<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630</id><updated>2011-09-26T17:10:01.873+03:00</updated><category term='new'/><category term='photos'/><category term='blogging'/><category term='growing up'/><title type='text'>Voica's World</title><subtitle type='html'>is a place where normal things don't happen, very often.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>21</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-4550074195133772605</id><published>2010-12-26T18:36:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-12-26T19:40:29.549+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Apocalypse Came Over Early This Year</title><content type='html'>So there goes nothing... 6 months out of yet another year gone by and I've literally done it all.&lt;div&gt;Wrote my paper, wore my graduation cap, wasted away at every single terrace. I was walking on freaking sunshine, beautiful and amazing and long hair flowing in curls and most of all I was Oh-So-Loved by everyone and sparkling... &lt;i&gt;Nothing gold can stay&lt;/i&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The summer was hot and sweaty and it was filled with butterflies, and music, and roses, and dancing, and the oh-so-many cigarettes that matched the color of my finger nails. I brought myself time and stretched it as long as I possibly could... I extended my arms and pulled on my wrists and my mouth would not stay closed because of the silly, bright smile spread all over my face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The autumn start was perfect as ever, sweet, and orange, and warm and the pulling started to take a toll... roots started to come out of the ground and I needed to pick myself up and move along.&lt;i&gt; Give it all up, and give in.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I went away, I went away from comfort and happiness. I lived off specks, I've lived off visits and outside input... I've lived off anything else but myself and it has taken it's toll. &lt;i&gt;Gave in, gave it all up.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The winter months came up quickly and all is barren, and dry. The weather is bone cold and the wind is tearing us apart... cloudy with a high chance of doom. I cried to everyone I saw, I asked for all the help I have never, ever needed or wanted before.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So there goes everything... I scared the people that care most about me, I've been selfish, spoiled, sad and so, soooo very frightened! Some people rose to the occasion some sunk deeper than I could've imagined.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yet this year will soon be over and yet another one will take it's place and if ever there will be a book based on my messed-ul life&lt;b&gt; 2010&lt;/b&gt; will be a cliff-hanger chapter. &lt;i&gt;Shine on you crazy diamond.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-4550074195133772605?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/4550074195133772605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/4550074195133772605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2010/12/apocalypse-came-over-early-this-year.html' title='Apocalypse Came Over Early This Year'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-6663383896493537500</id><published>2010-05-19T12:49:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T13:09:21.631+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Ce faci Voica mea?</title><content type='html'>Prin ce lumi te invarti si unde ti-ai gasit locul? E locul tau sau te prefaci, ca un cameleon si nu faci nota discordanta? De ce te-ai aruncat (la gunoi) si oare chiar te-ai inlocuit cu o versiune mai buna?! Si daca da, atunci de ce plangi? Ce faci cand au fost baute toate sampaniile, cand au fost inchise toate cercurile si cand licentele inca nu au scrise nici o litera? Ce faci cand se verniseaza toate expozitiile? Cand nu mai suna nici un telefon? Ce faci cand nu poti dezlipi post-it-ul de pe usa? Si de ce naiba mai ploua atata?&lt;div&gt;Cum iesi din asta Voica mea?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm asking because I ate all the lunches, and drank all the bottles (but stopped smoking all the cigarettes) and I went to all the funerals and I checked out all the books and I held all the hands that needed holding (except for one) and I danced to all the songs and I laughed at all the jokes and I let in all the wet cats standing on the corner in the pouring rain, and I remembered all that was bad and I know all the reasons and I watched all the movies and I stopped listening to all the songs  and I wore all the right shoes but I still miss the lovemaking and my stomach is still cold at night and I still have not cooked a single meal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-6663383896493537500?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/6663383896493537500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/6663383896493537500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2010/05/ce-faci-voica-mea.html' title='Ce faci Voica mea?'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-3130575366345995791</id><published>2010-03-16T16:44:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-16T17:40:48.915+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Pick-Me-Up</title><content type='html'>It's March and it's snowing, spring should be here by now, the sun should be shining shyly... but it's not, instead it's snowing like in a fairytale... (&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;You know the one when Hell freezes over?!&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Even though insects are still frozen in they long and comfortable sleep I'm working overtime like a busy, busy bee. I'm running around in odd circles, dreams coming true in the weirdest circumstances... (&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;You know the one when you have to be careful what you wish for, 'cause it might just come true?!&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Somehow I'm proud, it's such a strange comfort to know that in some circumstances this is as low as I'll ever get. Somehow I'm happy, somehow I'm worried, there is still so much to do, so much of me to show, still so much to prove, and I have always been the Dare type of person. I was convinced that it was because I have courage, but now that I think about it maybe it's because I'm more scared of telling the truth out loud than of making a fool of myself... (&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;You know the one when you win some and lose some?!