[New story] Back to life...

"Without leaps of imagination, or dreaming, we lose the excitement of possibilities. Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning." - Gloria Steinem - Chapter sixteen

back to reality... or not. This is so unreal...

You can't imagine what it's like to be here, now, when just 3 weeks ago you were in Ro. It's so different... maybe in a good way. I'm starting to figure out more and more about how things work around here, and, you know what? I think that if you FEEL on track, you have a greater chance of actually being on it. And I feel that one can do a whole lot of adaptation, and ... change the world?! Maybe?! It's just ... a chance. Everyone's different here. You can be anyone. Nobody will see you as being "too unusual". They're all unusual.

Americans are practical people. Maybe they're not as smart or cultured as us (or the Europeans), but they certainly have a pleasant, relaxed way of living. Sure, when you go to someone for a problem, he only knows either how to help you, or who to send you to (usually you end up in the second case if you don't know how the system works). Maybe you find it silly to get sent from office to office, because they don't communicate, they don't know each other that well, and they are only taught what they need to know... but the way you're treated makes up for that. If in Ro there's that "get the hell out of my way and move on to ya biz" attitude, here... people smile at you. And... that's weird, sure, but, you know, it actually makes you feel better?! And, like it or not, people are weaker here. "The law" cares if you are morally agressed (and Americans are sensitive to that), while in Ro, it just don't give a damn :D.

We could learn education, but they're really bad with math. I mean... really, really bad. And our children are gonna be the same by how the Romanian education is evolving... :(

My mom's taking care of a little boy now, some friends', and I went to see them today. I have always had that feeling that I don't know what to do around little children. You know, they've got these... analogies for every word they know... like... liloo meant ambulance, or anything that makes a siren-like sound. He understood Romanian, he even knew a few words, but mostly he "talked" in English. He's only two years old. We watched cartoons together (at least those I understand better :D). Children are fascinating...

Anyone who can read this better write me something, cause I'll be really waiting for a sign... any sign, especially from my Romanians. Just imagine what it's like to hear so little from the place you're so far away from, all of a sudden. I miss you all...

I like my math classes (even though I got an 8/10 on my last homework - but I have a reason for that, I did it in 30 minutes from the teacher's book, cause I had to give it back to him asap), they're fun. Even though it's easy yet, ... And I like it that I get to learn Java in my Computer Science lecture&lab. And today I was in a Introduction to philosophy class... I hope I'll be able to enroll, cause it was kinda full; but it was really nice. Teachers here are much more enjoyable people, fun to be around; they like to make jokes, speak lively, tell from their own experience... personalize. There's only one other place in the world I felt this warm (and fuzzy; speaking of you, where you at?): my high school!

I know: it's only been a week since I started college, but I already feel different than I felt in Ro, in high school. I think I'll make my life full here too. I like to have a full life; sports, math, computer science, english and philosophy... maybe something else, but these are my most certain passions.

Romania, where are you? (Scooby-Dooby-Doo)

...

You are not alone. I am here with you. Whether you like it or not, we are stuck together. In sickness, and in health, we were born ... to ... BE. And we were born together.

Whether we like it or not, we are here to live, all on the same planet, and we have to understand the world around us means the actual world - not some living fantasy, not "the people of today only". It means a LIFE. If you just go from human to human and leave nothing behind, you are... nothing. Either morally or ... as a presence, as an entity, you should BE. To be remembered is not necessarily a good thing, but it might be, if you do it right.

Today in philosophy we learned the comparison BEING vs BECOMING. We, each of us, is a being. Every being is different from another. And a being cannot be created. God is the only one who can create beings... that's what separates us from him. No man can think the non-being. That's a rule - you can't think NOTHINGNESS. I think that's very interesting. See, we have this picture of nothing: it's usually dark, to some people white... and that's kinda it. Sure, you can imagine it another color. But if nothing were to BE, wouldn't it be in black&white?:)
Absolute being is absolute reality. The reason we can't achieve absolute being is that we're always hindered by the becoming. To become means to change... Oh, you should hear these passages. Wait a sec, I have the book, I'll copy some passsages:

{from Indian philosophy}
Rg Veda (read Rig Veda) - Hymm of Creation

1. Non-being then existed not, nor being:
There was no air, nor sky that is beyond it.
What was concealed? Wherein? In whose protection?
And was there deep unfathomable water?
{Here, the idea of nothingness being first, and then... the idea that the fundament of existence is water, also found in the later Greek philosophy - Thales}
[...]
3. Darkness there was at first by darkness hidden.
Without distinctive marks, this all was water.
That which, becoming, by the void was covered.
That One by force of heat came into being.
{Came into being... interesting. By heat? Just think about it - over 3500 years ago, these people had some kind of Big Bang theory of their own!}
6. Who knows for certain? Who shall here declare it?
Whence was it born, and whence came this creation?
The gods were born after this world's creation:
Then who can know from whence it has arisen?

7. None knoweth whence creation has arise;
And whether he has or has not produced it;
He who surveys it in the highest heaven,
He only knows, or haply he may know not.
{Here we have the unique idea that God was created after nothing. Not even He existed before... And also that nobody can tell anything about this creation - it's just a speculation.
The final two lines show the fact that the human being's quest for the answer to "How did it happen?" is contempt, happy and satisfied even with the idea of having tried, having asked himself that question.}

Tell me if you find any of this interesting... We also studied a bit of Tao, Thales, Confucius, Pithagoras...

