the day's most recent obsession

this is no draft.
enjoy: yep yep i'm goin' crazy and 've been listening to this for at least 20 hours in a loud fucking loop.
HA!

comment dire?

mais qu'est-ce que je fous la?

ce n'est que quand j'ai failli me faire ecraser par une moto en plein passage pietons que je me suis rendue compte que le feu etait rouge et qu'il y avait tout un monde autour de moi, pas seulement une sorte de platanes flottants et un tapis roulant en bitum.

de toute facon, depuis trois jours, chaque fois que je prends le bus ou que le metro sort en surface, j'ai l'impression que je vis dans une ville en carton. une immense et interminable maison de poupee, a chaque coup disproportionnee ( soit trop grand, soit trop petit). avec un grand tuyau d'eau au milieu.

d'ailleurs, la surprise d'une catastrophe possible, mais evitee par l'attention du motard, ca m'a fait un effet bizarre de - vas-y, marche plus vite, on va rentrer, c'est fou ici. 

je ressentais chaque pas comme une agression de plus, je me sentais de plus en plus mefiante.

aussi -  ce fut comme une sorte de cassure dans l'engrenage (je marche, je reflechis, gauche, droit, gauche, droit, rythme soutenu), une sorte de "putain - mais je suis la sans etre la, qu'est-ce qui se passe?" - un peu comme quand tu te reveilles en plein milieu d'un reve - ou un reveil tres brusque tout court. et puis - allez, plus vite, faut se barrer d'ici.

or cette ville en carton - on dirait que chaque foisqu'il pleut, ca va s'ecrouler, ou se tremper jusqu'aux os - euh poutres - , puis secher et s'onduler comme du papier que quelqu'un aurait mis sur un radiateur a secher, puisque c'etait un document utile.

mais aujourd'hui il a fait beau.

I was falling asleep when I realized I was smiling.

I was warm and fuzzy

But the music was too loud, so I turned it down a bit.

back to warm and fuzzy.

that's all.

this is not a party blog

We always pout about the americans for having exported such shallow holidays as halloween and st valentine's day - but france is quite keen on another not-so-national holiday, wich has the advantage of giving an excuse for another get-drunk-party, by celebrating the 17th of march as the day that a certain patrick (patty for friends) brought the true faith of catholicism to Ireland.

Green lepercauns and Guiness are hence the leitmotifs of the day - the evening actually.

So last tuesday, i went to such a party with some friends. had a few "half-pints" (something that you can only have in france, as the Irish or other true beer drinking nations would consider that blasphemy, that and the grenadine or peach syrup poured into beer), one or two sips of whiskey and then, as every french party goes, went to someone's place, to keep partying with leftover sangria and orange juice. French songs were sung, cigarettes  and spliffs were smoked, and tantrums were had by a tipsy and snappy when tipsy host.

But that's not the point. there was a guy there, that one of my friends brought to this party some time later. he'd just met him. 

Young, black, cute,dreadlocks, quiet, dressed in black, no-drinker, and huge fan of bob marley's "bad boys".  he's alomost 21, born august 23rd, half virgo, half leo, came from gouadeloupe four years ago and had some bad stuff going on. so ended up in the street. he used to stay with some old-school punksaround bastille for a while, but now he'd rather be by himself. his best friend is 51 and did some jail-time. 

He showed me some rap songs he had written about his world, his life. he had written them in his native creole, full of jamaican slang- so he had to litteraly translate them to me. we talked for hours.

[there's depeche mode's wrong airing on the radio - somehow, it fits more than anything i can say]

Anyhow, meeting him really had me thinking annd saying sorry every five minutes.

Why? because when you meet people like this, and see they're living a life you've only seen in documentaries or from up your ivory tower, a life you have a million stereotypes about, a life you fear as much as you fear the people who are living it, from the safety and abundance of your calm, university-going intellectual appartment.

Somehow, saying to someone like this that your fridge is empty and you have to go buy some groceries puts things into a very fucked-up perspective. 

so i was sorry. not so much for him (he seemed to take care of himself quite well and he was quite aware of his situation, he wanted out of it, he had plans as to how to do that, he'd stopped dealing and stealing for a while now and he almost died some time ago. the ambulance people hadn't noticed him, as some cars were burning in aparking lot). I was sorry  for my taking things for granted. for a kind of insensibility, of unawareness or...way of saying things to him (although i'm not sure if i was just imagining that, or if he actually noticed that). he said i was funny and made him laugh.

I mean, what the fuck do i have the right and justice to complain about?

strasbourg, strasbourg

ok, j'suis a strasbourg. 

il est 11h23 et je prends mon cafe-jus d'orange dans petit bar rockeur pres des facs. 

mfk, 3 rue de l'abruvoir. bus 30, arret kruetenau ou cite administrative.

 il me reste 45 minutes de batterie sur mon ordi.

quand j'suis arrivee c'etait ferme. puis apres la fille a ouvert, a descendu des tabourets expres pour moi. ac/dc dans les haut-parleurs. le bonheur. puis apres, odeur de produit pour les sols (l'odeur de propre, clean, curat de la societe de consommation) et les doors. encore, le bonheur. on a parle des jeunes qui ne vont pas au musee, de la culture pour tous, des bistros tellement pas rock a paris, de son bar a elle ou il y a des fois des concerts. et du fait que je suis trooop contente de l'avoir trouve ce pti bar pas comme les autres. yeah.

des mini pochoirs avec des cranes flottants sur les murs. rock'n'roll man.

ca rappelle des bons souvenirs d'ete.

et le pire, c'est que je porte un pull rose. mais vraiment rose.

lookin like a groupie. and there's no band. lol.

strasbourg - naaan, mais j'adooore.

(photos should be uploaded quite soon. i hope.)

like an urge to do stuff

m'kay, got itchy hands t'day. and can pathetically feel some glimpse of inner peace, yeah.

yeah, that bad.

no, no butterflies in my stomach kind of reason, just - the holidays i guess. - well, there was a such a reason, but that's like soooo two weeks ago.  and then there was venice. but it's still not that.

just itchy hands, some kind of positive nervousness (yes, that exists), some fear of the future (really, i'm clueless) but altogether, a great feeling of accomplishment coming out of : ikea diy.

yes, i just reassembled one of last year's trestles and made myself a...prolongement (?!?!) of my long suffering table. some of my books feel better (my flat is a meritocracy), my router catches dust from much higher(social evolution?), my diary is happy at last (because it's new, for now), my ashtray not in the way anymore.

and i feel like doing stuff ( no, not the dishes, i mean it)

and yeah, i don't only have bad days

and writing in english ( as this blog-thing-whatever is kinda messy language-wise) kind of keeps me away of any depressive draught - which, despite what some may think, is a good thing.

yeah, shit happens, what can i say.

