Doar eu

I am no good at love

I think I would have really liked to be friends with Noel here, just as much as with Oscar, maybe in another life...
"I am no good at love
When my easy heart I yield
Wild words come tumbling from my mouth
Which should have stayed concealed;
And my jealousy turns a bed of bliss
Into a battlefield.

I am no good at love
I betray it with little sins
For I feel the misery of the end
In the moment that it begins
And the bitterness of the last good-bye
Is the bitterness that wins."

De la capat

Intr-o zi de vara in Bucuresti, la o sedinta de tuns si coafat cu maman, am citit un mic articol intr-o revista oarecare. Am citit cum cineva spunea ceva despre viata lui si cum de fiecare data cand incepe ceva nou, sau cand altceva se incheie intr-un final nebanuit, are senzatia aceea usor iritanta ca a obosit, ca poate a si esuat, ca desi a facut o mie de lucruri la care multi nici nu viseaza, tot nu e multumit, tot simte ca ceva lipseste, ca iar o ia de la capat, de la zero, de fiecare data…ceva lipseste si tocmai de aceea urmeaza o cale noua, cauta acel ceva sau altceva sau orice dar cu siguranta nu ce are deja, si nu stie de cate ori va trebui sa reia acest cerc nebun, final-inceput-final-de la capat…Ce usurare sa aflu ca si altcineva, si poate multi altii, au parte de aceleasi frustrari, framantari, dau aceeasi interpretare vietii lor cum si eu o fac cu viata mea.

Caci si eu am inceput ceva nou, chiar de cateva ori deja, l-am inceput, l-am trait si gustat din plin, fara regrete sau pareri de rau, fara visat la alternative marete, am zburat spre nou, spre schimbare, spre aventura, spre necunoscut cu entuziasm, curiozitate, placere si mirare, tremur de neasteptare si fiori de griji si temeri nerostite, of da, am facut si asta si asta si asta. Si de fiecare data, noul a devenit normal si mai tarziu normal a ajuns sa fie vechi, si n-am avut de ales, n-am putut decat sa inchei, sa plec si sa o iau de la capat. A fost asa de cand ma stiu, numai ca experientele erau mai micute, erau chiar repetitive, in fiecare an plecam la mare cu chef de aventuri noi si ma intorceam usor schimbata, cu idei, haine, iubiti si fite noi. Iar mai tarziu am inceput un drum, un drum al meu, o cale fara de intoarcere, o cale in lume, departe de casa, de familiar, de ai mei si ale mele. Am plecat in Franta. Cu siguranta ceva nou, o aventura, o schimbare, o experienta de neuitat. Si dupa doi ani am vrut mai mult, altceva, iar nou, iar diferit, nu neaparat un alt drum, doar o alta directie. Si am venit in Amsterdam. A fost grozav, minunat, frumos, nebun, si serios, m-a invatat ce trebuia sa fii stiut, m-a impins sa-mi las idei si prejudecati ce nu erau ale mele, sa le testez cu atentie si sa le debarasez ca o piele de sarpe, m-a lasat sa ma pregatesc in linistite si cu rabdare pentru ceea ce va urma. M-a schimbat si in bine si in rau, m-a impins spre o alta viata si spre un alt eu, spre cine sunt cu adevarat, cel putin asa cred, asa sper.

Acum stiu ca vreau sa o iau de la capat. Din nou. Stiu ca voi pleca undeva si mai departe, ca voi ramane acolo o perioada si ca…si nimic, altceva nu mai stiu. Nici nu vreau. Tocmai aici este frumuseata unui nou inceput. De la capat din nou, pentru a cata oara si cate vor mai fi pe urma. Caci nu este usor, oh nu, nu este simplu sa iei chiar totul de la capat, sa pleci cu un bagaj de idei si cunostinte si experiente si cateva haine si carti si cam atat. Sa nu ai nimic al tau, nimic tangibil, o casa, un stereo misto, un cont mai gras si responsabil, ceva, orice. Sa inveti o limba noua, sa fii gata sa o vorbesti ca pe a ta, si sa uiti putin din celelalte. Sa faci calcule, pregatiri, hartogarie, planuri, sa organizezi si sa speri ca va fi bine. Asta e. Sa speri ca va fi bine. Cam asa este acum cu mine. Simt cumva ca va fi ok, ca incep ceva nou pentru ca asa trebuie, pentru ca sunt gata, pentru ca am nevoie, pentru ca am incredere in mine, in viata, in viitor, in timp, in vise. Pentru ca visele pot deveni o realitate frumoasa si pentru ca viata are un sens al ei ce trebuie, cere sa fie realizat. Sau macar incercat. Incerc, sper si doresc. Si traiesc. Sunt gata sa o iau de la capat.