// By the way, I just saw Big Momma's house 2, and definitely recommend it :)

Hello Romania! I'm back to life. And I'll be on my feet, I hope. Searching this place for the most I can make of myself, I suppose... I just wanna let me be... me. Fuzzy...

"Nobody sees a flower - really - it is so small it takes time - we haven't time - and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time." - Georgia O'Keeffe - End of Chapter sixteen

Sink into it! (expand)

Back to surface! (collapse)

[New story] "Most of us are just about as happy as we make up our minds to be." - William Adams (explorer)

Chapter fifteen

Perhaps I meant to choose this title as for a new beginning... Actually, the most meaningful part is the word "explorer". That's how I feel like. That's how I hope I'll act out to be...

Gee, this is a new life. Hey, you all! I just joined USA for college! I could think very well of a "I will always remember" list right now... Maybe I'm not gone from Romania for good, but I'm surely not returning there soon...

It's been a week. Hey, you know what? Even if there's a lot of shadow, and the image is blurry... I know it will be well. I can see patches of light. And it's a new start! And I haven't lost anything, I am not alone. I will never be...

I have the courage to step forward and say: "YES, I am going to start a new life. YES, I shall be myself at all times. YES, you will always be with me..."

I miss you and I miss my home.

I've made up my mind, I ain't wasting no more time: here I go, again on my ooooooooown.... you kno the song?

Okay, so... I'm back. I'll be writing l.s.s. part two soon...
I can see patches of light. Can you?
Can you?
...
We're here together, me and you, cause I'm taking you with me.

I wish I had more words... but I don't. I'll find someone(thing) that does. Here, just an excerpt:

From “The Metamorphosis”
By Franz Kafka

As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a gigantic insect. He was lying on his hard, as it were armor-plated, back and when he lifted his head a little he could see his dome-like brown belly divided into stiff arched segments on top of which the bed quilt could hardly keep in position and was about to slide off completely. His numerous legs, which were pitifully thin compared to the rest of his bulk, waved helplessly before his eyes.

What has happened to me? he thought. It was no dream. His room, a regular human bedroom, only rather too small, lay quiet between the four familiar walls. Above the table on which a collection of cloth samples was unpacked and spread out—Samsa was a commercial traveler—hung the picture which he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and put into a pretty gilt frame. It showed a lady, with a fur cap on and a fur stole, sitting upright and holding out to the spectator a huge fur muff into which the whole of her forearm had vanished!

Gregor's eyes turned next to the window, and the overcast sky—one could hear rain drops beating on the window gutter—made him quite melancholy. What about sleeping a little longer and forgetting all this nonsense, he thought, but it could not be done, for he was accustomed to sleep on his right side and in his present condition he could not turn himself over. However violently he forced himself towards his right side he always rolled on to his back again. He tried it at least a hundred times, shutting his eyes to keep from seeing his struggling legs, and only desisted when he began to feel in his side a faint dull ache he had never experienced before.

Oh God, he thought, what an exhausting job I've picked on! Traveling about day in, day out. It's much more irritating work than doing the actual business in the office, and on top of that there's the trouble of constant traveling, of worrying about train connections, the bed and irregular meals, casual acquaintances that are always new and never become intimate friends. The devil take it all! He felt a slight itching up on his belly; slowly pushed himself on his back nearer to the top of the bed so that he could lift his head more easily; identified the itching place which was surrounded by many small white spots the nature of which he could not understand and made to touch it with a leg, but drew the leg back immediately, for the contact made a cold shiver run through him.

He slid down again into his former position. This getting up early, he thought, makes one quite stupid. A man needs his sleep. Other commercials live like harem women. For instance, when I come back to the hotel of a morning to write up the orders I've got, these others are only sitting down to breakfast. Let me just try that with my chief; I'd be sacked on the spot. Anyhow, that might be quite a good thing for me, who can tell? If I didn't have to hold my hand because of my parents I'd have given notice long ago, I'd have gone to the chief and told him exactly what I think of him. That would knock him endways from his desk! It's a queer way of doing, too, this sitting on high at a desk and talking down to employees, especially when they have to come quite near because the chief is hard of hearing. Well, there's still hope; once I've saved enough money to pay back my parents' debts to him—that should take another five or six years—I'll do it without fail. I'll cut myself completely loose then. For the moment, though, I'd better get up, since my train goes at five.

He looked at the alarm clock ticking on the chest. Heavenly Father! he thought. It was half-past six o'clock and the hands were quietly moving on, it was even past the half-hour, it was getting on toward a quarter to seven. Had the alarm clock not gone off? From the bed one could see that it had been properly set for four o'clock; of course it must have gone off. Yes, but was it possible to sleep quietly through that ear-splitting noise? Well, he had not slept quietly, yet apparently all the more soundly for that. But what was he to do now? The next train went at seven o'clock; to catch that he would need to hurry like mad and his samples weren't even packed up, and he himself wasn't feeling particularly fresh and active. And even if he did catch the train he wouldn't avoid a row with the chief, since the firm's porter would have been waiting for the five o'clock train and would have long since reported his failure to turn up. The porter was a creature of the chief's, spineless and stupid. Well, supposing he were to say he was sick? But that would be most unpleasant and would look suspicious, since during his five years' employment he had not been ill once. The chief himself would be sure to come with the sick-insurance doctor, would reproach his parents with their son's laziness and would cut all excuses short by referring to the insurance doctor, who of course regarded all mankind as perfectly healthy malingerers. And would he be so far wrong on this occasion? Gregor really felt quite well, apart from a drowsiness that was utterly superfluous after such a long sleep, and he was even unusually hungry.

