quizzez round two

blogthings.com this time

You Are 3% Homophobic

You're open minded, tolerant, and accepting. And you're not homophobic in the least :-)

Are You Homophobic?

Your Taste in Music:

80's Pop: Highest Influence 80's Rock: Highest Influence 90's Alternative: Highest Influence 90's Pop: Highest Influence Classic Rock: Highest Influence

How's Your Taste in Music?

You Should Be a Science Fiction Writer

Your ideas are very strange, and people often wonder what planet you're from. And while you may have some problems being "normal," you'll have no problems writing sci-fi. Whether it's epic films, important novels, or vivid comics... Your own little universe could leave an important mark on the world!

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

Your Personality Is Like Acid

A bit wacky, you're very difficult to predict. One moment you're in your own little happy universe... And the next, you're on a bad trip to your own personal hell!

What Drug Is Your Personality Like?

You Should Play the Guitar

You're very independent - both in spirit and in the way you learn. You can teach yourself almost anything, even if it makes your fingers bleed. You're not really the type to sit patiently through a music lesson - or do things by the book. It's more your style to master the fundamentals and see where they take you. Highly creative and a bit eclectic, you need a wide range of music to play. You could emerge as a sensitive songwriter... or a manic rock star. Your dominant personality characteristic: being rebellious Your secondary personality characteristic: tenacity

What Musical Instrument Should You Play?

another bunch of tests

... because i'm bored at work...

I Scored a 100%!

1,797,600How Many Germs Live On Your Keyboard?

35

60%How Addicted to Blogging Are You?

48% Geek

31%

muse-ic

p.s.: yes, a new dragon (and that's p.s. from pre-scriptum, duh!)

bryan adams, placebo, bajaga i instruktori, hooverphonic, morcheeba, faithless, kasabian, reamonn, pink, alice cooper, marylin manson, uriah heep... names i'd never dreamed of seeing live and yet i have.

and now muse. the right place, the right sound (though i know someone who wanted to kill the sound technician, but i hardly noticed it then and there), the right people... and definitely the right atmosphere. it's pointless trying to explain to people just why i take 8 hour train rides in stride, unslept nights and another 8 hour train ride back just for a couple of hours of concert. so i just let them raise their eyebrows when i announce i'm leaving for the weekend and shrug off their "another concert?" questions.

well... so here i was... trying to sleep away eight hours on the train (which i kind of did... kind of, because it was a zombie like sleep that left me both tired AND with a stiff neck), greeting old friends, meeting new ones... fast forward over hours in queue and aching feet... climax... sleepless night (it was fun... kinda high... but fun), a walk through cold empty streets in a deserted sunday-morning city, yet another bunch of friends and then the even longer eight hours on the train back... and from the station straight to work. needless to say it took a while for humanity to regain me from zombiehood (am not sure they did so entirely, though). definitely worth it, both musically and socially.

goodbye to you, my trusted friend...

and a long over due blog it is, too. i meant to do it right then, but it was just too much. it still feels kinda wrong to write about it, like sealing it in a box and stoving it away. it's probably better than keeping it inside, but... it's like burying her a second time. the first one was hard enough. and it is so ironic that in the last blog i have expressed my concern over her health... and now... this.it is so unfair. she has done nothing to deserve it. and yes, i know there are millions of people out there suffering, hurting and dying from diseases and i, quite frankly, don't give a shit. they are statistics to me and nothing more. this dog was my friend. this dog has not hurt, harmed, bitten or upset anyone (well except me, when chewing on my favourite t-shirts). and yet, this dog has gone through pains i can't and don't even want to imagine, has gone through the despair of not understanding what is wrong, through the vain hope of us being able to help. i hope that she has gone before going through disappointment at our impotence. but no one and nothing will get it out of my head that those haunting yells didn't have the note of a plea for help in them. and no one and nothing will, i think, rid my of this totally irrational guilt that i couldn't do anything for her. just like i can't escape a whole train of other "if only's" regarding her. like... if only i had taken better care, spent more time, paid more attention to possible signs i might have missed, had more patience, didn't snap during the last days... it's weird, i still can recall the two nights when i just couldn't baer it anymore to hear her cry. the first one, i took a sleeping pill that totally numbed me at first and totally knocked me out afterwards. i just fell asleep next to her, she has probably cried like she had done the previous nights but i couldn't hear. the second time... i snapped at her, then sat down next to her, leaned to the wall and the fridge, put one hand on her head, cuddled under the blanket and tried to sleep to the music in my headphones, ignoring the wails i heard during the song's ending and renewed beginning. i still can't bear to hear this particular song.

it was one thing to know that she will only live until my parents come back... another thing to accept that. in spite of making arrangements for visiting the doctors in budapest, taking more days off to do so, making provision of painkillers (i have become an expert at administering injections to dogs... and i could've sworn i would never be able to actually pierce living skin with a needle, let alone a muscle)... i knew deep inside that there was nothing left to be done. just like i knew it had to be my decision to put her to sleep.

the last day was horrible. the painkillers and anti-contraction drugs started to have nearly no effect at all though i had increased the dose to nearly the maximum. she was crying almost without a break, she was desperate when there was no one in sight. we longed for the vet to come, to relieve her and at the same time we knew we actually counted down the last couple of hours of her cruelly short life. i can only imagine how helpless she must have felt being pinned to the ground, having to call for our attention for such basic needs like thirst, hunger and having her diaper blanket changed, or how desperate she was lest we should leave her alone. unlike rocky, who seemed to have come at peace with himself, who had taken his goodbyes in his silent way, she had a will to live. she was young, strong and... condemned. by a stupid degenerative disease, but in the end, by me. i am glad we did it at home. moving her would have meant more torment and agitation. at least she was in her territory, she knew the doc, she didn't complain when she was given the ketamine that knocked her out. i now partly understand why they didn't let my dad in with rocky. it was mesmerizing to watch the vet prepare the needle, knowing it is what will eventually kill her, even though it is the best option for her. she went peacefully in her drug-induced sleep, with her head in my lap.

