Când toamna încă era blândă și timpul răbdător…
Când zâmbetele răsunau zglobii pe potecile uitate de mulți…
Aveam un cerc al nostru, noi cei care ne hrănim greșit cu iluzii…
Noi, visătorii.
Cuvinte prăfuite
Despre lucrurile păstrate în înaltul cerului plin de speranțe al adolescenței
Călătoria mea, a noastră, a început la fel cum s-a și sfârșit: cu o zi ploioasă. Dar mie îmi place să cred că ploaia a servit drept cortină. Când eram boboci, ne-am trezit practic pe scena celor mai frumoși ani ai adolescenței și ploaia a fost cea care ne-a dat îndemnul să ne începem rolul, a fost cea care parcă ne-a zis să uităm orice rol am fi jucat în trecut și să profităm de cel ce urmează, de noul capitol din viața noastră. Când eram absolvenți, tot ploaia a fost în preajmă să ne amintească că după ce aplauzele se estompează… și actorii părăsesc scena. Piesa noastră se sfârșise și scena nu ne mai aparținea.
Fiecare dintre noi a plecat în căutarea unui alt rol, în căutarea unei noi scene pe care să joace. Dar cu toții am luat o părticică din piesa pe care am jucat-o împreună. Am avut ceva de învățat, am învățat pe alții, am râs, am plâns, am avut emoții, am lăsat de la noi, ne-am ajutat reciproc, am legat prietenii, am ajuns să ne îndrăgostim de lucrurile mărunte cu care ne întâlneam zi de zi. Și mie mi-e mai ales dor de acele lucruri mărunte care, puse laolaltă, formau întregul.
Mi-e dor de primele noastre conversații, timide de altfel. Mi-e dor de pauzele în care ne strângeam „la calorifer”; pauzele acelea erau mai mult decât simple momente de odihnă, erau momentele în care încercam să ne cunoaștem și să petrecem timpul împreună. Mi-e dor și de pauzele în care o parte din noi se comportau ca niște copii, iar cealaltă ca niște biete victime ce încercau să nu ajungă țintele celorlalți. Mi-e dor și de momentele când vedeam primii fulgi de nea și clasa răsuna cu glasurile copiiilor din noi…Și de cele în care ne uneam pentru o cauză comună, atunci când funcționam ca un grup fără cel mai mic efort.
Mi-e dor de nuanța aceea de mov pe care cerul o avea în fiecare luni, la orele de psihologie. Era cel mai plăcut mod de a încheia ziua și a începe săptămâna. Mi-e dor de discuțiile de pe scări. Și de panica care se instala când cineva îndrăznea să rostească cuvântul „test”. Și de încurajările pe care ni le făceam, în speranța că vor avea efect.
Mi-e dor de spiritul Crăciunului – darurile date prin clasă și cele date celorlalți, atmosfera de sărbătoare în care ne pierdeam, serile petrecute la colinde, urările rostite cu zâmbetul pe buze…
Mi-e dor și de acele ultime dimineți. Mi-e dor de acei pași simpli care îmi deveniseră ritual. De la trezitul dis de dimineață, la micul dejun pe fugă și drumul spre liceu, la lumea adormită, dar grabită, de pe străzi și pustietatea ascunsă în bătrâna clădire a liceului la primele ore ale zilei, și până la acel „neața!” binevoitor din partea acelor prieteni și veșnica dispută despre elevul de serviciu pe măsură ce ecoul glasurilor celor întârziați se răspândea pe holuri; de toate acestea și de mult mai multe îmi e tare dor.
Și îmi e dor și de ciocolata caldă, care pe jumătate ne trezea, pe jumătate ne încălzea, din primele pauze. Pentru că era, mai mult decât orice, un prilej de a face o pauză din fuga noastră spre a atinge un scop (sau mai multe); era un prilej de a vorbi și, mai ales, de a asculta. Ca și cum mașinăria aceea picura câte un strop de generozitate, aș zice chiar umanitate, în fiecare pahar. Și tare bine făcea!
