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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcCR3c_fyp7ImA9WhRaFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538</id><updated>2012-02-16T17:44:26.947-08:00</updated><title>Octavian CUCOLEA</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/CucoleaOctavian" /><feedburner:info uri="cucoleaoctavian" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMMSHg7eCp7ImA9WhZWGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-2589419518004285118</id><published>2011-05-19T21:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-19T21:41:29.600-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-19T21:41:29.600-07:00</app:edited><title>The long story - short ( sau Poveste cu final neasteptat )</title><content type="html">A fost odata ca ni&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-2589419518004285118?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qFpwxyxQJxyVTLLDU2MXzcIul3w/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qFpwxyxQJxyVTLLDU2MXzcIul3w/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qFpwxyxQJxyVTLLDU2MXzcIul3w/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/qFpwxyxQJxyVTLLDU2MXzcIul3w/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/h7_y1N_BVyo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/2589419518004285118/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2011/05/long-story-short-sau-poveste-cu-final.html#comment-form" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/2589419518004285118?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/2589419518004285118?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/h7_y1N_BVyo/long-story-short-sau-poveste-cu-final.html" title="The long story - short ( sau Poveste cu final neasteptat )" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2011/05/long-story-short-sau-poveste-cu-final.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0AERng8cCp7ImA9Wx9VEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-3156725288115179912</id><published>2011-01-26T14:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-26T14:08:27.678-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-26T14:08:27.678-08:00</app:edited><title>Surviving Bear Grylls (sau Tehnici esentiale anti-foame)</title><content type="html">&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Ma uitam azi la show-ul "Tehnici esentiale de supravietuire" cu Bear Grylls de pe Discovery Channel si in episodul de azi incearca o supravietuire extrema in Turcia. Desi serialul e putin tras de par in ceea ce priveste modul in care ajungi sa fii "supravietuitor", personajul e savuros prin comportamentul aproape natural de adevarat "naufragiat" cu o echipa de filmare dupa el.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Revenind la episodul de azi. Inceputul este deplasat pentru un om obisnuit care nu e dornic de aventuri extreme: Bear este parasutat pe varful unui munte din Turcia si aterizeaza la punct fix intr-un lac de mica adancime ori acolo nu poti ajunge ca "naufragiat" decat in doua moduri - fie carat de un cataclism natural si deci mort sau prin prabusirea avionului de linie caz in care nu am auzit nici o companie sa ofere 300 de parasute pentru pasageri in caz de urgenta.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Trecand peste inceput, este un lait-motiv (si nu light-motiv, ca asta are zahar) al fiecarui episod ca Bear sa confectioneze sau sa construiasca cate o chestie. Azi si-a fabricat o pluta facuta din cateva lemne, crengi si parapanta. Recunosc ca ceea ce a iesit din mainile lui a fost un produs destul de bun si chiar avea si aspect estetic. Si a facut asta pentru ca nu avea hrana. Ei, si ma gandeam asa, intr-o doara: Oare ce ar fi in stare sa faca Bear Grylls daca ar primi mancare? Si am ajuns la urmatoarea concluzie:&lt;br /&gt;
1. Pentru un baton de ciocolata ar fi pus si cabina la pluta;&lt;br /&gt;
2. Pentru un castron de bors i-ar fi pus si motor cu elice si ar fi fost pluta cu motor;&lt;br /&gt;
3. Pentru un pui fript la cuptor i-ar fi pus coada si elice si ar fi facut elicopter.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Totusi interesant ar fi de facut inca un serial despre cum reuseste familia lui sa supravietuiasca in casa alaturi de el, pentru ca nu pot sa imi inchipui ca este tocmai o viata usoara: mobilierul din casa trebuie sa fi fost facut din crengile copacilor din fata casei, patul ar trebui sa fie mereu atarnat intre lustrele din tavan, meniul la masa ar fi compus (sau mai bine zis descompus) din ceea ce misca prin si pe sub casa iar un gratar in familie ar fi o aventura de aprins focul cu betele sau cu piatra de cremene.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; In mare ma declar un admirator al serialului pentru simplu fapt ca nu am mai vazut pana acum nici un om care sa manance atatea chestii ciudate si care sa nu ii vina inapoi. In ciuda ironiilor, serialul este folositor. Acusi. Trust me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-3156725288115179912?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WAwyKW09py7IAruxQd2H8VHrK54/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/WAwyKW09py7IAruxQd2H8VHrK54/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/9LylhAEogBE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/3156725288115179912/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2011/01/surviving-bear-grylls-sau-tehnici.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/3156725288115179912?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/3156725288115179912?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/9LylhAEogBE/surviving-bear-grylls-sau-tehnici.html" title="Surviving Bear Grylls (sau Tehnici esentiale anti-foame)" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2011/01/surviving-bear-grylls-sau-tehnici.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkYBSX4_fip7ImA9Wx9QF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-2078932465073147478</id><published>2010-12-30T21:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T21:42:38.046-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-30T21:42:38.046-08:00</app:edited><title>2011 (sau Ur(l)atura mea)</title><content type="html">&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Aho, aho de Anul Nou&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; S-a dus anul cu zerou&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Vine 2011 de la spate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Cu zilele lui, cu toate.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Si-a fost anul ce s-a dus&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Cu niscaiva griji-n plus,&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Dar si anul care vine&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Nu da semne de mai bine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; A fost anul cu taieri&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Cu reduceri si scaderi.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; A fost anul plin de minus&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Doar nervii au stat pe plus.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; 2010 sa-l uitam usor,&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Si sa privim spre viitor&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Sa avem doar sanatate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Impliniri si bunatate!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; 2011 sa ne-aduca&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Bucuriile carca,&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Cu cate-un ban in buzunar&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Leu, euro sau chiar dolar.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Si acum in incheiere&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Sa avem cu toti putere&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Sa il trecem tot cu bine&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Si pe anul care vine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; 2011-n poarta bate&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; La multi ani si sanatate.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Ia sunati din clopotai&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Si pocniti din bice mai&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Hai, hai!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Cei care au apreciat uratura si doresc sa depuna numerar, o pot face in contul RO898989898989 deschis la Banca de Ovule Omar Haisam, filiala Bagdad, pe numele nesemnatului.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-2078932465073147478?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/72nZv4adSXN1vScuGU6mHhO2sXI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/72nZv4adSXN1vScuGU6mHhO2sXI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/VWJUb6tnAUs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/2078932465073147478/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/12/2011-sau-urlatura-mea.html#comment-form" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/2078932465073147478?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/2078932465073147478?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/VWJUb6tnAUs/2011-sau-urlatura-mea.html" title="2011 (sau Ur(l)atura mea)" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/12/2011-sau-urlatura-mea.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0ABQXo7cCp7ImA9Wx9QF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-2934925988399808979</id><published>2010-12-30T06:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-30T06:35:50.408-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-30T06:35:50.408-08:00</app:edited><title>Happy New Old Year (sau Ce a fost si ce va sa vina)</title><content type="html">&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; E 30 decembrie 2010. Penultima zi din an. Tragem linie si punem cap la cap implinirile sau&amp;nbsp;dezamagirile. Conform opiniei generale 2010 a fost un an de cacat (scuzati cuvantul "an"). A fost anul in care cei de la putere au intrat cu topoarele in ceea ce inseamna remuneratie si au&amp;nbsp;taiat cat au putut, de la unii mai mult de la altii mai putin. A fost si anul in care opozitia&amp;nbsp;si puterea au dovedit faptul ca apartin unei clase politice de nivel inferior iar pentru ei&amp;nbsp;sintagma "VOX POPULI, VOX DEI" e doar un citat prost dintr-o limba moarta. A fost anul in care&amp;nbsp;oamenii mai mult sau mai putin intregi la minte au recurs la gesturi fatale in incercarea de a&amp;nbsp;schimba ceva sau macar de a atrage atentia asupra problemelor. FLASH! FLASH! FLASH! Nu s-a&amp;nbsp;schimbat nici un rahat! Totul e la fel! FLASH! FLASH! FLASH!&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; In 2010 am putut observa cum lumea se schimba, cum unii uita sa fie oameni. Am vazut cum unora&amp;nbsp;le pasa doar de burta lor si iti sunt prieteni atata timp cat le servesti interesele. Pe de alta&amp;nbsp;parte mi-am dat seama cine sunt prietenii adevarati si in cine pot sa am incredere, cine este&amp;nbsp;alaturi de tine cand ai nevoie si cine iti da cu piciorul atunci cand te doare. Am vazut multe&amp;nbsp;frunti incruntate de grija, multi pumni stransi a razbunare si multi dinti inclestati din manie.&amp;nbsp;Prea multe griji pentru prea putini oameni si prea multi oameni ranjind la necazul altuia.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; 2010 a fost un an greu si pentru mine. A fost un an in care am invatat ce inseamna sa stai la coada la Agentia Judeteana de Ocupare a Fortei de Munca. Am invatat ca somajul vine intre 16 si 25 ale lunii si daca nu te prezinti la viza in ziua in care esti programat risti sa te uiti in gol dupa postas. A fost un an in care banii au capatat o alta valoare si am invatat cum sa ii planific mai bine. In 2010 am avut parte si de bucurii dar si de lacrimi, de zambete si de palme, dar asa iti arata viata ca ea are un curs de urmat si nu tot timpul este lin sau anevoios.