labels

Isn't it funny... how we all flare up when we feel people apply labels to us. Yet we do the same with obstinate masochism. We view ourselves in labels and strive hard to behave accordingly and get all messed up in the head when we don't. We are honest, therefore feel horrible when we lie. We are straight, so heaven forbid we might feel attracted to someone of the same gender. We know good music, so the latest Gaga song is just a guilty pleasure 'cause it's so damn catchy. We're into artsy fartsy movies so that last stint to see Thor was just for laughs. We're libertarians, so we agree with that conservative point of view only because they sold it so well to manipulate us. We are free thinkers, so blame that last prayer on a socially conditioned response in high stress situations.

The only label that covers us all is human. We love and long for the things that make us happy, whether it's other people, our chosen forms of entertainment or opinions that match our own. We just strive to vibrate on the same wavelength and make it all so complicated by formulating rules and labels where there are none...

anyone know a good lawyer?

there are songs that simply should not have been written. i mean.... hello? would you please not take my diary, record it on your album and make a shitload of money from it? i guess that is one of the possible reasons why some songs call forth such strong emotions in some listeners - the connections they draw up.

darren hayes for instance, has such a way with words... that i usually instantly develop a love-hate relationship with the songs he writes. been that way ever since savage garden, still goes on. i sometimes really consider sueing the guy for writing about me... though i do have a hunch it might be himself. robbie williams hit the spot a couple of times too, so did others. but if i were to name one song that should've never ever been written (or come to my hearing, at least), it would be a k's choice tune.



K's Choice - What The Hell Is Love
more songs on the site »


He was not so tall and rather fat
Had a Labrador and a limping cat
Born in a country with a broken heart
He had enough money and a credit card
Told bedtime stories to his teddy bear
Gave him lots of hugs and a dress to wear
He had a small apartment, what a lovely sight
He watched MTV all night

Where the hell was friendship
He must have turned it off
And most of all he wondered what is love
What the hell is love

He enjoyed the silence more and more
As he heard the door slam right next door
He had a fancy Parker and a diary
In which he wrote some poetry
And as he went to bed at night
The cat's eyes gave him ample light
To make him lie awake and see
The content of his misery

Where the hell was friendship
He must have turned it off
And most of all he wondered what is love
What the hell is love

Where the hell was friendship
He must have turned it off
And most of all he wondered what is love
What the hell is love

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

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...

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.

"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

birthday blog

i've been told i have to write one of these.

now, i have just begun the post and i already have a vital question. what the heck am i supposed to write here? how i've spent my day? just like any other, except i got flowers. how i feel today? not different from yesterday. so i take it that the only thing left to do is... draw a line and sum up. and i hate that. i am a chronic sufferer of high expectations so i always screw up, no matter how high i've reached it's never high enough, and the worst part is i don't even know how high i want to get.

that being cleared... i'm 25 and i feel like i'm 52. i feel i have seen it all and god knows i haven't. i feel like nothing can surprise me and if something extraordinary happens, i'm likely to greet it with a raised eyebrow and spoil everyone's fun about it. there's this romanian poem that goes 'i don't shatter the world's corolla of wonder'. well, i do, with every thought i think. i imbue every thought with pessimism and sarcasm just so i can be prepared. and then i get the satisfaction of i-told-you-so's or of sighs of relief.

i shatter the wonder of each new day with my sarcasm and my lack of faith. in god, in the world, in truth and justice, in people, in myself. interactions tire me to exhaustion - from the paper vendors, to people at job, to family, to close friends - i only pay enough attention to throw in two lines. i don't really care about what they say, what troubles them, what they ask of me. i just want to lie down and be. just like that - standing still in space and time. i've built a double scale of appreciation of people and things according to that. on the one hand: anything that doesn't bother me in any way - good; anything that interferes with my stasis - bad. on the other hand, i know that this is so fucking wrong and such a waste of life and breath. and the part of me that knows that has another measure of value: anything that lets me indulge in this slug-like existence - bad; anything that kicks my ass into movement once in a while - good.