(*getting back to the tudors --- errr jonathan rhys meyers*)

Venezia, forevermore

I was in Venice last week. I was happy and calm last week.

details

light  - soft, strong, golden, revealing venitian light

colours

bridges

salty, humid air

green, algae, water - sea.

street lamps.

serenissima.

to be continued.

how to do your dishes like a passive-agressive maniac.

step one : 

take all your dishes out of the sink. put them on the counter.

step two:  

take the biggest bowl/pan you have to wash, put in all cutlery, forks, spoons and such.

step three: 

continue sorting: glasses go with glasses, mugs with mugs, cups with cups, bowls with bowls, plates with plates and so on and so forth. 

/!\ for expert maniacs only: you cand create sub-categories - desert plates, big bowls, small bowls wine glasses, forks etc, it all depends on the quantity of dishes to be washed.

step four: 

start with a category. plates for example. wash them one by one; put the back into the sink as you wash each plate.

step five: 

rinse your plates.

step six: 

put them to dry on a kitchen towel you have specifically spread over the counter.

step seven: 

continue,slowly and attentively, dish-category by dish-category, until you're done.

what's the use, you may ask...: PROCRASTINATION!

now go do you dishes little snowflakes, 

time is not on your side, it is against you.

so kill it.

things to write about

crisis as a state of normality. how does a state of crisis become the new normal order of one's life. how and when does this happen. can it still be called a crisis.does it end, if ever, and how.is one aware of it. does that change anything. does it have a meaning, while being normal.

crisis as a state of me.another ego-centered piece of writing trying to figure myself out. if possible. am i in crisis or is crisis in me. is there any way out. should there be a way out. does is all mean anything. should it. does it need to. do i need it to. is that good. where will/would it all lead to.can/should i overcome this.is it meant to be.

crisis as a sign of life.crisis as a painful, thus proof of being, experience.if crisis is chaos, then there is something that chaos can come upon. if chaos is what life should not be, then crisis is a negation, thus implies what is/should be. all negation is an affirmation of something else.truth lies in things that hurt. crisis hurts. 

crisis as a state of transition.pending ideas.

la crise et le cri.just how many things can one pull off from a silly game upon words.

exhibition reviews and analysis

venus in furs review.vendredi 13 fevrier 2009: apollon le devorateur.

hopes dreams and aspirations: still there?exactly that.

eloge de la souffrance pending project

schiele, bacon, l. freud, soutine. when flesh becomes meat, and it hurts.

anthropomorphic landscapes. it is all in the details.

grocery list.buy fruits(apples, cherries, oranges, grapes), milk, vegetables(tomatoes, potatoes, salad,broccoli, brussels sprouts), cheese, sour cream, bread, bread crumbs,orange juice,wine. and then let it all rot in the fridge and have some cornflakes instead.

to do list. wake up, brush you teeth, have a shower, have a coffee, do stuff, go places, sleep, sleep, sleep, think, sleep again, call your mom,complain about stuff, sleep again. lose this list and do nothing instead.

lists list.make lists of all things, categorizing everything by subject, cost, time needed, number of pages/words/characters/people involved. then make a list of all the lists, put it somewhere,somehow manage to lose it so you won't find the other lists. and start again.

ok

here we go

light a cig'

turn the music on. free jazz. freeing jazz. free strange jazz. all that jazz. all is jazz. with bagbipes. odd, some might say, but then again, whatever takes the edge off.

it screams, and it cries, and it makes you feel unstable. yes, unstable, like kind of drunk-state-of-the-art unstable, tripping against chairs and getting bruises without even knowing and ignoring it. that kind.

but still happy free jazz, that gets you smiling all of a sudden, because of all of those sounds that you hadn't imagined to come out of a saxophone. happy, because it's surprising, and  if there are any real incurable diseases, curiosity is one of them [forget about the cat]. and there's no better trip for curious people, than a well diserved surprise. and bagpipe, free-jazz.

"Bagpipes are the only instrument that could scare off an electric guitar", as Van Morrison would put it.

oh, g.l.o.r.i.a.

enjoy:)

Discover Niou Bardophones!

wish I could go...

cf: Francis Bacon retrospective at the Tate Britain gallery.(c), until January 4th, 2009

Introduction

Francis Bacon is internationally acknowledged as among the most powerful painters of the twentieth century. His vision of the world was unflinching and entirely individual, encompassing images of sensuality and brutality, both immediate and timeless. When he first emerged to public recognition, in the aftermath of the Second World War, his paintings were greeted with horror. Shock has since been joined by a wide appreciation of Bacon's ability to expose humanity's frailties and drives.

Triptych – August 1972
© The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008 Tate enlarge

This major retrospective gathers many of his most remarkable paintings and is arranged broadly chronologically. Bacon's vision of the world has had a profound impact. It is born of a direct engagement that his paintings demand of each of us, so that, as he famously claimed, the 'paint comes across directly onto the nervous system'.

As an atheist, Bacon sought to express what it was to live in a world without God or afterlife. By setting sensual abandon and physical compulsion against hopelessness and irrationality, he showed the human as simply another animal. As a response to the challenge that photography posed for painting, he developed a unique realism which could convey more about the state of existence than photography's representation of the perceived world. In an era dominated by abstract art, he amassed and drew upon a vast array of visual imagery, including art of the past, photography and film. These artistic and philosophical concerns run like a spine through the present exhibition.

Room 1: Animal

A philosophical attitude to human nature first emerges in Francis Bacon's works of the 1940s. They reflect his belief that, without God, humans are subject to the same natural urges of violence, lust and fear as any other animal. Bacon showed Figure in a Landscape and Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion (on display in Room 4) in April 1945, and exhibited consistently thereafter. The bestial depiction of the human figure was combined with specific references to recent history and especially the devastating events of the Second World War.

Bacon often drew his inspiration from reproductions, acquiring a large collection of books, catalogues and magazines. He repeatedly studied key images in order to probe beneath the surface appearance captured in photographs.

Early concerns that would persist throughout his work include the male nude, which reveals the frailty of the human figure, and the scream or cry that expresses repressed and violent anxieties. These works are among the first in which he sought to balance psychological insights with the physical identity of flesh and paint.

• Head VI 1949
  © The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008
  Arts Council Collection, Southbank Centre, London enlarge
• Study from the Human Body 1949
  © The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008
  Image courtesy of National Gallery of Victoria, Photographic Services enlarge

Room 2: Zone

Dog 1952
© The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008

In his paintings from the early 1950s, Bacon engaged in complex experiments with pictorial space. He started to depict specific details in the backgrounds of these works and created a nuanced interaction between subject and setting. Figures are boxed into cage-like structures, delineated 'space-frames' and hexagonal ground planes, confining them within a tense psychological zone. In 1952 he described this as 'opening up areas of feeling rather than merely an illustration of an object'.

