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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:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YNRH0ycSp7ImA9WxNUFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343</id><updated>2009-11-05T14:46:35.399+02:00</updated><title>Welcome to paranoia land!</title><subtitle type="html">Hey hey, my,  my...there's      
            more to the picture 
           than meets the eye.</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>52</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><link rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/dfuV" type="application/atom+xml" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEDRXoyeip7ImA9WxNQE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-5027290892593192806</id><published>2009-09-19T12:20:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T12:47:54.492+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-19T12:47:54.492+03:00</app:edited><title>Something I need</title><content type="html">I'm dying here. Slowly. Rotting on the inside. I may be smilling, I may look happy and my voice may seem to you full of joy and..love, but the truth is I hate everyting and everyone. Today I hate. Today I have my right to hate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels like hundreds, thounds of electrical shocks going through my brain and body every single time another idiot enters and starts asking those stupid questions. I think they can see the hate within me, I think they can sense that I don't like being here. Well...they should, because it's damn true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This plain, calm, average existence: you work, you get the money, you have food, you..live, it looks like the most horrible thing that could happen to me, to us. I'm not like this. I don't want to be like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, I need people around me. Smart people, even if they make me seem stupid, even if I feel like this tiny fly caught in the spider's net, making every effort to prove smarter and to escape just because it can fly.The truth is the spider's much more intelligent. It caught the fly from the beginning, it has its advantage and the fly was just an imitation and now it has nothing to do, there is no chance for her, but to stay there and enjoy it's last minutes of life in the presence of her killer. I am this stupid, this masochist, this "wanna be" fly. Caught.  But I love those people, I adore them, I hang on their web of intelligence like desperate, trying to be like them, trying to uderstand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need permanent support, I need to be praised, I need to be encouraged, I need to be loved, wooed. I need it in order to  raise my head, in order to make my voice be heard, in order to have courage to speak my mind, in order to stop being this tiny fly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a pause.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-5027290892593192806?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/kyhx55d31OI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/5027290892593192806/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=5027290892593192806" title="4 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/5027290892593192806?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/5027290892593192806?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/kyhx55d31OI/something-i-need.html" title="Something I need" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/09/something-i-need.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEDSHg6eCp7ImA9WxNRFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-7192298026207052431</id><published>2009-09-11T17:20:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T18:41:19.610+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-11T18:41:19.610+03:00</app:edited><title>Si pentru ca totul trebuia sa aiba un nume...acela a fost "femeia"</title><content type="html">Si D-zeu a zis sa se faca lumina si s-a facut si apoi a mai zis el cateva chestii, care in mod evident s-au facut, dupa care a creat omul (big mistake mister!). Mno, acuma vedeti voi...lui Adam al nostru ii lipsea ceva; probabil prevedea deja extirparea coastei sale din care se va naste nu foarte tarziu Eva (femeie, viata..cum vreti sa interpretati).  Adam si-a cam facut-o singur din cate am eu impresia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acum sa devin serioasa (in limita stocului) si sa va spun si care e sensul acestui post. Pai totul a pornit de ieri, cand cineva imi spunea ca femeia daca ar vrea ar putea sa salveze si lumea, numai ca nu are chef. De fapt asta se lega de numeroasele stari ale femeii. De cate ori n-ati auzit voi, barbatii sau nu am spus, noi femeile, replica aia cu "nu am chef azi/ nu am starea necesara/ nu sunt in stare sa..". De o gramda de ori. Suntem fiinte complicate si complicaNte si ne place. Mai amuzant e ca si voua va place chiar daca nu recunoasteti. S-a spus despre noi ca suntem "sexul frumos", ca suntem cochete, isterice, materne, dragalase, dragastoase, sensibile, plangem la Titanic, geloase, ranchiunoase, cu o memorie a faptelor rele savarsite de EI exceptionala, ca ne place sa ne chinuim mergand pe tocuri, ca ne strangem in corsete, intarziem cu orele pentru ca ni s-a dus firul de la dres, ca daca nu ne sta parul de dimineata ar fi mai bine sa ne ocolesti, plus ca ne programam migrenele in momente cheie. Suntem mamele copiilor vostri, amantele, iubitele, sotiile, cele care v-au parasit si pe care le-ati parasit, cele in bratele carora va intoarceti negresit (numai daca nu cumva aveti unele motive, sa le numim obiective sa nu faceti asa).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe de alta parte, femeile sunt dusmancele celor de acelasi sex. Nu vei gasi un inamic mai dur, mai crud, mai redutabil decat o alta femeie. Ai zice ca ar trebui sa fim unite, etc etc...ei bine, nu! De ce? Probabil pentru ca vrem sa demonstram fiecare in parte ca avem..suprematia. Numai ca ne indreptam eforturile astea de convingere tot catre cei ce uneori ne ranesc, ne jignesc, celor pe care prin insasi natura ar trebui sa-i consideram opusul, antonimul, inamicul nostru. Eu personal nu ma voi simti vreodata atat de jignita de o femeie, cat as muri de rusine si de nervi daca vreun batrbat va spune vreodata ceva urat la adresa mea. Imi scapa motivul pentru care facem asta, pentru care ne luptam sa le demonstram lor ca putem, dar in acelasi timp murim dupa aprobarea si laudele lor. O fi vreo mostenire...istorica, vreun sentiment ce s-a perpetuat de la o generatie la alta, de la o rasa la alta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cartarescu a scris despre motivele pentru care ne iubiti, multi dintre voi sunteti experti in a da exemple pentru care ne urati. Pana una alta, insa realitatea e ca femeia, asa cum e ea, indeplineste rolul de mama de care unii nu s-ar desparti pentru nimic in lume, grijulie, uneori putin severa, nitel paranoica..stiti, cum sunt mamele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ei bine, pentru ca totul trebuia sa aiba un nume, femeia s-a numit chiar asa-femeie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu intelegeti gresit, nu e vreun razboi declarat (nu sunt tipul amazoanei) sunt concluziile si nelamuririle mele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana la viitoare sclipiri de geniu, va salut!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-7192298026207052431?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/5I4a0jvBtdc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/7192298026207052431/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=7192298026207052431" title="3 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/7192298026207052431?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/7192298026207052431?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/5I4a0jvBtdc/si-pentru-ca-totul-trebuia-sa-aiba-un.html" title="Si pentru ca totul trebuia sa aiba un nume...acela a fost &quot;femeia&quot;" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/09/si-pentru-ca-totul-trebuia-sa-aiba-un.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkIEQHk_fyp7ImA9WxNRE0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-2657131129989526772</id><published>2009-09-07T20:16:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-07T20:28:21.747+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-09-07T20:28:21.747+03:00</app:edited><title>Pauza de publicitate</title><content type="html">Sunt la serviciu (inca), iar cuvantul asta nu suna frumos decat atunci cand vine data de 10 si imi iau salariul. Altfel, e o tortura aproape permanenta. Zambeste frumos, intreaba clientul ce doreste, daca il poti ajuta cu ceva, vinde-i si un rahat daca se poate numai sa nu plece cu mana goala, ci doar cu portofelul. Urasc vanzarile. Le urasc din strafundul sufletului meu. Vanzari, vanzatoare, asta fac, dar m-am jurat ca in octombrie se termina. A fost o experienta (bine, si nevoie de bani) care se va termina pentru ca in ritmul asta nu as putea. 12 ore e mai mult decat suficient ca sa ajungi acasa si sa nu-ti doresti decat sa dormi cat mai mult. Dar ghici ce? Dimineata la 8 trebuie sa fii in picioare si zau! nu as avea nimic impotriva daca macar mi-ar placea ce fac. Ce altceva ma mai doare? Ca mi-am neglijat activitatea la firma de consultanta in HR unde sunt intern (practic pentru asta am ales eu sa-mi ratez vacanta).  Cu ceva am iesit totusi si din experieneta asta: fratilor, nu sunt eu cea care va va vinde produse. Cu mine, afacerea voastra e ca si moarta. Scuza mea: nu am fost pana acum capabila sa conving pe nimeni de nimic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rest my case.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Altfel, totul e minunat ca vremea de afara.&lt;br /&gt;Plumb, Bacovia, azi sunt simbolista pana in maduva oaselor.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-2657131129989526772?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/TdR9npGjE1Y" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/2657131129989526772/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=2657131129989526772" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/2657131129989526772?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/2657131129989526772?