Mi-e dor de atât de multe lucruri…Cred că îmi e dor și de inocența noastră, de dorința de a ne împlini visele năstrușnice. De sentimentul acela de fericire și calm, în pofida rezultatelor. Pentru că timpul avea răbdare și eșecul de ieri era repede uitat odată cu triumful de azi sau îngropat în amintiri cu gândul la munca pentru un rezultat mai bun.
Aș vrea să știu că nu sunt singura căreia îi e dor. Că, în ciuda tuturor neînțelegerilor și dificultăților de-a lungul drumului, călătoria nu a fost în zadar și rolurile nu vor fi uitate.
Music Break
Do you know how in movies there always seems to be the perfect musical background at the right time? Well, if my life was a movie, I would definitely have Malaysian singer-songwriter Yuna’s songs be part of my soundtrack. And I’m pretty sure that’s going to be a long list because I have a hard time choosing my favourite song from all of hers.
Talented singer-songwriters are not that common in the mainstream music nowadays; but then again, I wouldn’t exactly consider Yuna as part of what we call mainstream music. She has a certain indie vibe to her musical creations. Mix that with her lovely soothing voice and an adorably interesting personality (easily seen in interviews and her lyrics) and it won’t be hard to understand why she is such an unique presence on the music stage.
Her musical style and choices will probably turn you into a fan once you give her a chance. I mean, she even manages to make covers that feel like her own songs.This song below is a Nirvana cover.
I suggest you grab a cup of coffee and just enjoy listening to her songs…and maybe even vote for her for the Best Asia Act category over at 2012 MTV EMAs.
P.S. Can I just say how much I love her different takes on the hijab? She always wears colorful ones that complement her outfit or she even ties it with a bow. That’s quite adorable.
Bună!…din nou…
Dacă blog-ul acesta ar fi fost copilul meu, sunt convinsă că cei de la asistență socială mi-ar fi bătut demult la ușă. Dar cum nu este cazul, nu îmi rămâne decât să îmi cer scuze pentru absența destul de lungă (și nu mereu întemeiată) de pe acest spațiu virtual propriu și personal și să vă promit că o să revin cât de curând… :)
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Say this blog was actually my child, you do realise I would have really been in trouble with the social authorities by now, don’t you? Luckily for me, this is not the case, so all I can do now is apologize for my pretty long (and not always justified) absence from my little corner of the Internet and promise you it won’t be long until I come back…
Why do we take photographs?
We are humans. We know our time on Earth is limited. We do pretend like we don’t most of the time.Yet, what do we do after all with all we are given? All the privileged years we get to live, do we really live them? All those moments that will end up in our little box of memories, do we really enjoy them?
Let me tell you what most of us do. Take photographs. That’s right. We spend (or, should I say, lose)so much time trying to capture the “perfect” moment, that we totally forget to live it the way we should. We get lost in this idea that by taking photographs the moments will live forever with us. To a certain degree, it’s true. Because deep down our souls it’s the fear of forgetting it all. All the places we visited, all the people we met, all the food we ate and all the clothes we wore. We are scared time is running through our fingers and we won’t have the proof we were there at one point in our lives. We are scared that one day we won’t remember the past. You know, when we grow old and have to tell our grandchildren stories from our youth. That’s when we open the box with photographs first, just so we can open the one with memories in our heart and start sharing.
Sometimes I wonder if it will work. Sometimes I wonder if videos are better; you can actually get more of a context and hear and see and almost feel what happened when being filmed. Say we (hopefully not) will end up with no memories later in life; will the photographs do the trick? Will they have kept that feeling of being alive after all the years? Or will they be similar to windows: you can look through them, see the moment caught on camera, yet never actually get the chance to (re)live it, to be beyond the window once again?
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Suntem oameni. Şi, în consecinţă, perfect conştienţi de faptul că timpul care ne este dat se va sfârşi la un moment dat. Dar ne prefacem că nu ştim de cele mai multe ori. Şi totuşi, ce facem cu tot ce ne este dat? Toţi anii pe care suntem norocoşi să-i putem trăi, chiar îi trăim? Toate momentele care vor ajunge amintiri, chiar ne bucurăm de ele?
