult timp si nervi doamnei in cauza, pentru ca raspunsul a venit cu un ton superior si final.

"Domnisoara, nu sunteti nici prima, nici ultima persoana care are nevoie de un asemenea document. Nu este prima si ultima oara cand il completez. Evident ca va puteti folosi de el, deoarece codul de aici este cel important. Va multumesc si o zi buna."

Si uite asa, cu bagajele facute si "cardul meu european" de sanatate am plecat spre Norvegia.

Deal with the Devil...

The day in which i lost my soul is a sad day for the humanity, because since then you all feel the emptiness that surrounds you! But hey, let's not jump the big story behind this event!!

If u would have known a bit of Romanian, you would have read by now that I tend to give our Great Lord some good old funny stand-up comedies shows. And not just Him, I bet that He gathers all the angels when he plans something for me, cause who doesn't enjoy a group laughter? WHO?

So, I was having a crush on a high school colleague and I took the wrong decision to borrow him my math notebook, at the back of which I draw some really top art drawings of my name. At which I added his name. So it was actually looking more like a ... whole name. Like, my first name had his last name. LAME, I KNOW! But even so, he didn't seem to notice me, so I decided (a bad decision, once again) to take things to the next level. Oh, God is gonna have a good laugh when I'll remind Him about this.
If the guy doesn't have the courage to tell me that he likes me, I will squeeze that out of him. Or maybe give him some hints about the fact that i liked him (because maybe the drawings weren't a hint enough). I wasn't as franc as I am now. Now i really don't care about the answer, so I tend to skip the part where I pretend to wait for someone to like me and i start liking that someone even if it's a stupid thing to act as.
So, 10 years ago, we had a thing called radio(for all of you with ipad, iphones and other gadgets, remember that our radio was a big BOX). And not just any radio, but a radio trough which we lived, loved, listened everything. Oh, the original tapes I ruined, just to record some wannabe big song. Wow! And the best part? Everybody was listening the same thing (we barely had 2 or 3 music radio channels) so if you wanted to dedicate something to someone, it would have been listened by all the town. What better way to tell a guy that you liked him? No? Armed with a nice text i took the phone in my room, i dialed the radio's number and I waited for someone to pick. Catrinel told me that it's a red line and I should consider myself a very lucky person if I get to talk with someone. Well, unfortunately for me, I was very lucky. It ringed once and I heard a voice at the other line 

"Hello? Can I hear your dedication?"

"Hello. I... I.... I would like to chooce one song for ... I ... (choke)" I said in a very i.want.to.sound.calm.but.i'm.sure.i'm.not voice.

"Sweety, does your mum know that you are using her telephone?"

"?!?!?! What?" (I was almost 16, what the F@#%$#^)

"Do you want a song for your mommy? Sweety? Are u still there?"

"Yes. And no, i don't want a song for my mommy! (or do I??!?!?!). I would like to dedicate a song for Z... from this high school, and I would like to tell him that someone has a crush on him... Aaa.. and i would like the song to be Bla "

"Uuuu ... little girl is in love? What did u say your name was, sweety?"

"I'M NOT A LITTLE GIRL!!! I AM 16!!! And... can the dedication be anonymous? PLEASEEEEEE.."

"Oh sweety, u're so cute!!! I could eat you all up!! And u have such a nice voice. If u want it anonymous, it will be anonymous. HAHAHAHA"

"Ufff...Thanks!"