Sea lion

My mind logics around and from something very simple and innocent I get to a more deep, dark and wary place in my mind...I have no idea what kind of animal I would be, or like to be for that matter, I have no idea...who cares anyway? My basic self is so well hidden behind layers and layers of nicely patted emotional and physical selves, mini mes, each of them suited to fit me like a glove whenever I decide or need to use them. That animal within is probably showing its face in my most quiet moments, when I'm…

simply happy to be there and then, and just me...when I stay in the sun, bathing my skin, hair and eyes in the lavish light of a bright sunset, lazily gulping at some sort of cake and dreaming about...just about or about nothing...then I'm very much like a sea lion, content to be so incredibly lazy and slow, ready to put on a layer of milk chocolate skin, add one coating of sweet juicy fat, dream about lost or found or re-found or impossible love, moments of love and happiness beyond anything, beyond the others, beyond any thought or rationale, beyond you, beyond me, beyond, way beyond. I am then a sea lion, and I truly love it, I am tight down to it in such sweet warm ways that I don't feel like letting go, ever.
These are those slow, untouchable, uncorrupted moments, when seconds are hours and mind can actually make time stop to enjoy whatever wonderful fraction of second it fancies.

Next to these moments there are the others, the faster moving ones when hours take turns becoming seconds and try to steal them all together from time itself...without these moments there would be no slow ones, they are necessary and vital to us, to time, to life, just as anything else. Don't take me wrong, there is nothing wrong with the fast periods, they get things done, life moving and changing, people evolving, learning and getting close to their dreams, they are wonderful too, they get us there, wherever that is and whatever expects us. In these moments I am, well, I am again a sea lion, a slick, dark coloured, perfectly shaped sea lion...hm, in the sea, yes in the sea, swimming faster than most other creatures, using body, mind and beautiful layers of fat to navigate at huge speed, travel long distances, hunt and run from hunters, feed fast and with purpose, meet and then mate, mate because it's the most natural and necessary thing in the world, mate to ensure continuity, mate to enjoy too, why not...hm, it seems that I lost track, am I talking about the sea lion or myself, but then again I am the sea lion, and for now my mind can rest chasing its logically disturbed paths towards questions that can't be answered. This is one question I have already answered. I found my animal. The sea lion.

Tudor

Thinking, thinking about Tudor, this guy who sings and acts and is talented and quite famous or very famous and kindda cool and sort of interesting and definitely screwed up a bit or a bit more, this guy who I don’t know except for the few things I just spilled out already. Why the hell am I then thinking about Tudor? Why now, at this late hour in this pretty little old city of Amsterdam…I guess it’s easier to project some sort of interest on someone who is so far away and so unreal. But you know what, the guy is rather real, I have met him twice so far…purely random, no mischievous fan behavior from my part, I think and most certainly hope that I don’t have that in me….but anyway, I was saying that I met Tudor once, a while ago, in the mountains in a little B&B while I was there with my then new love. I met him and even took that big leap into stupid, common Joe reaction and said that my mum, be careful - not me but mum, is a big admirer and we are excited to see him and band in a concert later that night. Oh ouau, what an encounter that was, wish I could call it a brief encounter but these words are not to be spilled with ease over such nonsense. That was then, when a younger, quite different version of me had preoccupations such as school, career, love or no love, I don’t quite remember anyway.