Eu cred că majoritatea facem altceva. Facem fotografii. Vorbesc foarte serios. Petrecem (sau pierdem, mai bine zis) atâta timp încercând să prindem momentul “perfect” pe film, încât uităm să ne bucurăm de el cum ar trebui. Şi ne lăsăm pradă acestei concepţii că prin fotografiile pe care le facem reuşim să facem ca şi momentele acelea să trăiască mereu. Într-o anumită măsură, modul acesta de a gândi nu e greşit. Pentru că în adâncul sufletelor noastre se află teama de uitare. Fie că e vorba de locurile vizitate, de oamenii pe care i-am cunoscut, de mâncarea savurată sau ţinutele de zi cu zi. Ne este teamă că timpul se scurge mult prea repede, că ne scapă printre degete şi nu vom avea dovada trecerii noastre prin acel moment. Ne este teamă că într-o zi nu ne vom aminti trecutul. Ştiţi la ce mă refer, zilele acelea de bătrâneţe când se presupune să le povestim nepoţilor despre tinereţea noastră. Atunci vom fi nevoiţi să deschidem mai întâi cutia cu fotografii din dulap, şi abia apoi pe cea cu amintiri din inimă.
Câteodată mă întreb dacă lucrurile vor merge aşa. Câteodată mă întreb dacă filmuleţele sunt mai bune; poţi să înţelegi mult mai multe dintr-o filmare, să simţi mai bine momentul. Dacă (Doamne fereşte!) într-o zi ne trezim fără amintiri; vor fi fotografiile de folos? Îşi vor fi păstrat acel iz de viaţă după ani şi ani? Sau vor fi la fel ca ferestrele: poţi să te uiţi prin ele, să vezi momentul surprins, dar nu vei putea efectiv să-l (re)trăieşti, să treci dincolo de fereastră încă o dată?
Travel Sundays: Red
Red carpet in Cannes, France
Pavement drawing in Budapest, Hungary
Object part of an exposition in Arhus, Denmark
Beads exposition in Arhus, Denmark
Copenhaga, Denmark
Wien, Austria
Since it’s Easter Sunday (well, for Orthodox Christians and Greco-Catholic Christians), I decided to put together some red things, let’s say, I’ve come across in my few travels. Happy Easter!
Având în vedere faptul că astăzi este Paştele (pentru ortodocşi şi greco-catolici), m-am gândit să vă arăt câteva lucruri roşii, să le numim aşa, din puţinele mele călătorii. Să aveţi un Paşte Fericit!
A winter wonderland and the little things in life
I surely wouldn’t have minded such a weather around Christmas instead of late January to almost mid February, but, hey, better late than never, right? Although it’s freezing cold like 24 hours out of 24, it sure is nice to say at least to have such a view when you look out of your window or when you get outside. It’s slowly becoming a battle walking through the fresh snow early in the freezing cold morning and then having to endure the coldness in the classroom (I’m not sure whether after 6 hours I can still claim “It’s cold outside”; I’m just super excited to get rid of the cold inside – blame the age of the building), then coming home, hoping to get a couple of hours with a blanket keeping me warm and a good book or movie. As it turns out, I can’t actually do that more than once a week, that being the weekend, because I have other priorities right now. But it sure feels good watching two or three episodes of “Grey’s Anatomy” in a row on a calm Saturday evening, it is like a little reward.
