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Nu haina face pe om!


Hai sa despicam putin firul in patru. Dar sa fim realisti, va rog!

Adevarul dur:

–  Daca te duci la un interviu in blugi si tricou, poti sa ai cea mai sclipitoare minte, cele mai bune argumente, cele mai ordonate si bine structurate idei. Poti sa gandesti “in afara cutiei”, sa dai exemple si sa raspunzi impecabil la fiecare intrebare. Dar stai. Oare o sa te intrebe cineva mare lucru?
– Camasa, ceas, pantaloni de stofa. Acelasi interviu. Alta prima impresie. Intrebarile curg. Pacat ca n-are cine sa raspunda.

Aud intr-una: “Traim intr-o societate de aparente! Vai! Tragedie! De ce nu poti sa vezi mai mult dincolo? De ce nu ma judeci dupa cum sunt eu, si nu dupa cum ma imbrac?”. Pentru ca daca te imbraci in pantaloni de trening la serviciu sau in pantaloni de stofa in parc, nu-mi vine sa-ti caut “adancurile”, de aia!

Pentru ca nu ma intereseaza cat costa camasa, dar cu siguranta trebuie sa stii unde si cum s-o porti. Pentru ca da, aparentele conteaza, iar daca tu nu stii cum si unde sa te imbraci, cum o sa stii cum sa te porti sau ce sa spui?

Si ca vorbim de pret. Sa facem diferenta. Haine scumpe nu inseamna haine bune. Daca esti bogat, nu inseamna ca stii sa te imbraci si daca ai “Mertz” la 18 ani, sunt convinsa ca nu stii sa-l conduci. Probabil ca e hidramat, ca sa poti sa scoti o manuta pe geam, fumand “lejer, cu 10 la ora”.

E una sa te imbraci de fite si alta sa te imbraci cu stil. Trebuie sa recunoastem, din pacate, ca si stilul si fitele costa, si poate sa fie foarte derutant pentru unii dintre noi care-i care. Adevarata arta e sa stii sa faci diferenta. Nu, chiar nu e o problema ca ai un ceas de firma care valoreaza cat salariul minim pe economie! Problema e atunci cand ceasul ala e cu zale multe colorate, mult prea mare pentru mana ta si scrie mare “Gucci”. Si nu e o problema nici ca tu nu conduci o masina romaneasca. Daca ai luat-o pe banii tai, se scuza chiar si boxele facute pe comanda.

Aparentele nu inseala. Sunt coperta care-ti spune daca vrei sa deschizi cartea sau nu. Si la un moment dat o sa invatam asta.  Sunt lucruri de care-ti dai seama, chiar daca n-o sa recunosti nimanui niciodata.  Poate nici nu trebuie…

DA! Haina face pe om! Pentru ca dincolo de haina esti tu. Dincolo de culori e o stare si dincolo de stil e o atitudine!


The Art of Getting By

“Today is the first day of the rest of your life!”. – I always loved that quote. Never really realized how true it was, though…

Today I’ll smile and say “I’m fine!”. I’ll go out, have coffee, sleep less, wake up early, put my make-up on, get pretty, wear red shoes and red lipstick and a red bag. And I’ll wear a smile along with the dark sunglasses. It won’t be fake, it won’t be sad, it’ll just be mine. Because “happy girls are the prettiest girls”. Audrey Hepburn once said that. I believe it.

Someone once told me that “we are a creation of our past”. Someone smart. Someone I loved.

So if there’s one good thing about me, it’s that I only make the same mistake once. I’ll learn, I’ll adjust, I’ll prove that the person I am now is a better one. A more mature one. A happier one. I’ll make my past count so then I can say “I owe you one”.

I’ll make new memories, new pictures, meet new people, I’ll be surprised, I’ll laugh and I’ll cry and I’ll be happy and sad but at the end of the day it would have been a good day. A new day. I’ll be a good friend, I’ll talk more, listen more, give and ask for advice. I’ll keep being painfully honest and not because some people deserve it, but because it’s in their best interest.