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/TdR9npGjE1Y/pauza-de-publicitate.html" title="Pauza de publicitate" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/09/pauza-de-publicitate.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8NRn4-eSp7ImA9WxJVE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-1662937446811984791</id><published>2009-06-25T00:42:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T13:14:57.051+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-30T13:14:57.051+03:00</app:edited><title>Cine mi-a furat viata?</title><content type="html">De o saptamana intru in fiecare zi pe blog si incep sa scriu cate ceva. De o saptamana nu am apucat sa termin nimic. M-am purtat ca o mama denaturata. Mi-am parasit copilul cam de vreo...luna.  Si nu pentru ca nu gasesc ce sa spun pentru ca, slava Domnului!, sunt multe de spus, insa creierul meu pare sa nu mai vrea sa produca ceva cat de cat decent. Dar iata ca sunt acum, aici din nou si sper ca de data asta sa termin, ca ideile mele sa capate coerenta, sa le eliberez din iuresul cu care curg ele de regula in mintea mea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maine ma intorc in Bucuresti. You think I'm probably nuts. De ce m-as intoarce in Bucale cand am terminat sesiunea, nu am restante (in sfarsit, mi-a iesit macar un lucru din toate pe care mi le propusesem) si in fond vacanta s-ar afla in fata mea, plina de promisiuni, de somn pana la pranz si durut in cot. Chiar asa...de ce m-as intoarce? De ce ma intorc? Pentru ca mintea mea desteapta a ales, dupa ce a intors problema pe toate fetele sa raman vara aceasta si sa continui cu un internship care se anunta de a fi de lunga durata. Un internship in HR (nu ca despre asta n-am mai vorbit pana acum?) ei bine, shit happens. Every day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt perfect constienta de ce inseamna internship-ul asta pentru cei care m-au selectat si m-au adus acolo. Atat de constienta incat uneori ma intreb daca nu cumva fac o maaare tampenie. Dar ca de obicei voi ramane probabil doar cu intrebarea, evitand sa dau vreun raspuns, sau sa mi se dea vreun raspuns. No money, no fun. Knowledge-ul ca knowledge-ul, but I need to eat and buy things and pay for a stupid room in which I'll spend my summer together with other two girls.  De aceea ma chinui sa-mi gasesc ceva part time sau project-based din care sa scot si ceva bani. Guess what? Pana acum, nimic. Realizez ca imi lipseste experienta aia vasta, ca imi lipsesc numeroase cunostinte pe care as vrea totusi sa le dobandesc, realizez ca am pretentii nu vreau sa ma angajez pur si simplu ca vanzatoare sau lucrator comercial la KFC. Si stiind toate astea despre mine, ce sa fac in continuare? Cine angajeaza un student sarman si are rabdare cu el sa-l faca sa scoata capul in lume? Va zic eu, nimeni. Mai ales pe timpurile astea idioate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Urasc banii, urasc materialismul, urasc ca trebuie sa platesti pentru orice. Si mai urasc ca trebuie sa fii sclavul unui am-venit-din-america-si-vreau-sa-va-arata-voua-romanilor-cum-se-fac-afaceri pentru a trai..decent, pentru a-ti permite concediul mult visat si o casuta in care sa-ti cresti copiii asa cum ti-ai dorit (asta daca ai timp sa ai asa ceva, mai exact copii). De ce nu puteam noi, omenirea asta tampita sa nu..."evoluam"? Really! NU era mai bine sa ne fi dus noi traiul frumusel cu agricultura si vanatoare in continuare? CE dracului ne-a apucat? Cine a zis, cand a zis ca vrea sa ne depasim conditia de primate cu ceva mai mult creier? Sau e in natura noastra sa ne scarpinam cu mana stanga la urechea dreapta? Simtim mereu nevoia de a ne complica inutil doar de dragul de a ne simti importanti, chiar daca importanta faptelor noastre nu e decat in capul nostru.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cam acelasi lucru fac si eu acum. Cine mi-o fi bagat in cap ca vreau cariera? Si cu toate astea ma las dusa de val, imi aplec urechea la vocea societatii, la a celor care spun si considera ca daca nu ai facultate, un master, un job decent si 10000 de cursuri inutile la activ esti un ratat. Sincer nu m-ar deranja ca viitorul meu sot sa fie lacatus mecanic de exemplu. Chiar deloc! Pentru ca in nici un caz nu ma voi casatori cu vreo gorila, vreun idiot care sa-si bata copiii de 10 ori pe zi, sa vina beat sau sa imi fie frica sa ies cu el in lume. Sotul meu va fi o persoana care a citit, care chiar daca nu stie webdesign, nu are experienta in sales sau management stie ca trebuie sa-si iubeasca familia, sa o respecte, va stii cum sa ma cucereasca, va stii ce apreciez, ce valori am. Si asta pentru ca sunt niste valori comune- alea ale bunului simt si ale armoniei pe care ne-o dorim cu totiii. Nu dau doi lei pe cartonul ala idiot pe care ti-l dau la sfarsitul facultatii, nu dau doi lei pe cat de mare sef esti sau cat de destept te crezi. Am vazut idioti sus-pusi si sunt sigura ca sunt multi din astia, am vazut oameni care chiar meritau, dar pur si simplu viata a fost mai mult decat rea cu ei. Si atunci de ce mi-ar pasa? De ce as vrea sa fiu sotia unuia bogat in diplome acumulate la foc atuomat? Nu e o problema de inteligenta aici, e o problema de atestare a inteligentei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma mai deranjeaza si dorinta asta atat de arzatoare a unora de a sti "ce vei face peste 5 ani?". Si ziceati ca Ceausescu cu planurile lui era nebun. Pai oamenii astia sunt de 10 ori mai nebuni. Dracu' stie ce o sa fac peste 5 ani, poate ma razgandesc, imi bag piciorul in tot si ma retrag la tara. Ce ziceti de asta domnu' anagajator? N-am fost niciodata o persoana decisa. Desigur, mi-am facut mereu o gramada de planuri, am avut o gramada de vise la care m-am vazut nevoita sa renunt rand pe rand. Si atunci, cum mi se poate cere sa spun acum ce ma vad eu facand peste 5 ani, care e obiectivul meu si altele de acest gen? Obiectivele mele se schimba in fiecare zi daca vreti, pentru ca in fiecare zi mai descopar cate ceva despre mine. Asa cum in urma cu un an nu ma vedeam in alta parte decat intr-o redactie de ziar, asa azi ma vad poate lucrand in HR.  De ce? Pentru ca mi-am dat seama ca jurnalismul nu inseamna si nu se rezuma la ideile mele romantate, ca nu e de ajuns sa scrii frumos (lucru pe care nu-l fac deloc bine din cate imi dau seama). La naiba, pacat ca nu am stiut din clasa I ce vreau sa ma fac cand voi fi mare si sa imi pastrez opinia. Daca e asa, ce ne facem? Cum o rezolvam? MI-as dori sa pot fi sincera si sa pot spune ce am de spus, dar ceva imi da de banuit ca acei "unii" despre care vorbeam mai sus nu apreciaza sinceritatea mea si o privesc mai degraba ca pe imaturitate, neseriozitate. Ei bine, nu toti suntem asa norocosi sa stim ce vom face in viata, nu toti ne dam seama in ce excelam, unii dintre noi nu-si dau seama toata viata, iar altii cred cu tarie ca nu exceleaza in nimic. Mai sunt insa si cei care nu pot ajunge acolo unde doresc, care oricat de determinati, oricat de motivati, oricat de cu ochii pe obiectiv ar fi nu pot efectiv sa il ajunga.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stiu, viata e nedreapta. Just go with the flow, fii asa cum sunt si ceilalti si vei fi fericit, nu incerca sa faci nota discordanta: termina o facultate la fel ca ceilalti, invata macar doua limbi straine, Office Word si utilizarea internetului, gaseste-ti un post si mituieste pe cineva daca e nevoie, ia-ti o nevasta/un sot, toarna doi copii, iar din salariul de catel fidel iti vei duce familia in concediu la bulgari. Daca se poate iti achizitionezi si o masina si un apartament care nu vor fi niciodata cu adevarat "ale tale".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Varietatea, subiectivitatea, opinia, dorinta, visul, planul, indrazneala...toate se platesc. E tot un fel de comunism ce traim si acum, doar ca nitel dat cu pudra si mascara; la prima ploaie acida, insa isi arata negul urat de Baba-Cloanta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doamne...ce vremuri traiesc!&lt;br /&gt;Noapte buna si vise placute!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-1662937446811984791?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/O8f3mSasOuw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/1662937446811984791/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=1662937446811984791" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/1662937446811984791?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/1662937446811984791?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/O8f3mSasOuw/cine-mi-furat-viata.html" title="Cine mi-a furat viata?" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/06/cine-mi-furat-viata.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkMCRHY6cCp7ImA9WxJREUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-8737948040735913888</id><published>2009-05-12T17:04:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-12T18:01:05.818+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-12T18:01:05.818+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="din lumea celor prea frustrati" /><title>Ia frustrarea!</title><content type="html">Frustrari la minut, intre un Eco, un T.S Elliot si multi altii:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;prima...si cea mai grava, ieri seara am fost anuntata ca restanta la Concepte operationale (denumirea e pur formala) se da...maine! Asta dupa ce saptamana trecuta am fost personal la secretariat sa ma interesez si mi s-a spus ca nu a fost anuntat nimic si nu exista nici macar un numar de telefon. Figures! Si acu' pune-te Oana si citeste si conspecteaza si chinuie-te cu un urias de reader. M-am culcat la 4.00 si m-am trezit la 7.00. Mi se inchid ochii si imi tremura toti muschii pe mine de la cafelele fara numar pe care le-a suportat sarmanul meu organism neinvatat cu asemena excese. O trece si asta!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;doua. Saptamana viitoare am patru(4!) examene. Imi aduc aminte de zilele in care imi doream sa fiu ocupata, sa fac ceva, sa nu mai simt ca trece timpul pe langa mine....ei bine, am invatat o chestie: D-zeu manuieste bine de tot ironia!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a treia: Sistemul Bologna sucks! Si cam atat. E de prisos sa extrapolez. E common sense deja.