and i want and don't want to get out of this. and if i force myself to think, to really think things over i come to the same results over and over again. and i go back to my shell and yet again start counting time. hours till i go home, days till my next day off, weeks till the holiday, years till retirement. and i realise i am counting my given days away, counting myself nearer to death and... god, i'm only 25. happy fucking birthday.

image: bloddy-earth

out of tune with times

i have an issue with the times i live in. they just don't seem the right ones for who i've come to be. or maybe it is me who wasn't tailored right for the times that were meant for me. i keep telling myself the little tolkien mantra for the occasion...

'I wish it need not have happened in my time' - 'So do I. And so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.'

but that is of rather small comfort. sometimes my cynical self gets the better of me and i am convinced i am way ahead of my time. because i can't help considering the way some people think and speak and act... well, narrow-minded and retarded. it's the blunt truth, though you must be fed up by my arrogance by now.

on other occasions, however... some of my ideas about people, the world, how things should be and how they should work... i seem to have taken them from past centuries. for instance, i continue to be amazed at the lightheartedness and superficiality with which people treat relationships. with which they treat each other. taken off the shelf, used, replacesd with a newer/better/brighter/more fashionable/gadgety item. it's like the consumerism of the age has spread over to relationships.

don't get me wrong. i don't vote for the virgin till marriage policy. i advocate sexual freedom to any extent that doesn't hurt others. but... this is the point. one night stands are great if you're into it; sex-only relationships are stressless and convenient and suited for the age; open relationships are perfectly ok... as long as both partners agree to that. it's as simple as that in my simple-minded view.

what i cannot understand, however, is (a) putting up a pretense of a relationship in order to keep a convenient sex partner around and (b) maintaining a relationship because it is a convenient thing to do - financially, emotionally, for getting chores done or out of habit - while not being into it or worse, cheating. i'd consider it immoral even if the partner in question knew about it and consented. but then at least it would be by choice. otherwise though... it's called taking advantage of someone's trust and that's almost as bad as you can get in matter of selfishness.

i don't know, really... i suppose it's because i've never really been there, but i don't think i could ever do it. i'm a horrendous liar. i can't even pretend to care well enough to maintain a relationship in the 'hardly satisfactory' area; i'd probably just let the whole thing die out and kill it off if it won't go peacefully. but i am almost entirely convinced i could never ever cheat. i am not built for that.

as said, the lightheartedness with which people talk of cheating, of maintaining several 'relationships' at the same time and juggling them, of hooking up on the spot and breaking up several spots later, the perception of romance as a race to displaying conquests, the ease with which 'loving', 'flirting', 'being turned on' and 'getting laid' are interchanged without them perceiving any change in the meaning... it absolutely scares the shit out of me.

sorry folks, i am really not built for such times. i refuse to be dragged into such a 'race' i have no chance to even finish and where i'd puke myself all over three times a day. i'll retire in dignity, at the risk of ending up alone and bitter like a dried out prune... but retaining some sense of self worth for not selling myself and my principles - old-fashioned though they might be - over to a trend of some misfit times.

lord knows i am no frank sinatra fan, but...

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the things he truly feels;
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows -
And did it my way!

images by: salvador dali, bogdan h. and gisaiagami

l'ombellico del mondo

you know those youtube clips where american citizens find it perfectly ok to be asked the question "which country should the u.s. attack next?" without asking themselves why the u.s. should attack anyone? and they randomly name a country, from afghanistan, to any of the koreas, china and even france? and then, when asked to point out on the map, they indicate australia as north korea and new zealand as south korea?

well... until recently, while i was convinced that such people exist, and it saddened me that should there ever be a referendum in the u.s. on whether they should attack anyone (not a chance for that, they are too much of a totalitarian regime for that, that's right, you read me correctly), these people would be voters, i thought that they were a minority, that they have been picked out to be mocked and laughed at and put on youtube; that certainly you can't equal them to the average american citizen, who may be proud, nationalist, but not a complete self-centered, americano-centrist moron.