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; 2010. Un an. La fel ca 2009 sau ca 2008 doar cu ceva griji in plus. Trece si nu se mai&amp;nbsp;intoarce. Asa bun sau rau cum a fost el, se duce si vine 2011. Va fi un an ca si 2010 si ceva&amp;nbsp;griji in plus, cu mai putine zile libere legale in cursul saptamanii si cu inca o zi de nastere&amp;nbsp;in viata fiecaruia dintre noi. In rest totul e la fel. La multi ani!!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-2934925988399808979?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YyhN8iaEi8y_PQdSCtw5vMLkrYE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YyhN8iaEi8y_PQdSCtw5vMLkrYE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/LJntxrMx9bM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/2934925988399808979/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/12/happy-new-old-year-sau-ce-fost-si-ce-va.html#comment-form" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/2934925988399808979?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/2934925988399808979?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/LJntxrMx9bM/happy-new-old-year-sau-ce-fost-si-ce-va.html" title="Happy New Old Year (sau Ce a fost si ce va sa vina)" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/12/happy-new-old-year-sau-ce-fost-si-ce-va.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cCQXw4cCp7ImA9Wx9QFUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-6294527986748005449</id><published>2010-12-28T10:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-28T10:31:00.238-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-28T10:31:00.238-08:00</app:edited><title>The New Old (sau Votati pentru reconversia unei ruine comuniste)</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VQ30Otr_iog/TRorz0vYrsI/AAAAAAAAAFA/1tnBwObY-Bk/s1600/id2769_img2_010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VQ30Otr_iog/TRorz0vYrsI/AAAAAAAAAFA/1tnBwObY-Bk/s320/id2769_img2_010.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Text:&amp;nbsp;&lt;a class="bodysubtext" href="http://www.monitorulneamt.ro/"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Monitorul de Neamt&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;h3&gt;• proiectul unui tînăr arhitect din Piatra Neamt, ce vizează Fabrica  de Ciment Bicaz, participă la un concurs international la Florenta si  are nevoie de voturile dumneavoastră • trebuie accesat site-ul -  &amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.florence-expo.com/show/project.asp?idut=2769"&gt;http://www.florence-expo.com/show/project.asp?idut=2769&lt;/a&gt; &amp;nbsp;. • printre  sustinătorii proiectului se află inginerul Mihai Rohan, presedintele CA  al Carpatcement Holding • intentia lui Laurian Ghinitoiu este să  transforme ruinele fostului combinat într-un obiectiv turistic •&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Arhitectul pietrean Laurian Ghinitoiu s-a tinut de promisiunea anuntată  public în urmă cu mai bine de o lună prin intermediul Monitorului,  privind înscrierea sa la concursul international de proiecte  arhitecturale de la Florenta. Reamintim faptul că tema propusă de către  tînărul arhitect jurizării de specialitate constituie lucrarea sa de  licentă si este intitulată „Muzeu tehnic, reconversie - Fabrica de  Ciment Bicaz“. Pentru a fi eligibilă la unul din premii, într-o primă  etapă trebuie ca proiectul tînărului concurent să adune din partea  publicului virtual cît mai multe voturi. Pentru asta, cine doreste să se  implice în sustinerea sa poate accesa site-ul - &lt;a href="http://www.florence-expo.com/show/project.asp?idut=2769"&gt;http://www.florence-expo.com/show/project.asp?idut=2769&lt;/a&gt;.  Legat de această problemă, demnă de apreciat este initiativa  inginerului Mihai Rohan, presedintele Consiliului de Administratie al  Carpatcement Holding România, care în urmă cu cîteva zile a trimis  tuturor salariatilor din sistem un mail prin care le-a solicitat  sustinerea printr-un vot a concurentului Ghinitoiu. „Stimati colegi!  Tînărul si proaspătul absolvent al Facultătii de Arhitectură, Laurian  Ghinitoiu, participă la festivalul de la Florenta cu lucrarea sa de  diplomă (care a primit singura notă de 10 acordată), intitulată „Cement  Factory Reconversion (reconversia fostei fabrici de ciment de la Bicaz  într-un muzeu contemporan). &amp;nbsp;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;h3&gt;&lt;/h3&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-6294527986748005449?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HmguG2IDZMQ1zv7-zd9w3b5i770/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HmguG2IDZMQ1zv7-zd9w3b5i770/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HmguG2IDZMQ1zv7-zd9w3b5i770/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/HmguG2IDZMQ1zv7-zd9w3b5i770/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/0FhbWCwoRPc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/6294527986748005449/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/12/new-old-sau-votati-pentru-reconversia.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/6294527986748005449?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/6294527986748005449?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/0FhbWCwoRPc/new-old-sau-votati-pentru-reconversia.html" title="The New Old (sau Votati pentru reconversia unei ruine comuniste)" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VQ30Otr_iog/TRorz0vYrsI/AAAAAAAAAFA/1tnBwObY-Bk/s72-c/id2769_img2_010.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/12/new-old-sau-votati-pentru-reconversia.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUHRnY_eip7ImA9Wx9SGEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-6066846428053162230</id><published>2010-12-08T14:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T14:10:37.842-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-08T14:10:37.842-08:00</app:edited><title>Confessions (sau Marturiile unui om beat)</title><content type="html">&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Nu e nimic mai &amp;nbsp;aiurea decat sa fii pus in fata unei decizii ce trebuie sa o iei si din cauza slabiciunii umane refuzi sa o iei in stare lucida. Refugiul tau este in alcool, singura ta consolare in momente dificile. Stai ca prostul in fata budei incercand sa te pisi coerent si fara sa uzi colacul intr-o ultima incercare de a dovedi ca nu esti beat. Viata ta e un nimic si te simti ca un rahat. Te agati de orice dovada a faptului ca odata ai fost cineva, incerci sa iti pastrezi demnitatea.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Ai vrea ca totul sa se termine in clipa urmatoare ca sa nu faci si mai multa lume sa sufere. Stai pe marginea balconului cu paharul de bautura in mana si sorbi incet. Nu ti se pare corect sa pleci din lume fara a iti incheia socotelile cu ceilalti dar cu cat zabovesti mai mult in aceasta lume cu atat te simti mai dator fata de cei din jurul tau sa iti iei macar ramas bun. Toata incercrea ta de a parea un om fara griji nu e decat o fatada pe care prietenii o simt si incerca sa te ajute.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Ai vrea sa poti sa le arati cine esti cu adevarat si sa lasi lacrimile sa rabufneasca. Dar ce fel de exemplu ai mai fi daca ei ar sti ca si tu ai slabiciunile tale. Ai vrea sa plangi, ai vrea sa iti urli durerea ta si disperarea dar asta nu ar face din tine decat un om slab. Si tu nu vrei asta. Vrei ca lumea sa te priveasca si sa te considere un totem al indiferentei, desi in tine se duce o lupta grea intre iertare si pedeapsa.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Iti pare rau ca nu ai avut ocazia sa faci lucrurile asa cum trebuie si poate iti va parea rau maine dimineata cand vei citi randurile scrise la betie si iti vei da seama ca ai aberat. Tot ce iti doresi nu este decat iubire in lume si speranta ca intr-o zi va fi mai bine. (scuze daca textul nu este de o coerenta exceptionala dar norii negri si tulburi ai betiei nu te indeamna decat la cugetari nefaste.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Refuz sa fac un final textului pentru ca probbil finalul e mai mult decat un text asa ca &amp;nbsp;...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-6066846428053162230?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2HfGWhBPsT33cc0yF-YnBfESFG0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2HfGWhBPsT33cc0yF-YnBfESFG0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2HfGWhBPsT33cc0yF-YnBfESFG0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2HfGWhBPsT33cc0yF-YnBfESFG0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/HTi01aZRVPw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/6066846428053162230/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/12/confessions-sau-marturiile-unui-om-beat.html#comment-form" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/6066846428053162230?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/6066846428053162230?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/HTi01aZRVPw/confessions-sau-marturiile-unui-om-beat.html" title="Confessions (sau Marturiile unui om beat)" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/12/confessions-sau-marturiile-unui-om-beat.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkQHQnYzcCp7ImA9Wx9SFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-772664168451822961</id><published>2010-12-06T07:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-06T07:45:33.888-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-06T07:45:33.888-08:00</app:edited><title>Letter to Santa (sau Cum sa il termini pe Mos Craciun)</title><content type="html">&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Dragâ Mos Craciun&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Sâ stii ca am fost baiat cuminti in anul cari a trecut. Dupâ cum stii am ramas fara job dar am&amp;nbsp;reusit sâ mã abtin sâ imi gãsãsc ceva intri timp. Am invãtat sâ mãnânc orez cu carni si sã imi&amp;nbsp;placã brocoli. Acum is la capitolu urzâci si imi dau tãtã silinta. Am invatat sâ fac si curat&amp;nbsp;prin casa disi nu la fel de des pe cat fac mizerie. Asa cum am promis, m-am lãsat si di fumat.&amp;nbsp;Pentru a 35-a oara si acum incerc pe-a 36-a. Nu mai dau muzicâ la fel de tare asa cum o faceam&amp;nbsp;anu tricut si vecinu de la 2 etaje mai in jos imi este recunoscator. Am renuntat chiar sâ mai si&amp;nbsp;injur. Acu jesticulez.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Avand in vederi tãti aspectele aiestea ma consider pi deplin indreptatit sâ primesc urmatoarele cadouri:&lt;br /&gt;
1 bucatã Vw pfaitãn&lt;br /&gt;
1 bucatã Lamburghini si un Bugati veiron&lt;br /&gt;
2 bucate casâ: una la mari si una la munti&lt;br /&gt;
2 bucate a câti una bucatã milion di euroi si una bucata milion di dolari&lt;br /&gt;
1 bucatâ lant di aur cu 250 de zale tot din aur si un ghiul di jmecher tot din aur dinala roscat di sâ puni pi casâ&lt;br /&gt;
1 bucata pereche adidasi di porc ca am vazut la macelarii si vreau sa port la treningu meu mov&lt;br /&gt;