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. V-am zis ca mi-e somn? si ca nu-mi vad capul de trebi?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;V. imi era dor sa scriu pe blog si sa imi expun frustrarile si paranoile (daca imi e permisa expresia). Sa le insir in borcane ca pe foetusi in vazul public, in muzeul cu ciudatenii aflat pe domeniul blogspot.com. De asta in loc sa scot ideile din "Opera deschisa" tastez din sala multimedia a Bibliotecii Universitare Bucuresti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Va salut din zbor, Caius ma asteapta si la fel si readerul lui.&lt;br /&gt;Niste zile minunate sa aveti! Ne vedem cand ne-ntalnim.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-8737948040735913888?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/DN6FaxpD2tg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/8737948040735913888/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=8737948040735913888" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/8737948040735913888?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/8737948040735913888?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/DN6FaxpD2tg/ia-frustrarea.html" title="Ia frustrarea!" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/05/ia-frustrarea.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4NRXo_eip7ImA9WxJTFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-2754242665919213427</id><published>2009-04-25T22:19:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T22:33:14.442+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-25T22:33:14.442+03:00</app:edited><title>Cutremura-m-as!</title><content type="html">S-a terminat, s-a terminat! Ce s-a terminat? Cutremurul, cum ce?&lt;br /&gt;Eram pe strada si n-am simtit nimic. Ceva mai incolo, in barul cel de toate zilele baietii faceau misto de un cineva care spunea ca a plecat de acasa de frica cutremurului. Peste cateva minute ma suna tata sa-mi zica sa imi sun colega de camera care era singura la Bucuresti sa vad daca e OK ca a fost cutremur. Mda! Si p'asta l-am ratat. In Valcea nu misca nimic. Nici cutremurele macar.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-2754242665919213427?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/BByBZ74-3Eg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/2754242665919213427/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=2754242665919213427" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/2754242665919213427?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/2754242665919213427?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/BByBZ74-3Eg/cutremura-m-as.html" title="Cutremura-m-as!" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/04/cutremura-m-as.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkMGSHo5eSp7ImA9WxJTFU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-8122122647484779594</id><published>2009-04-23T22:49:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-24T00:00:29.421+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-24T00:00:29.421+03:00</app:edited><title>Sechestru pe natura</title><content type="html">Dupa episodul Govora, urmeaza episodul Olanesti (pentru cei care totusi nu stiu despre ce vorbesc, asta e tot o statiune din Valcea).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aflu de la TV ca izvoarele au fost concesionate si accesul e restrictionat acum. In conditiile astea ma intreb cine va mai veni aici pentru tratament? Statiunea este (sau mai bine spus...era) frecventata de persoane in varsta, dar nu numai, care sufera de diferite afectiuni gastrice sau de alta natura si statiunea Baile Olanesti le este recomandata pentru tratament. Anual, aici vin si se cazeaza persoane din toate colturile tarii. Acum insa, din cauza foamei de bani a unora, se pare ca vom mai pierde una din atractiile turistice ale locului. Izvoarele alea au stampila cu "Proprietate privata" pe ele? Din cate stiam e vorba de un "bun" public. Sau cel putin, asa ar fi de bun simt. Pacat. Cam asta se pare a fi viitorul turismului in Romania.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E trist ca unii sunt lasati sa-si faca de cap cum vor.&lt;br /&gt;Cu revolta in gat,&lt;br /&gt;.....va salut!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-8122122647484779594?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/Hs_QXw8KbNQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/8122122647484779594/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=8122122647484779594" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/8122122647484779594?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/8122122647484779594?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/Hs_QXw8KbNQ/sechestru-pe-natura.html" title="Sechestru pe natura" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/04/sechestru-pe-natura.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEABSX8zcCp7ImA9WxJTEkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-7032911132626264005</id><published>2009-04-20T22:01:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-20T22:45:58.188+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-20T22:45:58.188+03:00</app:edited><title>N O I  (3)</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SezQ2TNNQdI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/uObQYUTlwJg/s1600-h/IMG_1612.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 174px; height: 132px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SezQ2TNNQdI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/uObQYUTlwJg/s320/IMG_1612.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326862090559635922" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe an ce trece cuvintele se imputineaza, devin mai inutile, mai slabe, mai inexpresive. Asta pentru ca dupa trei (3) ani cuvintele isi pierd puterea si tot ce ramane in urma lor sunt amintirile, momentele mai frumoase sau mai putin frumoase, iubirea, regretele, rasetele, lacrimile. In urma cuvintelor, dincolo de ele ramanem NOI, suntem noi doi, in globul nostru de cristal faurit din vise, nu cuvinte, nu promisiuni desarte, ci sperante si nazuinte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acum, la trei ani dupa intamplarea noastra, nu-mi pot gasi destule de cuvinte sau cuvinte mai frumoase pentru a putea exprima mai bine fericirile si tristetile noastre. Vor ramane asa, in forma lor sferica, plutind stralucitoare in jurul aurelor noastre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iti multumesc pentru increderea ta, pentru crizele de ras, pentru siguranta iubirii ce mi-o porti.&lt;br /&gt;La multi ani noua!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-7032911132626264005?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/49nQgAkH62c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/7032911132626264005/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=7032911132626264005" title="10 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/7032911132626264005?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/7032911132626264005?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/49nQgAkH62c/n-o-i-3.html" title="N O I  (3)" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SezQ2TNNQdI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/uObQYUTlwJg/s72-c/IMG_1612.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">10</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/04/n-o-i-3.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUIFQXk6fip7ImA9WxJTEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-5137207297736749969</id><published>2009-04-19T16:26:00.015+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-19T18:05:10.716+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-19T18:05:10.716+03:00</app:edited><title>Ruinele nu mai au poezie</title><content type="html">Calinescu si-a intitulat un capitol din faimosa "Istorie a literaturii"-"Cantaretii ruinelor", referindu-se, desigur, la altceva decat la ce urmeaza sa povestesc eu mai departe. Eu as reformula si as spune: cantaretii pustii ai ruinelor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Te cuprinde groaza. Ai impresia ca tot ce mai lipseste din peisaj sunt niste gemete infundate si siluetele care ar trece usor dintr-o camera in alta topinde-se in lumina. Peretii curg, la propriu, se topesc sub influenta timpului, a singuratatii, a nepasarii, se inghit pe ei, se mesteca de ani de zile pe interior ca si cand ar vrea sa se ingroape, sa se intoarca din praful si din pamantul din care au fost creati de mainile a zeci de ucenici zidari.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scena nu e desprinsa dintr-un film, dintr-o pagina de carte citita undeva, candva. Scena e reala. E mai reala decat ar trebui sa fie. Sfideaza bunul simt al realitatii omului nedeprins cu astfel de revelatii bruste si violente. Ruina, mizeria in toate formele ei, dezolarea, pustietatea nu sunt doar simple cuvinte cand vorbesti de Sanatoriul de la Baile Govora, sau mai exact: "Pavilionul central de bai Govora." Aici, imi povesteste tata in timp ce isi plimba privirea ingrozita pe peretii coscoviti, veneau cei bolnavi de astm sau cu alte afectiuni respiratorii, pentru recuperare si tratament. Locul obisnuia sa fie animat, atractia statiunii cu care, desi in ciuda starii in care se afla nu de ieri sau azi, Rm.Valcea inca se lauda, de parca nimeni nu ar mai fi trecut pe acolo de ani de zile si nu ar cunoaste starea reala. Cladirea este acoperita cu o panza ce purta insemnele unei anumite firme de constructii. Se pare insa ca e pregatita de renovare inca de acum un an, asa cum am aflat intamplator de pe &lt;a href="http://cataling.blogspot.com/2009/03/govora.html"&gt;Photodynamics.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt; . Singur, doar un Caragiale napadit de buruieni mai e martorul prapadului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ce a mai ramasa din Govora? Din Baile Govora, una din statiunile balenoeclimaterice cu care ne mandrim atat de mult? E pustie, e trista, e imbatranita. Numai Primaria se inalta alba, de marmura, iar langa ea la parterul unui bloc o filiala BRD. In rest, blocuri mai vechi sau mai noi, case aflate intr-o contradictie frapanta. Daca pe una dintre ele sta scris "Cladire periculoasa", altele sunt noi, construite dupa ultimele tendinte si standarde. Doar de la carciuma aflata la intrarea in parc se mai aud acorduri de manele si din cand in cand cate o masina. Toata statiunea seamana cu orasele parasite din filmele western. Nici nu stii ce doare mai tare: nepasarea, situatia in sine? Cert e ca nu te poti duce in Govora fara a pleca de acolo cu gust amar, cu un sentiment de dezgust pentru un sistem ori mai degraba o mentalitate care nu numai ca prefera relaxarea (a se citi lenea) mandriei de a realiza ceva, ci e chiar in stare sa distruga intorcandu-si cele 10 capete hidoase de la fata lucrurilor ce i-au fost date in dar de natura ori Creator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soarele va mai apune inca o data peste ruinele din Govora si peste alte ruine dintr-o tara in ruina.