After hanging up I had some not worth mentioning words towards the person i talked with, being grateful tough that the conversation wasn't live. The day passed without any big events, the night came and the morning as well.
From the first moment I stepped into my classroom,  I knew something is fishy. It was too quiet. For a class filled with 21 loud guys, you could actually hear the flies. And that couldn't be ok, especially for a 10am class.
"Hello?", one of the guys tells me gently.
"Hello" I answer doubtfully.
Another guy starts humming the song Bla.
Another one : "Can I ... Can I ... Can I hear your dedica..." and he stops, cause a burst of laughter gets out his mouth.
My subconscious tries to tell me something, but I am too lost to hear it.
Two guys start to sing out loud the Bla song and another says into a show voice "The little girl in love would like to offer this song for Z"
OH MY GOD. As my brain finally gets the signals, its too late. My classroom seems like a bad cover of the radio show in which I am the main character. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!!
"It was live?" I hear my soft voice, as the question gets out of my mouth.
"GUYS, GUUUUYS!! SHE DIDN'T KNOW SHE WAS LIVE" more laughs from my colleagues. "LITTLE GIRL DIDN'T KNOW SHE WAS LIVE" "Should we call your mommy??"
FUCK!!!
This went on until the teacher came. And after that in all the breaks from that day. And the entire week. And the week that passed. It seemed like the whole school listened that fucking live. Except Z. He was the only one that didn't hear anything. And the people who later told him the story, left out the part in which he was the crush.
So guys... never chose to tell someone you have some kind of feelings for them without checking first if they will hear it.

This is love!

As I open my eyes, I see the sunshine lighting up the white wall in front of me. I feel the weight of your arm on my waist and I am grateful that the past night wasn't a dream. My back is a perfect match with your shoulder line and my body feels like he found its missing piece. We are surrounded by a peaceful silence and my heart is filled with a belonging sensation. I belong to you and with you. I turn and put my face in the crack of your neck. As the scent of you conquers my nostrils, I remember your kisses and the softness of your lips. I close my eyes. If only life would stop now, at this moment, at us.
Your soft breath touches my forehead and your heart beat brings sweet music in my ears. I open my eyes again and raise my head to face your beautiful lips. A strand of hair is raising from your head and it looks perfect. The sun draws the lines of your head and it feels like in a fairytale. If only it would last forever.
You move your hand and gently squeeze me closer to you. A shadow of a smile appears on your face, because you know that I am already up, looking at you.
"I love your beautiful green eyes. And they are watching me. Since when, I wonder?" you slowly say as you open your eyes. I am waiting for my good morning kiss, but instead of touching my lips, you plant a kiss on top of my head. On my forehead. On my nose. I am finally staring in the blue ocean of your eyes and I see myself in them. I see a peaceful, sincere and innocent human, that truly loves you. Because yes, this is love. You finally kiss my lips and I know for sure it is love. This is love.

Old and grumpy!

Sometimes people get stuck in different fazes of their lives and they don't even realize it... and sometimes they get stuck trying to stay out of the fazes that might mean stability and closure and they turn out old grumpy scarecrows, who are too sick of life and of its downsides. I think i belong to the second kind. YEAH!! I think I will be that old lady who scares children and is always in mood for a fight... SO BEWARE!!

I don't know when, but someway along the road I refused to settle down. Maybe it was when my first real attempt of a boyfriend told me he really liked me. I got so scared, that instead of telling him that i really liked him back, i told him that i actually wanted to stop. Of course, in this moments I lie to myself, trying to find sorrowful excuses. "He was too short/thin/small/trustworthy(well, we find all sorts of stupid excuses when we really need too)". I still wonder what would have happened if I would have hugged him. I might have crushed him because he really was tinnier than me. 

Or maybe I lost my hope for settlement when the second boyfriend i had told me he wants a grown up relationship. Meaning?!?! Well, a relationship were we act like grownups and we don't wait for things to happen, and we do things that grownups do. If some guy would sell me the same candies today, I would answer him very genuinely, probably looking at him naively, "Are you, by any chance, talking about sex? ??".

Or maybe it was when I tried to have a conversation with a sober guy and he didn't react at all, but after 5 beers he couldn't stop talking about himself? And at the ending of his monologue he told me our date was awesome and we should really do "this" again? 

Oh, and let's not forget about the guy whom I thought was perfect for me and it turned out that he wasn't actually looking for a "half". Even tough he was looking for a slimmer, taller, big lipped "half"? Hey, you can't have friendship and relationship at the same time. To many "ships" to sale!!

Of course, I am to be blamed too. Since I talk a lot (especially when I am nervous), I am arrogant and superficial in many cases, and let's not forget that I tend to be ironic and sarcastic whenever something doesn't go as I plan it. But, due the fact that I am woman, it's never my fault!!!

So why will I end up a grumpy old lady? It's only because of the men I date!!! :)))

It wasn't the time...

