Cheile

Cu totii ne cautam cheile, mereu le ratacim, cad din buzunare din neatentie, sau aluneca in spatele dulapului cu oglinda de pe hol. Avem nevoie de tot soiul de ornamente, cu care ne reprezentam personalitarea pentru a le pune la chei (eu personal nu am intalnit pe nimeni care sa nu aiba keychain, [macar unul]), ca apoi sa nu le confundam si sa le gasim mai usor. Cu toate acestea un cheia are totusi o importanta cruciala. Usi, masini scumpe, jurnale secrete, inimi, minti, dezlegari de mistere si ghicitori, fericirea: cautarea cheior este o realitate permanenta atat fizica cat si mintala.
Cand le gasim suntem fericiti si usurati - o victorie personala. Rar insa realizam ca, de fapt, noi suntem cheile propriilor noastre fericiri sau mizerii, asa ca eu o sa incetez sa mai caut cheile in alte persoane, buzunare, in spatele altor dulapuri cu oglinda sau sub alte paturi decat al meu. Suntem cu totii prea diferiti si mecanismul lacatului interior se blocheaza in timp datorita abuzului cauzat de chei nepotrivite.
And after all, the search is never really over.

Works by http://gladysbluefingers.deviantart.com

Sfidand Numerele

1, 3, 10, 16, 27, 37, 119

Pledoaria mea incepe cu ceva cat se poate de logic 1+1 nu este egal intotdeauna cu un simplu 2.
Tot asa, o intoarcere de 360 de grade nu inseamna ca te-ai intors inapoi la punctul de plecare. In ultima vreme atat eu cat si oamenii din jurul meu ne-am intors de nenumarate ori cu 360 de grade si in cel mai "surprinzator" mod lucrurile au devenit cat se poate de diferite... for better or for worse. As vrea sa pot spune ca toate socotelile astea (scaderi, adunari, extrageri de radacini dureroase) m-au facut, sau ne-au facut cu ceva mai inteligenti, mai abili si intr-un final (scopul suprem) oameni mai buni. Asta ramane de vazut. Dar niciodata nu am fost buna la matematica si cred ca acesta problema mi-a depasit abilitatiile inca de la formularea ipotezei, asa ca rezultatul (corect sau incorect, oricum ar fi el) este foarte relativ. Poate as avea nevoie de ceva ajutor, daca nu un calculator, macar o socotitoare, dar din pacate aceste exercitii nu se pot rezolva pur matematic si pentru prima data in viata regret asta.

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl
Year after year
Running over the same old grounds
What have we found?
Same old fears
Wish you were here.

Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here

VREAU

Atata sunt. Asta este esenta. Vreau si regret. Nu sunt atat de tare precum imi doresc sa cred in fiecare zi si tu meriti asta. Ar trebui sa fiu la picioarele tale sa te las sa ma calci over and over again. Dar doare si nu sunt suficient de tare. Doare atat de tare si singura mea aparare e revolta care mereu face mai mult rau decat bine mai ales in relatia noastra. Urasc the ups and downs, urasc haosul si loviturile mai mult decat orice urasc sa implic alti oameni in rahatul asta. Asta ma face sa inghet mereu. Si stiu ca asta nu e o scuza pentru tine, pentru ca in primul rand eu provoc si ma lupt cu asta de fiecare data, dar inghet... Am toata vointa de a-ti inghiti voma, oricata ar fi ea, dar imi vine inapoi - I can't fucking help it, and the only promise I can make is that I'll try harder. Forever.

Si Asa Am Devenit Croitoreasa

Privesc cum se schimba lumea in jurul meu, de la minut la minut, de multe ori fara influenta mea directa, sau chiar contrar acesteia, de parca legile fizicii s-au schimat in mod unic pentru mine. Putine lucruri mai au sens, logica fiind indepartata cu brutalitate. (Asta fiind ironia cea mai mare, nevoia mea de logica marcandu-mi intreaga viata.)

Lucrurile ma depasesc cu viteze duble fata de ceea ce ar trebui sa fie legal, si sunt din ce in ce mai multe concepte, idei, obiceiuri si ganduri care sunt peste puterea mea de intelegere. Si cand am o pauza mica iar vijelia din jurul meu imi perimite sa trag pe dreapta, dau un telefon, de fiecare data la aceeasi persoana. Mereu asculta, e mereu acolo si care ma ajuta cu orice poate chiar daca cererile mele sunt complet aiuriste si ora la care sun se apropie prea des de nesimtire. Cand o sun, nu o fac ca sa ma plang, nu, pur si simplu o sun pentru ca lucrurile imi par prea incredibile si am nevoie de un fel de martor doar ca sa ma asigur ca nu mi-am pierdut complet uzul ratiunii (si pentru ca mirarea e mereu mai distractiva daca o imparti cu cineva).
In ceea ce priveste postul anterior: it's not a small world, it's really a huge one, and I'm nobody's girl - at least for now - and that is just fine by me! I need a while to patch myself up again, but no worries, I'm quite an expert - you can hardly tell. The bad part is that I may be to young for this... and I've fell apart for so many times... Si de fiecare data am luat ata si acul si mi-am cusut ranile, ca sa nu iasa prea mult dinauntrul meu, sa nu-mi pierd esenta. Dar in cat timp oare voi fi goala? Voi pierde putin cate putin precum un ursulet de plus, inca un pic din umplutura, la fiecare ruptura (+ ce mai iese printre cusaturi) . In cat timp voi putea fi aruncata la gunoi? O biata piele dar nimic mai mult. Si care dintre cei ce ma cunosc vor plange si oare cati vor simtii inauntru macar un graunte de vina? Time, time is quiet, it never acutually tells anything, it shows! It demonstrates the resut panifully, and it eventually will for me to, and for all of you out there.