Through his technique of 'shuttering' with vertical lines of paint that merge the foreground and background, Bacon held the figure and the setting together within the picture surface, with neither taking precedence in what he called 'an attempt to lift the image outside of its natural environment'.

A theme that emerged in the 1950s was the extended series of variants of Velázquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X 1650, a work Bacon knew only from illustrations. He used this source to expose the insecurities of the powerful – represented most often in the scream of the caged figure. Through the open mouth he examined the tension between the interior of the body and the spaces of its location, which is explored more explicitly in the vulnerability of the ape-like nudes.

Study for Nude 1951© The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008 , Collection of Samuel and Ronnie Heyman

Room 3: Apprehension

Man with Dog 1953
© The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008
Albright-Knox Art Gallery, Buffalo, New York enlarge

Implicit throughout Bacon's work of the mid 1950s is a sense of dread pervading everyday life. Not only a result of Cold War anxiety, this seems to have reflected a sense of menace at a personal level emanating from Bacon's chaotic affair with Peter Lacy (who was prone to drunken violence) and the wider pressures associated with the continuing illegality of homosexuality. The Man in Blue series captures this atmosphere, concentrating on a single anonymous male figure in a dark suit sitting at a table or bar counter on a deep blue-black ground. Within their simple painted frames, these awkwardly posed figures appear pathetically isolated.

Bacon's interest in situations that combine banality with acute apprehension was also evident in other works. From figures of anxious authority, his popes took on malevolent attributes and physical distortions that were directly echoed in the paintings of animals, whose actions are also both sinister and undignified. Some of these images derived from Bacon's close scrutiny of the sequential photographs of animals and humans taken by Eadweard Muybridge, which he called 'a dictionary' of the body in motion.

Room 4: Crucifixion

Crucifixion 1933
© The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008
Courtesy Murderme, London enlarge

Bacon made paintings related to the Crucifixion at pivotal moments in his career, which is why these key works are gathered together in this room. The paradox of an atheist choosing a subject laden with Christian significance was not lost on Bacon, but he claimed, 'as a non-believer, it was just an act of man's behaviour'.

Here the instincts of brutality and fear combine with a deep fascination with the ritual of sacrifice. Bacon had already made a very individual Crucifixion in 1933 before returning to the subject with his break-through triptych Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion in 1944. This is a key precursor to later themes and compositions, containing the bestial distortion of human figures within the triptych format. These monstrous creatures displace the traditional saints and Bacon later related them to the Eumenides – the vengeful Furies in Greek mythology.

In resuming the theme in the 1960s, especially in 1962 as the culmination of his first Tate exhibition, Bacon used references to Giovanni Cimabue's Crucifixion 1272–4, to introduce a more explicitly violent vision. Speaking after completing the third triptych in 1965 he simply stated: 'Well, of course, we are meat, we are potential carcasses.'

Room 5: Crisis

Study for the Nurse from the Battleship Potemkin 1957
© The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008
Ursula Edelmann/ARTOTHEK Städelsches Kunstinstitut, Frankfurt enlarge

Between 1956 and 1961, Bacon travelled widely. He spent time in places marginal to the art world, in Monaco, the south of France and Africa, and particularly with Peter Lacy in the expatriate community in Tangier.

In this rather unsettled context, he explored new methods of production, shifting to thicker paint, violently applied and so strong in colour as to indicate an engagement with the light of North Africa. This was most extreme in his series based on a self-portrait of Vincent van Gogh, The Painter on the Road to Tarascon 1888, which became an emblem of the modern predicament.

Despite initial acclaim, Bacon's van Gogh works were soon criticised for their 'reckless energy' and came to be viewed as an aberration. They can now be recognised as pivotal to Bacon's further development, however, and allow glimpses into his search for new ways of working. His innovations were perhaps in response to American Abstract Expressionism, of which he was publicly critical. Although he eventually returned to a more controlled approach to painting, the introduction of chance and the new vibrancy of colour at this moment would remain throughout his career.

• Study for Portrait II (after the Life Mask of William Blake) 1955
  © Estate of Francis Bacon
  
  

Room 6: Archive

The posthumous investigation of Bacon's studio confirmed the extent to which he used and manipulated photographic imagery. This practice was already known from montages recorded in the early 1950s by the critic Sam Hunter. Often united by a theme of violence, the material ranges between images of conflict, big game, athletes, film stills and works of art.

An important revelation that followed the artist's death was the discovery of lists of potential subjects and preparatory drawings, which Bacon had denied making. Throughout his life, he asserted the spontaneous nature of his work, but these materials reveal that chance was underpinned by planning.

Photography offered Bacon a dictionary of poses. Though he most frequently referred to Eadweard Muybridge's survey of human and animal locomotion, images of which he combined with the figures of Michelangelo, he remained alert to photographs of the body in a variety of positions.

A further extension of Bacon's preparatory practices can be seen in his commissioning of photographs of his circle of friends from the photographer John Deakin. The results – together with self-portraits, photo booth strips, and his own photographs – became important prompts in his shift from generic representations of the human body to portrayals of specific individuals.

Room 7: Portrait

During the 1960s, the larger part of Bacon's work shifted focus to portraits and paintings of his close friends. These works centre on two broad concerns: the portrayal of the human condition and the struggle to reinvent portraiture. Bacon drew upon the lessons of van Gogh and Velázquez, but attempted to rework their projects for a post-photographic world.

His approach was to distort appearance in order to reach a deeper truth about his subjects. To this end, Bacon's models can be seen performing different roles. In the Lying Figures series, Henrietta Moraes is naked and exposed. This unprecedented raw sexuality reinforces Bacon's understanding of the human body simply as meat.

By contrast Isabel Rawsthorne, a fellow painter, always appears in control of how she is presented. With a mixture of contempt and affection, Bacon depicted George Dyer, his lover and most frequent model, as fragile and pathetic. This is especially evident in Dyer's first appearance in Bacon's work, Three Figures in a Room, in which he represents the absurdities, indignities and pathos of human existence. Everyday objects occasionally feature in these works, hollow props for lonely individuals which reinforce the sense of isolation that Bacon associated with the human condition.

Study from Portrait of Pope Innocent X 1965© The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008 Private Collection. Courtesy Marlborough Fine Art, London

Room 8: Memorial

Triptych – In Memory of George Dyer 1971
© The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008 Fondation Beyeler, Riehen/Basel enlarge

This room is dedicated to George Dyer who was Bacon's most important and constant companion and model from the autumn of 1963. He committed suicide on 24 October 1971, two days before the opening of Bacon's major exhibition at the Grand Palais in Paris.