Ce bine ar fi fost să ningă de Crăciun, şi nu în perioada asta, dar mai bine mai târziu decât deloc, nu? Şi chiar dacă e îngrozitor de frig zi şi noapte, e minunat să scoţi capul pe geam sau pe uşă şi să te bucuri de o asemenea privelişte. Dar fiecare zi devine un soi de luptă: să mergi prin zăpada ce abia s-a aşezat pe jos dis de dimineaţă, când e groaznic de frig, apoi să înduri frigul din sala de clasă ( după şase ore la şcoală nu ştiu dacă mă mai gândesc la cât de frig e afară; pur şi simplu mă bucur că am scăpat de frigul din clasă - asta păţeşti când clădirea este prea veche) şi apoi ajungi în sfârşit acasă, sperând să te bucuri de vreo două ore citind o carte bună, acoperită până la gât în plapumă ca să scapi de frigul ce ţi-a intrat până în oase. Aşa ceva nu pot face însă decât o dată pe săptămână, în weekend, pentru că am alte lucruri sunt prioritare momentan. Şi, până la urmă, este un fel de recompensă să te uiţi la trei episoade din „Anatomia lui Grey” sâmbăta seară.
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Talking about books, I’ve just read one that I have from the high school’s library. It’s a theater play, a drama, and it’s really good. But there was something different that struck me while reading it, beyond the great quotes, the unique style of writing or the interesting characters and unexpected plot towards the second half. I’ve almost forgot what a special feeling it is to go through the pages of a library book.
Dacă tot a venit vorba de cărţi, tocmai am citit una împrumutată de la biblioteca liceului. Este o piesă de teatru, o dramă, foarte interesantă. Dar m-a uimit ceva în timp ce citeam cartea, dincolo de citatele extraordinare, stilul unic de a scrie al lui Camil Petrescu, personajele complexe şi întorsăturile de situaţie din a doua jumătate a cărţii. Aproape că am uitat sentimentul care te încarcă atunci când frunzăreşti paginile unei cărţi de la bibliotecă.
Certain pages were covered in stains, making the words a little bit harder to read. But it was like those who had previously read the book felt the need to “mark” their process of reading. And to state what “ingredient” they used to do so. Coke, decaf and something else that I just can’t make out from the author’s writing. Three pages, three different people, three different times, I suppose. It’s like the Universe is telling me “Look, other have been here before you and they kept going. They saved the moment in their memory box deep down their soul, and so will you and many others that will follow.”
Anumite pagini erau pătate, un pic dificil de citit de altfel. Dar e ca şi cum cititorii dinaintea mea au ţinut morţiş să marcheze într-un fel sau altul faptul că au citit. Şi să specifice ce „ingredient” au folosit. Cola, cafea fără zahăr şi încă ceva indescifrabil pentru mine. Trei pagini, trei oameni diferiţi, trei timpuri diferite, cred. E ca şi cum Universul mi-ar spune „ Uite, şi alţii au fost aici înaintea ta şi au depăşit momentul. L-au păstrat bine în cutia cu amintiri din adâncul sufletului, la fel cum vei face şi tu, şi mulţi alţii după tine.”
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Funny and interesting
Wow! The first month of the year just went by! I think that as I grow up (or grow old, as some say), I start to realize how fast time flies by. Like really, really fast. And it’s not that I didn’t do anything this past month, I just feel I didn’t do anything for me. Or the others around me. And this feeling kind of irks me… That until July this year I won’t exactly do much for me; that if you don’t take into account studying for the exams…What feels different is the fact that I didn’t start the new year with resolutions; I just take it one step at a time and see how things work best for me. Why would I write a list of things I’ll probably never do when I can write at the end of the year a list with the things I actually did?
Although school started a couple of weeks ago, I still miss the coziness of the late December and early January mornings, spent with a cup of hot chocolate, wrapped up in a blanket next to our Christmas tree in the living room that had such a Christmassy scent …
A şi trecut prima lună a anului… Pe măsură ce cresc (sau chiar îmbătrânesc, ar zice unii) îmi dau seama cât de repede trece timpul. Poate prea repede. Şi nu e neapărat vorba că am sentimentul de a nu fi făcut nimic în luna care tocmai a trecut, dar pur şi simplu nu am făcut mai nimic pentru mine. Sau pentru cei apropiaţi mie. Şi nu e un sentiment plăcut…sa ştiu că până în iulie nu voi face aproape nimic în afara orelor, zilelor, săptămânilor de studiu pentru examen…Şi ar mai fi ceva diferit: faptul că nu mi-am propus nimic la începutul anului; într-un fel, las lucrurile să meargă în ritmul lor. Până la urmă, de ce aş face o listă cu lucruri pe care probabil nu voi ajunge să le fac, când pot face o lista cu ce am făcut la sfârşitul anului?