Dissapointment(?)

I'm not a bad person, I just seem to make things without thinking (as of lately), I never intended to hurt anyone, and some of you people will just have to put a little trust in me once in a while. I'm not saying that's easy, all I'm saying is that it's worth it.
Oh well, at least my daddy thinks I'm fine, but then again, that's kinda his job...

I can't sleep tonight
Everybody saying everything's alright
Still I can't close my eyes
I'm seeing a tunnel at the end of all these lights

Sunny days
Where have you gone?
I get the strangest feeling you belong
Why does it always rain on me?
Is it because I lied when I was seventeen?
Why does it always rain on me?
Even when the sun is shining
I can't avoid the lightning

I can't stand myself
I'm being held up by an invisible man
Still life on a shelf when
I got my mind on something else

Sunny days
Where have you gone?
I get the strangest feeling you belong
Why does it always rain on me?
Is it because I lied when I was seventeen?
Why does it always rain on me?
Even when the sun is shining
I can't avoid the lightning

Oh, where did the blue skies go?
And why is it raining so?
It's so cold
I can't sleep tonight
Everybody saying everything's alright
Still I can't close my eyes
I'm seeing a tunnel at the end of the lights

Sunny days
Where have you gone?
I get the strangest feeling you belong
Why does it always rain on me?
Is it because I lied when I was seventeen?
Even when the sun is shining
I can't avoid the lightning
Oh, where did the blue skies go?
And why is it raining so?
It's so cold
Why does it always rain on me?
Why does it always rain on ...

Travis - Why Does It Always Rain On Me?

Photo by http://sbudacean.deviantart.com

(Voica): It's a small world, and I'm everybody's girl

What More Can I Say? (Re-edited)

This one is just for you!
I don't know why, or how, but in one manner or another, every small bit of life is still reminding me of you and it feels so surreal not seeing you. So many things changed in such short time and I need a little more (of everything) to figure things out, to figure myself out. I'm making rash decisions that influence the lives of more people than I wanted.
So just breathe. Look at photos. Don't deny the feelings that were or the ones that are, and don't close doors for the ones that could be. Remember. Take it all in, you are not doing anyone any good otherwise. Let the air flow and breathe quietly.
See I can't even make up my mind about this silly blog, and you still jump at every hesitation and just slam the door shut.

Not Here

I'm looking for Voica.
She's not here right now.
Well where is she then?
She's banging her head against the wall

Steps taken forward but sleepwalking back again, dragged by the force of some inner tide, I'll see you on the other side.

Balancing On The Blade

My choices are half chance and so are everybody else' s and I first need to lose my way in order to eventually finding it back again.
On the other hand the weather was most beautiful today,the kind of weather I imagine there's in Heaven and I just walked around letting the wind blow my hair and my mind away. It made my mind numb, but my body was strangely alert.
Know what my greatest wish is right now? To drive. Just take the wheel and drive with the sun in my face... Soon baby, soon.

(Andrei): hmm... e ceva in ochii tai...
(Voica): as vrea si eu sa stiu ce...

I Dare You

This is me, always dreaming my dreams, weaving figure eights and circles around people's heads (and implicitly my own). Always making up complex worlds out of the smallest things. I am the puppeteer, the master manipulator, the mind-blowing fairy-tale spinner, and eventually, if the situation demands I should be the greatest, most gifted liar of them all. Never have you met someone like me...
But what happens when the master of puppets gets tangled in the strings, oh the strings cut through the flesh so hard and deep: my hands are scarred (on the inside of course) from all the strings I pulled and all the leashes I held.
If you see me, I'll be the one blowing frail bubbles out of soap, waiting for them to burst. I'll be looking as innocent as ever, but when words and not mere air comes out of my mouth - that is when I reveal my true colors. You may not see the signs on my wrists, but look closely there's one on my cheek that shows just how thick it actually is.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, Hell's fires fade:
Exit Seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

Sylvia Plath - Mad Girl's Love Song

Unde te gasesc?