Influenced by loss and guilt, the painter made a number of pictures in memorial to Dyer. From this period onwards the large-scale triptych was his established means for major statements, having the advantage of simultaneously isolating and juxtaposing the participating figures, as well as guarding against narrative qualities that he strove to avoid.

But while evading narratives, Bacon drew more than ever from literary imagery; the first of the sequence, Triptych In Memory of George Dyer 1971, refers to a specific section of T.S. Eliot's poem ‘The Waste Land'.

In addition to his own memory, for Triptych – August 1972 Bacon relied on photographs taken by John Deakin of Dyer in various poses on a chair. He confined his dense and energetic application of paint to the figures in these works. The dark openings consciously evoke the abyss of mortality that would become a recurring concern in Bacon's later works.

Room 9: Epic

Triptych Inspired by T.S. Eliot's 'Sweeney Agonistes' 1967
Oil on canvas
1980 x 1475 mm each
© The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008
Courtesy Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden, Smithsonian Institution enlarge

References to poetry and drama became a central element in Bacon's work from the second half of the 1960s. Alongside images of friends and single figures (often self-portraits), he produced a series of grand works that identified with great literature. Imbued with the inevitability and constant presence of death, the poetry of T.S. Eliot was a particular source of inspiration. The sentiments of the poet's character Sweeney could be said to echo the painter's perspective on life:

Birth, and copulation, and death.
That's all the facts when you come to
brass tacks:
Birth, and copulation, and death.

The works in this room refer to and derive from literature. Some make direct references in their titles, others depict, sometimes abstractly, a certain scene or atmosphere within the narratives themselves. Bacon repeatedly stated that none of his paintings were intended as narratives so, rather than illustrations, these works should perhaps be understood as evoking the experience of reading Eliot's poetry or Aeschylus's tragedies: their violence, threat or erotic charge. Thus, of the triptych created after reading Aeschylus, Bacon explained 'I tried to create images of the sensations that some of the episodes created inside me'.

Room 10: Late

Blood on Pavement c. 1988
© The Estate of Francis Bacon/DACS 2008
Private Collectionenlarge

When Bacon turned seventy in 1979, more than a decade of work lay ahead of him. Neither his legendarily hedonistic lifestyle nor his work pattern seemed to age him, but he was continually facing up to mortality through the deaths of those around him.

This unswerving confrontation, however mitigated by youthful companions such as John Edwards, became the great theme of his late style. Constantly stimulated by new source material – from photographs to poetry – he was able to adapt them to his abiding concerns with the vulnerability of flesh.

Exploring new techniques he also extended his fascination with how appropriate oil paint is for rendering the human body's sensuality and sensitivity. A certain despairing energy may also be felt in the forceful throwing of paint that dominates some of these final works: the controlled chance as a defiant gesture.

Ultimately, and appropriately, Bacon's last Triptych of 1991 returns to the key image of sexual struggle that had frequently recurred in his work. He faced death with a defiant concentration on the exquisiteness of the lived moment.

................feel..........................................................................................................................................................

....................................................free......................................................................................................................

...................................to.......................................................................................................................................

....................................................fill..in......................................................................................................................

..........................................................................the...blanks.............................................................................................

single serving home: work in progress

I'll keep this updated with the evolution of my new one-person-customised-attic;) hihi

Chaos is upon us

I'm back.

je suis de retour après des mois entiers de silence. silence qui marque cette fois ci une volonté d'oubli absolu.si pas un oubli, un fuite. avec la fuite, la perdition. avec la fuite, la déroute.la confusion et le chaos. ma vie est un joyeux bordel. ceci n'est pas un plainte, mais un constat.
je suis furieuse, confuse, bordélique, en amortissement profond, en arrêt de pensée,tremblotante, malaisée et mal aimée de moi même.


(c)photo by Sarah Michel


j'évite toute confrontation avec tout ce qui se passe dans ma tête. je m'ignore de plus belle. je ne sais plus quel avis j'ai sur telle ou telle chose. j'ai parfois des avis de façade, circonstanciels et surtout pour pas être/faire/dire/penser comme les autres. dans une contradiction continuelle.
pourtant, mon imagination déborde. dans tout les sens. tous. j'ai bien dit, tous.
je ne crois plus en rien. ni en moi même, ni aux autres ( surtout pas aux autres), ni en Dieu ( c'est un ancienne querelle, j'en attends toujours la résolution), ni en ce que je me dis, ni en ce que je veux, ni en ce que j'aimerais. incohérence viscérale.

je suis en sursis. j'attends.

je m'occupe à râler, à m'habiller, à faire des petites listes de merde avec des choses que je veux acheter, à dormir, à éviter les sujets trop personnels. je me cache.

je n'ai plus grand-chose à dire à personne.plus d'avis. plus de projets.

je me dédie à construire ( uniquement dans ma tête) un art, une littérature, une peinture et une scénographie de la violence, des chocs successifs, du secouement constant. une déshumanisation des formes. une topographie anthropomorphe, un morcellement visuel. une fiction en 3D.brisée. noirs, cruels, charnels, aigus, douloureux. mais surtout sincères.

je cherche des slogans qui puissent me déclencher.

je suis individualiste, égoïste, narcissique: l'unique sujet de mes pseudo créations médiocres est moi-même. ou bien ma frustration de ne pas pouvoir réellement créer - donc mon regard tordu sur les œuvres des autres.

je suis incapable de voir l'ensemble. que des détails. je dessine ou j'écris, je pense - que pour prendre un certain recul. un fois écrite, la chose est en dehors de moi, exclue, chassée. je me regarde comme un personnage de roman - j'essaie de me comprendre/analyser/appréhender/saisir.

je me regarde comme un étranger. je ne me reconnais pas. c'est banal, mais je veux de la stabilité: quand je suis prête de l'atteindre, je m'ennuie. quand je me disperse, quand le changement se produit, j'ai peur, je fatigue et je veux encore mon point fixe. les extrêmes dont je suis faite ne m'ont jamais autant déchirée, autant fait mal.

je n'écoute pas. même pas ce que je dis moi même. j'entends des mots s'articuler, mais je n'en saisis plus le sens. je ne sais pas ce que je veux dire. probablement, je ne veux rien dire en fait.mais je continue de faire semblant. ou peut-être le fais-je par exercice stylistique. ou par habitude.

j'ai peur. je me fuis. j'échoue. et encore, médiocrement.

j'attends la suite.