&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;Where to now? One never ever knows, and I enjoy the plot twists, I cherish having the power to choose. And what I love most and I hope I never lose... the capacity to be surprised! To be swept completely off my feet by some mind blowing sight, sound or random fact. I love how the world is so incredibly small and interconnected and nobody can fake the honesty of that smile when you just linked too parts together just to see the bigger picture.&lt;br /&gt;Do you think the world is your stage? Do you think the play was written with you as the lead, (or just an extra)? Do you wonder who is the playwright? Would you like Chekhov, Caragiale or Camus better? Or perhaps Ionesco it the one you relate in your absurdity? Do you wish you could skip to the end? (&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(153, 0, 0);"&gt;Do you know the one when curiosity killed the cat?!&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There's a bottle on the table with a label saying "drink me"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will you cross the line?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And you know you've been here a thousand times before intoxicated on the floor&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will you reach back for more?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/S5-kxEhkpnI/AAAAAAAAAd4/2aQO5vcCTMQ/s1600-h/25342_1312030373129_1601750928_741454_646798_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 326px; height: 244px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/S5-kxEhkpnI/AAAAAAAAAd4/2aQO5vcCTMQ/s320/25342_1312030373129_1601750928_741454_646798_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449255237076690546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-3130575366345995791?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.thefreedictionary.com/pick-me-up' title='Pick-Me-Up'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/3130575366345995791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/3130575366345995791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2010/03/pick-me-up.html' title='Pick-Me-Up'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/S5-kxEhkpnI/AAAAAAAAAd4/2aQO5vcCTMQ/s72-c/25342_1312030373129_1601750928_741454_646798_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-9203088925244634930</id><published>2010-02-17T22:32:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T01:33:42.587+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Drained</title><content type='html'>My hair smells of smoke and shampoo and left-over traces of perfume it picked up from my neck. The curls are bored and bland, my ends are split and the tips that were once a radiant red are just stained now... washed out and tired...&lt;br /&gt;I stopped doing so many of the things I love. I stopped talking to Tamas and I stopped answering my mom's phone calls. I stopped cooking (heck, I barely eat anything anymore) my lovely meals. I stopped reading and it's killing me, because no matter what, I always had this! I cannot keep a book in my hands (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this coming from a child who lied about being scared of the dark so I could read at the light in the hallway&lt;/span&gt;) just as I cannot keep a conversation flowing (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this coming from a teenager who would have endless hou&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;rs of phone conversation with her lover&lt;/span&gt;) and this is just sad. Sad that I am so empty and dry and just sooo very tired! I am so tired I can't even sleep anymore, I am anxious and bored at the same time and these are not even the weirdest things that have happened lately!&lt;br /&gt;Now I'll try to fall asleep, I'll try not to think about what I have to do tomorrow, or the next day, or the next... I'll try to remember how it feels to lose faith in all humanity at Gatsby's funeral, and how I rode a sad train with Anna Karenina, how magical a parrot umbrella can be and how to tame a fox. I'll try to imagine how three man taking a vacation together must be like and how important it is to be Frank. I'll recollect the last books I read, a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;soma&lt;/span&gt; holiday in mom's house, a wicked slaughterhouse on a long airplane ride and a young artist's portrait in a comfortable armchair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;But today is just another Monday after all, so sleep will come, like it always does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/S3xujZFAbFI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/PGVgnsevzag/s1600-h/tired_husband.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 138px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/S3xujZFAbFI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/PGVgnsevzag/s200/tired_husband.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439344004263078994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-9203088925244634930?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/9203088925244634930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/9203088925244634930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2010/02/drained.html' title='Drained'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/S3xujZFAbFI/AAAAAAAAAdQ/PGVgnsevzag/s72-c/tired_husband.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-1407667915205793543</id><published>2010-02-09T00:12:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T02:14:26.508+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Is Gonna Fight For Her Right (To Party!)</title><content type='html'>Ok, so let's set aside the cheesy songs as titles an in all seriousness I'll write this entire post on a positive and happy note, because why the fuck not?! So what if the universe decided to screw me over, I can obviously handle it, otherwise, I would not be here, now would I?