Şi chiar mi-e dor de dimineţile de la sfârşitul lui decembrie, şi de cele de la începutul lui ianuarie, când eram în vacanţă şi mă bucuram de o ciocolată caldă la căldura unei pături lângă bradul de Crăciun…şi mirosea a Crăciun în sufragerie mult după ziua cea sfântă…
Te joci cu mine?
Ne lăsăm prinşi în jocul sorţii mai uşor decât ne-am lăsa atinşi de valul spumegând al mării pe ţărm. Ne acaparează atenţia şi ne învăluie în mrejele ei, iar noi, simpli oameni, ne lăsăm purtaţi de sentimentul care ne copleşeşte. Ne simţim bine, nu-i aşa? Fără a vedea iminentul dezastru. Căci, dacă urcăm, trebuie să şi coborâm. Şi viceversa. Pare o regulă simplă. Însă câte complicaţii ţin de ea…
Şi cum rămâne cu timpul? E el mai presus de măiestria sorţii sau e doar un instrument al acesteia? Poate că timpul a fost odată un om, ca şi noi. Şi, având mereu poftă de joacă, s-a lăsat mereu prins în mrejele sorţii. Bineînţeles, soarta, fiind singură pe lume, s-a ataşat atât de mult de el încât i-a dat numele. Timp. Şi de aceea sunt nedespărţiţi azi. Veşnicul copil, timpul, şi mama sa, soarta, trăiesc mai fericiţi ca niciodată. O poveste cu sfârşit fericit? Nici vorbă.
Povestea asta n-are sfârşit. Poate nici început. Iar noi, oamenii, actori pe scena vieţii, suntem doar jucăriile timpului şi nu avem parte de roluri semnificative. Nu toţi. Dar cu toţii suntem personaje în povestea asta fără sfârşit.
Şi dacă soarta este mama, timpul copilul, noi jucăriile, Universul terenul de joacă, regulile inexistente, ne mai punem problema sfârşitului poveştii? Nu ne este foarte bine aşa? De ce ne place să punem capăt oricărui lucru? Pentru că stă în firea umană. La fel cum încercările, de multe ori nereuşite, de a dezlega mistere stau tot în firea umană. Ne punem mereu întrebări, căutăm neîcetat răspunsuri şi ajungem la o concluzie. Dacă ajungem. Dar mulţi ne pierdem pe acest drum al căutării unui răspuns, şi dacă nu e satisfăcător rezultatul, o luăm de la capăt. Şi aşa ne pierdem toată viaţa. Dacă din mrejele sorţii putem găsi o portiţă de scăpare,din mrejele propriei minţi nu. Din nou, inexplicabila fire umană. Sau poate s-a desluşit şi misterul acesta recent şi eu n-am aflat.
Concluzia? Da, eu am o concluzie. Indiferent de jocul în care suntem prinşi, de personajele pe care le jucăm în această poveste, trebuie să fim mândri, fericiţi, optimişti chiar, că suntem un personaj. Indiferent ce fel de personaj şi pentru cât timp.
Sunny
Seven girls. One group that will last, as one of them says, “beyond their death”.
That’s what Sunny the movie is all about: Sunny the group, then and now. Back in the 1980’s and still stuck in the present.