les aventures d'un tableau au pays des tapas

sont malheureuses
chiantes
petage de plombs
perte de carte bleue
entretiens d'embauche si ca sert a quoi que ce soit
journees perdues a passer un día de observación dans un boulot qui ne me plait pas, tout ca en portant des talons de 7 cm
a se faire draguer dans le putain de metro madrileño chaqgue fois que je porte une jupe, des talon et que j'ai les cheveux laches
a se faire chier avec et par mon pere
a se faire regarder comme une statue dans un musee
a se demander pourquoi je suis la et comment je ferai para buscarme la vida
a me dire que j'ai hate de rentrer chez moi, ou que ce soit
a m'etonner que je peux etre tranquille et contente toute seule ( ben vu la situation..)
a m'acheter des chaussures pour 5, respectivement 3 euros
a aller dans des expos, et etre tranquille quand y a personne pour baratiner non stop
a me dire que ce boulot que je cherchem je le trouverai
a me dire que caq lui passera bientot, l'enthousiasme etouffant , a mon pere
a me dire que je ne serai pas obese sur la palge en aout
a me dire que j'aurai des sous et que je ne suis pas venue ici pour rien
a me dire que les partiels, ca s'est bien passe, et quem de toute facon, au pire, mon annee, je l'aurai sans rattrappages ni rien
a penser que paris, la ville ou j'ai passe la plus inconfroitable annee de ma vie, me manque, et aussi les gens que j'y ai connus

a penser que tengo que aguantarlo.

stay away, i'm fucked up.

sit back, relax, and watch me wine.

deci da, asta e un blog in care am sa ma vait. uite asa, ca mi s-a pus mie pata
e 4 dimineata, iar se face 5 pana ma culc si da, imi fac bagajele. ma mut. da, iar.
sunt in chiloti si sutienul de la costumul de baie mov pe care mi l-am luat anul trecut ( de la care am pierdut, evident, slipul. nu e o metafora.)
ascult virgin radio adica acelasi cantece de la fiecare 2 ore. dar macar asa nu se face liniste si nu o iau razna.
in camera mea e vraiste nshpe mii de cutii pe care daca reusesc sa le tarasc pe scari fara sa fac sciatica e maaare minune. da am prea multe tzoale. nu o sa reusesc ever sa ma incadrez in cele 15 kile de la ryanair, si nu prea vad cum imi iau eu si rucsacul ala mai mic in care am voie sa pun 10 kile, avand in vedere ca bagaju' meu o sa fie pus in rucsacul de mare...pfff
m-am plictisit. am obosit. o sa o iau razna.
si la mama nu posa ma vait, ca n-are vocatie de suporter si ma ia la treishpe paishpe ca ce am pazit pana acuma, ca mereu le fac pe toate in ultima secunda. da pan' la urma tot aia, tot nervii aia sunt, tot am facut praf un sertar de la comoda ( mama lui de super glue arrrrgh), deci ama ramas cu doua din patru. ma bate gandul sa o dau dracu de comoda. (imi iau alta?)
mai am o gramada de chestii de strans, diseara cica e party party la mine si pana maine tree sa scap de macar trei sferturi din catrafuse. o sa ma deprim cumplit cand va trebui sa-mi dezinstalez calcu, da-i strange si masa cara iar jos plansetele ( dracu stie cum o sa fac dar treaca, inca n-am ajuns acolo)
azi trebuie:
*sa platesc chiria
*sa pun la loc geamul
*sa termin de facut cutiile
*sa strang masa
*sa strang calcu
*sa refac selectia de ce chestii imi iau cu mine in spania, sa-mi ajunga trei luni fara sa uit nimic esential.
*sa fac curat
*sa iau cate una alta de baut/crontanit
*sa o sun pe raluca
*sa scriu procura pt thara
*sa strang dulapul fara sa mai rup/sparg/trantesc ceva
*sa vad poate reusesc sa fac ceva cu cafu
*sa strang rufele
*sa duc o carte la biblioteca
*sa fac baie ca lipesc toata
*sa nu ma enervez
*sa rezist
*sa fac un playlist cat de cat
*sa nu ma enervez, da am mai zis o data
*si dracu mai stie ca o sa uit dar sper din tot sufletul sa imi amintesc dupa ce dorm cateva ore...

mutatul este o activitate deprimanta.
daca as putea sa zic pufff si toate catrafusele mele sa dispara la thara in secunda urmatoare as fi taaaare fericita.
dar nu's.
si ma doare spatele ca ma carat cata valiza cu carti pe scarile de la metrou si maine o iau de la capat ca ma duc sa las o parte din tzoale...
si ma doare capu'
imi e somn si imi vine sa dau dracului tot.
da' tree sa fac niste ordine dupa marea furtuna, ca n-am pe ce sa dorm.
futu'i.

feelin' better now^^

apocalyptica la stufstock
+
dEUS la stufstock.
------------------- =
eu la stufstock.

lul, start packing:)
vero, asijderea.

file>new>blank document

16 mai
c'est fini
la pire année de ma vie.




reload>buffering>a new movie is about to begin.

the entire production team hopes for a good story this time.

disclaimer: none of the characters are fictious, but would very much like to.

copy/paste : Istoria descoperirii unui holocaust. Al romilor

[ fiinca trebuie si fiindca ma infurie reactiile la acest articol - si fiindca nu pot sa le inteleg, dar tot ce as vrea e ca astfel de comentarii sa nu existe. - si mai ales fiindca este o istorie care trebuie cunoscuta.]

La citiva ani dupa revolutie, o mina de sociologi si istorici au inceput sa scotoceasca in gropi comune cu amintiri si documente si au descoperit un nou fragment de Holocaust: deportarea tiganilor in Transnistria. Copiii abandonati in sant de parinti care nu-i mai puteau duce in brate, viii care si-au mincat mortii, ciorile ciugulind din degetele fetitelor fac parte din istoria pe care Basescu a pus luni trei decoratii.

Dumitru Tranca, unul dintre cei trei supravietuitori ai deportarii in Transnistria decorati de presedintele Basescu, a umblat prin toata tara spunindu-si istoria ca un bard care-a trait mai mult decit a auzit, in cadrul unui proiect ONG-ist.

In ultima vreme, alte citeva sute de tigani, care abia de-au trecut cu suflet in ei Nistrul inapoi in tara, si-au pus fiecare bucata de viata deportata in documentare, studii, carti sau in articole de ziar. Pina sa-i convinga sa vorbeasca despre ce li s-a intimplat in Transnistria si sa o faca limpede, cercetatorii au trebuit sa execute complexe acrobatii psihologice, ca niste logopezi care se chinuiesc sa elibereze din gura cuiva o poveste.

