17 again

I just watched the movie and in a very silly way it got to me. It's more about getting me to think about being 17. I was actually nostalgic earlier today and it makes me sad that I don't remember much and I stopped writing frequently in my diary right about that time. I remember we were hungry for freedom. I remember jokes and parties. Oh, if I stop to think, lots of things come back to me, especially related to the people in my life. My babe lived a great love story during that summer. I had a nice boyfriend who broke up with me because I didn't want to commit (lol). Then I almost got into an alcoholic coma, the two events being unrelated. My friends stood by me all night. In august we all went up to the mountains together and at night everybody had a different kind of paranoia. In autumn we were partying in Hard and singing in the cemetery (probably this post won't make it here for more than a week). It was the season of the 18th birthdays and we had so much fun together. Dancing at every party, we didn't let them close one time. In December I hooked up with my high school sweetheart. I was so in love I didn't need food or sleep or air. I was always scared it's too good to be true. Turns out it was. I'm going on 23 and that's my damn scary age. I look in the mirror and I'm scared. Although I bet my skin and hair look better than then, I feel I'm drying up, it's like every minute now I'm going to be 50 wondering where it all went. My brother was not even in school yet then. I didn't have money for pretty clothes, and that made me feel less than sometimes, or money for a camera, although I was taking a photography class. I had never been out of the country and I had no idea that when the real reasons to cry come along, I'd be out of tears. I would cry out of anything, I was such a sissy. Most of the friends I had then are still here. If I could do it all over again, I'd do the exact same things. I might be scared of where I am right now, but I like where it got me.

I killed the prom queen*

OMG, this spring ball is probably my last dance while in school. I didn't go to the banquet last year, when I graduated, so I figure once in four years I can wear an inappropriate dress and try hard not to get drunk because I'm on high heels. When I was 15, I had a too tight dress and I was crying on a swing. When I was 19, the dress was too short and I was continuously on the phone. This time I fear the cleavage is quite too much, but, oh, well, at least the dress is comfortable and long enough. The heels will probably kill me, but I'm training for a wedding anyway. I don't have a partner and I feel there is no need for one. This is CEE, single women are as common as corruption. There is no stigma associated to showing up all by yourself. I generally dislike having a plus one at parties. They make me think I'm more wild that I actually am.
Today, when I was going to see my internship coordinator, I was thinking about how we can be happy anywhere. There will always be something to complain about if we can't enjoy what's around. I read somewhere that Bob Marley said something like "love the life you live, live the life you love." And I've always thought that the first one should come, well, first. When you start getting the best of what you've got, you can turn it into what you've always wanted it to be. But if you always believe it's not worth to try, you'll keep on being miserable. Change is not built on air.
Then I got really down, I realized I'm such a lazy bone, skipping on my huge load of work. I was bashing myself about how I disappoint people and how being good is not enough, when you're not the best. But looking at it a little from the outside, I see that we are our worst critics. We don't like people because we assume they don't like us. We don't do things because we assume we can't do it. Well, another thing I read somewhere is that life is not about finding, but about inventing ourselves. We should allow ourselves to be at peace from time to time.

*It's actually the name of a band, as I happened to notice just now. They play some metalcore and i must say it's really catchy. I can't decide if I love it or hate it. Which is a good sign.