The movie manages to capture the essence of a friendship between middle school girls that reunite later in life, when their leader dies. The friendship doesn’t. It is beautifully directed, as the scenes that show the past and those that show the present do not look mismatched; they shift smoothly and quite beautifully. It also has so many clichés but still captures them differently. Like the beautiful girl of the group, the “popular” one, is actually the silent one, that surprises when she proves to be a fighter when it comes to her friends. Or how much first love can hurt. Or the little ironies that are sprinkled all over the movie; how the “best” ones end up being in the worst state being one of them. I also love the subtle ways the movie shows how some relations (wife – husband, parents – daughter) work in nowadays’ Korea or how everyone’s addicted to dramas (the hospital scenes in the beginning really made me laugh).
Simply put, this movie is amazing. Breathtaking. It has so much of a plot and substance and does not fail in putting it together. And I love this. I also love how well matched the actresses are with their characters, which I adore. They play their roles so well, that I found myself crying towards the ened because they gathered as seven again only after the leader was gone. I mean, here we have the leader that acts as tough as a boy, but has the heart of a girl (Kang So-Ra plays young Ha Chun-Hwa, Jin Hee-Kyung plays mature Ha Chun-Hwa), the daughter of a teacher that could be called as “Queen of swearing” (Park Jin-Joo as the teen Hwang Jin-Hee, and Hong Jin-Hee as the mature one), the not-your-skinny-type of girl that can’t wait to get a double eyelid surgery ( Kim Min-Young and Ko Su-Hee play the young and not so young Kim Jang-Mi), the girl that dreams to be a writer, but proves to be quite the fighter as a teen(Nam Bo-Ra and Lee Yeon-Kyung play Seo Geum-Ok), the girl that lives her life as the pageant queen she will be one day (Ryoo Bok-Hee, played as a teen by Kim Bo-Mi and as a woman as Kim Sun-Kyung), the beautiful girl that everyone knows will become a model(Su-Ji, played by Min Hyo-Rin as a young girl – Su-Ji the woman only appears for the last couple of minutes in the movie and I’m not sure who plays her yet) and the newcomer, the girl from the countryside that lastly joins the band(Shim Eun-Kyung and Yoo Ho-Jeong play Lim Na-Mi in the two very different moments of her life) that put up with other bands of girls (ironically named “Girls’ Generation” – I doubt there’s any connection to this Girls’ Generation , but it’s not the only time the director uses popular band names nowadays in the movie, as the girls initially wanted their group name to be Wonder Girls). I admit it would have been interesting to see the WG vs. SNSD back in the 80’s as teen groups :)
And don’t get me started on the cinematic aspects of this movie or the fashion. It’s just…well, I’ll let you judge for yourself.
You can watch it (and I highly recommend you do so) with English subtitles here, here or here.
Photographs from here or screen caps of mine.
P.S. The soundtrack is also quite amazing!
Words are not enough
Funny how ironic life can be sometimes. Just a week ago I was talking about milestones, about the fact that everything has an end. And just a few days ago someone’s life ended. Someone I really loved and cared for, someone I didn’t expect to leave me at this point in life. Or at all. I guess we really take things for granted, don’t we?
Now that one of my grandpas is gone, I just feel my heart is filled with regrets. The regret that I didn’t go see him on Sunday, that I didn’t call him like at all and that it seems an eternity since I’ve last seen him, the regret that I actually never told him how much I love him and how important he is to me. That I admired, and still admire, him. I can only hope that, as an understanding and patient grandpa that he was, he understood what I had never actually told him. I also hope that he really is in a better place right now, watching over us and forgiving us any mistake we could have possibly made. And if he’s not there yet, I’ll make sure he will go there, because he deserves it. That’s the only thing I can do for him right now, pray.
You see, I don’t really believe in the so-called “it’s Tuesday, 13 or Friday, 13 so it’s bad luck”.
But it was Tuesday.And 13.
13.12.2011
It was like a warm spring day, not a cold December one. Maybe this means it was better for him to go wherever he went; maybe this means that God, knowing through how much pain he’s been through during the last years, decided to ease everything, by taking him close to him without having him experience much pain, without him even expecting it. Maybe, and I really hope this is a sure thing, he now knows no pain or anger or anything; he must have his well deserved peace.