for some reason i kept stroking her ear and playing with her soft ears in the car, on the way to the place we meant to bury her. my dad had dug her grave a couple of feet away from where rocky lies and i don't want to know how he felt while he was at it that morning, alone in the field.. she was heavy to carry, as inert bodies are. i wish i had some other last images of her etched in my mind than the ones i have. but the ones that keep coming back is the despair in her eyes in the last days, her head lolling to one side with her tongue hanging out while we were carrying her in a blanket and her rolled up in the grave. i gave her her favourite chewed out toy and a puppet i had given her to hold in the last days. when my dad jumped down to level the first layer of earth over her, it was almost too much. i felt the urge of just wanting to take her out of there.

it's over a month later now. she died on the 5th of september. she would've had her fourth birthday on the 14th. on the 19th four years ago, it had been rocky's turn. she had been the one to partly cure that pain, but we had never expected her to have such a short life. and yet... i slowly find myself wanting a dog again. because nothing... absolutely nothing compares to that. :(

50 % ? embarrassing...

You Are 50% Normal

While some of your behavior is quite normal... Other things you do are downright strange You've got a little of your freak going on But you mostly keep your weirdness to yourself

How Normal Are You?

hello, hello, turn your radio on

i'm in one-song periods. i've been to this music festival (no, i don't mean the b'estival, which i know i still haven't blogged about) and one of the bands playing was a romanian band called vita de vie (the grape vine). and they played one of my fave songs, called varza, which means cabbage, which is however a slang term :P so for two days i listened to that song on powerplay. since it's about legalising pot, it has a pretty reggae feeling to it. that's how the streak started, a week ago. it ended today, again in reggae-ish mood, when two songs mainly shared the list. one was amy winehouse's rehab, the other was a pure reggae song a friend gave me, prophet benjamin's ah field, ah weed. (does anyone else notice a common "vice" theme to these?).

anyhow, the absolute poweplays of the last days were the ones in the middle of the streak. and they weren't the cheery ones, obviously (this reggae night thing was more like treatment, than acting how i feel). i mean goo goo dolls' before it's too late and stone sour's bother. i could listen to those songs... well, not forever, but for a long period of time, as i think last.fm will confirm. i missed the goo goo dolls. the song is in the same vein as all of their materials, they're not the most original of bands out there, but they always touch me, mainly through the lyrics. the stone sour one... well, if you search the blog, you'll find it posted somewhere, lyrics and vid. it's an old love, if you can love pain. and it's still the undisputed king in my most played chart.

You don't need to bother; I don't need to be; I'll keep slipping farther. But once I hold on, I won't let go 'til it bleeds

not the most optimistic of songs you've heard, huh? well... it quite caught the moment. and while i was listening to it, a nagging thought came back that i've been trying to push away. i haven't mentioned it here before, but i fear for my dog. it may be nothing, just a lack of calcium or something (she'll have a thorough check up soon, at yet another vet), or it may be something really bad.

and all my un-kept resolutions came back to me. i have no person to care for (save myself, and anyone who knows me can tell you that i don't) and i can't even care properly for a dog :( i care for her, emotionally speaking, but she gives back so little and i've stopped really caring as in "acting on it" for those who give back next to nothing. however, she is a dog. it's not fair to treat her like this as she can't be aware of hurt feelings. i shouldn't project my attitude towards people on a dog and the fact that i can't relate properly to humans shouldn't affect my relationship with a dog. i mean... c'mon, even autists manage okay in that field... before you ask: no, i am not fine. not at all.

Wish I was too dead to cry My self-affliction fades Stones to throw at my creator Masochists to which I cater..

you know the rest. you don't need to bother. because, after all, i don't need to be.

:(

A black cat moans
When he's burning with the fever
A stray dog howls
When he's lonely in the night
A woman goes crazy
With the though of retribution
But, a man starts weeping
When he's sick and tired of life

I keep on dreaming dreams of tomorrow
Feel I'm wasting my time
Lighting candles in the wind
Always taking my chances
On the promise of the future
But, a heart full of sorrow
Paints a lonely tapestry

The sun is shining
But, it's raining in my heart

No one understands the heartache
No one feels the pain
Cos no one ever sees the tears
When you're crying in the rain
When you're crying in the rain
Crying in the rain

~ whitesnake ~


I'll never let you see
The way my broken heart is hurting me
I've got my pride and I know how to hide
All my sorrow and pain
I'll do my crying in the rain

~ a-ha ~

nothing left to add...