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/Ses3e5koVUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/VKUx_sChzKw/s1600-h/IMG_1538.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/Ses3e5koVUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/VKUx_sChzKw/s200/IMG_1538.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326411988285805890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/Ses4bOCyrfI/AAAAAAAAAJA/7yVgqJbo7as/s1600-h/IMG_1542.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/Ses4bOCyrfI/AAAAAAAAAJA/7yVgqJbo7as/s200/IMG_1542.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326413024573173234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/Ses3suEyoPI/AAAAAAAAAI4/rc6wlfZC3nI/s1600-h/IMG_1549.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/Ses3suEyoPI/AAAAAAAAAI4/rc6wlfZC3nI/s200/IMG_1549.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326412225717641458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/Ses3mzg1FtI/AAAAAAAAAIw/ZaybzOU4WB4/s1600-h/IMG_1540.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/Ses3mzg1FtI/AAAAAAAAAIw/ZaybzOU4WB4/s200/IMG_1540.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326412124098205394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/Ses5oY4wvzI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Qcw7ZUPRa0g/s1600-h/IMG_1551-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/Ses5oY4wvzI/AAAAAAAAAJI/Qcw7ZUPRa0g/s200/IMG_1551-1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326414350333820722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-5137207297736749969?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/e3-KZ5MDonI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/5137207297736749969/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=5137207297736749969" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/5137207297736749969?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/5137207297736749969?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/e3-KZ5MDonI/ruinele-nu-mai-au-poezie.html" title="Ruinele nu mai au poezie" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/Ses3e5koVUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/VKUx_sChzKw/s72-c/IMG_1538.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/04/ruinele-nu-mai-au-poezie.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUUEQXg8cSp7ImA9WxVaFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-3803981861496807746</id><published>2009-04-13T22:52:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T23:06:40.679+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-13T23:06:40.679+03:00</app:edited><title>Utilitarism masculin</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SeObS7CTvOI/AAAAAAAAAH0/F7m4gwSC8Ek/s1600-h/the-hunt-for-britains-tightest-person_625x352.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 112px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SeObS7CTvOI/AAAAAAAAAH0/F7m4gwSC8Ek/s200/the-hunt-for-britains-tightest-person_625x352.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324269933869382882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astazi, 13 aprilie 2009&lt;br /&gt;Locatie: Ikea, Bucuresti&lt;br /&gt;ora:..circa, aproximativ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faza tipica: El si ea si o paturica minunata. Absolut mirifica, asa cum trebuie sa fie o paturica in care ai vrea sa-ti incalzesti trupul dupa o tranta in zapada, in care ai vrea sa te inveleasca iubitul/a cand ai adormit la televizor etc. etc: colorata colorata, impletita si moale cum numai paturica ideala poate fi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ea (plina de elan si entuziasm sincer, cu ochiii stralucind la gandul decorarii dormitorului lor cu o asemenea minunatie): Uite, puiu ce paturica frumoasa!&lt;br /&gt;El (:|): Si la ce-ti trebuie?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Concluzie: barbatul e tot barbat. Daca nu e util, nu exista!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: trebuie sa recunosc, paturica costa 125 RON :D (&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;si totusi iubirea ;;)&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/1194139294239336343-3803981861496807746?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/lM-5V-L1gc0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/3803981861496807746/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=3803981861496807746" title="5 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/3803981861496807746?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/3803981861496807746?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/lM-5V-L1gc0/utilitarism-masculin.html" title="Utilitarism masculin" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SeObS7CTvOI/AAAAAAAAAH0/F7m4gwSC8Ek/s72-c/the-hunt-for-britains-tightest-person_625x352.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/04/utilitarism-masculin.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkUBRXw_fCp7ImA9WxVaEUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-4825551969523526269</id><published>2009-04-06T17:42:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T11:10:54.244+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-08T11:10:54.244+03:00</app:edited><title>Opinii si impresii</title><content type="html">Am o gramada de povestit. Se pare ca in ultimele zile, "planetele s-au aliniat", asa cum spune colega mea de camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sau nu...as continua acum. Scriu post-ul asta in doua momente diferite. Randurile de mai sus au fost scrise ieri, cand chiar credeam ca nimic nu poate merge mai bine, nimic nu poate fi mai bine. Dar asa cum se intampla intotdeauna, de ieri si pana azi starile mele s-au schimbat des si iata ca scriu acum, acum cand asa cum probabil v-ati dat deja seama, situatia nu e chiar roz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma doare stomacul pentru ca de la ora 14 nu am mai mancat decat mere, mi-e somn pentru ca...nu stiu, de lene presupun, dar daca asta ar fi tot as fi fericita. Insa nu despre asta voiam sa scriu azi, ci despre &lt;a href="http://www.cnscpeweb.ro/"&gt;Congres&lt;/a&gt;. In mare, organizarea a fost buna, invitati pe masura, desi &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;unii&lt;/span&gt; m-au plictisit prin discursurile parca invatate pe dinafara si recitate monoton--m-am simtit ca la facultate, la cursul de literatura. Temele discutate m-au uns pe suflet, printre ele numarandu-se si "Blogul-o noua carte de vizita?". Mi-am dat seama ca se pot face multe chestii cu jucareaua asta, insa e nevoie de ceva energie si ceva mai mult talent decat dau eu dovada; pana una alta, jonglez de placere cu frazele in blogosfera. Am inteles care e "faza" cu campaniile online, cu IAB-ul, cu new media cu reclama de pe bloguri si banii de pe urma ei. Cei de la&lt;a href="http://www.blogway.ro/"&gt; Blogway&lt;/a&gt; (doi tipi chiar draguti) au incercat sa ne convinga sa ne facem blog la ei (bine, bine au zis ca nu asta e scopul si sa ignoram partea de promovare) si cum si ce sa facem ca sa avem cel mai tare din parcare blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe scurt, a fost o experienta, zic eu, utila pentru un student care &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nu&lt;/span&gt; e la comunicare pentru ca lucrurile discutate nu au fost atat de complicate (din nou, e doar parerea mea) si eu, cel putin am privit asta ca pe o activiate extra din care m-as putea alege cu niste lucrui utile. Pentru cei din "breasla" cred ca au fost utile pentru ca au fost abordate teme de actualitate cu care ei au luat deja contact. Plus ca mai exista si partea neexersata, cea practica despre care stim cu totii cat de mult lipseste in facultate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ar mai fi ceva, dar va las in suspans (ras in hohote) , pana am mai mult detalii.&lt;br /&gt;Inchei aici descrierea mea insipida. Cu alte vesti din universul paranoic...pe alta data! pana atunci...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Va salut!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-4825551969523526269?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/n3e_8rMtAHo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/4825551969523526269/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=4825551969523526269" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/4825551969523526269?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/4825551969523526269?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/n3e_8rMtAHo/opinii-si-impresii.html" title="Opinii si impresii" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/04/opinii-si-impresii.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUUDR306eCp7ImA9WxVbEUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-4986081864779592871</id><published>2009-03-27T21:27:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-27T21:47:56.310+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-27T21:47:56.310+02:00</app:edited><title>Vreau sa ma fac mare!</title><content type="html">Mi-am luat azi invitatie pentru &lt;a href="http://www.cnscpeweb.ro/"&gt;"Congresul national al studentilor la comunicare"&lt;/a&gt;. Bine, bine, nu sunt chiar studenta la comunicare, dar ceva extra facultate nu strica niciodata.  Asadar, intre 2 si 3 aprilie voi participa la conferinte pe teme precum: Media digitala (sustinuta de Alessandra Stoicescu), Social networking sau Blogul-o noua carte de vizita?  (moderator-Cabral), iar pe 4 aprilie la un workshop sustinut de Blogway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M-am entuziasmat si asa raman pana atunci (si sper si dupa). Am inceput sa prind gustul lucrurilor noi si interesante, vreau sa invat (uneori fac pe autodidacta) si vreau sa ma implic in lucruri care sa ma ajute sa-mi redescopar latura practica si inventiva-uite o descriere care mi se potriveste. In sfarsit, am gasit ceva de spus despre mine! Vreau sa ma fac...mare!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am planuri, multe (?) planuri. Sper sa si reusesc sa le duc la indeplinire. Wish me luck!&lt;br /&gt;Va salut!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-4986081864779592871?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/kDj0TnmCsCU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/4986081864779592871/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=4986081864779592871" title="3 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/4986081864779592871?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/4986081864779592871?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/kDj0TnmCsCU/vreau-sa-ma-fac-mare.html" title="Vreau sa ma fac mare!" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/03/vreau-sa-ma-fac-mare.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEYAR3c6eCp7ImA9WxVUGU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-6474455009244271837</id><published>2009-03-24T19:22:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T21:15:46.910+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-24T21:15:46.910+02:00</app:edited><title>Universul transpira</title><content type="html">Azi mi s-a intamplat un lucru interesant. Cu atat mai interesant cu cat nu demult, &lt;a href="http://www.leuldeoras.ro/blog/conceptii/sindromu-colegului-complexat/"&gt;Leul&lt;/a&gt; intr-un post al sau, vorbea cam despre aceeasi chestie care mi-a "blocat" mie neuronul azi, desi intamplarea mea ia o alta turnura. Universul transpira pentru noi, dragii mei! Iata cum:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Metrou, multa lume, o "eu" nitel absenta cu muzici dubioasa urland in casti si o sacosa ecologica de la Carrefour, plina cu bunatati, pe genunchi. In fata mea rasare deodata chipul cunoscut al unei colege de liceu si de facultate. Tot ce ne desparte la ora actuala sunt cateva strazi si faptul ca frecventam cursurile in serii diferite, altfel se presupune ca in timpul liceului faceam parte din acelasi grup de prietene. Ma observa, ridic din sprancene si ii zambesc prietenos in timp ce imi scot castile din urechi crezand ca va vrea sa stam de vorba. Ea, insa imi face un semn scurt din mana si se aseaza in fata mea fara a mai scoate nici macar o vorba. Cand am coborat, a preferat sa o faca pe o alta usa si sa ma ocoleasca, desi mergeam practic in aceeasi directie. Acesta fiind rezumatul intamplarii, acum sa analizam: [colega mea era probabil suparata, nu avea o stare prea buna sau era pe stop, oricum ceva major (sau poate nu atat de) o deranja=&gt; nu o dispozitie optima pentru palavragit] + [zambetul ala al meu prietenos e de foarte multe ori...de forma; in majoritatea cazurilor regret ca ma surprind cu el falfaind pe buze, ca intorc capul si intalnesc privirea unei persoane (oricare ar fi ea) cu care va trebui sa stau de vorba pentru ca asa e frumos: asta sunt, de foarte multe ori prefer sa fiu lasata in pace decat sa ma fortez sa port o conversatie plina de banalitati (kill me for that)] acestea fiind spuse, gestul colegei mele nu m-a deranjat, nu am ramas blocata nestiind cum sa reactionez, am zambit in sinea mea si mi-am zis: "uite, inca una ca mine." Am inteles-o, chiar am inteles-o. "Te-am salutat pentru ca asa e politicos, dar te rog lasa-ma sa te ignor in continuare pentru ca nu iti pot suporta prezenta", cam asta mi-au transmis gesturile ei. Eu zic ca e o situatie de perfecta intelegere, am rezonat, ne-am aflat pe aceeasi frecventa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ar fi superb, lumea ar fi mai buna daca toti ne-am intelege asa, daca am putea sa ne aliniem cumva propriile stari la pornirile firesti ale celorlalti, sa nu bruiem fluxul celuilalt, sa nu intervenim cu japca si sa il fortam sa fie asa cum nu poate fi. Asta e evident, insa o teorie utopica si are probabil lipsurile ei, o baza nitel cam instabila ce poate fi cu siguranta usor daramata. Azi, insa s-a potrivit manusa, mie si ei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peace, love and understanding people!&lt;br /&gt;Va salut!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-6474455009244271837?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/pFGEJFNKgg4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/6474455009244271837/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=6474455009244271837" title="2 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/6474455009244271837?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/6474455009244271837?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/pFGEJFNKgg4/universul-transpira.html" title="Universul transpira" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/03/universul-transpira.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D08DRng9cCp7ImA9WxVUE00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-934501065335043428</id><published>2009-03-17T17:20:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T18:04:37.668+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-17T18:04:37.668+02:00</app:edited><title>Despre...(N)/nimic</title><content type="html">In ultimul timp pseudoblogul meu, jumatatea asta de masura, incercarea asta mai mult nereusita de exorcizare a unor dracusori pur personali mai mult sta pe loc decat sa bata campii cu gratie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mare dezamagire si durere imi provoaca aceasta stare de fapt. Desi frustrarile (specialitatea mea) n-au disparut (o nu, sunt acolo) au intrat parca in letargie. Intre un I.Heliade Radulescu, un rezumat facut la BCU si Alexander Pope, cand sa se mai poata manifesta si frustrarile? Adica, asa, in plenitudinea lor si in felul specific, pentru ca in definitiv si la urma urmelor, toate astea enumerate mai sus sunt cauzele starilor mele. De unde fratilor inspiratiune si discurs caninos daca timp nu &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;e? S-ar zice ca viata n-are farmec, ca nu se intampla nimic niciodata si in general minunatia aia de existenta pe care o asteptam s-a inecat la mal (asta de pe care a sarit, nu celalalt) dupa ce a dat saracuta inutil din maini si din picioare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nimicul imi guverneaza viata: toata ziua nu fac..nimic (interesant care este), nu mai scriu nimic, nu ma mai mira nimic, de pe e-jobs &amp;amp; comp. nu aflu niciodata..nimic pozitiv in legatura cu grandiosul meu viitor etc. etc. Asadar, imi impart viata intre nimicuri abstracte si umane (care sunt si astea un fel de abstractizari ale unor manifestari carnale in contingent...o Doamne!)...nimicuri, nimicuri. Un nimic aici, un nimic dincolo, un CV plin cu nimicuri si probabil o perspectiva la fel de...de nimic. Si pentru ca deja (cred) ati prins ideea, rostul entry-ului asta a fost..nici unul, sau nimicul, in acceptiunea lui paranoica si totalmente frustrata, specifica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La naiba, fata, hai ca ne-am agitat destul. Atat entuziasm pentru o singura zi devine nociv.    &lt;br /&gt;Va salut!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Mai multe despre nimic...spre ca &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;nu&lt;/span&gt; intr-un episod viitor!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-934501065335043428?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/rFovBtcwKvY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/934501065335043428/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=934501065335043428" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/934501065335043428?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/934501065335043428?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/rFovBtcwKvY/desprennimic.html" title="Despre...(N)/nimic" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/03/desprennimic.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0ACR3c8eyp7ImA9WxVWGU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-2342366547756566146</id><published>2009-03-01T10:41:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T12:02:46.973+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-01T12:02:46.973+02:00</app:edited><title>To job or not to job? Definitely... searching</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SapYJsS5JII/AAAAAAAAAHk/UaQPRnjbVFQ/s1600-h/JobSearchNewspaper.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 148px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SapYJsS5JII/AAAAAAAAAHk/UaQPRnjbVFQ/s200/JobSearchNewspaper.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308152034342020226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi caut job. Vreau sa ma simt utila, sa fac ceva practic, sa invat. Cam asta ar fi ideea. Si daca mai castig si niste bani..n-ar fi chiar atat de rau. Ce ma fac insa cu programul infernal de la facultate? Ne tin in priza cu lecturi, cu cartile de critica, cu eseurile si lucrarile. O alta "problema" ar mai fi si aia ca sar repede peste anunturile de lucrator comercial la Burger King, Mc sau KFC.  Pur si simplu...nu vreau. Nimic mai simplu. Sau nimic mai complicat de fapt. Ce stiu sigur e ca vreau sa am ceva de trecut acolo la CV, iar faptul ca ii intreb pe niste unii daca isi vor halca de porc la pachet sau "aici" nu prea poate fi trecut la rubrica "Experienta". Sau poate ca sunt doar pretentioasa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In alta ordine de idei, vreau sa-mi schimb stilul de viata de acum, pe ceva cu mult mai alert (mai alert decat e deja) dar care sa ma si faca sa ma simt mandra de ceea ce realizez. Eu zic ca e un scop nobil. Pana una alta, trebuie sa imi iau examenele la lingvistica, morfologie si literatura engleza. E dureros! Mai e dureros faptul ca azi intr-un anunt se cerea ca persoana care ar ocupa respectibul post  sa arate foarte bine. What the...? Specific ca nu era pentru vreo companie de fo/utomodele. Oi fi eu prea pornita in avanturile justitiare, dar asta mi s-a parut de prost gust. Adica, nici eu nu as angaja o persoana care nu se ingrijeste cat de putin de aspectul fizic, dar nu le poti cere tutror sa arate ca Naomi ( e doar un exemplu). Urat fratilor. Rusinica! Asta imi aduce aminte de o replica a profului de pedagogie. Spunea ceva de genul ca ne "ingrijim prea mult de hoitul potential" (rasete in audienta) in timp ca ignoram sufletul. Bine, tipul preda la Filosofie, lucru care m-a uns pe inima.