&lt;br /&gt;So I'll just let the path in front of me get covered with fresh snow, like a new beginning because nothing can compare to the feeling of walking on pristine snow, leaving your tracks and hearing it crunch beneath your feet. It makes me smile just thinking about it. Oh, and something else that makes me smile, (because I'm such a terrible girly girl) are my new very (&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;very&lt;/span&gt;!!!) red shoes. Yes, I seem to have found the key to depression - buy some obscenely expensive shoes ans if your depression is tragic - make them red ones! &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sex and the City&lt;/span&gt; anyone?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So in order to get back on my feet, high heels and all, I declared war to the system and called my parents to let them know if they ever hear of a bomb going off in my university it's a pretty high chance that was me, because damn it I can't party when I'm worried and upset!&lt;br /&gt;Also I made a strict resolution: I will stop asking myself "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Why?&lt;/span&gt;" it is a stupid question and the answer is simple - Because I made it so. Because my choices (and not anyone else's) have brought me here, because I always chose the more interesting solution to a problem, the twisted road, the curious answer. So no more &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whys&lt;/span&gt; for me. Everything I am and do is but a consequence of my own free will and choice, and that helps me sleep at night.&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Like Gatsby I believe in the green light and so I beat on... and I always do this with my feet when there's nothing more to say or do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/S3CmHr4ZRlI/AAAAAAAAAcw/LWwuJwZM-Ow/s1600-h/Red_Shoes_by_GeorgiaFlower.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/S3CmHr4ZRlI/AAAAAAAAAcw/LWwuJwZM-Ow/s200/Red_Shoes_by_GeorgiaFlower.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436027401204745810" border="0" /&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Photo:  &lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://georgiaflower.deviantart.com/"&gt;&lt;span&gt;http://georgiaflower.deviantart.com/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-1407667915205793543?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/1407667915205793543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/1407667915205793543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2010/02/is-gonna-fight-for-her-right-to-party.html' title='Is Gonna Fight For Her Right (To Party!)'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/S3CmHr4ZRlI/AAAAAAAAAcw/LWwuJwZM-Ow/s72-c/Red_Shoes_by_GeorgiaFlower.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-2488921180473519634</id><published>2010-02-02T13:46:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-02T14:16:20.386+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Are We Having Fun Yet?</title><content type='html'>How far can you run and for what?! How much can you twist and shout and fight and stamp your foot on the ground?! How many years of wars against the wind before you just let go?&lt;br /&gt;I am that kind of person that can always find more and more and MORE resources and solutions and I pride myself for solving any given problem. It's how I became, it's what "they" made me! But how many times do you need to hear "&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;YOU DON'T BELONG HERE!!!&lt;/span&gt;" before you finally turn around and accept defeat?&lt;br /&gt;And truthfully it's not even defeat! It's just you moving on! It's just you flying in the wind like a dandelion seed! I cannot fight anymore, or I just don't want to. I'm not failing myself, I'm just accepting new options. Life does not have to be one fruitless struggle after the other, or so I believe at this moment, with buckets of tears pouring out of my eyes again.&lt;br /&gt;There are so many things out there, why do we hang on so desperately to one passion, to one dream? Does it really make us happier people or better persons in any way or is it just the feeling of doing the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;right thing&lt;/span&gt; (what sort of notion is that anyway?) is it just the victory of defeating the odds once more? Well what if the odds are not there to beat?! What if Orwell's character got it right, just before the end and the Big Brother's eyes really do show&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; love&lt;/span&gt;? Don't you pity him for not seeing it before, for giving up what could have been a quiet life, and for what? For stress and torture? Just to be clear I'm not talking here about the idea of the individual and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1984&lt;/span&gt;'s society and all that, I'm simply talking about a man fighting the rotation of the world and not getting anywhere with it.&lt;br /&gt;Me and my puffy eyes are going to sleep now. I don't know yet what I will do afterwards. Will I live and let die, will I sign a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Do Not Resuscitate&lt;/span&gt; order in my sleep, or will I regenerate yet again and rise like some sort of perverted phoenix, not from burning ashes but from salty water and fight another battle. I don't know, and I despise not knowing...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-2488921180473519634?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/2488921180473519634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/2488921180473519634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2010/02/are-we-having-fun-yet.html' title='Are We Having Fun Yet?'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-6740798451994516209</id><published>2010-02-01T18:53:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-01T21:44:34.898+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Freaky February</title><content type='html'>Breathe, and try not to laugh! There are no words to describe how &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ironic&lt;/span&gt; this is, but then again what isn't when I'm concerned?! I'm not a big believer in destiny, so I'll just pass it off as coincidence and have a blast with it. Otherwise who knows in what soft-wall cell I'd find myself in soon.