PDE*

i've written blogs before in which i have expressed my abhorrence toward certain public displays. showing love, fear, embarrassment, pain, gratitude, anger, panic... whatever - in public is perfectly ok and perfectly normal. people who claim that displaying these in front of others is wrong are either completely morons, thinking you can just switch them off, or else emotional cripples who understand neither the strength of spontaneous emotions, nor the tension that constantly hiding your feelings creates. just a personal opinion, that is.

however, putting on a whole show for the public is an entirely different matter. parading your feelings in front of others, showing them to make a point, to spite, to shock, to impress... that is completely not what feelings are about. because feelings are a personal thing. it concerns you and whoever else is involved - which is most certainly not the entire population of your town or the crowd in the street or in a room or whatever.
and this thing goes for 'positive' as well as for 'negative' emotions. i'm fine with PDA. i'm not fine with ostentation in a bus. i'm fine with being scolded (well, as far as fine with that can go), i'm not fine with being yelled at in a room full of people. i'm fine with people not holding back their tears (again, as fine as it gets). i'm not fine with people crying, yelling and tearing their hair out in the streets.

i resent gestures and attitudes whose sole purpose seems to be "hey people, look at me, i'm so in love/angry/hurt right now". because, hey, guess what: we ultimately don't fucking care. or i don't fucking care. maybe i would if you didn't try so hard to make me. but when you put on a show, i've labeled you either fake, or gross or else a nutcase or whatever.

now, what sparked this blog was a glimpse i caught on tv. there's this stupid tradition in this country of the "mourners" at funerals. losing someone dear is a terrible thing, i agree. but the way i see it, you mourn and cry for them in private. because it is something you have within yourself and maybe with the soul of the deceased, if you believe in such. it is normal that traces of pain will show. but to cry and yell and tear your hair from your head and your cloths from your body just to show others how much you suffer and impress them with your pain... it grosses me out. it grosses me even more out that women are hired to do just that at funerals. it's tradition, they say. well, it was perfect for the year 1200, to appease the spirit of the deceased and prevent them from returning from the grave to punish the living and the likes. it is not okay in 2007 in europe. with the risk of repeating myself: G.R.O.S.S.

same thing goes with the public display of religious beliefs. and when i see people making huge crosses when they pass a church and staring at you horrified for washing on sundays and saying a prayer when you say you don't go to church, not even on easter and christmas... i would like to remind you that it was jesus who said that when you want to talk to god, do so in the privacy of your chamber, not parading your belief in front of others.

*PDE = public display of emotion

turtle power!!!

You are Leonardo. You are a natural leader with a strong sense of honor.

storm

i can see why the ancients believed that it stormed when gods were angry. i think it storms when they cry in pain... it started half an hour ago... coming from the direction my office window faces. first, the roll of thunder in the distance, and flashes of light without a distinctive source. the rumbling came closer, threatening. the flashes lingered seconds, showing the layers of clouds above... a huge storm front in the north, with clear skies in the east, the margin of the cloud shroud clearly visible. then the lightnings. vertical ones, horizontal ones, single-line ones and zig-zagged ones. it's a godly spectacle. a god roaring in pain and anger, releasing all frustration in mighty roars of thunder and lightning. a magnificent spectacle of several minutes... and then, having vented all, he started crying huge raindrops for tears, hitting viciously on windowpanes. i had to close the window, lest the office carpet should get drenched. silly me has left home without the camera again. not that i truly think i could capture a lightning, but still... the thrill of the chase for a sign of a emotion from a god... i love storms. yeah, i know, you'll think "you wouldn't say that if it caught you in the open". no, i probably wouldn't love a storm then. but i'd still find it magnificent.

i was born too late...

... in a world that doesn't care... i wish i was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair.

that is one option. c'mon, would've been great to've been a teen at woodstock. but taken that's impossible, how about being born three or five years earlier. i was just looking at sweet child of mine. heck, i swear i would've fallen for axl had the band still been around when i discovered music :)))) i often catch myself wishing i'd... remember things. things that happened during my lifetime but in a time i wasn't aware of them, or interested in them or whatever. i wish i'd... been there.

i've mentioned before how out of place i feel, though i think it's rather out of time. and... well, yes, i think i could've gotten along just fine without the internet and e-mails and mobile phones and digital cameras and 24hr shows on 42 channels on color cable tv and microwave food (well, i don't actually use that, but it just came along the line).

i... fuck, i have no idea what i actually want to say in this post. it's a bit of school nostalgia and... nostalgia in general, but for something i haven't been there to see. like the urge to travel one gets, but not travel in space, but in time. i was born too late... :( hey, i'm as old as E.T. ... he got to his home, i didn't. i'm entitled to be depressed.

i hope i'm not right...

... this thing has happened twice to me in the past. it might've be a coincidence that a superstition confirmed as fact when it was just that - a coincidence.

first time was in early may 1994. it was but a brief thought that came to my mind then quickly darted away - a thought i laughed off as silly in spite of the uneasiness it caused. the thought was "how would i react if he died today?" followed by a flash of myself, wide-eyed in disbelief in front of the tv. he did die that day, though i was not there to see it. i hadn't had the patience for the race, so i went out to play volleyball instead.

second time, it wasn't a person, but a dog following me to school one morning, in the eight grade. again, the thought came and went; again in the form of a 'what if' and 'what would i do'. oddly selfish way to shape thoughts about others' death, though rather common, i'd presume. i tried to shoo him away, but he wouldn't go. he got hit by a car at the next street crossing. bastard didn't even slow down.

last night, it was an image flash, so short i didn't even realize what it was. it left behind a smell. i was half asleep and it took me several seconds to identify the memory it belonged to. smells are among the most powerful memory-callers i know. then i woke up and also identified that diffuse anxiety that went with it and the two times i'd felt it before. i hope it was just a dream and i remembered it for waking up so abruptly. i almost never remember dreams but for some rare exceptions, which are either very queer or nightmares. so... i hope it was just shreds of what i was dreaming when something woke me suddenly.