well... apparently americans are just like that. average americans, at least. i still retain hope and faith that there are some who think differently, though they seem a somewhat obscure elite now. let me tell you why.

i work for a multinational company with headquarters in several continents. my job is at the welcome center which works 24/7. yesterday i received a phonecall at 11:15 pm EET (that's eastern european time, for you american folks; with europe being that small continent on the other side of the atlantic ocean - the one on your east coast - just north - as in "above" africa - that big piece of land in the rough shape of a triangle. by the way, a triangles is that form with three sides). that's GMT +2.

it was from a lady from the headquarters in the u.s. she shouldn't have phoned my in the first place, as she was looking for someone from another department, but skip that. anyways, she insisted to look for that someone and to be put through immediately. i thought it might be an equipment failure emergency and i asked just how urgent the matter was. to my surprise, i found out that it was no such trouble and the lady merely wanted to communicate the person here a password for an application.

"errrr.... ok, so this can wait until tomorrow morning, right? you know, there are time zone differences, and it is past 11 PM here. i wouldn't want to look up and call someone on their personal mobile phone at this time, as it's... a bit late". silence. and then. 'oh, yeaaaaah, yeah, sure, it can wait." she was having a revelation, i could hear it in her voice. like doooooooooooh! when you make a phone call on the other side of the planet, don't you give a moment's consideration to that? i do it even when speaking to someone one or two timezones away... hello, the earth isn't quite as flat as your brain, you know? geesh!

arguing trouble

i have a problem arguing with males who's iq ranges from halfway intelligent upwards. i don't argue with stupid ones on principle. because they are bound to run out of arguments. which isn't that bad, but then there's another thing they are bound to get to and those are sexist remarks of some sorts. whether it will imply the woman = no brains theory or the you need to go get laid routine, in 99,9% of the cases, stupid males will get there.

so, that only leaves halfway intelligent or intelligent people to argue with. not all too many, i dare mention >:) . now you may say that the arguing issues with only halfway intelligent males don't cover such a wide range of topics. it is rather narrow and rather simple, too. perhaps not always worth arguing. however, it happens so for this theory's sake, we consider them subjects of this post too.

so, what is it that doesn't let me argue things out properly, since we established it is neither the issue in discussion, neither the other's intelligence. well... i don't know whether it's a typical male thing, but i'd venture to say yes. and i also dare say it only occurs when they argue with a female (unbelieveably so, but i am a part of that sorry half of the species).

now, in an argument, things are bound to heat up. i generally don't hold people completely responsible for what they throw into the battle in its heat. it's all about dealing strikes to the mental construct of the other, after all. however, occasionally, whether by intention or not, those strikes hit home hard. not with the construct, but with the person. it shouldn't happen in a 'clean' arguement, but sometimes it does.

i must admit i am selfish enough not to have noticed the behaviour of others when i was the one to draw blood and i probably did it enough times. to my defense - i didn't observe my reaction either until the idea i am building towards has occured to me. but generally, there are two types of reaction i have when receiving such hits. if they hit really, really hard, i may strike back and strike back hard. i know i can be darn cruel. the other one, which determines a patterned response from my male arguing partners is... "ouch".

it is a statement of the fact that a certain retort really hurt. a mere acknowledgement of the hit taken and possibly a warning that to further insist on that particular point would only cause pain. what i would expect as a response would be the taking of the argument back to a more abstract level. going back from the persons involved to the issue at hand. however, what i got, in four cases with four different persons was... retreat. immediate and unconditional. there was an excuse and a dropping of the whole thing. that leaves me completely unsatisfied. first, because i consider the argument non-productive, since nothing was sorted out; second, because the male retreats and i'm left licking my wounds and brooding over what has caused them.