&lt;br /&gt;   So, shortest month of the year, you really like to make and impression (I understand your need to compensate!). The real adventure of this blog started in February&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; 2008&lt;/span&gt; - when I lost myself, but at the end I got so, so much more back.&lt;br /&gt;   February &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;2009&lt;/span&gt; found me in breezy Rome, with high hopes and walking on air. I went to Italy and back. I so many people and my heart grew bigger just to keep them all in and my mind grew bigger just to understand them all and I'm a better person for it all. I didn't lose myself this time, nor my heart, nor my head, (and before you think of asking - all the alcohol DOES &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; COUNT!), it must have been the air... This also meant no more writing, seems to me, I only turn to the keyboard when my mind needs help to cope, when everything get so twisting and turning inside there, that you just need to unwind and spit it all out. I didn't stop writing altogether, but I wrote, by hand with my blue pen in my owl notebook. It made me a prisoner of it's wooden covers and it was unfair in so many ways, just another wrong turn on my way that I am now trying to fix.&lt;br /&gt;   And this brings us to February &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;2010&lt;/span&gt;, because all things have to come full circle. Winter in Cluj seem so have a ridiculous influence on me, this city that is only beautiful when it snows has a way of dragging me all over it's white streets and make me &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;think&lt;/span&gt; thoughts that I don't know how to deal with, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt; things that I don't want to deal with!&lt;br /&gt;   It's the last year of college... Everybody's nerves are stretched out like chords and we all hum like an out-of-tune string orchestra. Some chords snap - I heard the cold does that sometimes - accidents happen, so it is. We play each other, some are better than others, gentler fingers some make the string snap on purpose. (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;How much can you really take?!&lt;/span&gt;). So we are...&lt;br /&gt;   And even though it seems the world turned itself inside out yet again, now I am determined not to lose myself. And hopefully I won't lose the people that really matter on the way either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;    "On the way to what?&lt;/span&gt;" - Well that is a very good question... let me get back at you with the answer. There are words to be said out loud and words to be written, there are decisions to take and there is work to be done, but meanwhile:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;Let's have another cup of coffee, and let's have another sip of wine&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/S2ctaftwHsI/AAAAAAAAAbw/CyE-QLKp-uI/s1600-h/18959_1255928410615_1601750928_627405_5302221_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/S2ctaftwHsI/AAAAAAAAAbw/CyE-QLKp-uI/s320/18959_1255928410615_1601750928_627405_5302221_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433361408659037890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. In case you somehow have not figured this out yet - I cannot work on something that actually has an importance to save my life. So excuse me while I go drench my responsibilities in alcohol.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-6740798451994516209?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/6740798451994516209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/6740798451994516209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2010/02/freaky-february.html' title='Freaky February'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/S2ctaftwHsI/AAAAAAAAAbw/CyE-QLKp-uI/s72-c/18959_1255928410615_1601750928_627405_5302221_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-1528286668940578782</id><published>2008-03-25T23:00:00.010+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T02:15:29.044+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Cheile</title><content type='html'>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 &lt;i&gt;keychain&lt;/i&gt;, [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.&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;And after all, the search is never really over.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-lsHWmsJiI/AAAAAAAAAGE/fMQhcfOzaxc/s1600-h/seven_rusty_keys_by_gladysbluefingers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-lsHWmsJiI/AAAAAAAAAGE/fMQhcfOzaxc/s320/seven_rusty_keys_by_gladysbluefingers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181791719849207330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Works by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://gladysbluefingers.deviantart.com"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; http://gladysbluefingers.deviantart.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-ls7WmsJkI/AAAAAAAAAGU/TJWg6-hmRgo/s1600-h/im_the_key_by_gladysbluefingers.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-ls7WmsJkI/AAAAAAAAAGU/TJWg6-hmRgo/s320/im_the_key_by_gladysbluefingers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181792613202404930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-1528286668940578782?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/1528286668940578782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/1528286668940578782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2008/03/cheile.html' title='Cheile'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-lsHWmsJiI/AAAAAAAAAGE/fMQhcfOzaxc/s72-c/seven_rusty_keys_by_gladysbluefingers.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-7896582192799593557</id><published>2008-03-21T00:51:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T03:39:09.994+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sfidand Numerele</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;1, 3, 10, 16, 27, 37, 119&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Pledoaria mea incepe cu ceva cat se poate de logic 1+1 nu este egal intotdeauna cu un simplu 2.