1 bucata gajicâ blonda si desteaptâ si una bucata gajicâ brunetâ da proastâ sa li arat la fraieri ca si poate si insvers.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Si daca tãti aiestea ti sor pare cam scumpi atunci poti sa imi dai mai multâ minti ca sa pricep&amp;nbsp;si eu ci zaci Brams si cu Subert in simfoniile lor acolosa, ca nu pre samãnâ cu manelili lu Adi&amp;nbsp;Copchilu Oala Minuni si nici cu ali lu Vali Val Vartej. Desi daca stau eu un pic si ma scarchin&amp;nbsp;in cur si apoi miros si pi urma ma scurm in urechi cu cheia di la masina si sterg di pantaloni,&amp;nbsp;creca mai ieftin iesi cu primili.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Pi eS 1: Si mai vreau una bucatâ brad cu miros di portocali.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Pi eS 2: Si mai am nevoi di 20 di bucati di portocali cu miros di brad cu miros di portocali.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;                                                              &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Semnat Al tau forever, IO!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-772664168451822961?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gL7jvUcgaBMvAHrY3hFAMGg2o_E/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gL7jvUcgaBMvAHrY3hFAMGg2o_E/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/-L60Y7qR2jc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/772664168451822961/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/12/letter-to-santa-sau-cum-sa-il-termini.html#comment-form" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/772664168451822961?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/772664168451822961?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/-L60Y7qR2jc/letter-to-santa-sau-cum-sa-il-termini.html" title="Letter to Santa (sau Cum sa il termini pe Mos Craciun)" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/12/letter-to-santa-sau-cum-sa-il-termini.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEICRX04eSp7ImA9Wx9TFkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-7222928864859201840</id><published>2010-11-24T16:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-24T16:56:04.331-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-24T16:56:04.331-08:00</app:edited><title>It's time ( sau Nu am cuvinte ... )</title><content type="html">&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Eu: "Alo! Da ce faci? Dormi?"&lt;br /&gt;
El: "Nu, nu dorm. Sunt la munca."&lt;br /&gt;
Eu: "Voiam sa vad ce faci. Iesi?"&lt;br /&gt;
El: "Nu stiu. Vorbim mai tarziu. Da? Si nu uita de matura din balcon si ciocolata. Ha ha ha ha!"&lt;br /&gt;
Eu: "Da. Ha ha ha ha ha. Hai pa!"&lt;br /&gt;
El: "Ha ha ha ha. Pa!"&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; El: "Aloooooo!! Da ci faci? Dooormmi?"&lt;br /&gt;
Eu: "Normal. E doua noaptea. Cam asta se face la orele astea."&lt;br /&gt;
El: "Astea-s detalii de amanunt. Da eu is beat."&lt;br /&gt;
Eu: "Ha ha ha ha ha."&lt;br /&gt;
El: "Ha ha ha ha ha."&lt;br /&gt;
Eu: "Ha ha ha, hai pa!"&lt;br /&gt;
El: "Hai pa! Da tot beat sunt! Ha ha ha ha."&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Eu: "Aloo. Iar dormi? Numai asta stii sa faci!"&lt;br /&gt;
El: "Nu, nu dorm. Sunt la volan. Stii, a nascut sora-mea! Are fetita."&lt;br /&gt;
Eu: "Esti unchi! Incepi sa imbatranesti. Tataie!"&lt;br /&gt;
El: "Da, dar macar nu o sa fiu un mosneag afurisit ca tine. Ha ha ha ha ha!"&lt;br /&gt;
Eu: "Ha ha ha ha ha. Pa!"&lt;br /&gt;
El: "Vorbim. Pa. Ha ha ha ha!"&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Ziua de ieri as fi vrut sa fie peste zeci de ani.&lt;br /&gt;
El: "Alo. Buna Octav."&lt;br /&gt;
Eu: "Condoleante pentru mama ta ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-7222928864859201840?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BPMtwRCsV6Y_2lSqd_6lCU4Mqt0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BPMtwRCsV6Y_2lSqd_6lCU4Mqt0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/E3p-TX3D4ew" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/7222928864859201840/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/11/its-time-sau-nu-am-cuvinte.html#comment-form" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/7222928864859201840?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/7222928864859201840?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/E3p-TX3D4ew/its-time-sau-nu-am-cuvinte.html" title="It's time ( sau Nu am cuvinte ... )" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/11/its-time-sau-nu-am-cuvinte.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck4ARXs-cCp7ImA9Wx9TFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-3847143648082200776</id><published>2010-11-22T21:41:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T21:42:24.558-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-22T21:42:24.558-08:00</app:edited><title>White December (sau Luna bucuriei)</title><content type="html">&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Au mai ramas 7 zile! Da, doar o saptamana ne mai desparte de cea mai frumoasa luna a anului, luna cadourilor, a colindelor si a vinului fiert, luna zambetelor si probabil luna in care visam cu ochii deschisi mai mult decat o facem in tot restul anului. Vine Decembrie! Fie ca suntem in diferite zone ale globului si unii au parte de zapada iar altii de soare torid, Decembrie este in mod sigur luna ce aduce caldura in suflet si reuseste sa ne aduca un suras indiferent de starea nostra de spirit.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Pregatirile au inceput si deja orasele se imbraca in decoratii de sarbatoare. Luminitele isi iau locul facand sfat care si cum sa lumineze mai frumos si in culori cat mai vii iar brazii asteapta sa fie impodobiti cu ghirlande si globuri. Magazinele se umplu de freamat in asteptarea doritorilor de cadouri iar copii isi pregatesc colindele, casele intra in curatenia de dinaintea sarbatorilor iar toata lumea se schimba in asteptarea Craciunului.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Freamat se aude si de la Polul Nord unde Mos Craciun isi citeste scrisorile primite in tot timpul anului, verificand cumintenia fiecaruia dintre noi si pregatindu-ne cadourile. Ajutoarele Mosului intra in verva umplerii sacului cu cadouri, a pregatirii saniei si tuturor celor necesare pentru cea mai lunga calatorie a anului in cea mai frumoasa noapte. Doamna Craciun spala costumul lui Craciun si il mai peticeste pe ici pe colo pentru ca Mosul sa aiba din nou cea mai frumoasa tinuita din toate timpurile. Renii la randul lor isi ingrijesc cornitele si isi reiau antrenamentele pentru a pierde din burtile facute peste an si isi asteapta cu bucurie hamurile cu zurgalai.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Chiar daca nu vom avea posibilitatea sa cumparam cadouri tuturor cunoscutilor nostri, putem oferi totusi cel mai frumos si mai de pret cadou al tuturor timpurilor: UN ZAMBET PLIN DE CALDURA SI O URARE DE BINE. Decembrie Fericit tuturor!!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G4dzXig_f_aTDztrIo7rY0BPvr0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/G4dzXig_f_aTDztrIo7rY0BPvr0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/xIptTASlh1k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/3847143648082200776/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/11/au-mai-ramas-7-zile-da-doar-o-saptamana.html#comment-form" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/3847143648082200776?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/3847143648082200776?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/xIptTASlh1k/au-mai-ramas-7-zile-da-doar-o-saptamana.html" title="White December (sau Luna bucuriei)" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/11/au-mai-ramas-7-zile-da-doar-o-saptamana.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkAHQH06eSp7ImA9Wx5bEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-3533133883102644145</id><published>2010-10-26T07:52:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-26T07:52:11.311-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-26T07:52:11.311-07:00</app:edited><title>Love (sau De ce iubim?)</title><content type="html">&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Iubim pentru ca ne place. Este sentimentul care te poarta prin vise, te duce in locuri in care fizic este imposibil sa ajungi vreodata. Te face sa privesti soarele si sa te bucuri de caldura lui sau sa stai nopti la rand cu ochii spre cer si sa privesti stelele ca si cum sunt prietenii tai tacuti de ani de zile. Iubesti timpul care trece si lasa in urma lui amintiri, prietenii, sperante si vise. Iubim aerul si apa, vantul si ploaia, zapada si nisipul. Iubim parintii chiar daca nu sunt tot timpul asa cum ar trebui sa fie si iubim parul lor ce devine alb iar privirea lor tot mai ratacita.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Iubim fizic persoana de langa noi. Iubim sa stam ore intregi imbratisati, sa privim in ochii celuilalt si sa simtim rasuflarea greoaie si fierbinte. Iubim sa ne jucam cu degetele in palma celuilalt si sa visam la personaje de basm stand cu ochii atintiti spre tavanul gol. Iubim cand zambim si cand surade, cand ne ascundem sau cand face vreo tampenie. Tot universul este in acele momente numai al nostru si timpul bate in ritm adormit, clipele devenind ore iar dragostea te umple in toata fiinta prin golul lasat in stomac. Adoram sa soptim lucruri la ureche si sa ascultam vorbe dulci. Sa asteptam ore in fata ferestrei de chat cu ochii fixati la cursorul care palpaie in speranta unui raspuns. Iubim sa fim indragostiti si sa fim iubiti.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Iubim pentru ca ne doare. Iubim atunci cand traim sentimente ascunse infipte dureros in sufletul nostru pentru ca fiinta iubita gaseste fericirea in alta parte. Iubim sa ne chinuim pe noi insine si sa sacrificam bucuria noastra pentru a lasa loc bucuriei celuilalt. Iubim atunci cand ne doare lacrima noastra varsata pentru zambetul celuilalt, si atunci iubim sa uram tot ceea ce ne inconjoara. Iubim sa privim fotgrafia cu noi impreuna, sa ne intrebam de ce soarta nu a fost alta si de ce este o iubire imposibila.Ne place sa suferim sau sa nu putem iubi pe fata.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Si totusi DE CE IUBIM?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/gfsgXJQ0ebU?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=ro_RO"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/gfsgXJQ0ebU?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=ro_RO" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-3533133883102644145?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; 14 Mai 1983. Vine si mult asteptatul mesaj de confirmare de la &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Lifebook&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: &lt;strong&gt;Your user and account&amp;nbsp;has been created&lt;/strong&gt;. Nerabdatori baga datele si pe la orele 14:00 apasa &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;LOG IN&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Userul&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt; este &lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On line&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&amp;nbsp;si pregatit sa adauge noi informatii, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Friends&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; noi si sa adune cat mai multe &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Like&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;-uri pe tot&amp;nbsp;parcursul activitatii. Asa se face ca primele informatii adaugate a fost cea de la &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Birthday&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;:&amp;nbsp;14.05.1983 cat si cea de la &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Hometown&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: Piatra Neamt si totodata se face si primul &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;upload&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; la&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Photos&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Bucurie mare cu &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Ping Reply&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; mic pentru vreo 3 luni cand &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;userul&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Gheorghita primeste un&amp;nbsp;mesaj trist: &lt;strong&gt;Connection reset by God. Failed to reconnect&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Userul&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Octavian creste si la fel si profilul lui. Apar primele &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Add Request&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;-uri si primii&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Friends&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Incepe sa adune primele &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Like&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;-uri, devine &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Interested in&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;girls&lt;/strong&gt; si &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Looking for&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Friendship&lt;/strong&gt;.