my guess is that at the "hey, you've hurt me" signal, they get scared. scared of crossing an unwritten line in treating a woman or perhaps going back to the sense that was taught to them in their upbringing. in neither case was the issue picked up again to be argued over. if ever mentioned, it was an apology and an assurance that everything is ok.

now, besides the already mentioned lack of satisfaction of having sorted things out one way or another, there is something else that troubles me. it hit me a couple of days after the one with the argument when i became aware of that patternt, while reconsidering it. i think that women use that precise thing in arguments with men to either win or stop them. make them feel like jerks for hurting them, let them boil in that feeling and then get what you want as ransom for easing their conscience. a mechanism of inter-sex manipulation. i might be paranoic, but i think it is quite often the case.

honestly... i felt like shit every time it happened to me. they felt like shit and i felt like shit for making them feel that way. that was definitely not the purpose. and those are definitely not the cheap tricks i like to use. if puppy eyes don't work, that's it for me in matters of emotional blackmail. that's as far as i go. of course i sulk. sulking is normal. i don't expect anyone to react to it. i get riled up when they do and i generally refuse whatever peace pipe is offered. if i didn't get something when asking, i definitely won't accept it as bribe to stop feeling bad about something or someone.

thus, i worry that my "ouch, you've hurt me" in an argument might be perceived as some sort of backdoor women use to have their way. or their point. or their whatever. i hate sexist stereotypes. i dislike being labelled in general and i dread being labeled for what's between my legs. i've waged war on such labels as far back as i can remember to the point of doing stuff out of sheer spite of precisely those neatly prescribed patterns of behaviour. and i ended up having arguing trouble... :(

the toilet blog

how many people out there watch(ed) ally mcbeal? ok, ok, lower your hands, no need to poke my eyes out. i just needed a smart introduction. well, even if you've only fleetingly watched the series, you will have noticed that some of the best, funniest, smartest, most interesting, revealing and important moments of an episode's plot happens not in the courtroom or in the office, but in.... the toilet.

whether it's the biscuit gathering courage in front of the mirror by doing barry white impressions, people making love in the stalls, conversations being overheard, or just meaningful sighs of characters while looking at their own reflections... it happened there. of course, the fact that it was a unisex toilet was important in all this. and it's usually the "oh, i didn't know you were here" thing that played a part.

well, i hate public toilets. i hate the fact that people who happen to be in the room hear you peeing. i know, i know, it's natural to pee and the toilet is the place to do it. but i don't like it. it's even worse with poo. and god forbid you need to fart. that's downright embarrassing - toilet or not.

when i go to the toilet at work, and there's someone there at the sink or in the other stall... i usually wait until they leave the bathroom before i get out of my stall. don't ask why. i just don't consider public toilets a place to look strangers in the eyes. am i weird in this?

now don't tell me i'm weird just for writing about it. there are serious, scientific surveys about bathroom behaviour. people get paid for putting toilet users in categories according to toilet rituals, the way they fold their paper, wash their hands, what they do while peeing or pooing or how they keep their trousers while sitting on the throne. there is nothing off with my post here, seriously. i was just expressing some apprehension towards public toilest.

i might be too prude for all i know. but toilets should make you feel comfortable and safe. you should know no one is busting in on you, no one overhears any weird noises you might make - be it sighs of relief or concentration or just a plop in the water, where you don't hear others gossiping, possibly even about you; where you can spend some quality time with yourself, being excused from the world with a very acceptable and undeniable reason; where you can relax reading instructions from detergent bottles of have a good time with your favourite book, and maybe a bottle of coke next to you or just meditating about insightful and deep philosophical issues. under no circumstance should it be a place where you mind social conventions and have cramps because you force yourself not to make sounds...

well... so much musings for today. excuse me... am off to read a book ;)

greedy bastards

i had just complained about the fucking money, hadn't i? of how much i hate money, depending on them, needing them for anything, having to do for them what i don't like...