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si pentru ca ideile mele s-au epuizat, inchei aici pana nu devine plictisitor. Azi la ora 16.45 zbor inapoi la capitala. Wish me luck in noua saptamana!&lt;br /&gt;Va salut!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-2342366547756566146?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/OtPVVjaKOAM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/2342366547756566146/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=2342366547756566146" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/2342366547756566146?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/2342366547756566146?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/OtPVVjaKOAM/to-job-or-not-to-job-definitely.html" title="To job or not to job? Definitely... searching" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SapYJsS5JII/AAAAAAAAAHk/UaQPRnjbVFQ/s72-c/JobSearchNewspaper.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/03/to-job-or-not-to-job-definitely.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C08AQX0yeip7ImA9WxVXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-3172891261384994341</id><published>2009-02-15T21:42:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T23:04:00.392+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-15T23:04:00.392+02:00</app:edited><title>Contrast</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SZh_bNSzKCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/YZcZsxWJZNE/s1600-h/IMG_0295.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SZh_bNSzKCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/YZcZsxWJZNE/s200/IMG_0295.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303128666630465570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*** O intentie cat se poate de onorabila...esuata. Etapele unui entry de jurnal intim (prea intim)***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...maine iau drumul Bucurestiului, din nou. S-a terminat vacanta, gata! the end! kaputt! hasta la vista! pe curand! s.a.m.d&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi pare rau ca in cele doua saptamani nu m-am simtit suficient de inspirata cat sa scriu mai mult pe blog si sa recuperez perioada de inactivitate, imi mai pare de asemenea rau ca...n-am reusit sa schimb la mine ceea ce imi propusesem, regret ca vacanta asta nu a fost ceea ce mi-am dorit, dar cine stie, poate tot raul e spre bine. In fond, am si amintiri frumoase (desi de data asta le pot numara pe degete) si majoritate includ ciocolata de casa cumparata de la Annabella (a naiba contradictie in termeni). Cred ca cel mai mult timp mi-a ocupat...nostalgia, pozele vazute de o mie si una de ori pe calculator, poze ce au impietrit cu o strangere de pleoapa (intocmai ca Medusa pe sarmanii muritori) momente cu adevarat fericite, cand am crezut (chiar am crezut) ca mai bine de atat nu se putea. Peripetii pe varfuri de munte, focuri de tabara, corturi, raze de soare impungand frunzele verzi ale copacilor, cantecele unor cercetasi, apoi: prima poza impreuna cu el, prima criza de ras, prima plimbare impreuna si restul de zile petrecute in aceleasi locuri dar de fiecare data mai fericiti. Cum sa nu te gandesti la trecut cand sunt atatea lucruri minunate care iti pot ocupa jumatate de zi sau zile intregi: voluptatea pierderii timpului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N-am pornit sa caut ce se credea pierdut pentru ca ar fi prostesc, ar fi inutil. In realitate...nu am pierdut nimic. Am totul aici, in ridurile de expresie din coltul buzelor, pe filele jurnalului, in replici ramase clasice (pentru noi doi, evident) in gesturi si in gusturi, in mirosuri, in imagini, in culori de verde si albastru. Ce sa vreau mai mult decat sa ma plictisesc o viata intreaga tot admirand aceeasi galerie veche de amintiri, mana in mana cu trecutul?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar la naiba cu gandurile fericite, la naiba cu visele si cu amintirile. Cat de repede poti da totul uitarii cand intr-un minut doar ceea ce credeai stabil, ceea ce credeai frumos isi arata fata mancata de carii. Cine imi poate spune care e realitatea? Aia care doare mai tare sau cea in care imi vine sa ma scufund si sa ma patrund de soare? As fi atat de fericita daca pur si simplu m-as opri sa le mai compar, sa ma las sfasiata de cate ori cerul meu perfect e acoperit de nori. Si cine e vinovat? E vinovat cineva? Mai are vreun rost cautarea asta? Parca strig in vant, parca tot ce fac e sa ma tocesc pe o foaie care se incapataneaza sa ramana alba, imacultata. Nu am scris niciun rand si nu voi scrie niciodata ceva care sa faca realitatea asta sa isi schimbe forma. Caut metamorfoze unde nu e potential. Numai un prost, un idealist ar mai indrazni sa-si plece genele visatoare asupra unei ruine. Iar ruina asta e realitatea mea cruda, cea in care ma zbat, cu gust sarat, cea in care am sa ma epuizez pana cand toata esenta se va fi evaporta in aerul neschimbator, mereu acelasi, impasibil, incolor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acum, spune-mi tu, nu e trist?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-3172891261384994341?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/W35HyjSLKnc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/3172891261384994341/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=3172891261384994341" title="6 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/3172891261384994341?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/3172891261384994341?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/W35HyjSLKnc/contrast.html" title="Contrast" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SZh_bNSzKCI/AAAAAAAAAHU/YZcZsxWJZNE/s72-c/IMG_0295.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/02/contrast.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUDQH05eCp7ImA9WxVXEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-6661581459313091817</id><published>2009-02-06T21:53:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T17:17:51.320+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-08T17:17:51.320+02:00</app:edited><title>Leapsa si cartile</title><content type="html">U, u, leapsa! My first leapsa. Primita de la &lt;a href="http://misshappyloveslife.blogspot.com/"&gt;Tea care "loves life"&lt;/a&gt;. So..there it goes!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Una: Care este cea mai buna carte citita de tine?&lt;br /&gt;Pfff...nu-mi prea place expresia asta, "cea/cel mai", de asta n-am sa dau un titlu, ci mai multe, in ordine aleatorie: "Colectionarul" de John Fowles,  "Lupul de stepa" de Hermann Hesse, "Memoriile postume ale lui Bras Cubas" de Machado de Assis (si cea mai recenta, am terminat-o azi :D) siiii..multe altele&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doua: Ai facut cadouri carti?&lt;br /&gt;Da. (merge atat? :P) Bine, sa dezvolt, da am facut cadouri carti, nu de multe ori. Prefer sa cred ca au si fost citite&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trei: Care este viitorul literaturii?&lt;br /&gt;Viitorul e unul extrem de roz. Cu mine in Facultatea de Litere..putin respect! Serios: Nu stiu daca e vorba doar de cercurile in care ma invart sau oamenii chiar au inceput sa citeasca din nou. Ar fi dragut asa. Cat despre literatura in sine, clasicul nu moare niciodata, iar postmodernismul trebuie sa-si castige drepturile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patru: In ce limbi ai citit carti?&lt;br /&gt;Pai..engleza. Si cam atat :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cinci: Ce carti "celebre" nu ti-au placut?&lt;br /&gt;Nu am citit "Codul lui DaVinci" din acest motiv, pentru ca era "celebru" asa ca nici nu am mai incercat. Pe langa asta as mai aminti Coelho de la care am citit doar "Alchimistul" si nu m-a cucerit deloc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Ce tara a produs cea mai buna literatura?&lt;br /&gt;Noi! In secolul XVI-XVII, atunci cand englezii il aveau pe Shakespeare si la noi se chinuiau sa scrie niste cronici de curte 8-|. Din nou, nu pot fi de acord cu "cea mai buna", as zice Marea Britanie, Rusia, dar si America de Sud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Iei notite din cartile pe care le citesti?&lt;br /&gt;De regula nu. Doar din alea de critica literara :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. Cam cate carti ai citit pana acum?&lt;br /&gt;Eheheeee...cat sa umplu o biblioteca micuta, dar ma uit in jur la alte persoane si imi dau seama ca niciodata nu poti spune ca ai citit "prea multe" carti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.Cu ce carti ai dormit in brate de plictiseala?&lt;br /&gt;Cu Calinescu :)), la "Istorie" ma refer. De dormit n-am adormit cu ea in brate, am atipit cu capul &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;pe&lt;/span&gt; ea, in scopul de a-mi insusi cunostiintele cat mai temeinic. Dar n-a mers. Nu-i chiar o lectura plictisitoare, are un stil jucaus care imi place tare mult. Dar in shimb pot vorbi despre cartea de Lexic si semantica...intereseaza pe cineva?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.Ce inseamna cartile pentru tine?&lt;br /&gt;O lumea intreaga. Recent ma gasise pofta de citit in timp ce eram la metrou. Am trait un sentiment ciudat, cand a trebuit sa imi indrept atentia de la carte la trenul care tocmai sosise la peronul. Parca eram straina de realitatea mea obiectiva, palpabila. Recunosc ca am fost nitel derutata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.Care este cea mai scumpa carte pe care ai cumparat-o?&lt;br /&gt;Asta nu-mi amintesc, dar consider ca toate cartile sunt valoroase, indiferent de pret (raspuns previzibil)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;XII Care este cel mai tare final la o carte citita?&lt;br /&gt;Mie mi-a placut tare mult finalul "Colectionarului" si in general cartile lui Fowles. Nu cred ca are rost sa povestesc, pentru cine nu a citit...incercati si va convingeti singuri ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;XIII Care este cea mai influenta carte citita de tine?