&amp;nbsp;I se stabileste si &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Religious Views&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: &lt;strong&gt;Orthodox&lt;/strong&gt; iar &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Contact Information&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; incepe sa prinda contur. Pe&amp;nbsp;la 7 ani ii apare la &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Education&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;: Sc. Gen. nr. 3 Piatra Neamt, unde face cunostinta cu alti &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;useri&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;,&amp;nbsp;da &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;accept-&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;uri si totodata si primul &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Close connection&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. Un an mai tarziu &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;userul&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Dorina primeste si&amp;nbsp;ea un &lt;strong&gt;Fatal Screen of Cancer: Bios damaged&lt;/strong&gt; asa incat rubrica &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Siblings&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; va ramane necompletata.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Anii trec iar in &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Profile&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; apar modificari dupa modificari, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;like&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;-uri si &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Friends&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; noi, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Photos&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;devine din ce in ce mai bogat iar informatiile de la &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Education&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; se tot aduna. Se aduna si ceva&amp;nbsp;date si la &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Employers&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;, &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Comment&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;-uri si &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Post&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;-uri de la altii. Speranta e ca totusi sa mai treaca&amp;nbsp;macar atitia ani pe cati au trecut pana acum asa incat sa nu devina un profil oarecare a&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;Userului&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; Octavian, atunci cand si el va trebui sa de &lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;LOG OUT&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-4553861368660708611?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tnkofoyKphug2huboVNpqN9c6rY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tnkofoyKphug2huboVNpqN9c6rY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/83y6Gt-bbos" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/4553861368660708611/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/10/lifebook-sau-viata-de-la-log-in-la-log.html#comment-form" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/4553861368660708611?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/4553861368660708611?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/83y6Gt-bbos/lifebook-sau-viata-de-la-log-in-la-log.html" title="Lifebook (sau Viata de la Log In la Log Out)" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/10/lifebook-sau-viata-de-la-log-in-la-log.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUACRnkyeSp7ImA9Wx5UEEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-2009958500847440900</id><published>2010-10-14T01:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-14T01:09:27.791-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-14T01:09:27.791-07:00</app:edited><title>Holy Facebook (sau sfanta Carte cu fete)</title><content type="html">&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Asa. Ia sa vedem: www punct facebook punct com enter. E-mail: oktav_pn_ro@yahoo.com si password: *************** si iar Enter. Gata. Sunt pe contul meu de Facebook. Oau! ***ei ****escu ii place Saint Paraschiva of Iasi. Moaaammmaaaa!!!! Super tare frate! Sfanta Paraschiva are pagina de Facebook. Si eu fraier ma gandeam sa merg la coada de la Mitropolie si sa stau ore intregi la inchinat. Traiasca internetul si Cartea cu Fete, ca ma aduce mai aproape de sfinti.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Pe langa faptul ca pagina Sfintei are peste 6000 de "placatori ai paginii", interesant e faptul ca si Sfintei la randul ei ii plac alte pagini de Facebook. Asa am aflat ca ea are ca preferinte muzicale pe "The Rolling Stones", in domeniul culinar ii place "Salata de Vinete", ca ii place sa fie la curent cu ultimile stiri datorita paginii "9AM News" iar lucrul cel mai important este acela ca este microbista a clubului "West Ham United FC Official". Astept cu mare interes sa aflu in cateva saptamani ca iubeste pagina "Cronica Cartotasilor" si de ce nu ca este o mare fana de "Farmville". Ar fi super sa ai vecin un sfant care sa te ajute sa ingrijesti ferma ta virtuala.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Si pentru ca aberatia sa nu se termine aici, multi din cei carora le place pagina, sunt atat de evlaviosi si plini de spirit ortodox incat au inceput sa posteze rugaciunile lor direct pe peretele paginii. Asa se face ca poti gasi cele mai vaste dorinte: "Sanatate, fericire si belsug. Doamne Ajuta!" sau "Imi doresc de de la Sfinta Parascheva multa sanatate si noroc." ba chiar si mesaje de sustinere a paginii: " Dar ce e rau ca Sfanta Parascheva are pagina de Facebook , sau site pe internet ? Pe internet trebuie sa avem daor pornografie si muzica desfranta, numai ateism , si orice altceva in afara de religie ????? De ce sa nu ne marturisim credinta peste tot, si in tot locul ? Internetul si pagina de facebok este unealta diavolul...ui daca postam ceva nefolositor sau cine stie ce porcarii,dar daca il utilizam in scopuri bune, nu are nimic, asa cum toti canteretii actorii si politicienii, si in viata si morti au pagini de facebook , de ce sa nu punem si vietile sfintilor aici sau ale altor oameni care ar merita sa le fie memoria cinstita ?????".&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Eu as avea o propunere pentru mintile luminate care au descoperit religia prin intermediul Facebook-ului: sa faca pagina si pentru restul sfintilor din calendar pentru ca de ce sa fim rasisti si sa cinstim numai un sfant. Iar daca nu stiu sa faca pagina atunci sa faca profil pentru ca ar fi super sa fii "friend" cu Sfantul Petru care este "single" iar ca interese are "dating", "friendship" si "relationship". Iar cei care posteaza rugaciuni pe pagina cu pricina, ii sfatuiesc sa nu uite sa se roage si pentru conexiunea de internet, pentru a nu aparea un "Connection lost" in timpul rugii lor fierbinti catre sfintii Facebook-ului.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-2009958500847440900?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AwhUC46DU8-Hb4omWJgL_CTAZpQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AwhUC46DU8-Hb4omWJgL_CTAZpQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/k0QuyaDM-T8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/2009958500847440900/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/10/holy-facebook-sau-sfanta-carte-cu-fete.html#comment-form" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/2009958500847440900?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/2009958500847440900?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/k0QuyaDM-T8/holy-facebook-sau-sfanta-carte-cu-fete.html" title="Holy Facebook (sau sfanta Carte cu fete)" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/10/holy-facebook-sau-sfanta-carte-cu-fete.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cBSHgzeip7ImA9Wx5VGUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-1767436484036200672</id><published>2010-10-13T01:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T02:10:59.682-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-13T02:10:59.682-07:00</app:edited><title>God is my saviour (sau Sarbatoarea Sfintei Paraschiva)</title><content type="html">&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Saptamana asta sunt in toi Sarbatorile Iasilor, eveniment strans legat si de sarbatorirea Cuvioasei Paraschiva. Despre ceea ce inseamna Zilele Orasului nu vreau sa dezvolt discutia pentru ca nici nu prea ai ce dezvolta, fiind desfasurate sub aceeasi forma ca si in anii trecuti (Festivalul Vinului pe esplanada Halei Centrale, corturile comerciantilor pe strada Palat si nelipsitul concert din fata Palatului Culturii). Adiacent acestora se mai desfasoara si alte manifestari dar care nu sunt cunoscute de multi datorita lipsei de mediatizare. Per total, aceeasi Mãrie cu alta pãlãrie, pentru unii distractie si motiv de baut iar pentru altii chin si nervi din cauza harababurii create in centrul orasului.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Daca de la prima manifestare nu poti avea pretentia sa fie sub semnul evlaviei pentru ca e o&amp;nbsp;sarbatoare laica in care practic nu se sarbatoreaste nimic, de la sarbatoarea Cuvioasei te&amp;nbsp;astepti la ceva mai mult. Desi cei care ma cunosc au stiinta de studiile mele teologice si la&amp;nbsp;fel de bine stiu ca in ultima vreme am devenit oarecum neutru in ceea ce priveste religia, nu&amp;nbsp;pot sa nu remarc anumite lucruri care nu isi au locul intr-o astfel de manifestare a credintei&amp;nbsp;ortodoxe.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Experienta de pelerin la Cuvioasa incepe prin coada excesiv de lunga si obositoare dar totusi&amp;nbsp;normala, cauzata de afluxul mare de oameni dornici sa atinga moastele. Spre deosebire de anii&amp;nbsp;trecuti, de la an la an autoritatile capata experienta in organizarea si gestionarea cozii asa&amp;nbsp;incat totul se desfasoara fluent si in conditii cat de cat sigure. In schimb discutiile din&amp;nbsp;timpul cozii nu au nimic in comun cu evlavia asa incat in cele 20 de ore (mai mult sau mai putin&amp;nbsp;cateva ore) pe care le petreci la coada iti imbogatesti experienta de viata cu o groaza de subiecte de la aventuri amoroase ale clericilor si pana la stocul de conserve din camarile&amp;nbsp;"codasilor". In tot acest timp esti bombardat de micii comercianti de scaunele, buchete de&amp;nbsp;busuioc sau mici obiecte de cult. Daca totul decurge bine si nu ai prea multi cunoscuti ai&amp;nbsp;clericilor care fenteaza coada (uneori autocare intregi de pelerini cu scutire la nesimtire),&amp;nbsp;ajungi in cele din urma la racla Sfintei unde muzica bisericeasca este impletita in cel mai&amp;nbsp;frumos mod cu muzica laica din centrul orasului si narile iti sunt ademenite de mirosul de gratare si de vin fiert ce ajunge tocmai de la Hala Centrala, asa incat aplecat peste moaste&amp;nbsp;inchini o rugaciune pentru sanatate, sporul casei dar si pentru o bucatica de costita afumata si&amp;nbsp;un pahar de vin fiert sau must.