As all this was running through his mind at top speed without his being able to decide to leave his bed—the alarm clock had just struck a quarter to seven—there came a cautious tap at the door behind the head of his bed. "Gregor," said a voice—it was his mother's—"it's a quarter to seven. Hadn't you a train to catch?" That gentle voice! Gregor had a shock as he heard his own voice answering hers, unmistakably his own voice, it was true, but with a persistent horrible twittering squeak behind it like an undertone, that left the words in their clear shape only for the first moment and then rose up reverberating round them to destroy their sense, so that one could not be sure one had heard them rightly. Gregor wanted to answer at length and explain everything, but in the circumstances he confined himself to saying: "Yes, yes, thank you, Mother, I'm getting up now." The wooden door between them must have kept the change in his voice from being noticeable outside, for his mother contented herself with this statement and shuffled away. Yet this brief exchange of words had made the other members of the family aware that Gregor was still in the house, as they had not expected, and at one of the side doors his father was already knocking, gently, yet with his fist. "Gregor, Gregor," he called, "what's the matter with you?" And after a little while he called again in a deeper voice: "Gregor! Gregor!" At the other side door his sister was saying in a low, plaintive tone: "Gregor? Aren't you well? Are you needing anything?" He answered them both at once: "I'm just ready," and did his best to make his voice sound as normal as possible by enunciating the words very clearly and leaving long pauses between them. So his father went back to his breakfast, but his sister whispered: "Gregor, open the door, do." However, he was not thinking of opening the door, and felt thankful for the prudent habit he had acquired in traveling of locking all doors during the night, even at home.

His immediate intention was to get up quietly without being disturbed, to put on his clothes and above all eat his breakfast, and only then to consider what else was to be done, since in bed, he was well aware, his meditations would come to no sensible conclusion. He remembered that often enough in bed he had felt small aches and pains, probably caused by awkward postures, which had proved purely imaginary once he got up, and he looked forward eagerly to seeing this morning's delusions gradually fall away. That the change in his voice was nothing but the precursor of a severe chill, a standing ailment of commercial travelers, he had not the least possible doubt.

To get rid of the quilt was quite easy; he had only to inflate himself a little and it fell off by itself. But the next move was difficult, especially because he was so uncommonly broad. He would have needed arms and hands to hoist himself up; instead he had only the numerous little legs which never stopped waving in all directions and which he could not control in the least. When he tried to bend one of them it was the first to stretch itself straight; and did he succeed at last in making it do what he wanted, all the other legs meanwhile waved the more wildly in a high degree of unpleasant agitation. "But what's the use of lying idle in bed," said Gregor to himself.

He thought that he might get out of bed with the lower part of his body first, but this lower part, which he had not yet seen and of which he could form no clear conception, proved too difficult to move; it shifted so slowly; and when finally, almost wild with annoyance, he gathered his forces together and thrust out recklessly, he had miscalculated the direction and bumped heavily against the lower end of the bed, and the stinging pain he felt informed him that precisely this lower part of his body was at the moment probably the most sensitive.

So he tried to get the top part of himself out first, and cautiously moved his head towards the edge of the bed. That proved easy enough, and despite its breadth and mass the bulk of his body at last slowly followed the movement of his head. Still, when he finally got his head free over the edge of the bed he felt too scared to go on advancing, for after all if he let himself fall in this way it would take a miracle to keep his head from being injured. And at all costs he must not lose consciousness now, precisely now; he would rather stay in bed.

But when after a repetition of the same efforts he lay in his former position again, sighing, and watched his little legs struggling against each other more wildly than ever, if that were possible, and saw no way of bringing any order into this arbitrary confusion, he told himself again that it was impossible to stay in bed and that the most sensible course was to risk everything for the smallest hope of getting away from it. At the same time he did not forget meanwhile to remind himself that cool reflection, the coolest possible, was much better than desperate resolves. In such moments he focused his eyes as sharply as possible on the window, but, unfortunately, the prospect of the morning fog, which muffled even the other side of the narrow street, brought him little encouragement and comfort. "Seven o'clock already," he said to himself when the alarm clock chimed again, "seven o'clock already and still such a thick fog." And for a little while he lay quiet, breathing lightly, as if perhaps expecting such complete repose to restore all things to their real and normal condition.

From "The Metamorphosis" from Franz Kafka: The Collected Stories, by Franz Kafka, translated by Edwin and Willa Muir. Copyright © 1946, 1947, 1948, 1949, 1954, 1958, 1971 by Schocken Books, Inc. Used by permission of Schocken Books, published by Pantheon Books, a division of Random House, Inc.

"For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone." - Audrey Hepburn - End of Chapter fifteen

Sink into it! (expand)

Back to surface! (collapse)

[Long story short] One

And so it began...