&lt;br /&gt;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... &lt;i&gt;for better or for worse&lt;/i&gt;. 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl&lt;br /&gt;Year after year&lt;br /&gt;Running over the same old grounds&lt;br /&gt;What have we found?&lt;br /&gt;Same old fears&lt;br /&gt;Wish you were here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-LxG2msJcI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/7-TBCAySh9E/s1600-h/il_fullxfull.16343122.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 146px; height: 196px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-LxG2msJcI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/7-TBCAySh9E/s200/il_fullxfull.16343122.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179967621468792258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-7896582192799593557?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/7896582192799593557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/7896582192799593557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2008/03/sfidand-numerele.html' title='Sfidand Numerele'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-LxG2msJcI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/7-TBCAySh9E/s72-c/il_fullxfull.16343122.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-2334872843491475566</id><published>2008-03-08T21:48:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T03:40:05.711+02:00</updated><title type='text'>VREAU</title><content type='html'>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 &lt;i&gt; over and over again&lt;/i&gt;. 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 &lt;i&gt;the ups and downs&lt;/i&gt;, 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  - &lt;i&gt;I can't fucking help it, and the only promise I can make is that I'll try harder. Forever.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R9MXHEnORSI/AAAAAAAAAE4/n9IXAJsFcZg/s1600-h/You_and_Me_by_green_sphinx.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R9MXHEnORSI/AAAAAAAAAE4/n9IXAJsFcZg/s320/You_and_Me_by_green_sphinx.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5175505807043609890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-2334872843491475566?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/2334872843491475566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/2334872843491475566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2008/03/vreau.html' title='VREAU'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R9MXHEnORSI/AAAAAAAAAE4/n9IXAJsFcZg/s72-c/You_and_Me_by_green_sphinx.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-2894177560358412217</id><published>2008-02-10T23:58:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T03:42:14.263+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Si Asa Am Devenit Croitoreasa</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6977aMIsDI/AAAAAAAAAEw/fll0mAEqW2U/s1600-h/Patched_innocence_by_green_sphinx.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6977aMIsDI/AAAAAAAAAEw/fll0mAEqW2U/s320/Patched_innocence_by_green_sphinx.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165483558189969458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;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.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;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 &lt;i&gt;martor&lt;/i&gt; 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).&lt;br /&gt;In ceea ce priveste postul anterior: it's not a small world, it's really a &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;huge&lt;/span&gt; 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 &lt;i&gt; so&lt;/i&gt; 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 &lt;i&gt;tells&lt;/i&gt; anything, it shows! It demonstrates the resut panifully, and it eventually will for me to, and for all of you out there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-2894177560358412217?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/2894177560358412217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/2894177560358412217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2008/02/si-asa-am-devenit-croitoreasa.html' title='Si Asa Am Devenit Croitoreasa'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6977aMIsDI/AAAAAAAAAEw/fll0mAEqW2U/s72-c/Patched_innocence_by_green_sphinx.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-5085980306771470024</id><published>2008-02-10T17:17:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T02:18:12.141+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Dissapointment(?)</title><content type='html'>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.&lt;br /&gt;Oh well, at least my daddy thinks I'm fine, but then again, that's kinda his job...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I can't sleep tonight&lt;br /&gt;Everybody saying everything's alright&lt;br /&gt;Still I can't close my eyes&lt;br /&gt;I'm seeing a tunnel at the end of all these lights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunny days&lt;br /&gt;Where have you gone?&lt;br /&gt;I get the strangest feeling you belong&lt;br /&gt;Why does it always rain on me?&lt;br /&gt;Is it because I lied when I was seventeen?&lt;br /&gt;Why does it always rain on me?&lt;br /&gt;Even when the sun is shining&lt;br /&gt;I can't avoid the lightning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't stand myself&lt;br /&gt;I'm being held up by an invisible man&lt;br /&gt;Still life on a shelf when&lt;br /&gt;I got my mind on something else&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunny days&lt;br /&gt;Where have you gone?&lt;br /&gt;I get the strangest feeling you belong&lt;br /&gt;Why does it always rain on me?&lt;br /&gt;Is it because I lied when I was seventeen?&lt;br /&gt;Why does it always rain on me?&lt;br /&gt;Even when the sun is shining&lt;br /&gt;I can't avoid the lightning&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, where did the blue skies go?&lt;br /&gt;And why is it raining so?&lt;br /&gt;It's so cold&lt;br /&gt;I can't sleep tonight&lt;br /&gt;Everybody saying everything's alright&lt;br /&gt;Still I can't close my eyes&lt;br /&gt;I'm seeing a tunnel at the end of the lights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunny days&lt;br /&gt;Where have you gone?