Puritatea limbajului sau Cratima

De dimineata eram in cautarea unui motiv ca sa nu merg la curs si am ramas impotmolita cu o carte proaspat importata din biblioteca parintilor din Romania. Cartea era departe de a fi o opera clasica si nu ma asteptam la mai mult decat o romanta de doi bani a la Danielle Steele. Nu credeam ca o sa ma ocupe mai mult de cinci minute. Si asa s-a dus o pagina, doua, trei, zece, treizeci, saptezeci, o suta. Da, mesajul era interesant si nu chiar atat de frivol precum credeam eu initial, dar ceea ce m-a lipit de canapea si m-a facut sa uit orele si ceaiul meu care se racea cu nepasare era limbajul, cuvintele care se insirau intr-o sonoritate atat de pura pe care o uitasem. O sonoritate pe care nu o poti recunoaste decat odata ce ai pierdut-o si apoi o vezi prin ochii unui strain. In viata mea de zi cu zi, am pierdut puritatea de exprimare fie in romana, in engleza sau in franceza, iar graba si lipsa de efort m-au dus la o lene limbvistica unde toate se amesteca fara scrupule si fara mila. De ce sa mai pierzi vremea sa cauti cuvantul care iti exprima sentimentul exact cand poti pur si simplu sa vorbesti o frangleza brodata printre paragrafele limbii romane? Si pana la urma, nu e drept ca nu toate cuvintele se pot traduce exact dintr-o limba in alta? Cand ai ajuns la un sistem de gandire poliglot fara a avea totusi o cunostinta aprofunzita a fiecarei limbi, aceasta situatie devine o problema. Dar de ce sa ne mai batem capul cand de fapt tot te faci inteles si cand ii intrebi pe oameni "de ce capoteaza" si cand le spui mai tarziu ca "povestea e funny". Eh poate ca merge, dar e la fel de precis ca si biologii care se uita cate celule au intr-un colt de microscop si apoi extrapoleaza ca sa afle cate celule au in total in mostra de tesut. Aproximarea e valabila, dar nu te simti impacat la suflet cu rezultatul.

In fine, eu ma indepartez ca de obicei de la subiect, dar ce vroiam sa spun este ca mi-e dor de acest limbaj pe care il simt ca incetul cu incetul moare in mine pentru ca nu il aud si nu il folosesc. In ambele cazuri este vina mea pentru ca multa vreme nu mi-a pasat. Dar simt din ce in ce mai mult o nostalgie care ma impinge spre el. De fiecare data cand il citesc pe Iepu pe Facebook, simt ceva care renaste in mine. O flacara pentru acel limbaj si acea tara parasita de toti si pe calea pierzarii. Intr-un fel, il admir pe baiatul asta. Cand toti vor sa plece, el se incapataneaza si declara fara indoiala ca niciunde nu ar putea fi mai fericit decat in Timisoara lui natala. Poate e doar idealismul unui copil naiv. Fie. E totusi frumos de observat. Si nu cred ca am auzit pe nimeni altcineva folosind un cuvant (inutil cum ar fi el intr-o conversatie) cu o sonoritate de nemaipomenit: "cratima". Ok, probabil ca numai un prof de romana ar putea sa se scoata intr-o discutie vorbind de cratima, dar mi se pare ca are echilibrul perfect intre consoane si vocale, intre sunete dure si melodioase.

Si cred ca voi pune capat aici delirului meu pentru ca am epuizat tot ce aveam de zis pe subiect. Deci, in concluzie, nu amestecati limbile si folositi cratime!

Bah humbug!

Through the powers of Facebook I learn new things every day. Well... not every day, but at least once in a while.