"Ma simt (si ma comport) ca o adolescenta, si partea ciudata e ca daca mi s-ar fi spus asta acum cateva zile as fi luat-o ca pe o insulta (de fapt asa am si facut), dar acum e bine, e o euforie ciudata ce nu am simtit-o de ceva vreme si o oarecare teama pe nu care credeam ca o s-o mai simt...
Si confuzia creata de imaginea lui asteptandu-ma in intuneric cu o tigara, si de faptul ca nu stiu ce se astepta de la mine si de raceala care intr-un mod absurd ma impiedica sa simt orice alt miros decat cel al pielii sale.
Sunt de nota 10 si in continuare nu reusesc sa pricep de ce."

28.01.2008

A trecut timp, poate prea putin, confuzia nu sa diminuat si probabil ranesc oamenii implicati mai direct sau mai indirect in varza din capul meu. Si m-am refugiat acasa ca un copil las, si asternuturile nu mai miros a nimeni altcineva decat a mine si a detergent proaspat si in viata mea nu mi-a mai fost dor de locul asta pana acum.
Unul vorbeste prea mult si altul prea putin si eu sunt calma, unul e poate prea comun si altul poate prea inaccesibil si eu sunt pasiva, unul este nervos si celalalt ermetic, iar eu sunt singura.
Si totusi unde te gasesc?

Photo by http://anuk.deviantart.com

The Answer, The Reasons, The Change of The Seasons

Banalitatea vietii de zi cu zi inca ma surprinde, cum de ne-am obisnuit cu rasaritul soarelui, cu miracolul perfectiunii fiintei umane. De ce avem nevoie pentru a fi surprinsi? Probabil avem nevoie de o alta planeta, una pe care soarele sa nu rasara atat de des, una care sa aiba luna in culori diferite si fata de care stelele sa isi schimbe in permanenta vizibil distanta. Sau de o experienta à la Gregor Samsa, trezindu-ne din somn cu corpuri ce nu ne apartin. - Asta ne-ar lipsi pentru a iesi din cercul nostru stramt, cel al propiei pieli, asta ne-ar face sa fim umili si poate in final un pic mai fericiti.

Si totusi unde-am pierdut inocenta,
În dimineti obsedant de banale,
Pe care-o purtam totusi în noi,
Rapusa, etern semn de tradare?

Si totusi cum am uitat într-o zi
Seninatatea boltii solare
Ce stralucea în ochi inocenti
Nepatati de îndemnuri murdare?

Si totusi când am murit, bieti copii,
Surâzând si cu mâini preacurate,
Facând loc unor necunoscuti,
Ce se-nfunda-n placeri vinovate?

Si totusi cum va veni primavara
În lumi de sticla, înecate de Crivat,
Va mai putea steaua noastra razbi,
Prin norii-unei inimi sub înghet?

Si totusi la care raspântii,
Am gresit noi, epave batrâne?
Sa facem loc, suntem fara raspuns,
Copiilor, epave de mâine.

Poem by http://incadeveghe.deviantart.com/

P.S. Message to the humans:
Everything is packed - candyfloss and oxygen

We're not coming back

Words and doodle by http://www.abeautifulrevolution.com

Each Paraghraph Begins With An I

I'm sick of this cold weather, it makes my stomach shiver on the inside. My exams are definite maybes, my "study group" came over the other day and the result was a white night, way to many maps we began and never finished, stuff in the air and s*** like that.
I went out with the girls today, couldn't even enjoy my drink (and the future is as deep as my throat). I was all dressed up in lace, but couldn't seem to find my space, I need a change of pace, change of face.
I'm tired as hell, thinking of people and things I shouldn't be thinking of, but I'm also drawing again, after a long while now. I had just realized how much I missed it, and loved it and just how much it calms me.

I took a baby to the park today, I put his little coat on and everything, it felt so nice. The sun was up and the swing seemed so light and the air was fresh with the coming of the spring. False alarm, there are -5 degrees Celsius and there's a vicious wind blowing, and my eager feet almost froze in the way-to-thin classy shoes.

Photo by http://korny-pnk.deviantart.com/

We are... Wait, what are we really?

Art history, what the ... ? But are you sure, how about the money, the career, your future, your kids ? (I'm 19!) You're not beautiful enough to marry rich. (By the way, have you gained weight?) Oh, now you're just being difficult.

The Beginning
I like lots of things, maybe I'd like even more if only I knew them. I read, I draw, I take photos, I'm an annoying self-assured little thing that can charm herself out of sticky situations. I'm me and I found something I'm good at, and I mean really good at. And it's interesting and different, and all in all just my cup of tea, it's what I like.

The Choice
And then I arrived. I didn't expect much, I raised myself to be like this, and it was confusing, and stressing and messed-up, but I was happy to be here none the less. Sure it's not sunshine all the time, it's mostly boring, but it's my cross to bear, besides I look around and bless my cynicism for not expecting more - like most people did.

The Consequence (so far)
I met people. Each one different, each here in the same place, each for a different reason, but still together... We were set apart from day 1, confused, then ignored, then confused again, then messed with, and finally confused. But you know what? We're (more or less - obviously) together, in the same fishbowl so to speak. We are the minority, and we'll one day rule the world. So this is for everyone who is looking to find the truth in art, and searching for it in U.B.B Cluj.

Currently blinded by the silence of a thousand broken hearts!

Over and Out.