I’ll wear more dresses and skirts and high heels and lace and satin when I go to bed and  in the morning, not because someone is next to me, but because it’s good to feel pretty. I’ll paint my nails red and blue and french and over again, I’ll light candles and buy flowers, because when you buy them it’s not because you’re sad, but because it’s nice to always have flowers and a scented room.

I’ll get by. And not one day at a time, but gracefully and happily and enjoying the days of my life. Not alone, not sad, but with a lot of friends and morning coffees and talk and laughter.

And I’ll smile, because I have everything to smile about. I’ll be the prettiest girl ever!




Not today

Don’t ask me “how are you?”. Don’t make me smile a fake smile and say “I’m fine”. Because I’m not, really.

When you believe in something, you fight. Fight with all your heart, your words, and if words are not enough, use your nails and your teeth. You have to be strong to get through a storm, and weak people stay down. You wanna know why? Because they don’t fight hard enough. You don’t just come to say “I’m afraid”, you face things head on and you deal with them.

You make decisions, you take actions, you deal with the consequences. Because every action has a reaction and you better believe Newton when he says “It’s equal in strength and opposite in direction”. You better not do something that’s gonna bring you down when it bounces back.

There’s a say that “good things come to those who wait”. I believe waiting is when you have something to hope for. When you tell yourself there’s a chance that your wait will not be in vain. That’ll be worth it. Waiting for a bus, or waiting for food to be served, or waiting for rain to come on a hot day. So I guess I don’t much believe in waiting.

I believe in taking chances, taking the wrong turn just to see where it’ll get you, I believe in risk and emotion and “hey, let’s get the hell out of here and go to the middle of freaking nowhere!”. I believe in love and the kind of compromise that comes from the heart.

I wish I could believe in second chances. To think that things are not going to take the same wrong turn twice. Or at least that they’ll take a different wrong turn. At least then you have something else to fight for and another challenge ahead. I used to think that everything can be overcome with love and a smile and make-up sex, and that everything looks brighter in the light of day. Cats are always blacker at night.

Take a breath. Think. Prioritize. These are the only important things you need to do in your life. Beside eating chips and crying your eyes out to some corny movie. Breathe slowly, smell the flowers, take a chance, risk it all for nothing, and then smile. Think about the good things and the bad things, and balance them out and then do it again until they add up to more than zero. Prioritize, make concessions, and then make some more, until you get what you want. Fight, fight for what you want, or you don’t want it bad enough. And you’re weak. Don’t care. What matters what others say, nothing matters more than what’s in your heart, not even what’s on your mind.

Today, I’m gonna let it all go. I won’t believe, I won’t feel, I’ll go against the current as hard as I can, just to keep me occupied. I don’t make sacrifices, and I don’t care, and I don’t want to think. NOT TODAY!

Maybe that’s just me…

…But I don’t like chocolate. I love pizza and McDonald’s, and I love eating out. I can’t cook. I think kitchens are good for coffee in the morning. Not that I drink much of that, either. It’s more the smell of fresh coffee that draws me in.

I like going out. A lot. I love clubs and music and dancing. And karaoke. Watching other people get embarrassed. I like tequila and lemon, combined, preferably. I like loud bars and crowded streets and wondering in the middle of the night. I like meeting some weird stranger and passing by. I like cars and noises and cab drivers that never shut up. I love the city at night and city lights at Christmas.

I like surprises. The kind that don’t cost, but sweep you off your feet. Like someone handing you a bouquet of flowers in a rush and then leaving you with a “thank you” unsaid. Like being kissed in the middle of a movie, just because the characters did it. Or like waking up with a rose on your pillow, and no one there.

I like “good mornings”, and I like the smile when it’s said right. I like to eat in bed. Chips and natchos and sauce and anything else crunchy that’ll go with a movie. I love to sleep and afford to sleep some more on my day off. I love making love to music and candles and drinking champagne in the bathtub.

I’m spoiled, and selfish and demanding. I make mistakes, and for some of them I’m not even sorry. I like not having to explain myself and sometimes I like explanations. I talk way more than I should and sometimes I say a lot of crap. Sometimes I don’t talk at all and some things I never say. I’m a brat, and I’m proud of it.