So, one of the movies that pretty much blew my mind in the past year was Inception. I mean wow... just wow! And thanks to Bunny and the article he managed to stumble upon, this movie is now ruined for me forever. So, thanks for bursting my bubble dude! I mean you're really starting to make a habit of it and it's becoming depressing! I'm just kidding. Bunny's awesome. And to perpetuate the awesomeness, here's an excerpt from the article:

"[...]that's exactly how Inception opens up, except you have to replace DiCaprio with talking dogs. Which, incidentally, would probably improve every single one of his movies."

Ok I'm just messing with you hahaha. Although IT IS from the article, it doesn't say anything about it. It's just that it's the part that made me laugh the most. So for the curious, here's a link.

As a side note, this really does nothing to prove that originality still exists in this world. See this for previous discussion on the subject.

Quote of the month...sort of

Yes late again, but blah. Having to take classes in the summer makes one sloppy and uncaring of etiquette. So sue me!

The idea for this post initially came from the fact that today while desperately trying to study for my finance exam, I got stuck with the song "A Little Piece of Heaven" in my head.



And while this is a nice song by Avenged Sevenfold from a musical point of view, the lyrics do tend to give you a shiver down your spine. And this reminded me of something that I once heard (probably from Bunny, though I really don't remember if it came from him or someone else). It went something like this:

"The most disturbing thing about necrophilia is that there have been enough cases in the world for us to have a name for it."

And it's kind of true. We are so closed up in our own little "normal" world, that we end up imagining that people who would want to have sex with a corpse are rare abnormalities, statistical impossibilities of the type of Ed Gein (another lovely case of a reeeeeeaaaallly fucked up mind). But while trying to see if my fabulous sentence was actually a real quote or just random folk wisdom, I stumbled upon a forum thread on necrophilia. And there was this self-proclaimed necrophiliac who said:

"No, necrophilia isnt a mental disorder per se. The diagnostic criterias in DSM requires significant distress on the behalf of the paraphiliac. Altough necrophilia are a NOS-category so there are no formulated criterias so you have to translate from the other paraphilias diagnistic criterias.

So on what grounds are you claiming that necrophilia is a disorder? Are you using ICD-10? Or just having an opinion on an subject you dont know much about? If its the later i think you should rethink your view on the subject because as i said before even masturbation was seen as an disorder before (as late as 1972 with the book 'Human Sexuality' American Medical Association officially reversed its earlier standpoint that it was an foremost danger to human mental health).

And, im not harming myself and i dont accept your argument. Even (hypoteticaly) if my sexuality made me socialy isolated and so on, got me in prison or even mental institution thats not because of "disorders". It is because of societies narrow minded views on this subject and thats the problem, not me. You wouldnt argue that homosexuals that got in trouble when it was illegal had mental disorders would you?"

And there was one thing that struck me. This person sounded very much like the Marquis de Sade quote I posted a couple of months ago and which went like this:

"My way of thinking cannot be approved you say? Why should that be of importance to me! The one who adopts a way of thinking for others is nothing but a fool! My way of thinking is the fruit of my reflections. It is part of my existence. I am not the master to change it. Even if I would be, I wouldn't. This way of thinking that you blame so is the only solace I can find in life[...]. It is not my way of thinking who makes me unhappy, it is that of others."

So this makes me wonder. Where do you draw the line? What is acceptable and what is not? When do you fall into mental disorders and when is it that society is being too narrow-minded and is imposing conformity on its members. I mean, many things that we have believed in the past to be true are now considered abominations (like homophobia, racism and discrimination against women). And it's arrogant to think that we now live in a perfect society where we have nothing more to learn. But then in that case can we say that anything goes? Should we consider murderers, rapists and psychopaths as just another facet of the diversity in the world that should be accepted as it is? Well, according to Camus, freedom must include murder or it is not real freedom.