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Scapat de corvoada cozii te gandesti sa treci pe la tarabele (ca standuri nu se pot numi) cu obiecte bisericesti sa iti cumperi o amintire a pelerinajului si ostenelii facute. Asa se face ca ai de ales din multimea de cruci cu iisusi plini de beculete multicolore de ai impresia ca iti achizitionezi o instalatie de pom de Craciun, nu simbolul Sfintei Cruci a Mantuitorului. Pentru cei mai instariti care vor sa se puna bine cu popa din parohia lor, au la dispozitie obiecte de cult mult mai valoroase atat in pret cat si in valoare spirituala (sau cel putin asa ar trebui sa fie),de la vesminte preotesti la potire si chivote care desi sunt declarate ca sfintite sunt tinute in locuri care nu au nici cel mai mic nivel de sfintenie. Asta ca sa nu mai vorbim de icoanele care au devenit din ce in ce mai scumpe si din ce in ce mai "plastic-autocolant-printat-lipit-pe-suport-din-lemn" asa incat te intrebi daca nu cumva icoana pictata de-acasa este un kitsch iar cel care s-a ocupat de crearea ei e un fraier care nu stie sa foloseasca tehnologia moderna.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Daca toate acestea te-au obosit si ti s-a facut foame nu trebuie sa te ostenesti prea mult sa gasesti o gustarica pentru ca intre doua tarabe cu lucruri bisericesti gasesti o rulota ambulanta cu cozonaci unguresti (originali din Sfantu Gheorghe - deci tot de un sfant este vorba si probabil asta a fost criteriul pentru care s-a permis amplasarea rulotei intre tarabele bisericesti) si hot-dogi, a caror mireasma este cu mult mai puternica decat fumul de tamaie, ca uneori te gandesti cu mintea pacatoasa daca nu era mai bine sa se faca tamaie cu miros de colaci unguresti.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Dupa toate astea pleci spre casa cu gandul ca totusi osteneala ta conteaza si nu organizarea.&amp;nbsp;Ajuns in caminul tau mai dai pe canalele de stiri sa mai vezi ce s-a mai intamplat la&amp;nbsp;Mitropolie, stiri de la care vei afla la incheierea sarbatorii ca Mitropolia Moldovei si&amp;nbsp;Bucovinei este dezamagita de profitul obtinut de pe urma pelerinilor pentru ca ei au investit de&amp;nbsp;doua ori mai mult decat au incasat. Si asta mie unul, imi pune capac.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; Asa ca Doamne Dumnezeul meu, ia de la mine pacatosul 100 de lei ca sa mai acoperi cheltuiala&amp;nbsp;Mitropoliei si iarta-mi cuvintele scrise mai sus iar alta data fa-ma mut, surd si orb la toate&amp;nbsp;astea. Aaaa, si sa nu uit: si racit, sa am nasul infundat sa nu mai miros tamaia cu aroma de&amp;nbsp;kurtos (original de la Sfantu Gheorghe). AMIN!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-1767436484036200672?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VCRGL0gf4Fo"&gt;3 strigate pe Bistrita (Barajul Bicaz p.1)&lt;/a&gt; &amp;nbsp;&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/VCRGL0gf4Fo?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/VCRGL0gf4Fo?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oLxq3ZBBCYo"&gt;Bicaz cota 563 (Barajul Bicaz p.2)&lt;/a&gt; &amp;nbsp;&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oLxq3ZBBCYo?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oLxq3ZBBCYo?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmEIlGcBdLM"&gt;Barajul Bicaz p.3&lt;/a&gt; &amp;nbsp;&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mmEIlGcBdLM?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mmEIlGcBdLM?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmEIlGcBdLM"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-7678197689986050941?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z3EVY_FaNs6hAxtn48aokb7L4qk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/z3EVY_FaNs6hAxtn48aokb7L4qk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/n4eWbxsSAjA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/7678197689986050941/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/09/bicaz-dam-sau-inceputul-istoriei.html#comment-form" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/7678197689986050941?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/7678197689986050941?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/n4eWbxsSAjA/bicaz-dam-sau-inceputul-istoriei.html" title="Bicaz Dam ( sau Inceputul istoriei Barajului Bicaz )" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/09/bicaz-dam-sau-inceputul-istoriei.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0YCQX44eyp7ImA9Wx5WEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-4876446324730514274</id><published>2010-09-22T04:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-22T05:39:20.033-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-22T05:39:20.033-07:00</app:edited><title>After Life (sau Lumea: Incotro?)</title><content type="html">      1980. Te trezesti dimineata in sunetul clopotelului de la ceasul mecanic. Sari repede din pat sa prinzi apa calda la baie pentru ca nu ai decat o ora la dispozitie sa faci un dus rapid. Apoi te indrepti inspre bucatarie si dai drumul la tranzistor sa asculti stirile de dimineata inainte sa pornesti spre fabrica. In farfurie ai doua oua ochiuri si cateva felii de mezel cumparate de la alimentara. Dupa ce termini iti impachetezi in hartia maro, facuta din hartia adunata la centrele de maculatura, iti invelesti pachetelul pentru masa de pranz la servici: o rosie nitel zbarcita cu o bucata de slaninuta afumata iar ca desert un mar nu tocmai aratos. Te imbraci in costumul de munca si te incalti cu aceeasi pantofi de acum doi ani care intre timp au primit talpi noi gratie cismarului de la colt. Iti aduci aminte ca in drum trebuie sa te opresti si pe la "Mecanica Fina" sa lasi la reparat umbrela care a cedat sub ploile placute de toamna. Cobori in spatele blocului, te uiti la spatiul verde din jur si parca in gand ti-ai dori ca blocul vecin sa fie mai aproape, sa ai mai multi vecini. Dai sa te sui in masina dar iti aduci aminte ca azi e zi impara si nu poti circula asa ca te indrepti spre statia de autobuz sa astepti coloana. Ziua trece relativ repede si intors acasa te pui la masa si schimbi doua vorbe cu sotia, pentru ca mai apoi sa te asezi in fata televizorului cu lampi sa privesti cele cateva ore de program. Inainte sa te bagi in pat te duci la baie iar becul de 75 de wati se arde, bombani nervos ca nu ai alt bec pentru ca in toata casa ai doar 4 becuri iar la magazin e inchis de la 8 seara si te linistesti cu un somn adanc. Iti doresti o lume fantastica ca cea din cartile S.F.&lt;br /&gt;      2008. Te trezesti buimac in sunetul radioului cu ceas digital. Nu te mai grabesti la baie ca doar ai centrala proprie si ai apa calda la discretie. In bucatarie dai drumul la unul din cele 4 televizoare LCD pe care le detii in casa. In farfurie ai o mancare de fite a carui nume iti da dureri de cap, cu doua rosii mari si zemoase dar fara gust si cu un mar ce pare gata gata sa plesneasca din coaja lui. Pachetelul de la servici a fost inlocuit de gustarea plina de "calorii" si "vitamine" de la fast-food, frumos ambalate in pungi de plastic. Te imbraci si te incalti cu pantofii cumparati acum o luna pentru ca ceilalti si-au pierdut stralucirea iar cismari nu mai sunt demult. Umbrela e si ea noua chiar daca o vei schimba dupa primul sezon pentru ca acum e rusinos sa o mai duci la reparat. Cobori in spatele blocului odata cu sotia ca sa va suiti fiecare in masina lui 4x4 parcate pe trotuar pentru ca spatiul verde a fost inlocuit acum de blocuri asezate prea aproape. Ziua trece chinuitor de greu pentru ca acum nu mai lucrezi la tocatoria fabricii de hartie, fiind daramata din cauza poluarii prea mari, ci lucrezi la o fabrica de uleiuri industriale. Intors acasa te trantesti plictisit in fata televizorului din dormitor  iar ca sa te schimbi de culcare dai sa aprinzi spoturile de la captul patului doar ca observi ca un bec economic de 20 de wati e ars dar nu se vede asa tare din cauza celorlalte 8. Si pe urma daca e poti sa aprinzi si lampadarul din tavan. Adormi stiind sigur ca lumea din cartile S.F. este mult mai aproape.&lt;br /&gt;      2020 si ceva. Esti singur intre niste daramaturi. Inca mai plangi dupa amintirea celor dragi pe care i-ai pierdut in dezlantuirea grotesca a naturii si iti doresti sa nu fi supravietuit sa traiesti cu asemenea durere. Dar nu ai ce face si il detesti pe cel care a spus candva ca natura invinge intotdeauna.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-4876446324730514274?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zz7DFw7gnmeLWL7f8XIfY6w37BQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zz7DFw7gnmeLWL7f8XIfY6w37BQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/hGBVbF1s984" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/4876446324730514274/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/09/after-life-sau-lumea-incotro.html#comment-form" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/4876446324730514274?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/4876446324730514274?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/hGBVbF1s984/after-life-sau-lumea-incotro.html" title="After Life (sau Lumea: Incotro?)" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/09/after-life-sau-lumea-incotro.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcFRXY5fyp7ImA9Wx5XFUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-8302549183720991961</id><published>2010-09-15T01:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T01:40:14.827-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-09-15T01:40:14.827-07:00</app:edited><title>Romania??? (sau Mare e gradina Carpatilor si nimeni nu vrea sa-i sara gardu')</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;      Situatia economica din tara nu da semne de redresare decat in stirile statistice ale posturilor de televiziune, realitatea fiind cu totul alta. Si ne intrebam: " DE CE? "&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;                                                 &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9fqO7BO7pCI&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Raspunsul 1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;                                                 &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7EPWObnv4hs&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Raspunsul 2&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;                                                 &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gL73-JXhdpU&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Raspunsul 3&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;                                                 &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFzdphA1zXU&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Raspunsul 4&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;                                               UITE DE-ASTA!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-8302549183720991961?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uhuouF2JFrNv0SDam-VREvMhvdE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/uhuouF2JFrNv0SDam-VREvMhvdE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/FAs3iao8ISs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/8302549183720991961/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/09/romania-sau-mare-e-gradina-carpatilor.html#comment-form" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/8302549183720991961?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/8302549183720991961?