Then I met him again, a second time, as random as the other…but here it gets more interesting, a bit funny too, it’s worth to say more about it. Soooo, it’s like this. Me alone at some big cool concert in Bucharest, being quite content with myself and very bright and yellow in my appearance. I am there, just finished watching a crappy performance from hm, Stereophonics I think, and then walking around to move to the next stage…then I suddenly notice just in front of me, in my way even, this really cool outfit, something with some black&white pants and a hat, a hat I wouldn’t mind wearing myself, all this nicely wrapped on one tall, kindda skinny guy. I’m thinking I like the outfit and the hat so much that I might just mention it to the guy, just like that. So then I slowly pass around him and as I look at his face I notice I know him, damn it, it’s this Tudor guy again. Of course any idea of actually telling him the hat is cool and where did you buy it, gets shoved fast under a feeling of: hey, crap, that’s stupid and you’ll sound just like any other idiot girlie fan pussy chic. So I rapidly lose my interest and start scanning the crowd for something nicer or familiar…which btw I see in the rather imposing presence of a friend, a high-school colleague of mine. And before I start moving towards him, I feel like I’m being watched. I look and see that, for fucks sake, Tudor himself, the god in the cool outfit, is checking me out…really, just like that. I have no idea why, prob he has an eye for fashionable stuff or just likes yellow, I was covered in it in such a chic way, I could understand. I find it amusing, but that’s all, I mean, for fucks sake it’s Tudor.

Long story short, or not, I later find myself at some Manu Chao concert thingy with my colleague and cute girlfriend, we’re just listening and talking about stuff. And then again, I feel or notice or imagine or wish or see that I’m being checked out, so I look a and guess what, it’s this guy again with his cool hat, passing by and obviously checking me out, tip to toe and viceversa…imagine that. What the fuck? Really. He even managed to reach my face, me already being aware of it all and smiling, either like an idiot or a bit amused or both, back at him, very direct, I mean why not savor the moment if it’s there. This time I’m afraid I can’t help myself from being a silly girl and I grab Mihnea’s girl and start screaming that this guy, totally forgot his name at the time, from this band, forgot that too, just checked me out, oh my God, oh no, oh yes, oh ho ho…we laugh, and scream and she tells me about another guy from another band, we laugh some more and so become better friends, just shared a moment. That was cool, it just was and I’m not ashamed or stupid-yfied to admit it, I felt sooo good, the god in the cool hat checked me out. My glory for the day…well for some time at least, something else happened later that night which made me forget.

Aleg dintr-o mie si una

Incerc sa imi adun gandurile intr-una din limbile pe care le vorbesc si dupa ce dau cu grija si ceva efort una cate una la o parte, ca niste coji usturatoare de ceapa, raman sa gandesc si atunci sa si scriu in romana. De parca ar conta, de fapt se pare ca ar conta intr-adevar dar ce imi pasa mie. Mie imi pasa de gandurile amestecate printre coji de ceapa si taramuri indepartate, ganduri ce au zburat de mult spre alte lumi si poate alte timpuri, spre viitor, trecut si alt prezent, ganduri enervant de repetitive, ganduri ce poarta vise nevisate, sperante aproape nesperate, ganduri ce nu pot fi nici macar soptite de teama de a nu se pierde in aburi, ceata, uitare si nepasare. De ce? De ce teama, soptite, nevisate, neindraznite? Crede-ma nici eu nu stiu, caci nu pot decat sa ma mir de propria-mi neincredere, ca mai apoi sa ma revolt de propria mirare si sa imi spun pentru a mia oara ca nimic, dar chiar nimic, nu este imposibil. Ce ganduri? Vai, ce ganduri nu sunt? Ce bine ar fi sa nu le am, sa fiu doar eu acum si aici, aproape intr-o beata, dulce paralizie a gandirii…Dar ele sunt si raman cu mine cerandu-mi solutii si, indata primite, cerandu-mi noi intrebari si deci noi raspunsuri, un soi de joc absurd, rotund si alunecos, fara inceput sau final sau sens sau noima sau folos. Il joc caci nu am de ales, este al meu, al meu si al multor altora, l-am mostenit si il voi lasa celor de dupa, imi place la fel de mult cat nu il vreau, raman sa joc si sa ma joc.