Milestone
It hurts knowing how it will end at one point. Your birthday, a bad day, a long class at school, being stuck in the traffic jam, your childhood… everything has an end. I guess this is why they say we should enjoy each moment of our lives. It is true that we will never be younger than we are at this very moment. So why waste the moment? Might as well spread our wings, open our minds and just go wherever life will take us. Yet, rather than doing so, rather than listening to my instinct that always proved to be right, I do the exact opposite. I plan. I over think. I don’t just let life happen; I make sure what I want to happen will happen at one point or another. And in the rare moments that I just let it be, I feel complete for that moment. But the moment being nothing more than that, a future memory lost in my little treasure box deep in my heart, sooner or later the regrets sink in. And the what ifs…
Is there any way to beautifully close a chapter in your life and move onto the next one? I sometimes wonder of how my parents were when they had my age. When they tell me pieces of their life back then, I can’t help but notice how something in them changes. How their eyes have a tiny sparkle of happiness mixed with sadness, even melancholia, how they no longer focus on me and just look into space, how they relive those moments when talking about them. I wonder if this is how I will end up like. Talking about the youth I’m supposed to live now to my future children. In a way, it sounds like the best plan for life. I will have my family. And I will be a role model for my children, just like my parents are for me. And I will make sure my parents, grandparents’ stories will live on. But there’s the other way around: realizing I will lose something. A part of me. I guess that it all comes down to this, after all. You take something from life and have something be taken away from you.
The Little Things
“People shouldn’t dwell on the past. It’s enough to try your best in all that you’re doing now.”
- Aya, “1 Litre of Tears” (Japanese drama)
Trying your best in what I’m currently doing sure feels good. It keeps me focused, it keeps me motivated and it gives me a reason to get up from your bad each and every day, knowing that I am about to change something. Something about me or something about the others, something about the world we live in…anything.
Yet it sometimes feels so nice looking back and only being filled with happy memories. I feel… complete at those times. Because it means I haven’t lived in vain. It means I created something, and even if it will only remain in my memory or my closest friend’s memories, it doesn’t mean it is nothing. It can turn out to be everything.
At the end of our lives, aren’t memories the only way to judge our way of living? Aren’t memories those that brighten our days and remind us of the good and the bad we were through, the friends that stayed by our side, the fears we overcome with small steps, the things we learnt, the small things that made our life not empty at all?…
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My past experiences are those who made me who I am. And I can only be happy for the recent ones, that only made my days better and heart filled with good feelings.
For lovely, crisp autumn days that I wish would never end. And the heart warming sound of stepping on to fallen leaves.
For joyful little girls that put a smile on your face only with their way of being all cute and beautiful and noisy and funny and extremely adorable and everything else that makes you all glow with happiness from a child’s simple gestures.
For weekend mornings spent with my family which should last an eternity and for school days that sometimes seem to never end…
For getting dressed up with no reason, getting compliments that suddenly increase your self esteem.
For getting to play with an adorable puppy (that shouldn’t be referred to as a puppy any longer) that simply won’t let you do anything without him because he just loves you too much and has to always be there for you( not that I mind him doing so).
For a bunch of pretty flowers and for late night study accompanied by too many cups of hot chocolate and rice&milk&cinnamon.
For finding beautiful poems to read an re-read, only to make me realize how far childhood seems to be and how adulthood knocks at my door, now with being eighteen and everything… (now, excuse me English speakers, but I couldn’t find a way to translate this poem without losing its meaning and harmony of words – I had to keep it in Romanian):
And, lastly, for a beautiful Korean song that manages to give me peace and tranquility every time I listen to it, while expressing some of my fears in beautiful written lyrics…
Indeed, as someone recently said, autumn has been so good to me this far.
My project of goals
Not sure if I’ve shared this before, but I am person that loves making lists. Sticking to them is the most difficult part most of the times. The lovely Danni over at oh, hello friend came with this amazing idea of making a list of 12 things to do before 2012. Are you up for a challenge? I know I am.
Here’s my list…
- Exercise on a regular basis, no more excuses!!!