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/FAs3iao8ISs/romania-sau-mare-e-gradina-carpatilor.html" title="Romania??? (sau Mare e gradina Carpatilor si nimeni nu vrea sa-i sara gardu')" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/09/romania-sau-mare-e-gradina-carpatilor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkQHRX8zcCp7ImA9Wx5RFks.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-4107321097053928793</id><published>2010-08-24T08:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T08:38:54.188-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-24T08:38:54.188-07:00</app:edited><title>Merry Christmas! (sau Bucuria Craciunului de vara)</title><content type="html">      E iarna, frig si ninge cu fulgi mici si desi, de sus in jos, de jos in sus, si cand de la stanga la dreapta cand invers. Copacii goi se acopera incet cu zapada iar strazile nu se mai deosebesc de trotuare. Omatul pune stapanire peste tot pamantul astenand covorul alb si pufos, aducand totul la intepenire. Nu sunt urme de pasi, nici de trasuri sau animale. Doar fulgii care joaca in aer si se aduna unu peste altul parca vrand sa acopere galbenul muribund de toamna pentru a reda verdele vioi in primavara.&lt;br /&gt;      Undeva intr-un colt stingher, un bordei micut abia mai pufaie de sub haina grea de iarna. E un bordei cu geamuri mici pline de flori de gheata, cu turturi grosi la streasina parca sustinand acoperisul de sindrila si cu prispa viscolita. Prin ferestrele lui se vede licarind lumina focului din soba si mirosul de lemn de brad parca strapunge peretii de lut. Inauntru totul este curat si aranjat in asteptarea anului ce va sa vina si totul are stralucirea stranie de sarbatoare.&lt;br /&gt;      Bradul e si el frumos aranjat cu globuri ciplite din coceni de porumb si vopsite cu acuarela in culori vii. Beteala decupata din ambalaj de flori licare tacut in contrast cu verdele aprins al bradului de iarna. Masa e impodobita si asteapta musafirii sa se aseze pe scaunele mici de lemn frumos baituite inainte de Craciun. Pe masa stau frumos asezate farfuriile de lut cu tacamurile de lemn, iar stergarele sunt frumos aranjate in coltul mesei.&lt;br /&gt;      Casa miroase a friptura si a cozonaci. Borsul e inca pe foc, asteapta sa mai dea un fiert dar deodata totul incremeneste. S-a oprit ninsoarea!&lt;br /&gt;      Copilul apuca globul de sticla, intoarce cheita muzicala, il agita zdravan ... si ... E iarna, frig si ninge cu fulgi mici si desi, de sus ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-4107321097053928793?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gQh08HCYKmWPF8t8UeBAaI1BD2Y/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/gQh08HCYKmWPF8t8UeBAaI1BD2Y/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/RIzUjNmmB5Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/4107321097053928793/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/08/merry-christmas-sau-bucuria-craciunului.html#comment-form" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/4107321097053928793?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/4107321097053928793?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/RIzUjNmmB5Q/merry-christmas-sau-bucuria-craciunului.html" title="Merry Christmas! (sau Bucuria Craciunului de vara)" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/08/merry-christmas-sau-bucuria-craciunului.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MFR3YyfSp7ImA9Wx5SEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-292240174512971826</id><published>2010-08-06T08:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-06T08:43:36.895-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-06T08:43:36.895-07:00</app:edited><title>Four seasons ( sau Metamorfoza vietii )</title><content type="html">      Primavara. Speranta. Verde. Bobocei. Flori. Pasari. Suras. Iarba. Ghiocei. Paraiase. Pantofi. Sacou. Nori. Basca. Pasca. Inviere. Albine. Meri. Ciresi. Catelusi. Pisoi. Vrabiute. Camp. Seminte. Sanatate. Tuica. Carabusi. Muguri. Scoala. Tigara. Joaca. Parfum. Cinema. Pui. Astenie. Adiere. Dezghet. Pasi. Rasarit. Inceput. Speranta. COPILARIE.&lt;br /&gt;              Vara. Mijloc. Viata. Soare. Toropeala. Nisip. Mare. Scoici. Pescarusi. Furnici. Aer conditionat. Tricou. Short. Sandale. Galetusa. Gratar. Piscina. Iubire. Asfalt. Smoala. Sudoare. Bere. Concediu. Calatorii. Decapotabile. Narghilea. Sapca. Pescuit. Inghetata. Capsuni. Strand. Frigider. Porumbei. Umbra. Lehamite. Mers. Dorinta. Zi. Aroma. Miraj. Desert. Palmieri. Scaldat. Zambete. Vise. ADOLESCENTA.&lt;br /&gt;              Toamna. Fructe. Mere. Visine. Porumb. Grau. Ardei. Grau. Ploaie. Vant. Padure. Ciuperci. Struguri. Must. Pantaloni. Camasa. Tenisi. Delta. Vanatoare. Dragoste. Copii. Betie. Berze. Pelicani. Gandaci. Treierat. Oi. Caini. Trabuc. Galben. Uscat. Apus. Palarie. Posomorat. Rasete. Hambare. Echinoctiu. Fum. Curatenie. Animale. Muraturi. Beci. Zgomot. Agitatie. MATURITATE. &lt;br /&gt;              Iarna. Frig. Gheata. Zapada. Sanie. Partie. Patine. Inert. Noapte. Turturi. Foc. Bocanci. Geaca. Caciula. Tremurat. Porc. Soric. Craciun. Revelion. Uratori. Ursul. Hibernare. Impliniri. Vinetiu. Mos Craciun. Cadouri. Pipa. Alb. Rece. Munte. Suc. Vin. Scortisoara. Cozonac. Friptura. Lacrimi. Impliniri. Oftat. Batranete. Greutate. Cojoce. Lana. Final. MOARTE.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-292240174512971826?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BBsQHrxWrYDqFlnkzOlZ76CoI-4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BBsQHrxWrYDqFlnkzOlZ76CoI-4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/FI9AVxH6FGA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/292240174512971826/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/08/four-seasons-sau-metamorfoza-vietii.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/292240174512971826?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/292240174512971826?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/FI9AVxH6FGA/four-seasons-sau-metamorfoza-vietii.html" title="Four seasons ( sau Metamorfoza vietii )" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/08/four-seasons-sau-metamorfoza-vietii.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMCQ3c7eyp7ImA9Wx5TGEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-3024994649205954191</id><published>2010-08-03T09:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T09:21:02.903-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-08-03T09:21:02.903-07:00</app:edited><title>I love You! ( sau Cand dragostea doare )</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;      Zilele trec. Una cate una se duc si nu se mai intorc. E din ce in ce mai greu sa zambesti iar fericirea de odinioara devine tot mai palida. Sufletul ti-e greu, apasat de griji si mult prea ocupat sa intretina farama de bucurie ce i-a mai ramas incat nu isi da seama ca te indeamna la fapte inutile si la decizii gresite care indeparteaza fiinta iubita. Se agata cu disperare de bucatica de dragoste ce inca licare si asta te duce la sacrificii si concesii.&lt;br /&gt;          Pe fiinta iubita o vezi tot mai putin si asta te doare. E mai tot timpul plecata si in adancul sufletului incepi sa te simti singur, incepi sa te simti inutil. Incerci sa discuti dar totul e in zadar pentru ca diferentele de personalitate nu se mai contopesc intr-un tot unitar asa cum se intampla candva, ci acum se consolideaza in individualisme care cu greu mai pot fi convergente. Va uitati unul in ochii celuilalt iar tu tragi aer adanc in piept parca pentru a da afara cuvintele care ti le-ai ales cu grija dar privirea celuilalt coboara in jos ca intr-un dezacord incipient fata de tine. Zambesti fals a compasiune si o voce iti rasuna asurzitor in cap: "E prea fragila si nu merita sa o ranesti".&lt;br /&gt;          In singuratatea ta incepi sa iti cauti raspunsul la intrebari in lucrurile marunte. Scoti pipa si tutunul in speranta ca starea meditativa te va ajuta sa faci o alegere fie ea si aberanta, pentru ca mai apoi sa gasesti scuza  in acea stare neinsemnata. Indesi tutunul in cuptorul pipei, ii dai foc si trag cu putere in asa fel incat fumul sa iti inunde puternic plamanii. Te uiti la bagajul pregatit ce sta langa usa si apoi arunci o privire asupra casei, o privire ca cea pe care o ai cand cineva drag este lasat in groapa si realizezi ca nu vei mai vedea niciodata acea persoana. Iti iei adio de la tot ce a insemnat "VOI" si te gandesti ca din acest moment nu vei mai fi decat "TU".&lt;br /&gt;          Apuci telefonul, rascolesti agenda inutil de parca nu de sute de ori ai sunat si stii ca numarul e primul din agenda. Dai apelare, apuci geanta, deschizi usa si in timp ce suna iesi pe usa si o inchizi cu parere de rau in urma ta. Incui usa iar sunetul cheii rasfrant de peretii goi ai scarii e acum mai asurzitor ca niciodata.&lt;br /&gt;                                     "Hei! EU sunt ... Te-am sunat sa iti spun ca ... "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-3024994649205954191?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cYSQsDg3sb5bNFliVMxgkq1k308/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cYSQsDg3sb5bNFliVMxgkq1k308/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/kXefJqNA7rY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/3024994649205954191/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-love-you-sau-cand-dragostea-doare.html#comment-form" title="3 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/3024994649205954191?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/3024994649205954191?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/kXefJqNA7rY/i-love-you-sau-cand-dragostea-doare.html" title="I love You! ( sau Cand dragostea doare )" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-love-you-sau-cand-dragostea-doare.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkAFQH4-eCp7ImA9WxFaEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-1530938663193131909</id><published>2010-07-16T07:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T07:31:51.050-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-16T07:31:51.050-07:00</app:edited><title>Untill death do us part ( sau Ganduri negre pentru ceruri albe )</title><content type="html">         &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Stai pe scaun cu ochii infipti in perete fara a schita vre-o grimasa. Gandurile insa sunt multe si nu tocmai dintre cele mai optimiste. Incerci sa iti pui ordine in ele dar un gand te bantuie apasator de puternic. O lacrima de durere se infiripa la coada ochiului si nodul din gat devine din ce in ce mai insuportabil. Incerci sa gasesti o motivatie dar nimic nu te ajuta. Prin fata ochilor se petrec amintiri placute care in mod obisnuit ti-ar fi starnit un suras dar acum nu aduc decat durere, iar cu mana dreapta stergi stropul de durere prelins pe obrazul tau. Respiri adanc si apasat ca si cum aerul se duce in sute de parti numai in plamanii tai nu. Te prinzi cu mainile de cap incercand sa amutesti zgomotul surd din jurul tau dar totul e in zadar.&lt;br /&gt;              Te ridici de pe scaunul asudat de neputinta ta si orbeste intri in baie. Cu mana rece pui dopul la cada si dai drumul la apa. Alta data ti-ar fi pasat daca e rece sau e prea fierbinte dar acum nu conteaza. Prin abur si zgomot zdruncinat de apa intrevezi chipul fiintei iubite. Vrei sa intinzi mana spre ea si sa iti ceri iertare, sa zambesti, sa ii ceri ajutorul dar apoi lasi privirea in jos spre marginea cazii aproape pline. In scurta clipa de luciditate te intrebi daca merita si daca asa e cel mai bine dar mana grea a gandurilor te cuprinde de gatlej si te strange parca incercand sa iti rapeasca ultima secunda de libertate.