- One -

"What if you were forced to relive the same day all over again, until you would finally do it right?", Martin asked himself.
"It would be like following a path... ", Julie said.
M: "You would think that a man knows when he does not 'follow the path', but, actually... he has no idea."
J: "Really? But didn't man, according to Christianity, take a bite from that tree... to discern between good and evil?"
M: "By the way, the biblical account of the creation of human beings occurs twice: in Genesis 1:26-27 and in Genesis 2:18-24. Did you know that, in the first account, the Hebrew common noun adam was used as a generic term for all human beings, regardless of gender; Eve was not mentioned at all; and, in the second account, Adam is created from the dust of the earth, whereas Eve is created from Adam's rib and given to him by God to be his wife?"
J: "So, in a way, we are all adams, aren't we?"
M: "All the same... to God. Just like grass is all the same to us..."
J: "I think, if I were to relive the same day over and over, I would become some sort of God, for that day. Not 'the' God, but a God."
M: "Exactly... just ask yourself: What if there were no tomorrow? Maybe that's how God sees things: one, and only one. No time, no space... just... a continuous TODAY. For us, time changes... and God is always the same, I believe. Don't you see how different we feel each day? Sometimes, I go to sleep extremely happy but wake up just... a tormented fellow; maybe I try to do some exercise, but I'm so not in the mood for anything. God, how much I wish there was one thing I could do every morning to wake up my mind and soul... to feel and think like I'm supposed to. And what's even more frustrating: if I don't sleep, I feel like I'm living a continuous day; yesterday's memories feel like today's, and I feel full ... of what exactly? I don't know."
J: "I love the feeling I have when I 'go back to my life' after a long chat like this. Sometimes I wish we could sit and talk more often, but then I think it might not be as wonderful if we did so... Why are we like this?"
M: "I think we need a repeating day every now and then - to figure out what the hell we're doing with ourselves. You think you know who you are, or what you do right and wrong... Turns out, you have no idea. That reminds me of Sartre. In his early philosophic work, Being and Nothingness, he conceived humans as beings who create their own world by rebelling against authority and by accepting personal responsibility for their actions, unaided by society, traditional morality, or religious faith. Distinguishing between human existence and the nonhuman world, he maintained that human existence is characterized by nothingness, that is, by the capacity to negate and rebel."
J: "Most philosophers since Plato have held that the highest ethical good is the same for everyone; insofar as one approaches moral perfection, one resembles other morally perfect individuals. The 19th-century Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, who was the first writer to call himself existential, reacted against this tradition by insisting that the highest good for the individual is to find his or her own unique vocation. Doesn't that sound familiar to you? Isn't it, in a way, what we hear today? Too bad it was deformed so much since it was stated by Kierkegaard. As he wrote in his journal, 'I must find a truth that is true for me . . . the idea for which I can live or die.' Maybe it's because anyone to caught-up in an idea loses perspective upon things. As the french would say: "je m'en fiche". People get caught up... they lose perspective. Do they ever have it?"
M: "If man could just feel. Wake up and feel! Feeling feels so great... They, the 'modern human beings', say that there's too much information around them to care for everything. But... but... everything means something, everything brings something up. Nowadays people just walk by beggars, sometimes not feeling a thing. And, if they do... it's not anything unusual, they know the feeling, they know 'what it's like', it's no big deal... And to think that everything we see is a miracle... How many times would I repeat a day until it's perfect? It's pointless to say... a lot. Maybe a thousand, maybe a billion. And will I at least know what to do with my life every day from that day forward?"
J: "No... I don't think so; you'll still need a reminder every once in a while. Because people just can't learn, Martin, they just can't learn..."

-*-*-*-

Find all LSS here

Sink into it! (expand)

Back to surface! (collapse)