She was looking challenging at him as she was waiting for his answer. If he would have known her better, he would have seen behind her cooky look the fright of the moment. She was acting like this in her most fearful situations. When she was small, even tough she was really afraid of the thunder, she hugged her brothers in the middle of the storm and told them she's there to protect them and if the thunder would come in the house she would kick its ass. She was terrified. Inside. But outside she had a kinky smile and a confident look. It always worked.

Now she was waiting for her thunder and there was no one around to protect her. Except him. As if she was having an almost death experience, she was in the middle of their first conversation, after that she saw her rejection towards him, a long pause and their first kiss, their first everything.  A frame who collected all the moment of her relationship. All ended up here. The longer she was waiting, the more convinced she was about the answer. It wouldn't take that long to say yes. It wouldn't take that long to take her hands and kiss her. All the seconds that passed meant only buts and reasons gathered for a denial. Who was she kidding.There aren't actually happy endings. Just respect and a fear of loneliness. Oh, that damn fear of being alone. It finally got to her.

She was sick of seeing happy couples, families with kids and love everywhere! When she went shopping there were at least three couples holding hands and giggling about stupid stuff. If only she would have liked the holding hands part. But even that got on her nerves. It was time to have something. It was time to stop fooling around and start something serious. 

"Do you want us to commit into a real relationship?" was the awful question that came out of her mouth 30 seconds ago. And since then he was quiet. He was looking into her eyes, but she knew that he was somewhere out of this world. She might have ruined everything for them. What was with that feeling of hers? Wasn't she happy with this situation? Why would she need something more? She doesn't want kids, she doesn't want to see him more or talk more then they already do. She actually doesn't want anything changed. But... She wants one simple answer. An unwritten promise for a better tomorrow. The assurance that they won't give up at their first fight. Or that they won't look around for other partners when things might get nasty.Or maybe this sort of approval would allow her to feel. Maybe she won't be afraid to love anymore.

"I can't now..." he started what surely would have been a long strain of empty words.

She raised her hand and put it to his mouth as she felt her heart splashing into pieces. She didn't need any reasons. She didn't want any reasons. Usually tears would have filled up her eyes, but somehow, she was empty. She gave him a hug and turned away. What was suppose to become the perfect beginning turned out to be a sour ending. It wasn't the time for her to love again. After a few steps tears finally came. It wasn't the time for her to love again. It wasn't.