I have memories and gifts and rings and withered flowers that I hold on to and still wear. I have friends and people dear to me that I don’t want to let go. I remember every kiss of every ex boyfriend I ever had. I remember what people wore on random ocasions, or what they said one time, or more. I have flashbacks or I try to remember the things I don’t want to forget. Sometimes I feel or think things I don’t say out loud and I don’t believe that makes me hypocritical.

I rarely lie, but when I do, I have a reason. I hate being lied to, but when I am, I listen to the whys. I’ve probably meant less than half the mean things I ever said in my life, but who will ever tell which? I’m sarcastic, ironical, bitchy and snappy and each time I am I feel perfectly entitled to.

I don’t believe in second chances. When you blow it once, you’re bound to do it again.

…But hey…. Maybe that’s just me!

Punct si virgula

Eu am invatat la scoala ca dupa punct (.) se scrie cu litera mare. Am invatat despre liniute (-) si despre cratime (-), si despre apostrof (‘) (din ala scris, nu figurat). Stiu, pe cuvant ca stiu, ce face fiecare si unde se pune. Stiu sa despart in silabe (da’ dupa DOOMul ala vechi), sa impart o fraza in propozitii si dup-aia sa le zic si pe nume. La propozitii.

Am invatat despre cuvinte, despre cum se cheama, cum se spun, cui se spun si de ce. Am invatat diferenta dintre “care” si “pe care”, drept pentru care nu le incurc niciodata. Stiu ca “deci” se pune doar inaintea unei concluzii, iar daca vezi doua puncte (:), clar urmeaza ceva. Punctele de suspensie sunt de fapt trei, nu doua, nu patru, si oricat de ciudat ar suna, “ei era sa cada” este corect.

Si totusi vad, citesc, aud, o limba romana care nu-mi place, care ma sacaie, ma deranjeaza, ma enerveaza, ma face sa nu mai citesc, sa nu vreau sa mai aud si sa plec de acolo de unde vad mari genii in viata care habar n-au sa lege o fraza, dar epateaza de atata engleza. Ne grabim, nu stim sa apasam un shift ca sa punem litera aia mare (mama ei de tasta si de litera), ne burzuluim incolo si-n coace ca noua ne plac oamenii destepti si ca n-avem ce discuta cu aia mai prosti care nu stiu sa scrie si sa citeasca. Sau nu ne grabim, dar nu stim, si nici nu vrem sa invatam, iar cand ni se atrage atentia il facem p-ala din fata noastra arogant. “Bine, bah, ca le stii tu pe toate!”. Pai le stiu! Pentru ca i-am ascultat pe altii, da-i-ar Dumnezeu sanatate profei de romana! Si nu numai!

Cred asa: ca inainte de toate, trebuie sa stim sa ne vorbim limba. Asa ca, inainte sa va puneti prin CV alte 20, intrebati-va daca stiti sa discutati corect si coerent in una singura. Si apoi mai invatati una. Si inca una. Si mai opriti-va la un moment dat, ca nu-i nimeni vreun Einstein. Mai cred ca o parere prost exprimata, oricat de bun mesaj ar transmite, e nula. D-alea cu “oamenii care i-am vazut erau destepti” refuz sa mai ascult. Si cred ca “lasa, nu mai tin cont acu’ nici de virgula, nici de cratima, ca doar-s pe mess” e o porcarie ce s-a impus mai mult decat ar fi trebuit vreodata si ca ar trebui sa ne punem capu’ pe umeri o data si sa le folosim mai des. Ca o sa uitam de ele, si ajungem, vorb-aia la bac, la un interviu, la un test, si-or sa se uite aia ca prostii la “ce lucrare academica” ai predat tu.

Sunt aroganta. Da. Sunt infumurata. Da. Astea doua inseamna cam acelasi lucru. Da. Cunosc si sinonimele. Trageti aer in piept si ziceti dupa mine: “punct si de la capat”.

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