Try to bake a cake.- Read at least
43 books by the year’s end. [one done, three to go…] - Spend more time with my family.
- Take more photographs.
Take it easy.It’s my last year of high school and all I do is study and study and study some more.I need to learn to relax and take it one step at a time.- Be more active in terms of volunteering.
- Mix and match clothes from my own closet; I have to learn to use what I’ve got.
- Pray.
Take my driving license.
Personal Thoughts on Korean Beauty Standards
Having spent so much time lately trying to learn more about Asian lifestyles, traditions and history, in particular about South Korea’s modern society, I find this video intriguing, unexpected but at the same time it seems as if I have already known everything that it contains.
After having read a lot on this aspect, watched many Korean dramas( though they do not exactly reveal a society’s true qualities nor flaws) and reality shows, as well as interviews of famous Korean people, I myself have identified those social issues.I may not personally know any Korean and I have not been through their educational system (in fact, I can only speak from an outsider’s perspective as I have not visited South Korea yet), but I can see those problems.And I can only wonder how can this be happening?How come, even though they are not a superficial people, artificial standards of beauty rule their modern society in an unimaginable way.How come there can be put so much pressure on those kids, which, by the way, are my age?It’s not like there is no pressure put on me, but I know my limits and I have the courage to say what I feel and how I should be doing things since it is my life in the end and I do not have to change my appearance for example just to get noticed.How come they can (mostly) look up to the so called “idols”( who, probably, create the delusional image of an “ideal” body/face/person while facing themselves the absurd existent standards of beauty and life, in general) and only wish to look like them? What happened to one’s character and moral values and beliefs, are those less important than having an “ideal” look?
Don’t get me wrong, I do not blame them for getting their inspiration from someone famous; I guess we all do so at one point in our lives.I just can not conceive the idea that they are not taught to love themselves the way they are and they are not taught what self respect and love is.We can not live by wishing every day to have I do not know what skin color or nose shape just because this is considered to be beautiful, or because we won’t get noticed by people of the opposite sex or future employer any either way.And the fact that they get plastic surgery like it would be a Christmas present( for example, the one for having double eyelids) is just so…so wrong.
I, for one, stand for individual beauty.And I know that things will hardly change in the near future at least, since , apparently, there is no one that doesn’t comply with the so called standards being in the spotlight and teaching them that there is a reason for God creating them the way he did.That it is not wrong to not have a model’s body or western eyes.They should be told how beautiful they are the way they are.And how special their features make them.
I do not want to be misunderstood, this post is only my way of expressing the frustration I have with regards to the way some things work over there.I may be wrong and I may also not have the needed knowledge to say such things.I am aware of that.And I may also not have the right to pinpoint other society’s flaws when mine has its own, but after having watched the video I just couldn’t hold it inside me.I just want to wake those students up from this illusion; I may not make it, but I can only try.
Anyways, I truly support those behind this documentary.I really hope they will succeed in putting across the message.
What are your opinions on this video?
Weekend in photos – The moments I am thankful for
Saturday morning.9am.
Spring sunny mornings seem to finally visit my lovely home.And what a would make the morning even better?Cooking.Something easy, yet delicious.And, hopefully, healthy.
And the feeling of excitement when you see the final result.And the feeling keeps growing when you eat it…
And so the morning just goes by…and here comes the afternoon filled with reading for a writing a new article for Telluric Season magazine.Apparently, when I get the working bug I end up spending half of my night awake.Working on what I have to do…
And so comes Sunday noon, with me and my family ready for a short trip to my grandparents in the countryside.The youngest member of the family surely enjoys the drive…
And here’s for the amazing sceneries and nature coming back to life,for seeing your family having a good time, for playing hide and seek with the cat and enjoying the game of light and shadows, for imagining clouds are tiny elephants or giant marshmallows.
And for coming back home, where yummy food always welcomes me and fresh tulips my darling mother gave me earlier in the day rest peacefully in my little sanctuary.
Sunday evening.9pm.
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