&lt;br /&gt;I get the strangest feeling you belong&lt;br /&gt;Why does it always rain on me?&lt;br /&gt;Is it because I lied when I was seventeen?&lt;br /&gt;Even when the sun is shining&lt;br /&gt;I can't avoid the lightning&lt;br /&gt;Oh, where did the blue skies go?&lt;br /&gt;And why is it raining so?&lt;br /&gt;It's so cold&lt;br /&gt;Why does it always rain on me?&lt;br /&gt;Why does it always rain on ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Travis - Why Does It Always Rain On Me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R68WoaMIsAI/AAAAAAAAAEY/feqQz3ZaTj4/s1600-h/voica_by_sbudacean.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R68WoaMIsAI/AAAAAAAAAEY/feqQz3ZaTj4/s320/voica_by_sbudacean.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5165372181098049538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Photo by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://sbudacean.deviantart.com"&gt;http://sbudacean.deviantart.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" class="author"&gt;&lt;a class="u" href="http://green-sphinx.deviantart.com/"&gt;&lt;img class="avatar" src="http://a.deviantart.com/avatars/g/r/green-sphinx.gif" alt=":icongreen-sphinx:" width="50" height="50" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" class="time" title="Feb 3, 2008, 11:00:12 PM"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Voica): It's a small world, and I'm everybody's girl&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-5085980306771470024?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/5085980306771470024'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/5085980306771470024'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2008/02/dissapointment.html' title='Dissapointment(?)'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R68WoaMIsAI/AAAAAAAAAEY/feqQz3ZaTj4/s72-c/voica_by_sbudacean.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-8064330599602522769</id><published>2008-02-07T18:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T19:13:41.630+02:00</updated><title type='text'>What More Can I Say? (Re-edited)</title><content type='html'>This one is just for you!&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6s6D3CBYUI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/WSxroASSRv4/s1600-h/IMG_0386.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6s6D3CBYUI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/WSxroASSRv4/s320/IMG_0386.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164285235696853314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-8064330599602522769?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/8064330599602522769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/8064330599602522769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2008/02/what-more-can-i-say-re-edited.html' title='What More Can I Say? (Re-edited)'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6s6D3CBYUI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/WSxroASSRv4/s72-c/IMG_0386.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-6788330280345791331</id><published>2008-02-06T21:04:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T21:13:20.042+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Not Here</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;i&gt; I'm looking for Voica.&lt;br /&gt;She's not here right now.&lt;br /&gt;Well where is she then?&lt;br /&gt;She's banging her head against the wall&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Steps taken forward but sleepwalking back again, dragged by the force of some inner tide, I'll see you on the other side.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-6788330280345791331?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/6788330280345791331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/6788330280345791331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2008/02/not-here.html' title='Not Here'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-6484291192045014770</id><published>2008-02-06T18:04:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T18:42:07.980+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Balancing On The Blade</title><content type='html'>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.&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6neBnCBYRI/AAAAAAAAAD0/2v7QTAuxg88/s1600-h/Can__t_Think_of_A_Good_Title_by_green_sphinx.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6neBnCBYRI/AAAAAAAAAD0/2v7QTAuxg88/s320/Can__t_Think_of_A_Good_Title_by_green_sphinx.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163902566995681554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" class="author"&gt;&lt;a class="u" href="http://incadeveghe.deviantart.com/"&gt;&lt;img class="avatar" src="http://a.deviantart.com/avatars/i/n/incadeveghe.gif" alt=":iconIncaDeVeghe:" height="50" width="50" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" class="h" href="http://green-sphinx.deviantart.com/art/Can-t-Think-of-A-Good-Title-55815456#" onclick="return Comment.toggleHide(this); return false;"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Andrei): hmm... e ceva in ochii tai...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" class="author"&gt;&lt;a class="u" href="http://green-sphinx.deviantart.com/"&gt;&lt;img class="avatar" src="http://a.deviantart.com/avatars/g/r/green-sphinx.gif" alt=":icongreen-sphinx:" height="50" width="50" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(Voica): as vrea si eu sa stiu ce&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;" class="time" title="36 weeks 4 days ago"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-6484291192045014770?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/6484291192045014770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/6484291192045014770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2008/02/balancing-on-blade.html' title='Balancing On The Blade'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6neBnCBYRI/AAAAAAAAAD0/2v7QTAuxg88/s72-c/Can__t_Think_of_A_Good_Title_by_green_sphinx.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-781757250466142889</id><published>2008-02-04T00:06:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T01:50:02.489+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I Dare You</title><content type='html'>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...