[Book two] Chapter three

"Maybe an exciting discovery" - Chapter three
Lumea din jurul meu nu e atat de buna pe cat mi-o imaginez. Desi banuiam acest lucru, refuzam sa-l cred pe cat puteam eu, iar acum, in sfarsit, incerc sa privesc lucrurile mai aproape de realitate si, in acelasi timp, sa ma bucur de ele. Sunt foarte multe bucurii in viata, nimeni nu poate contrazice asta. In jurul meu sunt in permanenta, daca nu oameni, atunci elemente fara viata, care-mi pot aduce o pata de veselie in suflet, doar ca eu nu le vad, asa cum in ultima vreme nu vad mai nimic din ceea ce este in jur. Deocamdata mai astept cateva zile inainte sa-mi confirm ca am o problema. Uite, parca tocmai acum, cand evolutia celor din jurul meu se desfasoara atat de accelerat, eu nu sunt in stare sa le urmaresc. Dimineata, cand ma trezesc, am senzatia ca, in cele din urma, a sosit ziua in care imi revin. Incep sa ma misc, imi pare din ce in ce mai bine, aproape ca simt normal. Cum ma scol din pat... imi dau seama ca traiesc, dar parca nu in corpul meu. Ma simt teribil de strain de mine, pe langa faptul ca ceea ce vad si simt seamana a fi un vis. Deci nu-mi revin, inca. Dar semnele de imbunatatire sunt bune, astazi am dormit, fara sa ma mai trezesc (sau am fost atat de epuizat incat nu mi-am dat seama de vreo trezire).
As putea sa descriu starea foarte amanuntit, cu metafore, chestii, dar e plictiseala:). Dorintele mele... planurile mele... idealurile mele... unde se indreapta? Nu mi-am pus atatea probleme, nici nu e cazul. Ma gandeam si eu asa... la ce sa ma gandesc ca sa ma trezesc din vis. Desigur, o influenta exterioara m-ar destepta rapid si eficient, dar eu nu pot astepta ca asa ceva sa soseasca, fara a face nimic pentru a merita acea influenta. De cand nu m-am mai indragostit! Am si uitat cum e... aproape. Adica, vreau sa spun, nu-mi amintesc exact trairile, ci doar impresiile. Asta ar fi ceva ce m-ar salva... dar ma feresc, incerc sa nu fiu atat de slab incat sa ma arunc din nou intr-o iubire, ca sa nu mai spun ca, desi trecutul e trecut, deschiderea e inca prea mare, iar eu nu ma fortez prea tare s-o inchid. Deocamdata nu trebuie, cred... sau poate ca trebuie. De fapt ma descurc, probleme intervin atunci cand amintirile o iau razna, cand orice eveniment din jur imi declanseaza un impuls dureros, cand chiar sunt atent la ceea ce vad sau simt. Probabil ca de aceea am ajuns in starea asta, in care aproape ca ignor orice simt. Inima insa... pulseaza... atat de ciudat, de variat. N-am mai trecut de foarte mult timp printr-o stare atat de necontrolabila. Spre exemplu... din cand in cand izbucneste o sudoare rece, simt ca mi-e cald, ma aprind pentru cateva secunde, apoi revin la normal. Sau nu vad in jur decat obiecte, fara suflet... nu simt, nu pricep, nu aud ce se vorbeste. Totul este aiurea, parca traiesc izolat de exterior. Si, macar de data asta, nu cred ca mi-am facut-o atat de bine cu mana mea, n-as fi avut cum. Mai degraba as presupune ca este un fel de autoaparare, stari in care am ajuns datorita mie, dar nu direct influentate. Orisicum, mi-e dor de fericire, mi-e dor de luciditate. Mi-as dori ca, dupa astea 5 zile, sa nu ma mai doara si pe mine capul continuu, sa simt ca mananc, ca respir, etc. Culmea este ca si ceilalti, majoritatea, au tot un fel de stare de oboseala, acuta, dintr-o data... Desi abia pot interpreta informatia pe care o primesc prin intermediul receptorilor din cadrul organelor de simt (biolog ma fac:P), este clar ca nu sunt singurul care sufera de oboseala intensa. Asa imi mai atenuez si eu grijile. Abia a trecut o luna, doar o luna!, de la inceputul scolii, si mi se pare imens... tot ce-a fost. Simt ca ar fi trecut trei vacante de vara, si inca doua de iarna.
Ma uit in trecutul indepartat, vad cat de frumos este... minunat si de vis. Zaresc trecutul apropiat, inca plin de surprize si stari de euforie; simt prezentul, indecis si imprevizibil, frumos si in acelasi timp gol, altfel, departe de ceea ce sunt eu, pregatind un nou eu, diferit considerabil, totusi nu radical.
Muzica ... este o minune pentru orice stare de rau existenta, exceptand cazul in care ma concetrez prea tare pe melodie si nu mi-o mai pot scoate din cap. Teribil! Atunci chiar ca dorm turmentat.