&lt;br /&gt;              Pasesti in cada iar apa clocotita iti dilata venele facandu-le vinete si crispandu-te de durere. Dar e o durere dulce, e o durere care nu te doare. Te asezi in cada si privesti cum apa se prelinge pe podea. Pui mana pe aparatul de ras si scoti lama din el. E o lama tocita de vreme si ruginita. Dar cui ii mai pasa si ce importanta ar mai avea. O potrivesti in mana ta si cu privirea iti fixezi venele de la maini. Privesti la ele cu ochii plini de lacrimi, inspiri adanc, strangi lama intre degete, clipesti sa lasi lacrimile sa isi urmeze drumul ... &lt;br /&gt;              Te trezesti din visare, faci pasul peste marginea balconului si cazi inert pe asfaltul cald de august.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-1530938663193131909?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Nu1Se0XgsZZj3t23SjamOPyl37g/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Nu1Se0XgsZZj3t23SjamOPyl37g/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/BK2yj9E-aXw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/1530938663193131909/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/07/untill-death-do-us-part-sau-ganduri.html#comment-form" title="6 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/1530938663193131909?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/1530938663193131909?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/BK2yj9E-aXw/untill-death-do-us-part-sau-ganduri.html" title="Untill death do us part ( sau Ganduri negre pentru ceruri albe )" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/07/untill-death-do-us-part-sau-ganduri.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEACSXczfip7ImA9WxFUGUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-6763024293363682467</id><published>2010-07-01T05:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-01T05:19:28.986-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-07-01T05:19:28.986-07:00</app:edited><title>Good bye my friend ... ( sau Ziua in care am inceput sa mor )</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;      &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; "MURÍ, mor (vb. IV. Intranz.) = A înceta de a mai trăi, de a mai fi în viață; a răposa, a deceda, a sucomba, a expia." Aceasta este definitia cuvantului data de Dex, insa in ultima vreme refuz aceasta definitie a mortii si nu dintr-un motiv optimist ci chiar din contra. Oare definitia este diferita atunci cand respiri si te misti dar in rest nu mai exista nimic in tine, cand nu mai ai nici un tel si cand visele la care tindeai candva acum devin o povara pentru cei din jurul tau.&lt;br /&gt;        Mort esti si atunci cand te dezamagesti pe tine, cand incerci sa fii diferit de ceea ce spuneau altii candva ca vei fi dar nu reusesti decat sa amani "previziunile". Te inchizi in tine si incepi sa pui in balanta motivele si pro si motivele contra pentru a mai trai, si nu de putine ori ajungi la concluzia ca e mai bine sa iti iei un "concediu" permanent, sa te retragi in liniste din spectacolul vietii tale si sa lasi lucrurile sa isi urmeze calea fara tine, si in acest fel sa inchizi gurile celor care aveau mereu ceva de comentat la adresa ta sau care mereu aveau o privire de dizgratie pregatita pentru tine. Mori atunci cand refuzi sa mai speri si fiecare isi are o limita a sperantei. Atunci cand zambetele sunt putine si fortate, cand oftatul adanc e la fiecare 5 minute, cand lacrimile sunt infranate cu noduri in gat si cand fiecare rasarit de soare devine o povara a unei noi zile, nu inseamna decat ca ai incetat sa mai traiesti, sa mai fii in viata.&lt;br /&gt;        Totul ar fi foarte simplu sa dispari daca esti impacat cu tine si cu viata ta, pentru ca atunci cand mori nu mai ai constiinta si nici nu prea iti mai pasa de ce se intampla dupa tine pentru ca nu mai ai cum, nu mai ai pareri de rau, nu mai ai zamtete, lacrimi sau oftat, totul devine linisit si mut. Dar ce te faci cu cei dragi carora le vei lipsi? Nimic! Desi nimeni nu recunoaste, un lucru este clar: NIMIC SI NIMENI NU PLANGE VESNIC, ci doar absenta ta este cea care doare, dar in timp se vindeca. Deci, mai corect ar fi: MURI, mor = A absenta din viata cuiva drag, fara posibilitatea de a te intoarce.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ttpztjuiz5k&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Good bye my friend it's hard to die&lt;br /&gt;   When all the birds are singing in the sky&lt;br /&gt;     ... ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;(Westlife - Seasons In The Sun)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-6763024293363682467?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GFMjGk5TIo0NJL8AzUfTwNwWH3c/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/GFMjGk5TIo0NJL8AzUfTwNwWH3c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/wfn_qSJubXg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/6763024293363682467/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/07/good-bye-my-friend-sau-ziua-in-care-am.html#comment-form" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/6763024293363682467?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/6763024293363682467?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/wfn_qSJubXg/good-bye-my-friend-sau-ziua-in-care-am.html" title="Good bye my friend ... ( sau Ziua in care am inceput sa mor )" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/07/good-bye-my-friend-sau-ziua-in-care-am.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8NQnc8cSp7ImA9WxFVFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-9148344391170512400</id><published>2010-06-15T07:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-15T07:58:13.979-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-06-15T07:58:13.979-07:00</app:edited><title>Cenzura Motion ( sau Febra schimbarii )</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;       Azi se voteaza Motiunea de cenzura pentru pachetul de legi ce cuprind masurile anticriza. Toate televiziunile transmit cea mai tare emisiune de enterteinmant si anume cea a votului din Parlament, cu tot circul aferent unei emisiuni de prost gust. Si ca orice televiuziune comerciala, fiecare din ele trebuie sa difuzeze acele momente de publicitate. Dar oare cum ar fi sa vedem reclame in ton cu evenimentele din tara?&lt;br /&gt;           1. In 2009, Emil boc isi sarbatorea victoria in Guvern printr-un dans special. De-atunci fiecare parlamentar sau ministru din guvern isi sarbatoreste victoria printr-un mod original. Si astazi Emil Boc isi sarbatoreste victoria alaturi de o Lege Rece.&lt;br /&gt;           2. Scena de coafor undeva in tari scandinave. D-na Udrea cu prietenele sale. Discutie despre economie. D-na Udrea le propune noul detergent care le ajuta la economii: DELAPIDOL, te curata de bani, dar nu si de pete.&lt;br /&gt;           3. Lingurite pline cu legi care zboara deasupra romaniei. Batrani si mame cu copii care se uita inspre cer si le lasa gura apa. Someri care sar in sus de bucurie. Dar vai! Este noul iaurt "IO PLEC", noul iaurt de legi guvernamentale cu taieri amarui. Bun de te umpli pe bot.&lt;br /&gt;           4. Scena in mall. Ministrii guvernului au dureri de masele de la ceea ce mananca de cateva zile. Radu Berceanu le da o pasta de dinti sa se frece cu ea in gura. Durerile si mirosurile dispar instantaneu. Vai, dar cum functioneaza? E simplu. E noua pasta cu nesimtinol. Tu ca ministru te dai cu ea in gura si se strepezesc dintii poporului de nu mai au dupa ce bea un pahar cu apa rece, deci NO DUREREISHAN, NO AVIARA GRIPA, NO SULAINA CHANEL!&lt;br /&gt;           Si brusc se revine la votul din parlament, iar viata continua ca si cum nimic rau nu s-a intamplat in Romania, iar in minte ni se naste o intrebare: Se respinge Motiunea de Cenzura sau ramane acelasi Guvern? Cred ca raspunsul il stim cu totii.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-9148344391170512400?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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(sau Incotro se duce timpul cand trece?)</title><content type="html">&lt;p&gt;    &lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Amintiri. Vremuri trecute cu locuri si persoane. Unele s-au schimbat, altele sufera schimbari iar altele vor &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;ramane vesnic la fel. Unele lucruri dispar iar altele iau nastere. Nimic nu mai este la fel desi nimic nu se &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;schimba.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    Am fost acum cateva saptamani prin orasul de bastina. Acelasi oras mic de la poale de munte in care m-am nascut &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;si in care mi-am petrecut copilaria. Probabil si datorita perioadei meditative prin care trec in ultima vreme, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;probabil si varsta sau chiar dorinta de refugiu in trecut, am pornit intr-o seara sa hoinaresc strazile orasului. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Nu am apucat sa fac prea multi pasi ca la un momentdat simt cum cineva ma trage de maneca, ma prinde de mana: "Daca &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;vrei, iti pot fi ghid prin Piatra. Iti pot arata pe unde umblu eu cu prietenii mei si cu bunicii mei. E un oras &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;grozav. Vrei?" Initial am avut tendinta sa il refuz pentru ca nu as fi avut nevoie de cineva sa imi fie ghid in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;propriul meu oras, dar privirea copilului si dorinta lui de a-mi arata locurile lui preferate m-au facut sa nu mai &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;pun nici o intrebare si sa accept sa fiu condus de el.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    A inceput sa imi arate centrul orasului: "aici vin eu cu prietenii mei si ne plimbam, mergem in parc si stam sus &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;la turn. Vara e singurul loc unde poti gasi o cismea cu apa, cred ca singura din oras care mai este". Strabatem &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;parcul din centru si apoi pornim inspre parcul zoo. Pe drum imi spune: "Stii, au adus doi lei noi la zoo. Nu mai &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;este cum era odata dar tot mai poti sa vezi un animal acolo, iar leii astia doi sunt faini. Iar pe langa zoo poti &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;sa urci la Colibe. Acolo mai merg eu cu baietii de la bloc sa mai bem bere. Daca vrei, poti sa urci si mai sus spre &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Gospodine, dar drumul ala e frumos iarna cand se acopera cu zapada ca poti sa te dai cu sania tocmai de sus. In &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;rest e un loc frumos unde poti sa vii cu prietena sa te plimbi". Trecem de parcul zoo si ajugem pe la stadion: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Aici am vazut eu primul meci cu un unchi de-al meu dar nu prea ma pasioneaza fotbalul. Acolo e cimitirul unde sunt &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;parintii mei, dar eu sunt destul de mare acum si ma descurc singur si sper ca intr-o buna zi sa reusesc sa ii fac &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;pe bunici  mandri de mine."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    Coboram spre bulevard. Printre blocuri imi arata o strada care duce la puntea de la strand: "Nu e cine stie ce &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;strandul ala. Are o baza hipica, un restaurant si un bazin. In rest nu e nimic altceva. Acolo mai merge lumea sa &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;faca gratare sau sa se mai bage in apa." Pe nestiute ajungem la Central in fata si imi spune: "Asta e Petrodava. E &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;cel mai mare magazin de la noi din oras. Mai e si Unicul dar asta e cel mai mare. Iar pe strada asta daca mergi &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;ajungi la gara si la autogara. De la autogara mai plec cu bunicii la tara da nu prea sunt autobuze si mai facem si &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;auto-stopul." La un moment dat ne oprim din mers: "Asta e Muzeul de Istorie iar acolo in blocul ala de patru etaje &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;stau eu, la 3. Asta e zona de centru, cu cinema Pietricica.Aici gasesti mai multe: farmacie, frizerie, alimentara, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;librarie si mai e si un magazin ABC cu standuri. Pe strada aia daca te duci o sa ajungi la liceul de chimie unde o &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;sa fac eu liceul. Nu e liceul de chimie ci un alt liceu da acolo are caminul ala la care o sa fiu eu."