&lt;br /&gt;Influenta in sensul ca o dadusem in paranoia rau de tot :)) cred ca "Cimitirul animalelor" de Stephen King.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;XIV Care scriitor te-a influentat cel mai mult?&lt;br /&gt;N-a fost &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;un &lt;/span&gt;scriitor, au fost toti intr-o masura mai mare sau mai mica masura.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;XV Cat de repede citesti o carte?&lt;br /&gt;Depinde de cat de voluminoasa e cartea, dar si de cat de mare interesul pe care mi-l trezeste. In general, cateva zile, in functie de alte lucruri pe care le mai am de facut&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;XVI Poate literatura sa schimbe lumea?&lt;br /&gt;Atata timp cat intelegem literatura in legatura cu (pardon) cultura. Literatura, in sine exprima societatea in sanul careia se naste, asa ca...e mai mult vorba de o interdependenta si schimb de influenta. Dar, ca sa fim optimisti, "la naiba, in puii mei": DA!..de ce nu? :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M-ai nimerit Tea cu leapsa asta ;). Eu ii nimeresc mai departe pe &lt;a href="http://sergiu_blog.ablog.ro/"&gt;dl. Sergiu&lt;/a&gt; :P si &lt;a href="http://www.ralucahritcu.ro/"&gt;Raluca&lt;/a&gt; :P.&lt;br /&gt;Spor la leapsa!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-6661581459313091817?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/R2WTQNniTCg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/6661581459313091817/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=6661581459313091817" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/6661581459313091817?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/6661581459313091817?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/R2WTQNniTCg/leapsa-si-cartile.html" title="Leapsa si cartile" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/02/leapsa-si-cartile.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIGRng-cCp7ImA9WxVQF0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-5328743730922870030</id><published>2009-02-04T20:30:00.011+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-05T01:02:07.658+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-05T01:02:07.658+02:00</app:edited><title>Eroina de pe Venus</title><content type="html">&lt;div style="text-align: justify; font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SYoWyDqrOgI/AAAAAAAAAFU/iiD7Ylkz-iU/s1600-h/images.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 135px; height: 135px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SYoWyDqrOgI/AAAAAAAAAFU/iiD7Ylkz-iU/s200/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299072960788380162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;Femeia, eternul feminin: Venus, mama copiilor vostri, sotia, amanta, businesswoman, "Taranca" lui Grigorescu sau "Galarina" lui Dali, gospodina, prostituata, Cleopatra, Maria din bancurile cu Ion, blonda din bancurile cu blonde. Femeia in multele ei ipostaze. Unii dintre voi (voi barbatii, in mod evident) si-au dedicat cartile..noua, intrebandu-se "De ce iubim femeile?" au compus "Ballade pour Adeline", si-au dedicat poeziile si vietile. Ziceti voi acum daca asta nu inseamna ceva.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;Nu, nu sunt o feminista. Ideea ar fi alta. De la Eva incoace, femeia s-a dezvoltat, a crescut, s-a metamorfozat, a trecut de la o etapa la alta. Femeia secolului XXI nu mai este cea plapanda, nu mai este "a damsel in distress" careia trubadurii sa-i cante sub fereastra. Sau cel putin in aparenta. Femeia aceasta moderna s-a transformat in superhero sau vrea sa se transforme. Tineti minte Power Puff girls? sau Catwoman. Sau poate ar trebui sa privim mai in urma, la "Madame Bovary". Oricum ar fi, femeia isi revendica libertatea, puterile pe care in mod misterios le-a cedat la inceputurile lumii, barbatului. Si de unde stim totusi ca nu femeia vana in Comuna primitiva? Oare nu leoaica face toata treaba? Vedeti voi, femeile pe care voi le priviti de sus, de care va indragostiti uneori nebuneste, pe care unii din voi le bat (tot din prea multa dragoste probabil)  care in cele din urma v-au dat nastere, mamele voastre si ale copiilor vostri, miresele de la altare si toate pe cele pe care nu le-ati cunoscut...isi cer drepturile. Mhm. E un adevarat protest al femeii supererou. Poate ca fetele care se bat frumos prin filme, poate ca trupele rock cu frontwoman, in loc de frontman si cartile (!!!)  despre si pentru femei exprima tendinta asta, exprima o noua etapa a femeii, o treapta pe care o urca in castigarea unui statut.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;Stiu ca cei mai carctotasi (sau poate..misogini?) vor considera entry-ul asta o oda adusa femeii. Tin sa va dezamagesc. Nu este o oda pentru ca nu cred in  businesswomen cu toc cui si inima de gheata, nu cred nici in Catwoman si cu atat mai putin in Venus. Cred in schimb ca fiecare este dator sa arate ca poate mai mult, sa-si depaseasca o anumita conditie si eticheta pusa pe frunte cu sau fara voia lui. Unele etichete vin din momentul conceptiei din momentul in care la eco ti se zice "o sa ai o/un fetita/baietel". Chestia asta cu lupta intre sexe...face lucrurile sa para atat de simple. In realitate, ele nu sunt deloc simple. Femeia, asa slaba cum este ea considerata, poate fi in definitiv cel mai mare dusman al barbatului si sa dea dovada de o cruzime de 1000 de ori mai mare ca a urangutanului beat care isi bate nevasta pentru ca are chef, asa cum si barbatul cel mai barbat se va amoreza si el in cele din urma si va lacrima amar (e inevitabil). Ceea ce face ca taietura asta care a despartit barbatul de femeie in timpuri imemoriale sa nu mai para atat de definitiva este ambitia care ne uneste si slabiciunea de care dam dovada cu totii, indiferent de ce se afla sub lenjeria intima, fara exceptie. Asadar, nu fac o pledoarie in favoarea femeii, nu o ridic in slavi si nici nu o cobor in Iad, asa cum nici pe demnii purtatori ai numelui de "barbat" n-am sa-i demonizez. Atunci...care e rostul/sensul/scopul?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;Sincer...niciunul in mod deosebit. Sunt doar ganduri pe care le aveam ieri in drum spre casa. Cand mergi cu autocarul timp de 3 ore si in casti canta muzica...iti trec multe prin cap)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-size:100%;" &gt;Noapte buna, baietei si fetite!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-5328743730922870030?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/P5CVmizVhlc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/5328743730922870030/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=5328743730922870030" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/5328743730922870030?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/5328743730922870030?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/P5CVmizVhlc/eroina-de-pe-venus.html" title="Eroina de pe Venus" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SYoWyDqrOgI/AAAAAAAAAFU/iiD7Ylkz-iU/s72-c/images.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/02/eroina-de-pe-venus.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUcASHs6fip7ImA9WxVSGUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-8662039321319855962</id><published>2009-01-14T15:59:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-14T16:24:09.516+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-01-14T16:24:09.516+02:00</app:edited><title>Doar atat am sa va zic</title><content type="html">Ghici unde sunt acum? La biblioteca. Mhm. Si nu la oricare. Ci la "Biblioteca Centrala Universitara". E? Nu suna pretentios? Ma aflu in sala multimedia si am acces gratuit la internet, asa ca mai pot scrie pe blog. Imi era si dor.  Am in fata "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare" si in urmatoarele cateva ore am sa ma chinui sa citesc macar o parte din "Richard al treilea" pentru ca miercurea viitoare am examen la literatura engleza si nu am citit atunci cand trebuie :D. Eh, shit happens....every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In alta ordine de idei, ma transform intr-un mic soarece de biblioteca, ceea ce pe limba lu' Shakespeare ( ca tot o sa devenim "pretini" la catarama) s-ar traduce prin: IT SUCKSSS!!! La BCU aici e...frumos, liniste, muuuulte carti care din pacate nu pot fi imprumutate, dar in definitiv, e mult mai OK sa vin aici sa studiez, decat in haosul de la camin. Sesiunea se apropie cu pasi extrem de repezi. A, stai...e saptamana viitoare :. Pana acum am avut deja ceva verficari, lucrari, la care am luat note, zic eu, decente. Vineri aflu si rezultatele la tehnica lecturii si latina :))). Latina! Prima nota din carnetul de pio..aaa, student este 10 ;;)....la sport :. Probabil va fi si ultimul, desi in sinea mea sper sa nu. Despre facultate in general nu pot spune decat ca...e oarecum o alta dezamagire pe acea lunga lista. Sau poate ca nu e neaparat facultatea de vina, ci programul infect care nu-mi mai da timp pentru absolut nimic, profesorii cam frustrati si colegii- niste genii in devenire. Altfel, as invata niste lucruri foarte interesante, daca as avea neuronul destul de dezvoltat cat sa le si priceapa sau sa le puna in aplicare. Pentru dupa sesiune (in speranta ca pana atunci nu ma spanzur in cel mai apropiat copac sau ma arunc in fata metroului) mi-am cumparat o carte, "Lupul de stepa" de Herman Hesse, pe care vreau sa o recitesc si mai am eu si alte planuri de relaxare psihica pe care sper sa ajung sa le pun in aplicare. Eu si colega de camera am promis solemn ca semestrul viitor o lasam mai usor cu avantul asta intelectual de boboc la Litere si ne mai dezoltam si latura aia care striga din noi: "Vreau la teatru/film/muzeu, vreau sa citeeeeesssc..la dracu, si nu critica."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana una-alta, insa ma aflu tot la BCU si sesiunea imi rade batjocoritor din raftul de la camin, din cursuri, de pe fetele celor de la facultate si mai ales ale profesorilor. Ar fi timpul sa ma intorc la Shakespeare al meu cu tragediile sale si, in acelasi timp, la mica mea drama numita "Literatura engleza". Doar atat am vrut sa va zic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bafta la examene dragi colegi de suferinta!&lt;br /&gt;Va salut!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-8662039321319855962?