Anyway, these are heavy things to ponder on and considering how late it is, my babbling at this hour won't get me any closer to an answer. But there's just one more thing that I want to mention. Now I mean this in the most respectful way possible and my philosophy in life is pretty much that as long as nobody gets hurt, anything goes. But man am I happy that I mostly fit into what the majority of people would call "normal". For one of the first times of my life, I'm happy that I'm just like everybody else. Because, even though I might be missing out on some aspects of life (or maybe not...sex with a cold, unmoving body is not really my cup of tea), I would be scared shitless if I would have to go through the whole self-discovery phase and then try to find a place for myself in society (and fail most of the time). I've seen friends go through it and it does not look like fun. So this post goes to Lily-chan and Cris. The strongest people I know!

Fericire

This is just a song by a band that I really love because they always manage to portray life as it is...as it should be. Simple. Carefree. They show happiness for what it really is. A sun ray. A smile. A leaf floating in the wind. A cool breeze on a warm summer night. A hug. Sharing a glass of beer with someone dear to you. Happiness is the small things in life which surround us always.

I want to dedicate this song to my dear friend Bunny who just made my day today (in his weird fucked up way hahaha) and who I miss like hell. I promise I'll try my hardest to relax and enjoy the ride!

Nu ma uita

Uneori chiar ma intreb pana unde te poate duce iubirea. Acest sentiment pe care multi il considera ca fiind sursa celor mai mari nebunii pe care oamenii le-au facut vreodata (in afara poate de credinta si de nationalism....dar daca ne gandim bine, amandoua reprezinta o forma de iubire, una de Dumnezeu si cealalta de tara). Sa-ti dai viata pentru o alta fiinta doar pentru ca iubirea ta pentru ea este mai mare decat instinctul de prezervare, sa renunti la tot doar pentru ca celalat ti-o cere si pentru ca simti ca sufoci fara acea prezenta in viata ta. Si sa fiu sincera... nu pricep.

Vorbeam azi cu Cris si el imi spunea cum vrea sa se mute in Belgia pentru ca iubita lui se va muta acolo cu parintii ei si pentru ca el nu vrea sa se desparta de ea. Si poate ca eu am prea multe circuite in mine si prea putine sentimente, dar mi se pare ca face o greseala... si in acelasi timp il admir. As vrea sa am curajul lui. Sa lasi totul in urma, parinti, prieteni, locuri cunoscute, o viata comfortabila, doar ca sa urmezi o persoana care nici macar nu stii daca va mai fi langa tine peste cinci ani. Ce-i drept, ei au trecut prin multe pana acum, de la parinti care se impotrivesc, la mofturi si certuri pentru motive puerile si gelozi neintemeiate. S-au despartit de vreo 3 ori pana acum si separarile au durat de la o saptamana la un an. Deci poate ca toate astea au contribuit sa faca relatia lor mai puternica, dar nu poti spune ca va rezista la orice si ca va dura pentru totdeauna. E un risc enorm pe care el il ia in acest caz pentru aceasta fata si nu stiu cat de mult se merita. Dar el spune ca problema asta nici nu se pune.

Ce e drept, Cris intotdeauna a fost un romantic. Cinic, dar romantic. Acum vreun an jumate stateam de vorba (mai degraba eu plangeam si el ma consola hahaha) despre Iepurele si el imi spunea ca daca ar fi fost in locul meu, el s-ar fi mutat chiar si in satul cel mai pierdut doar ca sa fie cu persoana pe care o iubeste. Si eu i-am zambit si i-am zis ca asta nu e cazul meu. Si uite ca acum imi dovedeste ca nu sunt doar vorbe in vant.

Dar chestia care ma roade cel mai tare este ca niciodata nu asi fi in stare sa ma sacrific pentru dragoste. Si atunci intrebarea pe care mi-o pun este, ma simt asa din cauza personalitatii mele si felul meu de a gandi, sau pur si simplu pentru ca niciodata nu am simtit dragostea aceea adevarata despre care toti vorbesc in carti si in filme, care supravietuieste furtunilor si anilor. Uneori imi spun ca prima mea dragoste a murit pentru ca eu n-am avut curajul sa fac ceva, pentru ca nici n-am considerat optiunea de a ma sacrifica pentru el. Si ironia sortii este ca nici acum nu m-asi putea vedea considerand optiunea aia. Pentru ca riscul e prea mare. Pentru ca toata viata mea mi s-a impuiat capul cu idea ca trebuie sa fiu independenta si ca trebuie sa am securitate financiara. Pentru ca nu am incredere in oameni. Si in special, pentru ca nu am incredere in dragoste. Niciodata nu a existat un sentiment mai puternic si in acelasi timp mai fragil. Dragostea e atat de instabila... in fine, poate doar in cazul meu.