Nora lui Tranca, Straina, a mers in sute de curti cu Michelle Kelso, sociologul american care a realizat documentarul "Dureri ascunse", primul despre holocaustul romilor, si a ajutat-o sa dezlege limbile deportatilor: "In multe locuri, daca nu ma recomandam eu tiganilor, nu era primita, ei credeau ca li se fac poze ca sa fie deportati din nou. In �94, cind a inceput doamna Michelle interviurile, eu eram mica si nu puteam sa garantez cu numele meu, dar am garantat cu numele tatalui meu si cu numele socrului meu ca, daca li se intimpla ceva dupa interviurile astea, raspund parintii mei pentru ei. Eu sint dintr-un neam foarte mare de deportati si am inceput cu ai mei si propriului meu bunic ii era frica. Ii ziceam: "Bunicule, eu sint nepoata matale, cum as putea sa-ti fac rau cu mina mea?!"". Ca sa intre in vorbe despre Transnistria cu Dumitru Tranca, Vica, pe numele lui tiganesc, Michelle Kelso, a trebuit sa vina zilnic, timp de doua saptamini, in casa Strainei. "De cind e in Romania, a invatat si romaneste, si tiganeste. Ea a fost foarte desteapta si a stiut cum sa-l ia pe fiecare", o admira nora lui Tranca.

Lui Alexandru Alexe, sotul lui Michelle si producatorul "Durerilor ascunse", i-a fost greu sa editeze sunetul documentarului: povestile tragice se derulau pe un fundal sonor de cocosi cintind, bebelusi scincind sau nepoti intrerupind: "Se adunau 50 de oameni in curte si fiecare il intrerupea pe cel care vorbea: "Bunicule, spune-o si pe aia cu..." sau "Vezi ca n-ai spus-o pe aia!". Ceea ce de multe ori era bine, pentru ca astia batrinii uita detalii spectaculoase sau se feresc sa vorbeasca, de rusine, despre violuri. Fiind aproape de linia frontului, veneau peste tigani trupe de toate felurile, care violau femeile si impuscau in stinga si-n dreapta, iar astia erau lipsiti de aparare".

Straina, Marioara Tranca in buletin, a auzit pina acum peste 300 de tragedii ale tiganilor deportati in Transnistria: "De fiecare data cind le aud imi palpita lacrimile in ochi, n-am putut sa ma obisnuiesc nici acum cu ele. Cind murea cineva, parintii, ca sa poata supravietui copiii, se duceau afara si, fara sa vada aia mici, taiau o bucata din trupul mortului, frigeau carnea si le-o dadeau sa o manince. Altii mai egoisti, acum pot sa-i consider asa, fiindca am si eu cinci copii si n-as putea face asta, isi lasau copiii sa moara de foame si mincau ei toata mincarea".

Alexandru Alexe stie cazuri in care membrii familiei purtau dezbateri aprinse sa decida pe cine sa lase sa moara si pe cine sa traiasca: "Scene de canibalism s-au intimplat in toate lagarele, inclusiv in cele in care erau prizonieri de razboi. Asta era supravietuirea. Mai erau cazuri in care mama trebuia sa decida carui copil sa-i dea mai mult de mincare si la care sa renunte. Au vazut ca cei mici mor primii si atunci pe ei renuntau sa-i hraneasca. A fost o experienta dura de tot".

Vica, ultimul din dreapta, impreuna cu familia, acum citeva zeci de ani

Ana Maria Popa a lucrat in anul 2006 la proiectul initiat de Michelle Kelso, prin care, pe linga documentar, a fost creat si un ghid care sa le arate profesorilor cum ar trebui sa vorbeasca despre holocaustul romilor la clase. A intervievat fosti deportati, a organizat conferinte in care acestia le descriau profesorilor de istorie din orasele mari din tara ce au trait, iar din toate ororile care i-au intrat in suflet, cel mai tare au zguduit-o cele ale copiilor abandonati de parinti, pe drumul de intoarcere din Transnistria, ca niste bagaje grele si nefolositoare: "Multi mi-au povestit despre cum isi lasau copiii in drum. Copiii cei mai mici erau in general purtati pe umeri, iar parintilor le erau greu sa-i duca si ii lasau in sant. Fratii mai mari se intorceau dupa ei si era o lupta in familie legata de cine sa moara. Am cunoscut astfel de frati, fratele cel mic i-a fost vesnic recunoscator celui mare. Ii spunea tata, mai ales ca parintii au murit si el l-a crescut. Parintii mureau la putina vreme de la intoarcere pentru ca in Transnistria ei duceau tot greul". Unul dintre deportati, Kaizer, care acum are o suta de ani, s-a dovedit supravietuitorul perfect, spune Ana Maria Popa: "A plecat in Transnistria cu o femeie, acolo au facut o nunta, femeia a murit atunci, iar el s-a intors in Romania cu o alta".

Dumitru Tranca, azi bunicul a peste 30 de nepoti, avea 8 ani cind autoritatile antonesciene l-au deportat in 1942 cu familia in Transnistria: "Noi locuiam in Teleorman, zisa Vlasca atunci, comuna Galateni. Pe vremurile alea aveam si carute, si cai, aveam si casa. Iarna trageam la casele noastre, vara plecam prin comune, ca eram caldarari. Au venit atunci autoritatile alea, Antonescu si cu Hitler, si ne-au strins pe toti seminomazii si pe nomazi, aia cu plete si banisori. Ne-au zis: "Plecam si va ducem in Transnistria"". Cind au intrebat de ce-i duc acolo, jandarmii le-au descris Transnistria ca pe tarimul tuturor posibilitatilor, in care fiecare tigan va avea pamintul, calul si vaca lui. "Au strins vreo suta de carute si ne-au luat escortati de doi-trei jandarmi. Se imbolnavea o femeie si voiam sa o ducem la doctor, ziceau jandarmii: "Ce doctor?", murea unul, il ingropam in cimitirul comunei in care eram. Ne mai bateau, dar cine sa-i mai riposteze, ca erau automatele alea in gitul lor. Daca se abatea cineva din drum, venea jandarmul ala cu bastonul, dadea de sarea pielea de pe el", povesteste cu voce intretaiata doar de tutun, caci zecile de conferinte la care a mai spus asta par ca au scos din ea emotia. Surorii sale, Ioana Vaduva, care avea 10 ani cind a trecut Nistrul, ii tremura si azi plinsul in glas cind revede in minte privelistea pe care i-a oferit-o Bugul: "Aoleuuu, mi-aduc aminteee, ne-a bagat pe valea aia, pe groapa aia mare si era o apa mare si stateau tiganii cita frunza si iarba, cu copilasii ca vai de ei. Ne-au luat si carutele, si aurul, si salbile noastre, si tot. Ne-au lasat cu ce aveam pe noi". Ramasi fara alimente, copiii Tranca ajungeau de multe ori sa manince carnea animalelor moarte. "Eram paziti de jur imprejur de un cordon de jandarmi, in afara gropii erau paminturi cu porumb, daca iesea cineva il impusca. Au trecut doi copii sa ia un porumb si i-au impuscat", n-a uitat Dumitru Tranca. Cind a venit iarna, i-au mutat in niste grajduri si nu era noapte sa nu moara unul dintre ei: "Era mizerie mare, eram plini de toate lighioanele, se murea de foame, de tifos. Te sculai dimineata si vedeai doi morti acolo, doi morti dincolo, calcam peste ei, ii dadeam la o parte. Fiecare isi lua mortul lui, se ducea la o ripa, zgirma o groapa in pamint si il punea acolo". Doua surori mici le-au murit fratilor Tranca intr-o noapte. "Le-a luat taica-meu in brate si le-a dus sa le ingroape, a facut o gropita, nici nu le-a invelit bine ca pamintul era inghetat, iar primavara cind s-a dezghetat se vedeau piciorusele, mincau ciorile din picioarele lor", o apuca si acum mila de surorile ei duse pe Ioana Vaduva. In 1944, cind s-a spart frontul, iar rusii avansau spre Romania, tiganii au fost liberi sa fuga inapoi peste Nistru, isi aminteste Dumitru Tranca: "Ne-au zis jandarmii: "Bai baieti, sintem si noi la prapad, fugiti unde vedeti cu ochii". Am plecat pe jos, intrebam unde-i Romania si acolo ne duceam. Erau unii care nu mai aveau nimic pe ei si luau paie, le puneau pe o sfoara si se infasurau cu ele. Cind am ajuns la comunele noastre si ne-au vazut, romanii au zis: "A venit familia lui cutare, hai sa le dam si noi cite o hainuta", ne-au dat un petic de pamint pe care sa ne facem o casa".