Our last summer

Oh, I'm so so whiny all the time. Thing is I feel brain dead. Not just because it's morning. I was just thinking and realized I don't remember the last few summers except from photographs and small things. I used to have an amazing memory when it came to the good times and the loved ones. I knew every detail, I held on to every tiny souvenir. But now it's empty. I try and try and all I have coming back to me is rage and some sort of dryness in my mouth. I used to think I never hurt. I was sure there were no regrets in my heart. I guess a young soul has an infinite ability to repress the evil. And I guess I'm growing older. The more I become at peace with myself, the more I feel the need to keep the wrong ones out. And I'm thinking now that if I don't love others unconditionally and don't find excuses for them anymore, maybe I'm becoming one of those authoritarian people I hate, who are always judging the world by their own standards. But now, the more time I spend with others, the more I remember of what I am not. And it shreds me to pieces that what I actually am is hardly visible and I'm not the girl to put it all out there. The things I like never fell in the blueprints of a stereotype. Most people have coherent personalities. Being mediocre is the only thing I was avoiding all this time.
And now that the whiny has been covered, I must say I can't decide whether I like to stay here, all alone and pretending I'm working, or to go home, where the voices of my family wake me up in the morning and the food is great. Maybe I woke up with a rock on my chest. I have no idea. But it's already summer and I've seen so much of the walls of this room, but I can't get out. I do things for fun, I walk and take photos and go to parties and see places. But I sometimes wish we were all butterflies and this is a cocoon. That there is something great for me out there.
Putting myself to sleep, I was trying to make a list of what I want for my birthday. Truth is, it's nothing money can buy. Or at least partially. As weird as it may seem, I actually want a job. But one where I'd feel I'm making a difference. That I'm not just a corporate slave or civil paper pusher. One that would keep me working overtime just because I like it. The money is not such a big issue. My lifestyle does not need much, but of course I'd love a good salary. I'm going to career fairs and sending out applications, asking everybody to give me a hint when they hear of something. I need a break in my academic career [sic!] before I'm left with one dry neuron. As for other things, I want a place of my own and I don't want to share. I had my first kiss when I was 13. Ten years of dating sucked the life out of me. I'm exhausted. I'm tired of the butterflies in the stomach and the waiting by the phone. I want around me just the men who make me happy. For example, I spent last week with Kusturica. I'll probably hit a photo exhibition of Anton Corbijn (director of Control)this week. And I'll shoot hoops with my brother very soon. There's plenty of fun for me out there if that's what I'm looking for. But a place of my own would make me very very happy. And so that I can have three things on my list, I want to travel around. I'll do that a lot this summer, I might even end up in Poland. As for the stuff money can buy... I don't feel like anything's missing. Of course, earrings and books and tea are never enough.

Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go to tabloid covers

I just stumbled upon Taylor Swift's new video, and I was thinking that there are beautiful and talented girls who are successful without taking their clothes off. With all the Disney slutty stars (starting with Britney and now Miley) around, it's comforting to see that such a sweet girl is touring the world. We can have innocent stars and we can have people other than WASP men ruling the world. Lots of people around me have been expressing their concern with moral decay or endangerment of the human race due to several ecological and health issues. In some parts of the world the gap between the poor and the rich is getting larger. But at the same time, in previously poorer countries the middle class is booming. When Buddhists encourage us to live in the now, they refer to a state of consciousness, not to being blind to the larger picture. The world is huge, there's billions of us and growing. And the world has a past. Whenever we start complaining about little things, we fail to see how lucky we are to complain about that, how much we have grown compared to previous generations. I've always thought that growth is not a good thing for everybody and I've always inclined towards the left, but I must say I don't wanna be in my mother's shoes at my age. It was the year she gave birth to me. The Communist regime had tightened the belt: she had to wait for hours in line to get some milk and she had to bribe the doctor for some formula. Six months after giving birth she had to go back to work and because of the smell of chemicals, I refused breastfeeding afterward. She and my father were working in shifts and I had to stay a few months with my grandmother. When my mother came to see me, I would not recognize her. In order to get a subsidized apartment, because we were living in a worker's residence when I was born, she walked around the city in the hot summer with me in a baby-carriage. It was very hard to raise a child in 80s Romania, even for two parents who both worked and had support from their parents. Imagine people with many kids and nothing to feed them, as meat was almost impossible to find and even for oil you had to go to the other side of the town. The nostalgic are the ones who enjoyed privileges, not the majority of the population. Watching "Children of the Decree", I was not sad, but angry. And not angry at the dead, by at those who keep preaching we need an authoritarian rule. The ones who want women to continue doing double shifts and have children till exhaustion because they are sinners anyway. The ones that think that gypsies should be sent away because they are dirty and thieves. The ones who are not touched by what the regime did to disabled children. The ones that despise whatever is different and have never bothered to be kind to the oppressed. Those people were definitely dissatisfied then too. Those people always have something to complain about, but they are all filthy cowards who cannot speak up against injustice because they were only pursuing their own interest.

My life kicks ass. Including mine

I've never even dreamed of having a pool downstairs. I've never dreamed of a clean, warm and quiet library, stacked with whatever my papers would require. I love living in a large city. I can walk around for days and still feel like it's the first time I've laid my eyes on it. I have all the time I want to just wallow and nobody to bother me. But it's exhausting. When the standard of living goes up, so do our expectations. Of ourselves. I'm working hard on building some self-discipline. I'm making myself listen to that pile of music I've collected thinking I'll play them the next day. I'm pushing harder to work out and eat healthy. The Easter holiday was a complete disaster for my body. I cannot go up the stairs to second floor without feeling like my heart will explode through my ears. I cannot stop craving for the greasy food and creamy deserts. I am a tea and salad person, but in between healthy meals I keep my mind busy so that I don't fantasize about a Whopper or spicy potato chips. Talking about keeping my head busy, it's also hard to get back on track with the huge amount of reading and the daily one pager I'm trying to impose on myself. The truth is I actually enjoy the exhaustive life much better. I sleep well, my back or head doesn't hurt anymore and I feel good about things around me. I might even become a good person if I somehow burn all the residual anger away.