ps: nightmare by Paul Bielaczyc on elfwood

random stuff

i am back, though some might not even know i was gone. amsterdam and bonn in case you wonder and/or care and if not, what the hell are you still doing reading my blog? it is strange how one (or i...) can feel so at home in places i've been but once before. as it is equally strange how a mere change of setting can change my mind frame for the time i'm there. all the nastier the realisation that this here is my life, not that one there. perhaps i will tell you a bit about the trip on another occasion.

on another front... one more down. they're less and less by the day. less strings. a pity or a relief, i am not sure.

work stuff... i got a raise. not much, but it's something. doesn't make up for giving up moderating, but makes the difference between then and now less obvious. i am still relieved of having given that up - the strain on me is much less.

the project... well, just goes to prove that if you want something done, you have to do it yourself. though i've left all materials when i left and asked my 'colleagues' to conduct it, nothing has been done. needless to say we're one and a half month overdue. i don't know who'll sign the report on this one. i for one, won't. i've re-read my mails in october, calling out to people. i stated there and then that i don't have the time to manage all aspects of it. i can't wait for it to be over, so i can formally retreat from any such NGO actions. they've been a thing i took pride in for a long time and they gave me a sense of accomplishment, but i've come to see, quite cynically, that it's not worth my time, effort and least of all involvement. like anything is!

school's coming along ok, though i'm a bit behind with my final paper. seeing that i picked a subject i can plunge myself into out of pleasure, i am not too worried about it though. once i start out on it, it should come along ok. keeping the things in an area that interests me is a lesson i learnt early on. for my last exam, i did a PR campaign plan for a tribe i lead in an online game. for the one coming on saturday, i started work on a website for my tribe on the romanian server. and i enjoy every bit of it.

moving on to the games section... neverwinter nights 2 is the hit. even if only for this, my brand new computer that cost a fortune was well worth its money. and hey, it just looks better on a wide screen lcd monitor :D. the other game i'm in is the aforementioned one. tribalwars. come join on world 8 if you are bored. :D of course, there has to be some bickering and bitter musing about it.

people cheat. they create multiple accounts to support their main one with resources and armies. i don't see the point in cheating in such a game. what does it prove if you are a top ranking player and got there cheating? not a fucking thing - only that you are not good enough to make it by the rules. i can understand theft, arranged football games, bribe, whatever, when it gains something. but this is a game for god's sake. i despise cheaters. bragging cheaters even more so. a colleague of mine got his account shut down for it - all seven of them that is. as much as it pains me to see how it has affected him, i can't help being holier-than-thou and thinking he got what he deserved.

well... what else to report? oh yeah. books. big books. big english books. big english fantasy books. drizzt absolutely rules. i love them. they are my trips away when i'm still here. or when my body's still here. i almost never am.

makes me wonder...

i have no idea how to start this blog so it will begin pretty abruptely. actually, this thing is in relation with the previous blog: the two were intended to be squeezed in the same post but in the end i decided i should treat them separately, as there is no direct link between the two... merely a stream of consciousness one :) (or 'scream of consciousness, as a friend of mine put it... am gonna change my blog labels to that one - far more fitting).

thus, it is not in direct relation with the respect i give to certain people or the way they lose even the most basic form of it... it's something that happens before they get the chance to do so: i've always been some sort of a snail. cowering in my shell and reluctant to get my antennae out to explore and take the first step in a new social situation. forcing me to do so has never resulted in anything good for me, emotionally speaking. i do things like that in my own time and in my own way, that, admittedly, is hard to understand by most. i also have some apparently weird criteria based on which i choose the persons i consider worth 'exploring' more in depth. however... i did. i bonded on several occasions.

i guess it is a fact of life that people disappoint people. nothing new in that. but it always leaves me with a very bitter taste. and of course, the more i like the person, the more faith i put in them, the higher the expectations, the harder the fall. at some point, i've reached the conclusion that it's just not worth the effort i put in knowing people (again, in my sense of 'knowing'). why bother, really? so i just try to go with the flow, whenever possible.

i'm glad when interaction goes to a deeper level then 'hi, how are you?', but i try not to expect it... and even less expect it to be rewarding in any way when it does. and even when it gets there... i kind of half not expect it to last. it's a darn pessimistic point of view, i know. but what is generally known as 'faith in people' has gone down the drain as far as i am concerned.


so basically i've just retreated back to my shell. if anyone's curious about me, they can knock on my door, i am not going to volunteer to come out. i don't believe in marketing oneself. because i don't want to sell an image. tried that, i don't know whether because i was following a trend, trying to stay in line with the way people my age behaved or because it was an artificially created need... but i tire of upholding an image and it's not worth it in 98% of the cases. so if it's image you look for, you might as well move on without stopping... you're in a rush to live your life anyway and i'm not curios about that.

i still don't have a reason
and you don't have the time
and it really makes me wonder
if i ever gave a fuck about you...

r.e.s.p.e.c.t.

so... how do i respect someone? well, as much as it may seem a yes or no issue, it isn't. well, not for me in any case. there is a minimum level of respect that i give a priori to someone. for the sheer fact that they exist. a way of acknowledging their existence. things like saying hi and not stepping on their feet as if they weren't there. a respect generally due to every man (as in person, not male).

then there's the respect for a certain thing. a trait like intelligence, kindness, perseverance or an achievement of sorts. i can disagree with one thing and respect another about a person. and then there's the respect for someone as a Man with a capital M (again, as in person, not male). for everything they do, they are, they stand for. and that's of course the hardest to get.

now, the weird thing is... the basic level... it's darn easy to lose, from my point of view. it has happened quite a few times lately. i still answer to hi's and questions asked, though in a rather cold and to-the-point way. and that's about it. otherwise i ignore the person's existence, except maybe the occasional annoyance. but they're not worth a dime in my eyes... and neither is anything they say or do. they may be the kindest, most intelligent, most persevering, achieving person i know... it's nothing without that basic respect. because that person has become a sub-human to me. and it seems so easy these days to fall out of the homo sapiens species...

speaker for the dead

A great rabbi stands teaching in the marketplace. It happens that a husband finds proof that morning of his wife's adultery, and a mob carries her to the marketplace to stone her to death. (There is a familiar version of this story, but a friend of mine, a Speaker for the Dead, has told me of two other rabbis that faced the same situation. Those are the ones I'm going to tell you.)