&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;I lift my lids and all is born again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;(I think I made you up inside my head.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;And arbitrary blackness gallops in:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;(I think I made you up inside my head.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;God topples from the sky, Hell's fires fade:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;Exit Seraphim and Satan's men:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;I fancied you'd return the way you said,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;But I grow old and I forget your name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;(I think I made you up inside my head.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;I should have loved a thunderbird instead;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;At least when spring comes they roar back again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;(I think I made you up inside my head.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sylvia Plath - Mad Girl's Love Song&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" name="KonaFilter"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6ZKenCBYQI/AAAAAAAAADs/ZOZGM-fQPF0/s1600-h/Blow+Me+Away.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6ZKenCBYQI/AAAAAAAAADs/ZOZGM-fQPF0/s320/Blow+Me+Away.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162895912560845058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name="7"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a name="7"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-781757250466142889?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/781757250466142889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/781757250466142889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-dare-you.html' title='I Dare You'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6ZKenCBYQI/AAAAAAAAADs/ZOZGM-fQPF0/s72-c/Blow+Me+Away.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-6394327390414868295</id><published>2008-02-01T22:21:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T02:11:59.863+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Unde te gasesc?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"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&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; si o oarecare teama pe nu care credeam ca o s-o mai simt...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;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.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sunt de nota 10 si in continuare nu reusesc sa pricep de ce."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;28.01.2008&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;A trecut timp, poate prea putin, confuzia nu sa d&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;iminuat 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.&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi unde te gasesc?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6OD4nCBYPI/AAAAAAAAADk/dsE0KSs_8UE/s1600-h/Confused_by_Anuk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 350px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6OD4nCBYPI/AAAAAAAAADk/dsE0KSs_8UE/s320/Confused_by_Anuk.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5162114606470095090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Photo by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;" &gt; &lt;a href="http://anuk.deviantart.com"&gt;http://anuk.deviantart.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-6394327390414868295?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/6394327390414868295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/6394327390414868295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2008/02/unde-te-gasesc.html' title='Unde te gasesc?'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R6OD4nCBYPI/AAAAAAAAADk/dsE0KSs_8UE/s72-c/Confused_by_Anuk.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-7863895183188740336</id><published>2008-01-25T18:24:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T02:10:50.624+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Answer, The Reasons, The Change of The Seasons</title><content type='html'>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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Si totusi unde-am pierdut inocenta,&lt;br /&gt;În dimineti obsedant de banale,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Pe care-o purtam totusi în noi,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Rapusa, etern semn de tradare?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi cum am uitat într-o zi&lt;br /&gt;Seninatatea boltii solare&lt;br /&gt;Ce stralucea în ochi inocenti&lt;br /&gt;Nepatati de îndemnuri murdare?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi când am murit, bieti copii,&lt;br /&gt;Surâzând si cu mâini preacurate,&lt;br /&gt;Facând loc unor necunoscuti,&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Ce se-nfunda-n placeri vinovate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi cum va veni primavara&lt;br /&gt;În lumi de sticla, înecate de Crivat,&lt;br /&gt;Va mai putea steaua noastra razbi,&lt;br /&gt;Prin norii-unei inimi sub înghet?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi la care raspântii,&lt;br /&gt;Am gresit noi, epave batrâne?&lt;br /&gt;Sa facem loc, suntem fara raspuns,&lt;br /&gt;Copiilor, epave de mâine.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Poem by &lt;a href="http://incadeveghe.deviantart.com/"&gt;http://incadeveghe.deviantart.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R5oPc3CBYOI/AAAAAAAAADY/-mJ2x-AiSus/s1600-h/lost_ship.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R5oPc3CBYOI/AAAAAAAAADY/-mJ2x-AiSus/s200/lost_ship.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159453311589507298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;P.S. Message to the humans:&lt;br /&gt;Everything is packed - candyfloss and oxygen&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R5oPInCBYNI/AAAAAAAAADQ/vVlHJLewMtY/s1600-h/lost_ship.gif"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;We're not coming back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; Words and doodle by &lt;a href="http://www.abeautifulrevolution.com/"&gt;http://www.abeautifulrevolution.com&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-7863895183188740336?