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;    "Acuma imi pare rau ca nu mai pot sta sa va mai arat din oras, dar ma asteapta ai mei acasa si tre sa ma duc. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Sper ca v-a placut ce v-am aratat, daar chiar nu mai pot sa stau." Am incuviintat ca nu e nici o problema daca &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;pleaca iar din fuga lui am reusit sa il intreb cum il cheama: "Octavian Gheorghita si am 17 ani!", apoi a disparut &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;fara urma impreuna cu orasul copilariei mele.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-8649813910868382671?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4ZEm1AB650UnqyqHsAlaRHnA-qI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4ZEm1AB650UnqyqHsAlaRHnA-qI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/LH-QQhlmBBs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/8649813910868382671/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-remember-sau-incotro-se-duce-timpul.html#comment-form" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/8649813910868382671?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/8649813910868382671?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/LH-QQhlmBBs/i-remember-sau-incotro-se-duce-timpul.html" title="I remember ... (sau Incotro se duce timpul cand trece?)" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-remember-sau-incotro-se-duce-timpul.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EBQHs-fCp7ImA9WxFQGE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-8682542310445429420</id><published>2010-05-14T00:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-14T01:27:31.554-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-14T01:27:31.554-07:00</app:edited><title>27 (sau Cum am petrecut sfarsitul lui 26)</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VQ30Otr_iog/S-0Aud90m8I/AAAAAAAAABQ/sfF1Xijywt8/s1600/scan0027.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VQ30Otr_iog/S-0Aud90m8I/AAAAAAAAABQ/sfF1Xijywt8/s320/scan0027.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471029920642931650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VQ30Otr_iog/S-0AuB3Gd9I/AAAAAAAAABI/Uajz4uWQj1M/s1600/scan0013.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_VQ30Otr_iog/S-0AuB3Gd9I/AAAAAAAAABI/Uajz4uWQj1M/s320/scan0013.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471029913098549202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VQ30Otr_iog/S-0AuqFmNOI/AAAAAAAAABY/G0zhD9c5Qg4/s1600/scan0031.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 218px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_VQ30Otr_iog/S-0AuqFmNOI/AAAAAAAAABY/G0zhD9c5Qg4/s320/scan0031.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471029923896767714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;     &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Azi e ziua mea. Inca una. Inca un an adaugat in catastiful vietii. Ani buni cu "succesuri" sau ani mai putini buni, cu dezamagiri, sunt anii mei, sunt ani care ma reprezinta si care m-au adus unde sunt acum. Si ca in fiecare an imi incep ziua aniversara cu o scurta privire in oglinda sa vad "cei xyz ani", sa vad daca am imbatranit sau nu. Este adevarat ca nici eu nu fac exceptie de la regula naturii careia ne supunem toti si anume aceea de a ne naste, a imbatrani si in final a ne retrage de pe scena vietii. Asa am vazut in cele 20 de priviri in oglinda (primele 7 nu mi le aduc aminte), transformari fizice, am vazut cum incet incet incep sa devin barbat, am vazut primul fir de &lt;br /&gt;par in barba, am vazut primul fir de par alb in cap si la fel am vazut primul rid pe fata. Am vazut cum dintii de lapte au fost inlocuiti de dintii permanenti si am vazut cum pielea mainilor nu mai este la fel de fina ca odinioara. La fel de bine m-am vazut si dupa primul sarut dar si dupa prima betie, dupa primul succes dar si dupa prima infrangere. In oglinda am vazut toate schimbarile fizice sub impactul timpului. In schimb, oglinda nu a putut niciodata sa imi arate ce e dincolo de trup, dincolo de aceasta haina perisabila care in final se uzeaza si va fi aruncata. Nu a putut niciodata sa imi arate varsta si schimbarile sufletului. &lt;br /&gt;      Azi, dupa ritualul privitului in oglinda am incercat sa ma uit si la suflet, sa incerc sa vad si schimarile lui. A fost greu sa privesc retrospectiv la anii trecuti si mai ales sa incerc sa privesc la ceva ce nu este palpabil, material. Am rasfoit printre vise, sentimente, trairi, in incercarea de a vedea cum s-a schimbat sufletul. Am fost surprins si exaltat in acelasi timp sa vad ca pentru suflet notiunea timpului sau a anilor e cu totul alta. Asa se face ca in masa de amintiri ale anilor trecuti am gasit asezata langa bucuria tortului din copilarie tocmai amintirea primului salariu din campul muncii. Langa amintirea primei tabere la mare era amintirea primei palme luate de la bunic. Langa amintirea mortii mamei era bucuria celui mai important "DA" din viata unui om. Sufletul nu a tinut cont ca era zi sau noapte sau ca aveam 14 ani sau 20. Totul este pe cat de departat in timp pe atat de aproape in suflet, pentru ca sufletul nu are varsta, fiind mereu tanar.&lt;br /&gt;      Probabil la finalul zilei, dupa ce voi fi fost bombardat de urari si felicitari, va trebui sa imi raspund mie la intrebarea: "Cum te simti la 27 de ani?" iar raspunsul in mod sigur va fi unul simplu si fara prea multa filosofie: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;            " 27? Pai la 27 ma simt exact ca un nou nascut, adica ca la 17 ani, mai exact, ca ieri! "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-8682542310445429420?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mvRMPFqrlXqkOIrPM4JUwkIxDT8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mvRMPFqrlXqkOIrPM4JUwkIxDT8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~4/R-Hsm_SkNG4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/feeds/8682542310445429420/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/05/27-sau-cum-am-petrecut-sfarsitul-lui-26.html#comment-form" title="7 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/8682542310445429420?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4971929549406514538/posts/default/8682542310445429420?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/CucoleaOctavian/~3/R-Hsm_SkNG4/27-sau-cum-am-petrecut-sfarsitul-lui-26.html" title="27 (sau Cum am petrecut sfarsitul lui 26)" /><author><name>Octavian Cucolea</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17315901433200109742</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="32" height="32" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XstjQBS5NVw/Trk3tJcs1jI/AAAAAAAAA4M/VGeRUyT41aI/s220/Untitled-1.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_VQ30Otr_iog/S-0Aud90m8I/AAAAAAAAABQ/sfF1Xijywt8/s72-c/scan0027.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com/2010/05/27-sau-cum-am-petrecut-sfarsitul-lui-26.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYBQnc_eyp7ImA9WxFRF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4971929549406514538.post-7011288477371879423</id><published>2010-05-01T02:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-01T03:02:33.943-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-05-01T03:02:33.943-07:00</app:edited><title>Russian Roulette (sau Ce ne rezerva viata?)</title><content type="html">   E interesant un sentiment uman negativ: ORGOLIUL. E un sentiment care nu duce la nimic bun si care distruge in principal relatiile de prietenie, care indeparteaza oameni si care peste timp nu aduce decat un gust amar. In schimb putem sa recunoastem ca am gresit si chiar daca nu ne putem cere scuze, putem macar sa ne schimbam modul de a privi lucrurile si sa speram ca inca nu e prea tarziu sa mai refacem prietenia ce ne-a legat candva. Dar ca sa se inteleaga mai bine despre ce vorbesc, am sa zic o poveste, care incepe cam asa:&lt;br /&gt;   A fost odata ca niciodata, pe vremea cand democratia abia patrundea in Romania, un baietel care traia la bloc. Baietelul ala era cam de varsta clasei a V-a cand in gasca de la blocul lui a aparut un alt baietel cam tot de-o seama cu el. Punctele lor in comun nu erau prea multe iar cele cateva lucruri care ii legau au creat o amicitie. Desi nu erau vecini de bloc, ci doar de cartier, asta nu i-a impiedicat sa se adune impreuna cu alti copii si sa se joace, amicitia devenind mai puternica si incet incet au inceput sa apara si orgoliile. Timpul a facut ce stie el cel mai bine si trecand asa usor si pe nesimtite, cei doi au crescut si au ajuns la liceu. Acum diferentele au  inceput sa creasca intre cei doi: unu era la un liceu mai bine vazut in lume iar celalalt era la profesionala, unu isi luase telefon mobil iar celalalt inca nu primise acces deplin nici la telefonul fix, unu era mereu punctul central al unei discutii iar celalalt era punctul central al manifestarilor copilaresti. Unul din ei se bucura de aprecierea parintilor celuilalt iar celalalt era privit ciudat de catre parintii primului. Probabil din cauza mentalitatii colective si a educatiei primite, impreuna cu actiunile celor din jur, l-au facut pe primul sa adanceasca orgoliile personale si l-au facut sa nu mai vrea sa aiba de-a face prea multe cu prietenul lui.&lt;br /&gt;   Dupa liceu, primul isi gasi de munca intr-un loc curat, cu efort fizic putin si unde intelectul era pe primul loc. Al doilea isi gasi de munca intr-un loc nu tocmai curat, unde efortul fizic era principalul iar forta intelectuala era dupa forta fizica. Primul se maturizase ceva mai devreme si renuntase la iesirile tarzii in oras si planuia sa isi intemeieze o familie in timp ce celalalt inca facea excese si pierdea noptile una dupa alta. Pe aici pe undeva s-a produs ruptura intre cei doi si s-au vazut de cateva ori in cativa ani iar mai apoi nu s-au mai vazut deloc. S-au mai interesat unul de celalalt prin intermediul prietenilor comuni dar amicitia dintre cei doi disparuse complet. Apoi, peste ani de zile s-au regasit pe internet. In timpul scurt cat au vb au reusit sa isi povesteasca viata si sa se puna la curent cu ceea ce pierdusera intre timp. &lt;br /&gt;    Acum, timpul a indreptat cateva lucruri:&lt;br /&gt;*Pe primul l-a altoit peste nas si l-a dat cu capul de pragul de sus. L-a facut sa inteleaga in timp ca nu banii sunt totul si ca prietenii se fac intr-o viata si nu intr-o zi, ca intre creier si muschi nu e o batalie ci o conlucrare, ca timpul trece si oamenii se schimba iar uneori e prea tarziu sa mai recuperezi unele lucruri pe care le-ai pierdut si l-a invatat sa spuna ca ii pare rau si sa regrete.&lt;br /&gt;*Pe al doilea, povestitorul nu stie exact cum l-a schimbat timpul dar stie ca fizic este sanatos, nu este tocmai fericit datorita distantei fata de casa si ca planuieste sa isi intemeieze o familie.&lt;br /&gt;    Si-am incalecat pe-o sa si v-am spus poveste-asa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S.1 Pe primul, viata l-a facut somer.&lt;br /&gt;P.S.2 Pe al doilea, viata l-a facut american.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4971929549406514538-7011288477371879423?l=cucoleaoctavian.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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