The rabbi walks forward and stands beside the woman. Out of respect for him the mob forbears, and waits with the stones heavy in their hands, "Is there anyone here," he says to them, "who has not desired another man's wife, another woman's husband?"

They murmur and say, "We all know the desire. But, Rabbi, none of us has acted on it."

The rabbi says, "Then kneel down and give thanks that God made you strong." He takes the woman by the hand and leads her out of the market. Just before he lets her go, he whispers to her, "Tell the lord magistrate who saved his mistress. Then he'll know I am his loyal servant."

So the woman lives, because the community is too corrupt to protect itself from disorder.

Another rabbi, another city, He goes to her and stops the mob, as in the other story, and says, "Which of you is without sin? Let him cast the first stone."

The people are abashed, and they forget their unity of purpose in the memory of their own individual sins. Someday, they think, I may be like this woman, and I'll hope for forgiveness and another chance. I should treat her the way I wish to be treated.

As they open their hands and let the stones fall to the ground, the rabbi picks up one of the fallen stones, lifts it high over the woman's head, and throws it straight down with all his might. It crushes her skull and dashes her brains onto the cobblestones.

"Nor am I without sin," he says to the people. "But if we allow only perfect people to enforce the law, the law will soon be dead, and our city with it."

So the woman died because her community was too rigid to endure her deviance.

The famous version of this story is noteworthy because it is so startlingly rare in our experience. Most communities lurch between decay and rigor mortis, and when they veer too far, they die. Only one rabbi dared to expect of us such a perfect balance that we could preserve the law and still forgive the deviation. So, of course, we killed him.

-- San Angelo, Letters to on Incipient Heretic, trans. Amai a Tudomundo Para Que Deus Vos Ame Crist o, 103:72:54:2

Orson Scott Card - Speaker for the Dead, Prologue to Chapter 16

the kids aren't alright...

babies, babies, babies everywhere. worse than in natasha bedingfield's video. everyone around seems to be either expecting or just had offspring. not really my concern except for the occasional thought to the global population boom. but what is my concernc is when the question comes up "and you? when are you going to have a baby?".

O_O. pardon me?!?!?! i never realised that was anyone's business but mine. so my answer is usually "never, if i have any say about it." which in turn, triggers two main type of reactions: either a condescending smile and a you'll-see-you'll-change type of attitude (when i grow up, when i meet the right person, or even more stupid, when i'll eventually have the kids o_O); or else, a shocked expression and "what? but why? don't you like kids?" errrrm. nope. not really.

the pregnancy. i hate the sheer idea of it. the thought that something actually grows inside of me is disgusting and scary at the same time. ok, maybe i could handle stomach worms... but a human being is definitely more than i can handle. also, i don't want to see my body do stuff to my mind; i don't want to see it change beyond my control; i don't want to have emotional reactions triggered by it. pms is bad enough as is, thank you.

the birth. errrrrm.... ouch? i freak out when i need to go to the dentist or having a blood analysis so caesarian section is out of the question ('sides, it's not good for the kid either; emotionally speaking) from the start. i suck at handling pain. and having this... thing come out of me, with people staring up my cunt to take it out... errrrm, pardon my french but... why?!?!? don't give me the 'rewarding feeling' and the 'joy after' bullshit, i'm not swallowing.

child rearing. if there's one torture in this world that sends me climbing up the walls in less than two seconds it's gotta be toddlers crying. (dogs crying does it to, but that's not the issue). and it doesn't wake any nursing feelings, sorry for you, folks. it's... anger, for lack of a better definition. no "oh, what's wrong with the baby, let me ease its distress". it's more like "shut the fuck up, you idiot critter or i'll smash your head against a wall". and in all truth, i think i would be quite capable of doing it. you've got no idea how i feel when i hear that. presuming i ever got so far as to have a kid, the best thing would be to take it out of my reach and quickly. i don't want to spend the rest of my life in jail for infanticide.

little kids. "oooh, myyyyy, what a sweeeeeet little baaaaabyyyyy". sounds familiar? what the heck is it people see in babies? they're not sweet, they're ugly. they're a wrinkled pinkish (we're talking caucasian here) parcel of skin that pees, shits, drools and makes noise. horrible noise. the above mentioned drying. what's sweet about that? tell you something... i've had my share of diaper changing and i hope to never ever EVER! have to do it again. and don't tell me it's not the same. shit is shit no matter what. feeding the child... are you nuts? i'd end up taking my eyeballs out with that plastic spoon before i'd make the kid swallow something.

kids. whims. cries. wanting this, not wanting that. doing the opposite of what they are told. constant supervision. demanding 24/7. needing stuff. growing up to be unthankful bastards until it's too late... should i go on? i guess i am the ultimate selfish person... but i want a life for my own. i want to sleep when i want to sleep, eat when i want to eat, use any language i want in my own home, watch any tv programmes i like, go out in the evenings when i like, travel unhindered and so on and so forth. and yes, i know i won't stay young forever. but frankly, any person out there who thinks of kids as their support in old age is (1) extremely selfish, since you don't make kids and programme them to be your crutch and (2) extremely naive thinking that they actually will be there.