Voua va place Coelho? Eu sunt fan, admir romanele sale, realizate intr-un fel... combinatie exceptionala intre basm si lumea reala, rezultand o lume atat de frumoasa, de magica si armonioasa, incat m-a fermecat pur si simplu. Viata nu este, in principiu, corecta. Cu toate problemele mele de pana acum, tot sunt cat de cat norocos, adica asa ma simt. Acum as avea deschiderea spre o noua speranta... am, de obicei, putine decizii de luat, dar dificile. Presupun ca asa imi este mai bine, caracteristic, fiindca destest sa am multe pe cap. Prefer putine si grele, desi ma plang. Ce sa fac? Sa ma eliberez, sa renunt cu totul, sa uit pentru ce am luptat atat, sa-mi iau adio de la frumusetea care ar putea fi, cea care n-a incetat sa ramana o varianta posibila, mai evidenta pentru mine decat pentru oricine altcineva, oricat de implicat poate fi; se stie ca eu privesc lumea ca fiind mai buna decat realmente. Dorinta de a fi fericit, pe masura ce trece timpul, se manifesta in mine accentuat, dificultatea de a mai lupta crescand aproape instantaneu, de la o clipa la alta, eu ramanand un mic pion in fata sentimentului colosal ce ma poseda, in loc sa fie invers... Nu e deloc prima data cand ma implic atat de mult, dar eu nu ma invat minte, sau, in orice caz, nu-mi place sa renunt. In tot ce-am facut, pana acum, au fost cateva greseli, nu grave, dar... invat. Simt cum totul se schimba, fara controlul meu, cat ma doare ca trebuie sa accept realitatea asa cum vine, fiindca eu sunt genul care schimba si putin din mediul inconjurator pe parcurs, iar atunci cand las totul liber din nou, acolo unde mi-am plasat amprenta, daca sentimentele nu s-au deplasat, orice contact cu mediul respectiv este de o intensitate inimaginabila. Pe langa clasicele "inmuiat picioarele", "inima-n gat", "fluturi in stomac", si alte alea... se mai adauga, in functie de moment, de deschidere, astfel incat durerea aproape ca ma prabuseste. De obicei simt nevoia sa ma sprijin de ceva, sa ma vindec... Dar vreau sa ma vindec?... Si daca vreau, pot? Sa inchid rana? Asa, pur si simplu? Cum? Traind. Traind prezentul, dar nu oricum, ci intens. Imi trebuie o trezire brusca, o determinare, un chef de viata aproape de nemasurat. Dar asta nu vine asa, la comanda... adica ar veni... dar nu asa se face, nu merita sa ma consum pentru fericire temporara. Mai bine imi acumulez, din nou, puterile, pentru a ma putea ridica treptat, desi nu e stilul meu. Asa am facut mereu, in afara cazurilor in care soarta m-a ajutat din exterior, oferindu-mi sprijin, mai ales in ceea ce priveste increderea in propria-mi persoana. Poate ca, de cele mai multe ori, asta-mi lipseste. Nu sunt atat de egoist incat sa ma fac singur fericit... nevoia de prieteni, desi nu este decat in singuratatea indelungata sesizabila, atinge cote inalte, mai fiind, pe deasupra accentuata si de dorinta mea de cunoastere umana. Acum chiar ca nu mai am obsesii... in vacanta... si chiar si in prima luna de scoala... am fost "curatat" de majoritatea pasiunilor mele... ramanand cu dorinte latente, care sunt in asteptarea de a fi "activate" ... odata cu alte izbucniri.
Sunt un fan declarat al lui Marin Preda, pana acum m-a impresionat profund. M-am asimilat atat de mult cu intelectualul care protesteaza, care vede realitatea numai sub o forma a lui, bazata pe ceea ce este in mediul apropiat lui, si care, desi invata din trecutul sau, nu reuseste, mai mult sau mai putin, sa-si gaseasca fericirea suprema... Asta, cel putin, deocamdata... Cine stie ce-mi rezerva viitorul. Uneori privesc asa, in departare, si ma gandesc... daca eu voi fi trecut prin atat greu mai incolo, incat tot ce-a fost pana acum sa mi se para un fleac... am sa rezist? Si... daca da... fara sa ma schimb?...
Desi nu este atat de sanatos, mi-ar placea sa raman un copil... genul de copil care priveste imprejurimile cu caldura, cu suferinta, cu amintiri dulci si intense, sau groaznice...
Ieri, intorcandu-ma acasa, nu vedeam pe cer decat ... fiinte. Am zarit un nor ce, din prima clipa, mi s-a parut a fi un dragon care scuipa foc. Nu mai fusesem atat de incantat, mi-am amintit de reclama aceea de la sucul natural... cu norii care imbracau forme peste forme... Desi realitatea era departe de mine, am vazut. Cred ca acum, daca m-as uita mai atent la ce vad, as putea sa spun cu totul altceva decat inainte... Ma trezesc dimineata, sau dupa ceva timp, ma uit la lucruri, vad ca sunt acolo... si ma mir. Stiam ca acolo le voi gasi, ca nu le-a mutat nimeni, dar ma surprinde asta... sau... cel mai rau si penibil, caut ceva. Simt cum ceva din mine se revolta ca nu gasesc, simt cum nu sunt sigur pe nimic din ce-mi amintesc din ziua respectiva... ce-am facut cu nush-ce... Dar inca e bine, fiindca ar putea fi si mai rau. O sa-mi revin, cat de curand...
"The past is like a gaping hole - Max Payne 2" - End of Chapter three