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/7863895183188740336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/7863895183188740336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2008/01/banalitatea-vietii-de-zi-cu-zi-inca-ma.html' title='The Answer, The Reasons, The Change of The Seasons'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R5oPc3CBYOI/AAAAAAAAADY/-mJ2x-AiSus/s72-c/lost_ship.gif' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-1318096599965755917</id><published>2008-01-25T01:25:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T02:09:59.854+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Each Paraghraph Begins With An I</title><content type='html'>I'm sick of this cold weather, it makes my stomach shiver on the inside. My exa&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;ms are&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;definite&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; maybes, my "study group" came over the other day and the result was a w&lt;/span&gt;hite night, way to many maps we began and never finished, stuff in the air and s*** like that.&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R5kv1HCBYMI/AAAAAAAAADI/eQ_vZ55GN84/s1600-h/Praf_de_stele_by_korny_pnk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 311px; height: 210px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R5kv1HCBYMI/AAAAAAAAADI/eQ_vZ55GN84/s320/Praf_de_stele_by_korny_pnk.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159207437596713154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Photo by &lt;a href="http://korny-pnk.deviantart.com/"&gt;http://korny-pnk.deviantart.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-1318096599965755917?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/1318096599965755917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/1318096599965755917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2008/01/each-paraghraph-begins-with-i.html' title='Each Paraghraph Begins With An I'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R5kv1HCBYMI/AAAAAAAAADI/eQ_vZ55GN84/s72-c/Praf_de_stele_by_korny_pnk.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-2062816190148056109</id><published>2008-01-21T23:53:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T00:28:30.611+02:00</updated><title type='text'>We are... Wait, what are we really?</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;Art history, what the ... ? But are you sure, how about the money, the career, your future, your kids ?&lt;/i&gt; (I'm 19!)&lt;i&gt; You're not beautiful enough to marry rich. (By the way, have you gained weight?) Oh, now you're just being difficult.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   The Beginning&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   The Choice&lt;br /&gt; 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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   The Consequence (so far)&lt;br /&gt;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.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Currently blinded by the silence of a thousand broken hearts!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over and Out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-2062816190148056109?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/2062816190148056109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/2062816190148056109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2008/01/we-are-wait-what-are-we-really.html' title='We are... Wait, what are we really?'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4841321102652376630.post-1650701337129407480</id><published>2007-11-01T23:44:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-21T03:49:16.434+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='growing up'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blogging'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photos'/><title type='text'>This Is Me, Then And Now</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/RypL5AGan-I/AAAAAAAAABk/M8mFBkdnSGc/s1600-h/Sombrero_by_green_sphinx.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/RypL5AGan-I/AAAAAAAAABk/M8mFBkdnSGc/s400/Sombrero_by_green_sphinx.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127994568366268386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/RypL5QGan_I/AAAAAAAAABs/G1GrzfEjfK0/s1600-h/Downtown_by_green_sphinx.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/RypL5QGan_I/AAAAAAAAABs/G1GrzfEjfK0/s400/Downtown_by_green_sphinx.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127994572661235698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Ok, so a blog, this is new, new, new since I was never able to keep any kind of journal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;My plan is to post bits of my life, (most uninteresting if you ask me), accompanied by photos and images that have left a mark on me. There will be pictures I took, pictures I liked, funny photos, and artworks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"  &gt;For now, a photo of me from 1992 and one from this summer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4841321102652376630-1650701337129407480?l=voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/1650701337129407480'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4841321102652376630/posts/default/1650701337129407480'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://voica-puscasiu.blogspot.com/2007/11/this-is-me-now-and-then.html' title='This Is Me, Then And Now'/><author><name>Voica</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13559413881235041277</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://bp2.blogger.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/R-mdG2msJqI/AAAAAAAAAHU/7Iyv2CO_2u8/S220/how+low.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zaTsPGlCBVY/RypL5AGan-I/AAAAAAAAABk/M8mFBkdnSGc/s72-c/Sombrero_by_green_sphinx.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry></feed>