well, here's another dish for you. no, actually two.

greedy bastards part one: i got sick of discussions on internet forums stating that women are interested creatures, who're dating guys for... well, not necessarily money, but gains of sorts: appartment, fancy lifestyle, going out, prestige, careers, being driven around, holidays, getting more or less expensive gifts. not necessarily the cash, but what the cash brings.

yesterday - tv show with the fucking same issue and my parents discussing it. and the point is... it's not that i don't think they're right. i think it's a shocking number of people out there, doing precisely this thing: prostituting themselves for material advantages. more or less. taken strictly, working your ass off in a work you don't enjoy is a sort of prostitution. however, it is a common, socially accepted and morally acceptable type. there are far too many people out there selling themselves in worse ways.

and... well, women seem more prone to do that in relationships. in this case... well, my respect goes to the regular hookers giving blowjobs for money. at least they're not trying to pretend to be something else. they are prostitutes and this is what they do for a living: sexual services to whoever pays. how many people out there love their job anyway? the rest... are the real whores. they never go home after 6 or 8 or 10 hours of job. they are prostitutes 24/7 in order to eat expensive dinners, drive flashy cars or sport expensive shoes and a tan made in italy.

again... the point is... i know that it happens. far more than it should. and the price goes down, too. it's tending to become the normality. i believe it's anyone's own problem if they sell themselves. but i hate generalizations. i hate it when i hear "women do this and that". i even hate it when i hear "most women do this and that". because somehow, people tend to overlook the minority. and then it becomes "most of you women" or "what can we girls do, it's so hard to.... we need to...".

well fuck off, stop labelling me! cause unaware or not, you are including me in that stupid category. i don't know what we women do, cause i am not the collective conscience of womanhood on earth. neither do i know what we girls could possibly do, all i know is what i do or am willing to do. and blowjobs for holidays are not on the list. neither are sheepish smiles for dinners in town.

conversly, i am absolutely not impressed by guys telling me what car or mobile phone they have or boasting how 'cheap' they got a really good apartment with 50.000 euros. that is not an asset from my point of view. in fact loads of money put a big warning label on your forehead. the more money and the more you boast it, the brighter the warning, the louder the sirene. and the more likely you are to include all women in the "suck up for a little attention from the rich guy" category, which belief is confirmed by your experience, since your boasting attracts them as naturally as flies to shit. you don't make me faint in delight, you make me puke, people.

greedy bastards part two: duran duran are having a concert in romania. well, it's a bit soon after the placebo experience for me... but i thought it's a one time chance and i'll regret it later if i don't go. so i told myself i'd go, cause it's harldy possible for tickets to be much more expensive than placebo which are a top band right now.

placebo tickets were 75 RON, so i expected the duran duran ones not to be over 100 RON, and that just in case they were really really assholes. well, surprise-surprise. cheapest tickets are indeed 60 RON, somewhere in the back where you're not likely to see much. good tickets are... (hold on to your seats) 250-300 RON. that is... well, outrageous to put it mildly. it's fucking 85 euros (100 RON are 28 euros) . who the hell pays 85 euros to see duran duran?!?!? i mean... hello, this is an attempted comeback we're talking about. i didn't check on other european dates (all east-european, i might add...), but the most expensive ticket in chicago is 65 USD... meaning 50 euros. like... hello?!?!? where do you think you are? and who do you think you are?!?!?! greedy bastards!

for a reference: since april 2006, the minimum wage is 370 RON brutto (104 euros). according to the www.wall-street.ro, the average brutto wage for august was 1122 RON (317 euros), meaning 842 brutto (238 euros). i'd be curious to know what the real average is, though... that is, extracting from the calculus all those money - for - nothing - makers: parliamentaries, bosses and bosslings of various public services that show no improvement but sport ever higher fees, football players all mouth, no action and tv presenters who have trouble speaking but think they're stars and earn stunning 5-8000 euros a month...