Sink into it! (expand)

Back to surface! (collapse)

[Book two] Chapter two

"Incep sa descifrez cum sunt..."- Chapter two
Si ce daca nu gandesc clar? Nici macar nu pot formula coerent o idee. Dar ma descurc eu, pentru ca trebuie sa scot din minte cuvinte, pana cand ma linistesc. Am fost in excursie, iata. Aici am vazut multe, am invatat multe... Chiar daca nu ma simt deloc potrivit lumii de petrecere, caci eu, visator, nu prea pot trai din ameteala unui bairam decat daca sunt dispus sa ma simt bine dinainte. Nu stiu cum sa explic exact, dar, in principiu, doar daca ma simt binisor, si nu am probleme mari, ma pot bucura de o petrecere. Iar eu, la cum sunt, imi gasesc intotdeauna o problema. Oamenii nu sunt asa cum par... Cat de schimbatori sunt cand se afla in aceste circumstante! Altfel spus, ce face betia din om! Incredibil... poate. Sunt multe persoane care nu inteleg de ce oamenii se imbata, pentru ca exista multe alte feluri de a te simti bine, chiar si de a uita. Da, or exista, dar acesta este unul care combina binele cu raul intr-un mod promitator, probabil.
Prin cate stari am trecut! ... Sambata a fost cea mai lunga zi, dar nu in sensul rau. M-am simtit bine, am revazut cate lucruri pentru care m-as putea bucura sunt. Ieri, la intoarcere, mi-am mai clarificat cateva situatii in legatura cu mine. Se pare ca, pe masura ce trece timpul, vad cat de dus de val am fost, nepastrand prea mult din vechile motive de bucurie, datorita celui nou. Si ce daca? Acum nu e timpul pierdut, pentru ca eu tot "facut ca sa fiu fericit" ma simt. Nu stiu altii cum sunt, dar eu, cand ma gandesc la trecutul meu, ma apuca asa o melancolie. Ma vad altfel decat cum credeam ca sunt, bineinteles. Cred ca multora li se intampla asta. Omul, atunci cand sufera, este tentat sa se arunce catre multe infaptuiri promitatoare de alinare. De aceea m-am intrebat si eu, daca as fi in stare de unele dintre acelea. Am simtit intens dorinta de a-mi cauta pe cineva, a ma arunca cu totul in bratele acelei persoane, dar n-am s-o fac, sper. Nu mi-am interzis, prin gand, asta, numai ca mi-e foarte clar ca nu-mi doresc acest lucru. Eu nu vreau sa fug, nu, si n-am sa fug! Desigur, nici infruntarea starii fara nici o arma nu este binevenita. N-am sa caut uitare in stari alcoolice, pentru ca n-as fi eu insumi. Oricat m-am departat de mine in zilele acestea, am avut grija ca sa nu fie prea mult. N-am sa ma pierd, pentru ca nici nu am de ce sa o fac... E! Ia gata. Una peste alta, nici nu sufar atat de mult! Pe langa faptul ca observ ce fericire aduc, pentru ceilalti, multe din vechile mele preocupari si placeri, imi mai dau seama si cat de copil sunt. Si asta ma bucura! Eu vreau sa fiu, inca, destul de copil! Ce? Un copil responsabil si cat de cat matur. Nu ma credeti? N-aveti decat sa faceti un test...
Desi mintea mi-e foarte incetosata, sau mai bine zis involburata, imediat ce m-am sculat, ceva a inceput sa ma doara... Visez, intens, fara sa ma pot opri. Ma trezesc, imi dau seama de asta, in timpul noptii. Simt ca sunt treaz, uneori deschid ochii, si tot visez. O sa-mi treaca si starea asta, pentru ca, banuiesc, e de la oboseala.
Vechile mele preocupari... incep sa revina, incet incet. Eu astazi am sa citesc si sa fac temele. Daca m-as fi putut misca in echilibru la ora 6, m-as fi dus la scoala. Acum e 11 fara un sfert, si tot nu sunt complet treaz! ... Noi sa fim sanatosi!...
Cred ca azi, orice fac, tot nu ma trezesc. Asa ca... sa revin. Deja e pranzul, ceilalti s-au intors acasa si mie tot nu-mi vine sa cred. Ce trece viata... Daca mi-ar fi dat sa traiesc din nou, de la capat, (spun asta de parca as fi batran!), n-as alege neaparat altfel. As trai cam la fel, pare-mi-se.
Mie nu mi-a placut sa pierd timpul. Nici acum nu-mi place. Poate asta e o problema a mea, una grava. Interpretez totul... intr-un fel... strict?... Nu stiu. Dar tin ca totul legat de mine sa evolueze, sa se schimbe. Nu-mi place sa stea nimic in loc. De asta nu e rabdarea una din calitatile mele... O sa fie.... da... ce sa-i faci? Nu sunt tocmai pregatit pentru viata, m-am grabit. Imi doresc sa traiesc asa, repede, totul. In loc sa ma gandesc ca, de fapt, e mult timp in lume, ca o sa am timp sa trec prin toate... ma apuca un fel de necesitate de a trai ACUM. O sa-mi treaca, probabil... desi mi s-ar parea inuman sa nu mai sufar din nimic, sa nu-mi mai pese de nimic ce ma raneste. Deocamdata nu e asa, si am incredere ca nici nu va fi, vreodata. Acum citesc "Jocul ielelor"; ma simt... din ce in ce mai camilpetrescian. Parca tot astfel as fi facut si eu... doar ca nu m-as sinucide pentru nimic in lume. Uite, eu am admirat intotdeauna, cu uimire, vointa adultilor de a se sacrifica pentru copii. Mi s-a parut ceva ce eu nu voi face niciodata, fiindca nu voi fi in stare. Asta poate fiindca asa e omul. Nu mi se pare corect ca eu, Paul, sa-mi dedic viata copiilor mei, netraind-o pe a mea. Poate ca nu asta fac cei mari, parintii, dar uneori asa pare. Si asta ma inspira, imi da speranta. Lumea nu este atat de pierduta... eu... i-am luat-o cumva inainte, pe de-o parte, si am ramas cumva in urma, pe cealalta. Nici nu-mi mai pasa cat de rau e asta; acum vreau sa ma simt bine. Si, datorita oboselii, ma simt. N-am nici o treaba, nu ma doare nimic in mod deosebit. Nu m-as putea concentra, oricum, pe ceva, daca as gasi o problema. Ar fi degeaba.