Istoricul Viorel Achim, cercetator la Institutul "Nicolae Iorga" si autor al mai multor studii despre deportarea romilor, a fost primul care a scris despre tiganii din Transnistria si care s-a interesat stiintific de documentele din arhivele institutiilor regimului Antonescu. Inainte de 1942, spune el, societatea romaneasca nu a dat nici un semn ca ar fi avut ceva impotriva tiganilor: "In '38-'40, a existat un minister al minoritatilor, iar romii nu erau considerati o minoritate de acest minister, asa cum erau ungurii. Tiganii nu erau vazuti ca o problema la nivel de stat si nu exista o distanta sociala atit de mare intre ei si romani. Si taranii romani erau desculti, si taranii romani faceau multi copii si stateau tot in bordeie. Un studiu facut in anii �30 de Scoala lui Dimitrie Gusti preconiza ca tiganii vor fi asimilati in doua, trei generatii de catre romani". Documentele pe care le-a studiat i-au spus lui Viorel Achim cam ce voia Antonescu sa faca prin deportarea tiganilor: o Romanie 100% romaneasca. "Multi si-au propus lucrul asta, o politica de omogenizare etnica. Toata elita europeana si euroatlantica gindea lucrul asta, ca problemele din Balcani, generate de amestecul de populatii si de granitele nu foarte precise, s-ar putea rezolva prin schimbul de populatii. Toate minoritatile trebuiau sa plece, iar noi trebuia sa repatriem romanii aflati in afara granitelor. In cazul evreilor si al tiganilor, care nu aveau un stat al lor, se facea o repatriere unilaterala. Transnistria urma sa fie ceea ce am numi o "groapa de gunoi etnica". Nu avem argumente ca deportarea romilor in Transnistria avea drept scop exterminarea lor, dar ceea ce s-a petrecut acolo a insemnat exterminare", stie din documente la ce s-a ajuns Viorel Achim. Deportarea romilor s-a facut dupa o organizare nemteasca: primii au plecat nomazii, 13.000, cu carutele, apoi 12.000 de romi sedentari au fost incarcati in noua trenuri de marfa si dusi in Transnistria. Eficienta in materie de morti a egalat precizia Germaniei naziste: jumatate dintre ei au ajuns oale si ulcele transnistrene sau si-au dat ultima suflare in vintul de pe drum. "Au ajuns acolo si tiganilor nomazi li s-au confiscat carutele, a fost o tragedie, fara cai si carute erau morti. In caruta dormeau, cu caruta se duceau sa caute de lucru. Erau foarte putine alimente, hrana li se dadea o data pe saptamina. In unele localitati erau si tigani, si evrei, desi nu stateau in aceleasi baraci. Exista rapoarte care consemneaza certuri intre evrei si tigani pe mincare. Evreii isi chiverniseau putinul pe care-l aveau, tiganii voiau sa manince tot odata, evreii voiau sa gateasca kusher, tiganii voiau sa gateasca dupa cum stiau ei", arata Viorel Achim cum tineau unii deportati la regulile culinare si pe timp de foamete.

Florin Manole, membru al Centrului de Studii Rome de la Facultatea de Istorie a Universitatii Bucuresti, nu i-a vazut pe colegii lui de la Istorie foarte interesati de ce au patimit tiganii in Transnistria: "Subiectul este unul tinar, se discuta abia de vreo zece ani despre el. La Facultatea de Istorie de la Universitatea Bucuresti exista doar un proiect de curs despre istoria romilor. In plus, Noua Dreapta are in Facultatea de Istorie o puternica baza de selectie, cunosc studenti si masteranzi de la Istorie care sint in Noua Dreapta. Anul trecut am primit de la un coleg un fluturas cu "Moarte tiganilor". Exista acum o deschidere din partea elitelor, a presei, a politicienilor catre acest subiect, Basescu a scos medaliile de la naftalina. Dar oamenii de rind nu stiu mai nimic despre asta", spune Florin Manole, student de etnie roma.

Violul, prea putin pentru imaginatia soldatilor

Unul dintre cei trei supravietuitori decorati de Basescu, Ion Miutescu, de 77 de ani, din Sibiu, a fost singurul dintr-o familie de 18 persoane care s-a intors viu din Transnistria. Cit a stat acolo a vazut ca si violul era prea putin pentru imaginatia imbolnavita a unor soldati: "Isi bateau joc de lume. Erau mama cu copilul, ii puneau cu forta sa faca sex, sa rida de ei. Mama cu baiat, frate cu sora, tata cu fiica, nu conta ce neam esti". Ca sa nu ramina fara cinste, fetele trebuiau sa se imbrace ca barbatii: "La noi e treaba mare sa fii fata mare si toate familiile erau rusinate acolo. Nu aveai ce face. Fetele se imbracau cu pantaloni, isi ridicau parul si isi puneau palarie in cap. Se purtau ca baietii, sa scape de batjocura", povesteste Miutescu. Daca doar femeile se luptau pentru salvarea onoarei, toti deportatii trebuiau sa se lupte zi de zi pentru salvarea trupului. Supravietuitorul Ion Miutescu a vazut ce gust amar avea in multe rinduri pastrarea vietii: "Erau oameni care nu avea ce minca. Si taiau din morti sa manince. Au mincat cai, magari si ciini la inceput si, cind nu au mai avut ce minca, taiau din mort ca sa traiasca". Ion Miutescu a convietuit si cu romani, si cu evrei, in Transnistria, dar isi aminteste ca tiganii erau cei mai multi. Conflictele existau si intre oamenii care isi imparteau nenorocirea si cele mai numeroase erau intre diferitele familii de tigani, mai ales intre tiganii nomazi si cei care nu mai bateau lumea in lung si-n lat cu carutele. "Au fost romani cu noi care au crezut ca le dau case si de toate. Au trait cu noi. Care au trait, au trait, care nu, mila lui Dumnezeu. Cel mai bine ne-am inteles cu evreii, ca erau mai domnosi. Dar erau tiganii de vatra, aia care nu-s ca noi cu caruta. Astia ne bateau si ne mincau viata. Erau ca niste salbaticiuni si le placea cel mai mult sa ne batjocoreasca femeile noastre, ale caldararilor", spune Ion Miutescu. (Oana TIMAR)