E tarziu si nu stiu ce vroiam sa mai spun. Doar ca nu inteleg. Si ca poate nu esti atat de limitat in viata precum credeam eu initial. Dar iti impui singur limite.

Save me

We all want to be saved. The question is from what? Physical danger? Not usually. We want someone to come and save us from our misery, take away the monotony, relive us from the pain of everyday life, help us make life extraordinary, give us our lost love, bring back people we lost. We wish someone would come and make us special, tell us we are worth it and then cross the ocean just to prove it. It's funny how selfish we can be. It's always about what others can do for us and never what we can do for them. We want others to come with the answers and the sacrifices. But nobody is going to knock on your door one morning and give you your dream job or tell you what to do to be happy. And if there is one thing that I regret up until now in my life is taking the safe road and not having the courage to stand up for what I want most. But safe is boring and will only ever lead you to a monotonous life.

A good friend of mine told me once that you only get tired of things you like, but never of things you love. Probably true. But now the hard part is taking the myriad of puzzle pieces that make up your life and finding those that have stood the test of time. Hmm let's see here...reading, physics, neurobiology, philosophy, drawing, music (but who doesn't like music these days?), airports (for some weird reason, I always get excited and extra happy when I'm in an airport) and some key people that I couldn't remove from my life and my heart even if I wanted to (and in some cases I have tried...sigh, didn't work). So if I were to follow my heart right this instant, I would drop out of Business school, go into neurobiology or physics, move out of my parents' house and preferably go back to Europe (Geneva sounds really good). I'd like to work at CERN or maybe for Doctors Without Borders (surprise surprise, they're both in Geneva). Well maybe I can finish this bachelors (since I don't have to pay for it), do another bachelors in science (physics major with a minor in neurobiology or vice versa), do an MBA and then a PhD (I'll be damned if I know in what hahaha). The problem with that plan is that by the time I finish school I'll probably be 40 (life is so freaking short man!) and I don't think I can get 3 more scholarships to pay for all that (so I'll probably spend the other 40 years that I'll have left to live paying back my student loans). Hahaha this reminds me. Last week I went to this art exposition with my mom and while we were waiting in line to buy tickets, I overheard this girl behind us talking about one of her roommates who was overly obsessed with working and not spending money so that she'd be able to pay for her university degree (yes yes I know it's not nice to eavesdrop but in some cases you can't help it...especially when you have to wait 20 min to buy a pair of tickets). And she absolutely abhorred student loans because her parents used a loan to get through their studies and until that day they were still paying it back and they droned it into her head that student loans were the epitome of evil in life. Anyway, I know that each case is different, but the conclusion is that even though higher education is more accessible in Canada than in the US, spending half your life in school is still not an option (unless you're rich...in that case, by all means go ahead).

So all that to say that I'm kind of confused as to what I should do with my life and what sacrifices I should/am willing to make in order to get what I want. And I wish I had someone to tell me to chill. And I wish someone would tell me which road to take and which not to take. I wish someone would tell me that I'm going to be ok. Could someone please save me?



This video really reminds me of Death Note. Guess it's part of what makes it so cool hahaha.