A cuban fairy tale.. in a romanian story : Dream gone bad

Since this is not the story : how i got married to a cuban guy, of course something went totally wrong! I always had a curiosity about kissing international people and the Cuban kiss was in top 5 best kisses in the world. At least in my mind, cause the reality ....
A kiss that is supposed to be one of my best kisses, turns out to be a "face wash". His tongue seems to have forgotten that i have a mouth and attacks all the holes of my face!!! My nose, my eyes, a bit of my mouth, this guy is licking all my face!! Damn it! Damn all the movies that make me wanna chase someone, cause if this is how everything adds up, then i'm totally cursed!! Ok, I think i had enough of this face wash, so I turn around and take a deep breath. I'm not sure on how I will get rid of this guy or get out of this situation, but I surely need some air and probably a pack of tissues. I feel his hands searching for body parts and I ask for a salvation. An earthquake, a tremendous storm, the end of the world, ANYTHING!! He makes a sudden move and somehow turns me around. I think i have the  look of a "deer in a trap", cause instead of jumping on my face again he stops and pets my hair. Although I should cease the moment and run, I stare deeply in his eyes. There's something about him that I can't understand. He has this big brown eyes, warm and clear. As if we were for the first time face to face, in the most silent and peaceful place in the world, he slowly reaches my face and gently kisses me.
Oh my GOD!! This is how I dreamed of this!! He concentrates on my mouth, and his full lips capture my lips in a sweet dungeon. I stand on my toes and as if someone turns on the speakers, I start hearing the music surrounding us, louder and louder. As the rhythm grows around us, his kiss is more passionate and more hard. Fortunately he doesn't leave the "safe area" and I'm beginning to feel really lustful. Oh he's so hot! If I wouldn't know better, I would get him naked about now! Damn u people!! DAMN U!! We go into a corner without stopping the kiss. How long is it? 10 min? 30? It feels like forever and still not enough. I don't even feel the need to breath, I just want to kiss him over and over again.
"Quieres ir a mi casa? Que nos pasamos bien hay" he says with short breaths. "OH HELL YES" screams my lonely, bitter self, who didn't go out on a date since ... eternity. Come on, there is a chapter in a scrap book saying that you should "make love" (not my words, i swear!!) with an international guy. This is my opportunity!! Love not war!!
FUCK!! If only I wouldn't be in Norway. The most expensive country in Europe. On my high heels!! Without any money in my pocket. On a Saturday night, when I have to work SUNDAY!! AT 7AM!! I look at my heels and quickly think at the possibility of working in them all day. PAINFUL! Ok ,what are the chances he lives in a near place? I think he said he lives in the south of Stavanger. Shit, that's still really far.
"Seriously, let's get out of here, and go to my place" he says waking me up from my day dreaming. He plants a strong kiss on my lips and I am tempted to say yes. Actually I was tempted without this last kiss. I look at him and think that this is my only chance to be with a guy like this. Even tough he wears a white suit (not my thing at all!)
"Where do u live?" I ask him taking his hand and wrapping my fingers around it.
"Near Sandnes, we can take a cab until there"
Punch in the stomach!!! No way I can make it from there without a taxi!! I think he sees the despair in my eyes, cause he gently pushes me into the wall, he lifts my arms and whispers in my year "Que paso? Todo bien?"
NO,NO,NO!! Can u be any more hotter?? He kisses me and he touches me as if I was a baby doll. Ok, not my dolls, cause they ended up headless, someone else's dolls!! Ok, I will go with him. I will definitely go with him!!
Like in a bad Cinderella movie, the lights turn on and the DJ says cheerfully that it's time for us to move the party in our own places. Enrique (or Ernesto ?!?!?!) takes my hand and tries to make space in the crowd that is pushing trough the doorway. As I look at the people around us, I see my friends a couple of meters away and without realizing it, I let go of the hand that holds me. Somehow I am sure that he must be behind me. As I reach my friends and turn around I realize that no one followed me. I lost him.
A small part of me hopes that he is at the door waiting for me. But he isn't. I really lost him!

Timpul le rezolva pe toate...

Se uita in gol, nestiind incotro sa o apuce. Camera obscura ii afunda gandurile in ceea ce parea o prapastie fara fund. Disperarea si goliciunea ii invadau sufletul si erodau incet, dar sigur, cojita de incredere ce o capatase in ultimul timp. Cine ar fi crezut ca viata o va aduce in acelasi loc din care a plecat. Curva asta de viata. Curtezana ce pufaie dintr-o tigara subtire si se uita cu un zambet pervers la intamplarile cainesti ce te jupoaie de viu.
Spera ca timpul va rezolva totul. Asta e sfatul pe care il primea de mica. Timpul. Va rezolva. Totul. Nu s-a culcat pe o ureche. A luptat. A impins. A urlat. Fara nici un efect. Linistea si pacea pe care le-a capatat cu greu, s-au evaporat ca mirajele in desert. Poate ca nu a inteles ca aici a gresit. Ea practic nu a parasit niciodata desertul. Nu cu adevarat. S-a imbatat cu apa rece si a visat o viata perfecta. Doar ca sa se intoarca inapoi in aceasta groapa de gunoi.
"Singuratatea e cel mai aprig dusman. Cand peretii sunt unicii martori ai vietii tale, martori tacuti de altfel, parca mai aprig te afunzi in mocirla." A ramas surprinsa ca i-au scapat aceste cuvinte. Cu un oftat adanc si-a spus ca noutatea nu este faptul ca vorbea singura, ci ca a dat glas acelor ganduri negre ce o bantuie. A mai oftat o data si s-a chircit in pozitia care deja ii devenise comoda. Coconul pe care il forma se voia a fi ultimul strat protector. Ultimul, inainte de somn. Macar visele nu i-au fost atinse de namolul lumesc.
"Maine va fi mai bine". Trebuie. Timpul le rezolva pe toate!