Cunoasterea asta... dupa care ma omor eu intr-atat, este ceva intangibil. Eu vad ideile, nu traiesc din fapte. Sunt un visator... Sa ma redresez pe lumea reala? Care este lumea reala? Nu-mi pun eu astfel de intrebari. De ce traim? Raspunsul e simplu: ca sa traim, ca sa invatam si sa utilizam ceea ce stim pentru un oarecare bine, relativ. A zis bine Einstein, totul e relativ. Raul si binele sunt relative unul la altul, foarte bine! As vrea sa fac bine, cat mai bine, si sa nu ma poticnesc asa cum patesc acum. Acum cateva saptamani inca imi displaceau cativa oameni pentru conceptele lor egoiste. Dar de ce? N-am sa mai fac asta, o sa ... incerc sa-mi elimin urmele de ura din suflet. Mi-ar placea ca temperamentul meu sa fie mai calm... chiar daca in interior n-ar fi. De asemenea nu-mi place sa ma prefac rau daca mi-e bine. Invers mi se pare ok, ceea ce voua s-ar putea sa nu vi se para. Dar merg pe principiul "fericirea ta ajuta la fericirea celorlalti", chiar daca, atunci cand sunt nefericit, nu o ascund prea bine. In lumea asta nu poti fi prea bun, pentru ca esti calcat in picioare, si nu mai ajuti nimanui asa. A zis cineva, si bine a zis: "pentru a te ajuta pe tine cat mai bine, trebuie sa ma ajut pe mine mai intai"... pentru ca, daca eu nu sunt intr-o stare favorabila, cu atat mai putin o sa fie favorabila dupa ce ma straduiesc atat sa te ajut. Desi nu este mereu asa, in anumite cazuri se accepta... De asta nu sunt eu suparat.
Cat de ciudat! Cat de ciudat a fost cand m-am aflat in situatia de a nu ma putea supara! Iubirea e atat de frumoasa... atunci cand e bine se mai poate sa ma supar, dar cand e rau, nu. Nu stiu cum se face, dar atunci cand sufar, mai degraba ma adancesc eu in suferinta pentru a alina pe-a celeilalte decat sa nu... Asta e ceea ce e frumos. Pe de alta parte mi-este foarte greu sa cred ca nu mai pot ajuta cu nimic decat absenta. Si cat mi se explica, cat mi se spune. De ce? De...geaba, nu? Eu trebuie sa fiu contra, pana cand nu simt ca asa este. Inteleg ca asa este, vad ca asa functioneaza, dar nu prea cred ca nu exista o altfel de cale. Dar... apoi mi-am dat seama de ceva. De ce trebuie neaparat sa existe o alta cale? Sau, chiar daca exista, trebuie s-o urmam intotdeauna pe cea mai comoda? Nu. Lasa, e bine asa, intotdeauna e util sa treci si prin incercari mai grele, cu conditia sa ai puterea sa lupti, sa rezisti, si sa nu renunti pentru a cadea intr-o alta lume.
Imi plac atat de mult scenele in care cineva plange, de durere, de o pierdere, o dilema, si... celalalt linisteste persoana, atat de simplu incat o face sa zambeasca cu lacrimile inca in ochi, sau prelingandu-se pe obraji. Am cateva scene tipice pentru asta. E incredibil! Nimeni nu poate descrie asa ceva cumsecade, chiar daca, pana la urma, toti traim o astfel de scena. Mintea umana e atat de intortocheata... se leaga scene unele de altele. Probabil ca, in functie de cum se stocheaza informatia, sub ce forma, se determina atat capacitatea cat si rapiditatea gandirii fiecaruia. Eu unul asa cred. Spre exemplu mi-a placut foarte mult cand, intr-un dialog, persoana schimba subiectul aparent fara nici o legatura, iar cealalta a fost in stare sa-si dea seama care este, de fapt, baza acelei devieri. Ma fac fericit multe lucruri... printre care desenele ocupa un loc principal. Ia ganditi-va putin, cine mai vrea sa ajunga la ora x acasa, pentru ca sunt nush-care-desene si vrea sa le vada. Imi fac viata mai frumoasa:). Eu nu vreau sa ma schimb, si nici nu o fac. Schimb doar preocuparile si punctele mele de sustinere. Am senzatia ca am mai scris despre acestea. Exista, peste tot in jur, motive de bucurie. La fel cum exista (din pacate mai multe) motive de intristare oriunde privesti, poti gasi fericirea in orice. Asa cum unii oameni pot fi fericiti pentru un petic de iarba verde pe care se culca, in racoarea serii, altii pot fi fericiti pentru ca au gasit fericirea in a darui iubire lui Dumnezeu... Eu sunt cel mai fericit atunci cand pot sa-mi ajut persoana iubita si sa ma bucur de fericirea ei... dar ma simt atat de trist atunci cand vad ca este poate la fel de fericita fara mine... incat ma apuca o suferinta groaznica, aproape ca-mi dau si lacrimile... Sunt fericit cand pot sa-mi desfat sufletul ascultand o melodie... Sunt fericit cand plang de induiosare in fata unui film, chiar si desene... Imi place foarte mult sa-mi tin sufletul deschis. Dar uneori nu are nici un farmec... totul trebuie variat. Orice poate fi exagerat. Si ajung atat de greu sa inteleg, sa accept si sa simt toate astea! Deh... asa sunt oamenii. Mai devreme sau mai tarziu... tot voi simti si eu asta, sau voi innebuni. Si fiindca sunt demult intr-un proces perpetuu de adaptare, semnele indica verde, adica raman printre oameni :). Am sa incerc, totusi, sa nu ma confund prea mult cu ei. Sunt un utopist, oarecum, si asa vreau sa raman. Asa cum am spus, se schimba doar aspectul etajelor cladirii, nu si fundatia impreuna cu materialul si schela. Nu pot sa schimb eu lumea, pot doar sa o modific, incet-incet, sa zicem. La fel cum nu poti sa schimbi mediul in care traiesti, ci doar sa te adaptezi lui, sau sa fortezi o adaptare reciproca, care, de altfel, nu este atat de dificila.
Uitee.... ca suferinta ma apropie de Dumnezeu. Nu ma deranjeaza. Poate ca, tinand-o tot asa, voi ajunge pana la urma un credincios adevarat, nu?... fara a mai fi astfel doar in anumite momente. Mi-a mai trecut, putin, somnul. Dar tot nu ma pot concentra. Vraiste e in capul meu... Inchei aici, sperand ca urmatorul capitol sa fie mai coerent... si imi cer scuze. Fericirea e pretutindeni imprejur... vremea e frumoasa afara.
"Everything is relative" - End of chapter two

Sink into it! (expand)

Back to surface! (collapse)