Wings

Credit: noirclair.deviantart.com

Thank you. That’s all I can say. And you will surely run away and never come anywhere near me after this for it will finally expose me for the nutcase I really am, but I have to say it. We broke up about a year ago (who am I kidding? A year and 13 days…not that I was counting, but we broke up on January 1^st so it’s kind of hard to not keep track), but I had a really hard time letting go of you and my feelings for you. I don’t know how important I was for you (probably just another girlfriend in the pile), but you occupied a very important place in my life. You were my first love and that made you (and despite everything you still are) special to me. You made me feel more alive than I had ever been. Needless to say, once I came back to Canada I started dying little by little, closing myself a little bit more everyday, suffocating under the days that passed by and only kept alive by your emails which after a while became more and more scarce. This cycle culminated in that New Year’s Day when everything ended and even though I fully agreed with the logic of our decision, my entire body somehow felt numb. The next day, for the first time in my life, at 6 AM I found myself wide awake and staring at the ceiling. You came to talk to me on the mess. You told me you made a stupid mistake. Hahaha, I was such an idiot to feel hope at those words. “I dyed my hair red!” Right. Stupid me. Months passed by, schoolwork piled up and I managed to forget to think about you. It somehow became more bearable. But whenever I was at parties, whenever I was hanging out with friends, whenever I felt lonely, my mind inevitably turned to you. Ha, I remember last May when you had that on-off relationship with that girl. You weren’t really dating, but you were so close to actually replacing me and it felt like we were breaking up all over again. I just couldn’t stand it. Now don’t get me wrong. I got over you six months ago. But there was still a link that pulled me towards you whenever I felt lost, like I somehow couldn’t let go. And now you tell me you have someone else in your life. I have finally and officially been replaced. By all means, this should have plunged me into a deep depression, but after the first awkward hour or two, I just felt….free! It’s like you reached out and cut the cord that tied me to you when I couldn’t. You compensated for my weakness and now for the first time in a year I can look around me and see the colors in the world. I can see the possibilities in front of me. I can wake up in the morning without having to wonder what the use of getting out of bed is. So thank you, you who have broken my wings and have finally given them back to me. Thank you for bringing me back from the dead.

I miss you...

Prends-moi dans tes bras et serre-moi très fort. Tu sais, j'ai tellement peur. J'ai peur au point où des fois j'arrive plus à respirer. J'ai peur de ce qui suit, j'ai peur de ce qui est fini, j'ai peur de la vie. J'ai peur des décisions que je prends, j'ai peur de celles que j'ai pas pris. J'ai peur des gens parce que j'en ai marre d'être déçue. J'ai peur d'espérer parce que j'en ai marre de pleurer. J'ai besoin de tes bras forts qui m'entourent, j'ai besoin d'un point auquel je puisse m'accrocher. Je sens mon pouls et j'imagine que chaque battement est ton coeur qui bat en même temps que le mien. Tu vas rire, mais je fais ça souvent, prendre mon pouls. Ça me rappelle que je suis encore en vie, que je suis plus que juste un morceau de viande qui vieillit un peu plus chaque jour et qui se rapproche de plus en plus de la putréfaction. J'ai envie de te prendre dans mes bras, de me perdre dans tes yeux, de sentir ton odeur, de mettre mes mains sur tes hanches. Je veux voir tes mains, tes mains qui m'ont si longtemps fascinée. Je veux regarder tes longs doigts qui enserrent ma taille et qui ne me laissent pas partir. J'ai envie de m'envelopper dans ton calme, dans ton assurance. Tu te poses jamais des questions? Tu ne doutes vraiment jamais? Je sais que tu le fais. Peut-être aussi souvent que moi. Mais tu ne le montres jamais. Tu réussis à remplir le vide qui me ronge à l'intérieur et à calmer mes peurs. Lorsque je sens l'appréhension qui me suffoque, je pense à toi. Tu es mon souffle. Tu me manques. J'ai besoin de sentir qu'il y a quelqu'un dans ce monde qui ne me laissera pas tomber pour une fois. Mais même toi, tu n'es pas parfait. Même toi, tu m'as oubliée. Même toi, tu es parti.