bottom line: yeah, i live in a fucking poor country. yeah, i do have a good salary, compared to others and those minimums and averages. yeah, duran duran are greedy assholes. and yeah, under these terms, of course loads of people boast their accounts if they have them. and yeah, of course prostitution of sorts is alluring to the rest :(

and no, i do not find this normal, because i do not belive normality is dictated by the majority, however much sociologists and statistics and good ol' gauss state the contrary.

well... i've just made myself sick. i am going to go puke the nerves out of me.

ps: pics to be added when i get home... am too angry to postpone posting.

ps2: i've checked. 65 euros for the most expensive tickets in both bratislava and athens.

money makes the world go round...

...or fall apart, in my case. i have come to abhorr those little coins and papers and those plastic cards. because, as much as idaelistic assholes out there claim you cannot buy happiness, those coins and papers and plastics prove them wrong each and every day, over and over again.

no, you probably can't buy happiness. obviously, since it's an abstract thing. but you probably can buy loads if not most of the things that make you as an individual happy. sure, you may be happy to walk in the sunshine. but if you happen to feel like it on a lousy rainy november? well, you got the money - you go somewhere sunny. you love dogs? well, if you have the money - get a whole pack of puppies to raise in a proper space. you fancy writing? take a sabatical and start doing it. you love parties - party with money. you love to read... books cost money, so does the time to read, unless you're paid for that.

i am sick of depending on money. sick of counting twice if i actually can afford to buy a present, sick of skipping holidays in order to save for something else, sick of being too far from friends to meet them without huge costs, sick of hearing my parents fearing their retirement, sick of thinking twice before ordering a pizza, sick of choosing carefully which book or cd to buy, sick of not going to all the concerts i fancy, sick of being in a dead end job cause it pays well enough, instead of doing full time what i really like.

because, yes, that's what it comes down to. and mind you, i am by far the best off from most people i know. i live with my parents and they don't charge me anything; it is my choice to eat something different, i can spend my money on clothes, or books, or cds, or travel, or, yes, an expensive-as-hell camera or on a laptop i didn't need at that time but thank god i bought it, or to pay my internet bill or to talk on the phone with whoever i want for as long as i want or... you get the point.

however, it is not the rosiest thing, i do feel like i am living off their backs. and i do know that i have a darn good salary compared to... well, almost all people i know. for doing virtually nothing, because my job is laid back enough to allow me to devote at least 5 or 6 of those 8 hours to something else. i just need to be there. and yet, i dread waking up and dragging myself to there... i dread having to smile when i am down, having to listen to stupid jokes when i want silence and endure silence when i want music. i dread not being able to do something else because it pays less.

and i absolutely hate the fact that i am such a chicken. and that i fail to live what i preach :(

time is up, donnie

donnie, as in donnie darko. ka-boom. there goes your parallel universe that suddenly became tangent. be a smart kid and go with it. oh, and don't try to understand what i'm saying.

well, apparently my latest blog (not counting the placebo review, cause i wrote it some while ago, just not on the blog) stirred quite some reaction. on one hand... i can understand it. on the other... not. in the end, i think buddhists may be right and have the right attitude after all... no attitude and no action whatsoever makes any sense, unless it is given one.

kick ass? why on earth should i bother? it's not worth the nervous consumption. none of the idiots populating the planet is. kick around recklessly? why? there will be collateral damage no matter what... i'll avoid as much as i can turning into someone who turns people into depressive, suspicious little nothings like me by hitting them undeservingly... oh yeah, of course the innocents out there will bang their heads on walls eventually. it's just that... i'm not the one for the job, even tough i might do them a service after all.