Putin imi pasa de gandurile mele cand sunt, si crede-ma am fost, doar fericita, satisfacuta, placuta si iubita. Atunci nici cele mai necesare ganduri nu-mi vin in minte si uit cu dulce naivitate sa mananc, sa beau, sa cumpar, sa lucrez, sa…, sa gandesc. Ce pacat ca nu mult dupa imi amintesc totul si reiau, cu incredere mincinoasa ca pot sa opresc cand vreau, jocul meu nebun.

Ce ganduri oare am acum…nu le opresc, nu le gandesc, nu le justific sau testez, le arunc doldora intr-o gramada aiurita si sincera pe o pagina alba…vor fi lucruri practice si usor plictisitoare sau pur si simplu reale, nimic romantat, sau poate doar putin.

Ce lux sa imi pot alege un drum, fie el chiar si de scurta durata, poate…caci nu se stie. Ce lux sa imi pot alege linia de munca si locul, ce lux sa pot spune, hei acum ma pregatesc sa imi rezerv avion pentru calatorii in America de Sud. Ce mirare ca aleg acest loc, desi nu ar fi fost prima alegere nici macar cu cateva luni in urma. Ce ciudat ca m-am gandit la Brazilia, ca am senzatia ca sunt multe lucuri mici si insemnate care imi arata sau confirma sau pur si simpu sunt acolo si eu le observ, si toate sunt legate de acest loc. Ce noutate ca pentru prima oara aleg constient si oarecum independent de alte structuri, planuri, ca nu am ales dintr-o lista anume bazandu-ma pe criterii rationale, normale de altfel ca si: munca, casa, studii, poate iubit. Nu, nici macar, poate si de asta mi-e putin teama dar nu ar trebui sa-mi fie caci nu vad ce as putea pierde…teama ca nu este decat un soi de pofta de moment, nejustificata nici de structuri nici de destin nici de viata nici de…hm, nu vad de ce nu ar fi de ajuns sa fie justificata de mine. Alegerea mea dintr-o mie si una de posibilitati, locuri si slujbe in lumea larga, alegerea mea de acum, caci am intalnit si iubit un brazilian, ca pantofii pe care vroiam sa-i cumpar la mare erau facuti in Brazilia, ca pantofii pe care ii port sunt la fel, ca biserica pe langa care am trecut in Londra este tot a lor, ca vorbesc cu prietena mea de planurile mele si primesc suport si incurajari, ca acolo vreau sa calatoresc si poate sa raman sa lucrez o perioada. Ce mai conteaza, sunt semne sau nu, e o parte din puzzle sau nu, e ce trebuie sau nu, ce vreau sau nu…de parca am stiut pentru restul lucrurilor pe care le-am facut…de parca voi sti de acum incolo…Cred ca este un pas ceva mai mare pur si simplu din cauza distantelor si a faptului ca este diferit acolo si totusi nici macar nu este atat de diferit, din cauza finantelor, dar prea putin din cauza asta, si in fond daca am un avion dus-intors am posibilitatea de a ma intoarce. Si atunci de ce ma tot scarm atat sa rezerv si sa accept ca vreau sa fac chestia asta, sa ma pregatesc si sa plec. Nici eu nu stiu, probabil ma asteptam la ceva mai organizat si mai civilizat si imi insel putin aceste asteptari. Poate mi-e teama san nu fac o alegere gresita si sa regret mai tarziu. Dar adevarul e ca nu am regretat nimic din ce am facut, cum as putea? Este adevarat ca nu cunosc alternativa si nici nu o voi afla vreodata deci ce conteaza. Ca sa inchei acest sir interminabil care incepe usor usor sa ma innebuneasca, ideea este: acum am timpul si cheful si resursele sa plec in aceasta calatorie si poate sa incep ceva complet diferit, nou si poate provocator. Vreau, pot si cred, simt ca va fi bine. Grijile ma urmaresc intotdeauna, cum au facut-o si alte dati, dar ele sunt acolo sa traga un semnal de alarma numai cand va fi cazul. Insa atata tot. Sper ca mintea mea sa lase mai mult spatiu inimii si sa pot sa ascult bataile, ele imi vor spune ce vreau sa stiu. Acum ascult. Sa aleg dintr-o mie si una?