hell, i can't even take proper care of a dog, i am ashamed to admit. and that when a dog demands much less and gives back so much more. i just don't want kids. i am not the right person to have them, either. if by some stupid mistake i did, i'd end up hating them and balming them for never having the life i wanted, even though it may not be their fault after all... but i'd still feel like they stole away my life. and this is not how a child should be brought up :( why ruin their life along with mine, making them live up to expectations they never could fulfil, hating them for their sheer existence, making them feel unwanted, giving un-proper care or no care at all...?

any rational and emotional analysis leads me to the fact that the sane thing to do is not have a kid in the first place. it would be wrong, both for me and for that presumed kid. which leads me back to the first issue. why is this so unacceptable by most? why is my way of thinking less normal or moral or whatever than that of people having kids even though they are just as unsuited as myself for being a parent? why am i the oddity in this freak show, when all i actually do is prevent ugly stuff from happening...

thank you... i'll stick to dogs. one day i gotta do it right :(
'sides, dog pups actually are cute.

losers weepers (5) the rose thorn

and there are no finders. you don't know what you got till it's gone. and sometimes you know, and you can't help it going away.

one thing i lost very early on is the full enjoyment of success and my respect for poor losers and their envy. it's the former i regret, not the latter. because success is most often hard worked for and deserves something. at least unspoilt delight at achieving it. but... it's lonely at the top.

i was in the first grade. at the end of it, to be precise. i was seven years and almost three months young. it was a hot june day. probably around the 15th of june. last school day of my first year at school.

everybody wears festive clothes: teachers, parents. we are gathered in a small square yard, with broken asphalt, white and reflecting the sun. the walls of the school rose around us. at the first (and only) floor, there was a covered balcony-like thing - it linked all classes there. i can see the windows from my classroom from where i stand. the first one is the window i sit by, second or third desk. light green paint peels off the reel of the the balcony. but that's not what i see when i look up there. i see my parents and my granny. i wave to them.

we are meant to stand in rows. in groups - class A, class B, class C. the taller ones in the rows in the back. i get second row. there's a girl in front of me named astrid. there are several desks in the front. there are books on them. and some papers. i have a flower bouquet in my hands. almost every pupil has one. they will be handed to teachers and then they will pile up on the desks. it now feels like an oddly solemn ritual... we offer flowers and the mighty teachers smile down benevolently upon us and give us books in return. it is warm in the uniform. i hate the school uniform. i also hate the white band holding back my black hair but it's school regulation.

we get prizes according to our end of the year mark. first prize, second prize, third prize and some runners-up. i have straight A's. i'll get the first prize. me and about five others. it's the first grade after all. i switch places with astrid. i wave at my parents. i am proud and keep raising my thumb, signaling that i got first place. as if it is something of tremendous importance. for seven years old me, it is. from the first day i went to school, i had the fix idea that i am not allowed to get bad marks. that getting a 4 will get me punished. don't ask me why or how i got the idea in my head. i think i might have already explained it on the blog.

the teacher comes over. she says astrid and i must switch places. "go to the second row, astrid. let d. come in the front." so it's not about height, like in gym class. front row is for the ones who got the best results. i switch places with astrid. i keep waving at my parents. more discreet now. but astrid isn't happy. and i am finding that out on my own skin. literally. i hear a muttering behind me and it sounds grudging and angry, in a cold way. "d! always d! always in the front". and i feel a sting in my arm. i turn around to look at her. i am shocked at the reaction, the sting hurts and i am puzzled as to what exactly i had done wrong. she holds the thorn of a rose in her hand, that she has torn off one of the roses in her hand. that's where the sting had come from.

the rest is a blur. i got up front when my name was called, i gave the flowers to teacher as had the ones before me, i received a couple of books and the diploma. they didn't give me a flower wreath to put on my head as i knew they did in some schools. but it didn't matter. nothing mattered much. my parents were happy and proud. i was happy and proud... sort of.

i don't know if it was a coincidence or not, next year i got second prize. 9,97 instead of 10. but then again in the third grade and every year after that i ended up being the best in my class. not many more straight A lines, but still the best. up to graduation in the 12th grade. and that sting was always there, in one form or another. even though it never took the shape of a rose thorn again.

Thorn by Tishounette

tearing myself apart

it seems i have developed this thing into a hobby recently (there, nearly wrote 'hobbit' instead). cutting and tearing away little bits from me and systematically destroying them. i am cutting away people, places, habits... i burn bridges behind me, but fail to move on. what will i do when i set fire on the very bridge i am now, suspended mid-air? i have no wings to fly; i have no one to catch me should i fall. i was merely using this bridge as a swing, idly relaxing on it between here and there above a chasm.

i keep on severing more and more ties. i started this quite a while ago and quite unaware. getting rid of all the driftwood... every single relationship i got nothing back from. or not enough. and they were quite a few. maybe i'm too demanding, who knows? and who cares? maybe i'm just sick of playing give and take without the take part. and i don't care about being polite about it, either.

i am cutting away things i used to do that aren't fun anymore. i can't wait for this stupid project to end. and it sounded like so much fun in the beginning. i simply don't care about it and how it turns out, though i occasionally have a twitch of conscience. at the end of may and the project, i plan to rid myself of any contact with the organisation and its actions. also, i will formally resign my position in the other organisation, the doggy thing, as well. and come to think of it... it's five years of my life that i've invested in these things, with energy and emotion. to no avail.