No, fotoblog de Cluuj

Marti am avut un moment de euforie. Mi se intampla rar si de multe ori cand eram pe drum. De data asta a fost ca un vant puternic, un vant care nu te loveste, ci te ia cu totul de pe picioare. Am vazut primii copaci infloriti. Undeva pe granita. Am cascat gura ca un copil mic, am facut ochii mari, mi-a venit sa chicotesc, sa plang, mi-am infipt unghiile in scaunul din fata. Timp de vreo doua minute, unul dupa altul, pomii incarcati de minuni albe treceau prin dreapta mea. De fapt, eu treceam pe langa ei. Bine, autobusul. Irelevant. E unul din momentele acelea nebune de noi inceputuri. Cand te trezesti din amorteala, cand iti promiti ca nu vei mai lasa nici o minune sa treaca pe langa tine. Cand vine in sfarsit primavara in adancul meu.
Si cata nevoie aveam de petale albe sa spele urmele lasate in tarana. Acolo unde mai erau candva radacinile capacitatii mele de a uita de mine. Chiar daca iert de fiecare data, o parte marsava din mine nu ma lasa sa uit. Sa uit ca s-a intrat cu bocancii in sufletul meu, ca dincolo de cuvintele care imi repetau ce vroiam sa aud, am ajuns de fiecare data sa ma tarasc singura din prapastie. Si atunci cad de fiecare data cand imi amintesc. Iar daca acum mi se intinde mana, nu o sa o prind. Nici una din cele care m-au impins. Eu nu ma intorc. Am invatat destule cand ma cataram inapoi. Si acum am dat de soare. Acum pot sa acopar groapa si sa sadesc in loc un puiet. Singura. Ca sa pot sa uit de mine si fara a fi ametita.
Si dupa atata lenevit in coconul meu calduros din Pesta m-am intors la Cluj. Acasa? Ei, lumea e casa mea! :D Fotoblogul de Cluj era menit sa inceapa de vreo luna. Fotografia de mai sus e facuta in ultima mea vizita acasa. Incercam sa surprind un porumbel care se uita gales la mine. In schimb, m-am ales cu niste pixeli din aripile lui. Ma gandeam sa trec astazi prin centru sa vad daca mitingul studentesc o sa iasa cum era planificat. Adevarul e ca mi-e lene si am ramas la o mamaliga cu branza. Am vrut sa scriu despre cum mi-au stricat parculetul preferat din Babes, despre cum Somesul era malos si cum nu am apucat sa vad nici un film de la Dialektus, desi am avut vreme sa sarbatoresc de doua ori 8 martie. Dar asta a fost atat de demult. Sunt destule de povestit despre Clujul cel nou. Odata ce imi inving timiditatea si ies in lume. Am avut o tentativa ieri, dar abia am apucat sa trec pe la cateva standuri de la targul de carte. Cu putina vreme buna, in cateva ore arunc la cos sub padure, dar pana atunci ma intorc la Kymlicka.

Back then

There was a wild time when we used to party hard all over the city although we were all sad screwed up teenagers. We don't need to ask for beer money from our mums anymore, but we don't have time to get together. If we do, we leave early, and when we stay up late, we watch movies. We used to write poems and read them over coffee in dirty bars at seven o'clock in the morning. We used to sing so that they wouldn't close the pubs before morning. We used to stumble towards the benches over the riverbanks and we used to sit in front of the cathedral for hours. I used to be madly in love, so much it hurt. So much, I would wake up in the morning and cry just at the thought it could be over. I've ended a lot in the mean while and it doesn't feel the same anymore. We used to be good kids with bad habits. We would make friends so easily, there was no addiction to cells and messenger and we still found a way to get together. I don't skip school anymore. I don't spend hours in a cafe and I don't go to wild heavy metal parties anymore. If I get in a rock bar and I start dancing, I feel like a little freak. I look at guys in leather and I think they are such cliches. I cannot imagine hanging around on the sidewalk and doing nothing for hours. It's all gone and we're still drama queens obsessing over how people don't like us for what we are. But we've learned to hide it better. We've been working hard to fit in. That's how you get lost along the way.