Nemtii i-au despagubit, romanii, nu

Alexandru Alexe spune ca tiganii deportati din Romania au primit despagubiri din partea Germaniei. "Statul german nu-i despagubise pe cei din Europa de Est. Nemtii au fost dati in judecata de citiva evrei, care traisera in estul Europei si s-au mutat in America, si au fost nevoiti sa plateasca despagubiri. Au alocat 5 miliarde de marci pentru cei din estul Europei si au inchis capitolul despagubirilor. O parte dintre acesti bani le-au revenit tiganilor deportati din Romania sau mostenitorilor lor." Desi teoretic deportatii in Transnistria au dreptul la o pensie din partea statului roman, birocratia e atit de mare incit cei mai multi nu o vad niciodata. "Unei femei nu au vrut sa-i dea banii pentru ca nu avea documente care sa dovedeasca cind s-a intors in Romania", spune Alexandru Alexe. Straina, nora lui Dumitru Tranca, s-a lasat pagubasa: "Am incercat trei ani sa obtin pensia aia amarita de un milion si ceva pentru socrul meu si sora lui si n-am reusit. In final am renuntat".

[...]

articolul a aparut in Cotidianul, 25 oct 2007, autor Raluca Ion

http://www.cotidianul.ro/istoria_descoperirii_unui_holocaust__al_romilor-34646.html

8.na bah - sa ma literaturizez, ca tot filmu bate viata:p

vero, fuga fuga repede ca pitulicile ca ...sunt!
si sunt sa zic numa 8 din toate chestiile care nu-mi plac la mine - si zau ca e greu.
adica...e greu sa fac o selectie da' hai sa incerc, si poate asa reusesc sa si prind pe careva ( macar pe net sa-mi iasa, ca atunci cand eram mica, zau ca n'aveam talent la fugit dupa oameni, pana sa pun mana pe ei, ma impiedicam si ornam asfaltul cu neindemanatica-mi persoana:)) )

1. esprit critique, esprit analytique - pai da, daca nu despic firu ala in 3,14, n'am facut nimic - si p'orma da-i si analizeaza fiecare detaliu, cu pro si contra, cu how does that make me feel, cuda de ceeeee? si altele de genul - rezultatul? sunt ca o matza care s-a incurcat in propriul ghem.

2. asta e scurta : vorbesc. repede, mult si tare. nush daca am ceva urme de praz prin sange, sau daca e doar trasatura de familie sau daca sunt doar eu defecta, dar se pare ca asta ii calca pe nervi pe ceilalti - ceea ce are darul deci sa ma calce si pe mine pe nervi, ca ei par sa piarda firu si...deci da, iar e prea mult

3. sunt extremista - bah, ori e alba ori e neagra, ori e tot ori e nimic, ori sunt suuuuper happy, ori sunt depresiva, ori imi place de tine, ori nici nu te vad - nici pana acum nu am reusit sa apreciez miile de varietati de gri...toate sunt cu foarte, prea, mult, si mai mult, deloc, absolut, departe, foarte, cel mai,cat mai etc...in lumea mea, calea de mijloc exista numa in sfaturile pentru altii...si se pare ca in felul asta destul de multe sunt de pierdut...

4. am sfaturi bune ( solutii, idei, planuri etc) numa' pentru altii - toate bune si frumoase, da cand arde, nu's in stare sa imi fiu de ajutor mie insami, si asta ma enerveaza cumplit.

5. aka uite d'aia ne intelegem noi, vero - am si io un talent, numa' bun sa ma trimita careva inapoi la service : daca nu am o probelma, mi-o creez singura. ma bag in tot felu de situatii psihologice de te doare mintea si p'orma incerc sa ies din ele, si ma vait, si imi pun intrebari, si analizez si sunt trsita si... asta e strans legata de...

6. "je m'emballe trop vite, je refléchis pas..." - asta is io, mai ales cand e vorba de relatii, si asta e motivul pentru care mi-am luat-o peste bot de...multe ori. asta se poate traduce si prin iau aproape numai decizii afective - imi place sau nu-mi place. pe scurt: cand mi se pune pata e ca la gimnastica : pozitie curbata cu capul inainte, vidul in fata, picioarele la marginea prapastiei, pe locuri, fiti gata, start!

7. nu ma inteleg de nici un fel cu timpul - asta insemana ca intarzii, deci tree sa imi cer mereu scuze, sa incerc s-o dreg cumva, si asta mai inseamna cate stresu de fiecare data cand plec de acasa, inseamna stres la examene, expozeuri...toate gramada. notiunea timpului este, cred, veriga lipsa a sinapselor mele:)

8. aci le adun eu pe toate cate sunt : nu uit nimic ( mai ales de natura emotionala), sunt orgoliul in persoana, sunt dezordonata, cheltuitoare ( rau), depind prea mult de parerea celorlalti, vreau sa ma placa/iubeasca/aprecieze toata lumea, nu prea mai stiu ce vreau sau ce caut p'aci - aka nu stiu sa fac sinteza.

si gata, 8 au fost, ma rog, am trisat, stiu, dar am uitat sa va zic - dar asta imi cam place la mine, de fapt - sunt copilu invers, adica gica-contra si titirca inima rea, adica antisistem, si daca regulile nu-mi convin, le negociez eu singura si de obicei...mi-o iau.

asa, acuma pe cine sa trantesc eu magareataaaaa?
uite: lul( bagi la comment, sa nu faci fitze) , liciuleee, radu si hai c'ajunge...:p
hai v'am pupat si na ca sunteti si voi
na na na na naaaaa naaaaaa:D

o vineri ca oricare alta...?

morala: un sut in cur, un pas inainte.