i will finish my master's degree this summer. i couldn't care less about it, honestly. it's all about the paper :(. and it started from their point of view. well, if all they want is my money, all i want is their paper. a pity. also, i have gradually retreated from my moderating activities. it just takes its toll on me. i hate being in the middle of conflicts. i hate being involved in conflicts. i hate having to solve them between other parties. i hate making decisions.

and now... we come to the closing chapter. once i've cut off all the bits and pieces of this thing called my everyday life that i can do without... why not face it head on and break it? well, because it's a decision. and i'm about the worst decision maker you could have. i can't even decide whether to have rice or pasta with my chicken for lunch. in the end, i go with the flow, or toss a coin, or do whatever feels like less effort...

i've taken all this in stride because it felt like it was better for me, selfish as it may sound (oh yes, underneath it all and an apparent generosity, i am also one of the most selfish persons i know). however, i was fine with cutting away all these useless (as it now seems) limbs because the process and the pain involved affected me in a bearable manner. i could apply some sort of local anaesthesia to make the spot numb. but now... it will hurt like hell. it will erase virtually all i've known as "my life". and the people it will affect in the process... their pain will affect me too, more than i like or care to admit. add to that the anxiety of radical change.

telling myself that it's better in the long run has no soothing effect. i am killing others and my self (as in who i am now) in a gamble. not taking a stance in this however equals a decision in itself, the decision to stay put until it is too late to move on even if i wanted it. it is, psychologically speaking, one of the worst positions i can find myself in. and i perceive it as an utterly unfair thing to ever place me in such a position. so god or fate or whatever it is that pulls the strings out there, eat this: i fucking hate you for every time you screw with my mind like this.

desolated by breathinglesson
torn apart by manfromsun

a dreamer... who would've thought? :)

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i'm losing it...

... or that's what a friend claimed. but here's what my D&D character said. and i quote this:

Thorn looked a few moments at Angy.
"You're still a kid, Angy. You ain't seen nothing yet, I'm afraid." He paused a few moments. "I mean neither to scare you, nor to hurt your feelings (he frowned here) but it's better you're prepared for whatever's out there in your path. My vengeance upon my so called friend in Calimport wasn't terrible, as you put it. I just served him back what he would've brought upon me... One day, you'll be past your grief and you'll discover the anger that has built up. You'll go mad with rage. And if you survive that... though others may not (he grinned)... well, then you'll cool down and maybe discover who you are and where you're headed. Just maybe. People get stuck along the way all the time."

He got up and shook the snow from his cloak.

i can only say... wow! i love the guy.

hmmmphs

... ilya, i was just browsing your blog and i read your profile text for the umpth time... though the first i actually did it. and i seem to have a serious problem :-s "arrogance and malice are my dislikes". hmmmmph. i indulge in both. and funnily enough i take pride in both. hmmmmph.

well, moving on the thinking blogger award that ilya nominated me for (thanks :D). hmmmph again.

1. postsecret. because we're all so human. and personally, i for one tend to forget. good to be reminded of it.
2. jason's blog. because i still am grateful to be proven ironically wrong, with every post. and because there is so much more to life than complaining. i tend to forget that too.
3. vis urat. yeah, it's in romanian and yeah, you probably got sick of hearing of the dude. i didn't.

that's about it. i read several other blogs but for entertaining purposes only. or because it mocks idiots and that gives me a sense of enourmous wellbeing (like blur feeding pigeons and sparrows in the park - that was a subtle hint to the lyrics of parklife in case you were wondering) and does justice to my arrogance and malice that ilya actually dislikes. hmmmph.

lables

hey there. as you might have noticed, i've introduced labels to the blog. it was just growing over my head to keep track of what i had written and this seemed the obvious solution. of course, they are just as chaotic as the entries here and maybe not the most relevant you could get, but anyways.

a musing: a-musing - things that should make you smile (quite a pun i've come up with, huh?)
a musing: forever black-eyed - things that make me sigh (not necessarily you too, that is. the depressive stuff; the label is a reference to black eyed, the placebo song)
blog 'n' stuff on the net - entries related to this blog, updates, etc., as well as stuff i've found while browsing that i consider worth sharing
everyday stuff i do - stuff that happened to me or that i've done; little glimpses and updates from my uninteresting life
fantasy stuff - unicorns, dragons, books, movies, games... you name it
losers weepers - a mini series i started longer ago without realising and that i plan to continue under the form of the last entry with this label
music - this is self explaining, isn't it?
muttered under my breath - the stuff that pisses me of :D
readings and viewings - entries triggered by stuff i read and watch, book and movie related musings
stream of consciousness - joyce's skin would crawl at this... but it's basically just me rambling on (the majority of this blog, really)
test and quizzez - because i am a fan of such :)

"manifesting displeasure" and other emotions

this blog was triggered by ilya's post on her blog, where she was complaining about her boss's attitude towards her. when someone asked in a comment whether she had confronted him on the issue, ilya replied no, but she had "constantly manifested displeasure" about it. okay, manifesting displeasure is the keyword for this post. but first... let's take a traditional detour, shall we?