getting angry is as childish and as futile as getting depressive. it's just that depressive hurts less people. am growing good at hiding it, so those who care won't have to worry about me too much. of course i'll collapse at some point. there is, as yet, no perpetuum mobile. and god knows i have no one to keep me going. my mind is full of cracks as is. having imaginary friends is not normal. living imaginary lives even less so. having no living being to trust is poisonous. and so is having no real friends. and yet, as a paradox, imaginary and virtual friends, imaginary lives and not expecting anything from anyone is probably the one thing that kept my brain in one piece. whenever i tried differently, it just cracked a little more. on the bright side, there won't be too many to lament.

besides... what good is it all? i have yet to be shown... no, proven that it's worth the pain. and that can't be, as long as i'm not willing to try. it's a devil's circle and i won't let temptations lure me out of my snug little place, that gives me claustrophobia whenever i close my eyes to contemplate it. and yet... we all die alone. who says we should live otherwise? to what end, to what purpose? in the end we'll all nothing but a bunch of scattered leaves no one cares about, no one remembers... and a dream of spring that has flown away, in search for another world to bloom in.

"i can only hope the answers will come to me in my sleep. i hope that when the world comes to an end, i can breathe a sigh of relief, becasue there will be so much to look forward to. donnie darko"

spite and malice

"wrap me in your trauma and I may just give you mine"... i've been meaning to write this blog for a couple of days now, i am sure i had something clever to say in the introduction, but that seems just wiped out of my mind right now... for god knows what reason (i hope he does, for i don't), i'm all introspective gain, all of a sudden. or maybe i never ever stopped. anyway, not the point.

the point is that i've taken a peek in a dark tunnel i usually avoid, called 'future'. i have some decisions to make, and they'd better be clever ones. so i laid back and considered what i truly like, what i enjoy doing, what i would like to do for the rest of my life, who i am, where i am, where i see myself in a couple of years' time. all the usual blah blah you'd expect on occasions like that. there aren't too many things i like. writing and photography are among them. and looking back on how it all started...

i've been writing for ages, but kept things to myself and maybe a couple of other people. however, i once saw a book published by an absolute moron, with absolute moronic epigramms (four liners, mocking poems). and i went steaming angry. i thought if that idiot can do it, so can i. here i am, three years and two poetry volumes later. i still don't share too much and i think them far from brilliant, but i give them to friends. and they are mine.

as for pictures... i never subscribed to the site to actually upload pics, or not to another purpose other than showing my dog to people... however, i saw so much crap on a site that is presumed to be of photography, and so much praise to them that i went point blank rage again, thinking 'hang on, fucks, i can do much better than that'... so here i am, six months and a brand new camera later. i am far from being happy with my stuff, but again, they are mine.

the sad part is, that while i am not really content with any of my 'works of art', i consider them so much better than most of the crap out there. and they both started out of sheer spite. because i knew and i wanted to prove that i can do it so much better than half of the idiots out there boasting it. while i still hold that for true, i must admit it is a sorry motivation to do something, let alone make a passion for it.

moreover, it denotes a worry-worth tendency of me defining myself in relation to others... not only others, but complete morons >:) and people i know keep encouraging me for it and don't seem to display my skepticism towards what i make out of it. well, i've been through the looking glass self over and again at the uni, erving goffman must've been my favourite author of psychosociology, but this is a bit too much for my taste.

also, it raises the tricky question of who the fuck am i anyway?. me, not me compared to x or y. what defines me and what do i like, for myself (apart from dragons). and that at an age when one would think i'm over such dilemmas, or have them at least sorted out. i'm either retarded or some weird sort of genius or suffering real personality problems to just begin to develop such issues...

but somehow it feels strange that i only delight in 'borrowed' things... like i'm living someone else's life and being better at it. or feeling that way, anyway... and suddenly the lyrics make so much more sense. yep, the blood in my veins isn't mine... but the stormy place in the mind is.

"there's a place within her mind
with rains already falling.
she's insane, this friend of mine
and she's always bawling.
...
she's preparing for the flood,
the deluge and the sliding mud
she's preparing for the flood
running on black market blood"

~ placebo - black market blood ~