it seems that last week several people have developed a soft spot for having me as a lab rat for their little psychological analysis. not that i mind much, it rather amuses me. but they were too many all of a sudden, including my mum, which is always bad. she started by asking me what i think of various groups of people, mainly minorities of all sorts - ethnic, religious, etc. then she asked me whether i felt that the university i got a degree from was useful in any way or influenced the way i see the world. for those who don't know, there's "sociologist" written on my diploma (that's the reason i pretend to work in a job that involves picking up the receiver, writing down stuff i hear and passing it on, then making reports based on that.). i said that not necessarily, it just offered names for stuff i knew was out there, tools to categorise them, concepts to name some blurry notions in mind etc. it helped organised what i knew, what i learned and what i perceived of the world. it wasn't like it didn't teach me anything. but whatever it taught, i was like... "yeah... yeah, you're right, i've seen that too."

my mum said that she always thought i had a keen people sense. that i seem to 'read' people and situations and evaluate them correctly and predict the way things develop before they actually head into that direction. i don't know whether that's logic, gut feeling or a combination of the two, but apparently people out there have a hard time grasping some things that to me seem obvious. and i admit i have very little patience with them. it is not out of arrogance (not this time), it is out of frustration. i'd rather invest my energies in something more useful (like sleeping or playing computer games) than debating the obvious.

moving on, she asked what i would have liked to study. looking back... psychology. but i unfortunately, i am accurately aware of the downside. i would've loved to learn it (just like i would've loved sociology taught by the right people and approaching the right issues... :( ), to discover things, to unravel the beauty of the human mind. yes, there is beauty and fascination even in the most grotesque of it. practice though... that would've killed me young or put me in a mental institution. as a patient, mind you.

why? because of empathy. i have it in a degree that is not healthy for me, though i am perfectly aware of appearing cold, distant and uncaring at times. i choose not to know stuff about people, especially their problems, save close friends, and then only by choice. i choose to shrug off disturbing things and to face it with sarcasm and cynism. because it affects me. empathy is not something you can turn off. if something hits me, it hits me. yes, i have said it before... there's one thing i can do and that is to turn off thoughts about a certain issue. but it doesn't work long-term and it sure ain't a healthy practice. those things hidden in a dark closet... i don't see them, but they are there and they nibble at my equilibrum, if not my sanity. so it's not that i don't care about someone's woes and worries. i don't allow myself to care. and that leaves me a statue of ice, cold and rejecting on the outside... and pretty darn hollow on the inside, yes. so far, better than melting away in a dirty puddle.

so, having stated my empathy problem, my mum said that people don't notice that. that they go on rambling and don't notice that it affects me negatively. that she onlt sometimes realises it and stops only when it's already too late. and why i don't state it.

which (finally...) brings us back to the topic of this entry. manifesting displeasure. i don't state it because i hate these "talks". as important as communication is, as much as i recommend it to everyone else, it is not a medicine for me. face-to-face talks on such things unnerve me. so i go for the 'manifesting displeasure' version. if i raise my brow repeatedly, huff and puff, mock you, roll my eyes when you start over or just fall silent and pout for hours... hell, can't you tell that something's wrong? i am highly unlikely to go "shut up, you ass!".

well, it seems some people don't take these signs seriosuly. need a written and signed declaration that this or that bothers me in order to stop? and there go scientists saying that 80% of our communication is non-verbal. so why isn't anyone paying attention to it? maybe they don't even notice. maybe they misinterpret it. maybe they don't take it seriously enough until it is outspoken (though when i get to that stage, it is usually too late). or maybe they thing it is just a mood that will pass.

well, in that case, i've got some other piece of breakthrough news. things that bother me... i don't wipe them away with a sponge. never. i may forgive, but i sure as hell don't forget. forgetting is for fools and for those intent to repeat mistakes. i am a far way from biting people's head off for hurting me (though sometimes i wish i weren't), partially because i know that they are not always aware of hurting me. but when i know they know... i can't stand it when they feel bad about it a couple of minutes or hours or days... and then do the same thing all over again. apologies don't work that way. it's not like "sorry, i don't mean it, so i can do it again". it's supposed to be "sorry, i'll try not to make it happen again". if you don't mean it, don't do it. it takes me quite a time to react to behaviour like this. which, by the way, i define as "abusing me". emotionally. as worse as any other form. and when i do react, it's usually because two things have happened.

firstly, several hurts of a sort have accumulated. while people might be aware of having hurt me, they are usually not aware that i keep these things inside. someone once said to me i have an elephant's memory... "you haven't forgotten, have you?". no... sure as hell i haven't. and everytime you hurt me, it goes a bit deeper. at one point it will strike deep enough to cause that reaction. "every action causes a reaction of the same force and opposite direction" or something like that... it's a law of physics. the trouble is, the reaction doesn't have the force of only the hurt that finally caused, but of the entire accumulated stuff that's been festering inside and is now errupting. and this is much easier due to the second thing that happened by now. the repeated taking in of what i perceive as abuse, intended or not, has lead inevitably to a cooling of my feelings towards the person. resentment has built up with every time or else i am either in the grey area of indifference by now, which makes it easier to hit back.

don't get me wrong. i am not zorro on a black horse, seeking vengeance against all those whom i perceive as having me done wrong. most of the times it's a very spontaneous thing. it's like a dam breaking. i spill out everything i've kept inside. people are usually shocked when i do, though it has seldom happened in a decessive manner. they never saw it coming. because instead of speaking up, i only "manifested displeasure". when i do retaliate it's because i couldn't take it anymore and i strike with thirst and usually under the belt. and honestly... scary as it may seem, it's not only that i don't regret it... i rather enjoy it. it's something like "how does it feel for you?". it hurts. i know. but when i'm there... i'm not only past forgettig, i am also past forgiving.

and after the storm... well, i just retreat back and build my statue of ice again. and i can pretend i am fine again and the world can pretend that i am cold and uncaring.

hurt by madteadparty
ice dragon by tarjcia