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/3YgKJnSxIRs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/8662039321319855962/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=8662039321319855962" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/8662039321319855962?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/8662039321319855962?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/3YgKJnSxIRs/doar-atat-am-sa-va-zic.html" title="Doar atat am sa va zic" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2009/01/doar-atat-am-sa-va-zic.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkcFSX0-cSp7ImA9WxVTGUw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-7094639878379299026</id><published>2008-12-28T19:27:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T19:40:18.359+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-01-02T19:40:18.359+02:00</app:edited><title>Paranghelteleviziunea noastra cea de toate zilele</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SVkLfoPHlSI/AAAAAAAAAFM/K98L6M_Ej60/s1600-h/art_114498_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SVkLfoPHlSI/AAAAAAAAAFM/K98L6M_Ej60/s200/art_114498_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285268275700667682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eeeeh, a trecut si Craciunul. Ne-am imbuibat, am halit purcelul cu codita cu tot, am baut lichiorul, ginul, cognacul, vinisorul, ne-am odihnit binisor si acum ne pregatim  pentru Revelion. Vreau sa stiu si eu ceva, romanul mananca numai de sarbatori, fie ele de iarna sau pascale?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trecand peste "detaliile" de ordin culinar, de cativa ani incoace urmaresc cu...interes&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;? &lt;/span&gt;programele de Revelion de la TV, programe carora li se face cu doua saptamani inainte reclama. "Paranghelion", "Vanghelion" (OK, asta nu e program TV, dar este&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;la&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; TV) va spun ceva? Mie da. Si nu numai ca imi soptesc suav in&lt;br /&gt;ureche: "Eu sunt ala care ti-a terorizat vacanta" dar pur si simplu nu le dau pace piticilor Duracel de pe creier. Ca sa fiu mai explicita, am sa...detaliez in cele ce urmeaza si aceasta noua frustrare a mea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, am inteles ca ne aflam (ca in fiecare an de fapt) la finele a 12 luni mai bune, mai rele, mai calde, mai reci, mai...mai. Am inteles si ca mass-media (implicit si in special televiziunea)  trebuie sa se hraneasca cu ceva, ceea ce nu inteleg eu este de ce trebuie sa manance atat rahat? Sau nu, mai bine, de ce trebuie sa ne bage noua pe gat atat rahat? De pe a(A)ntena lu' Felix ne saluta "Paranghelionul"...no shit!!! Tie cum iti suna, draga cititor singuratic? A...paranghelie, a manele, a..prostie, a Dan Negru si a tipete de Ciao Darwin. Pai da, ne pricepem extrem de bine sa ne masturbam in direct neuronu' critic, la talk show-uri, la stiri, pe unde mai apucam, numai sa vada lumea, sa stie, sa se oftice, sa faca apoplexie si sa sune in direct CA COpii nostri nu mai sunt cum ii stiam, CA CAlitatea programelor este scazuta, ca educatia nu sta bine si CA CUltura e pe patu' de moarte si ce facem? O rupem in figuri la Paranghelion. Really, nu obliga nimeni pe nimeni chiar sa se uite la programul TV de Revelion, asa cum exista si libertatea fiecaruia de a decide singur la ce vrea sa se uite. Democratie, right? Dar ma zgarie pe creier ipocrizia unora.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, si inca ceva. Neni si tanti de la tembelizor: e&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;iarna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;!!!! e normal sa fie frig, sa ninga. Sau poate o sa fie mai bine cand in loc sa "crape" pietrele, o sa transpire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cine sa ne mai inteleaga?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In acelasi spirit agitat si frustrat, te salut drag cititor!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Poza: www.romanialibera.ro&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-7094639878379299026?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/42bTE3a_F0A" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/7094639878379299026/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=7094639878379299026" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/7094639878379299026?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/7094639878379299026?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/42bTE3a_F0A/paranghelteleviziunea-noastra-cea-de.html" title="Paranghelteleviziunea noastra cea de toate zilele" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/SVkLfoPHlSI/AAAAAAAAAFM/K98L6M_Ej60/s72-c/art_114498_1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2008/12/paranghelteleviziunea-noastra-cea-de.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkANQ3k4eip7ImA9WxVTEU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-126094162528356181</id><published>2008-12-23T21:17:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T19:13:12.732+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-12-24T19:13:12.732+02:00</app:edited><title>Frustrari cu dragoste</title><content type="html">Maine e Ajunul. O stii si tu. Ai putea, insa a-mi spune de ce ma simt atat de goala pe dinauntru? De ce in minte si in suflet e mai frig ca afara si de ce imi rasuna a tabla ruginita gandurile? As incerca sa ma dezbrac de toata amaraciunea asta daca ar fi la fel de usor de dat jos ca si hainele cand te pregatesti de somn. As arunca-o pe toata ca pe o pereche de pantofi labartati si rupti in talpa, prin gaurile carora intra toata apa de ploaie, rece ca gheata. Si totusi, ce inseamna toate astea, drama mea minora, aproape insignifianta pe langa sufletele si trupusoarele unor copii chinuiti de boala, de tipetele unor "parinti" care ar fi putut la fel de bine sa isi puna streangul daca ar fi avut constiinta nemerniciei lor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maine e Ajunul. O stim cu totii. Si ce facem? Golim rafturile magazinelor. Vorba unei vanzatoare: "si mai zici ca nu are lumea bani". Da, ne lamentam, ne place sa ne planga apropiatii de mila, avem o placere perversa in a ne lamenta si cand vine momentul etalarii hainei de blana, a cardului Visa iesim cu mic, cu mare si devoram toate pulpele de porc, toti puii, cozonacii, prajiturile cu mere, pere, cacao, vanilie, stafide, sticlele de Cola, Fanta, Sprite, Adria, detergentii cu sau fara balsam, cu Calgon sau fara, parfum sau nu, Pampersii, cadourile mici sau mai pretentioase etc etc. Cata parada, cat circ, cata prostie pe metru patrat, cate masini in parcari si totusi atat de putini bani. Si totusi paranoia unei crize financiare, a unei puteri mai mari ca  a lui Dumnezeu, ca a iubirii, ca a lui Buddha, Mahomed sau a oricarei alte zeitati, dumnezeu, valoare spirituala. Da..bani. Alergam cu gura cascata ca niste tampiti, ca si cum in lumea asta n-ar mai exista altceva, ca si cum totul depinde de ei...si in mare parte (atat de trist), asa si e.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cum sa-ti infranezi frustrarea si gandurile negre? Cum sa fii optimist? cum sa fii multumit cu toata mizeria din  jur? Cum, cand, desi nu esti tu cel care sufera de foame, nu esti tu cel maltratat, nu esti tu cel care ingheata de frig pe strazi si nu te trimit ai tai la cersit, VEZI peste tot ochi mari si maini intinse, VEZI guri, buze parlite de ger si te gandesti ce ar putea fi, cum ar fi putut fi si de ce este asa? Te gandesti uneori "as fi putut fi eu" si te ia cu fiori pe spate, dar alegi sa-ti intorci privirea pentru ca pur si simplu nu suporti sa-i vezi stergandu-si nasul de maneca gecii, nu le suporti ochii care par sa-ti puna in carca tot chinul lor (nu se insala intotdeauna). Te doare prea tare peisajul asta gri, duhnind a bautura, a transpiratie, a jeg, a camera suprapopulata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca ai fi fost tu, cum ai fi gandit? Le-ai fi dorit moartea ipocritilor cu carduri Visa si colesterol mortal? Eu cred ca da. Pentru ca fiecare avem drama noastra si dreptul la putina ura.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-126094162528356181?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/bqNAnzQbKpo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/126094162528356181/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=126094162528356181" title="1 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/126094162528356181?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/126094162528356181?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/bqNAnzQbKpo/frustrari-cu-dragoste.html" title="Frustrari cu dragoste" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2008/12/frustrari-cu-dragoste.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEMGQHo5cCp7ImA9WxRaEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-1954722806997786513</id><published>2008-12-13T22:26:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T23:07:01.428+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-12-13T23:07:01.428+02:00</app:edited><title>O scrisoare undercover pentru un Mos Craciun inexistent</title><content type="html">Nu, nu exista, acum ca v-a trecut socul pot incepe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt acasa-acasa din nou. In spatiul asta ce mi-a devenit aproape vital, in spatiul de care imi e atat de dor uneori, unde fiintele dragi mie respira, sufera, rad si plang, unde lor le e dor de mine, unde le rasuna vocile pe care eu le percep distorsionate la telefon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astazi as fi vrut sa vorbesc despre altceva. Despre cum isi castiga banii studentii, despre anunturile din camin, alea cu "scot la imprimanta- 2 lei pagina" sau "reprezentant Avon" sau v-as fi putut povesti despre cat de urat e "bradul" din intersectie de la Universitate. Dar, am impresia ca nu zic nimic nou. Why bother?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As vrea sa ninga in schimb. As vrea sa fiu si maine seara cu el in baruletul nostru si sa beau ciocolata calda cu frisca si as mai vrea sa nu trebuiasca sa ne despartim seara, ci sa mergem impreuna spre casa Noastra. As vrea ca banii sa nu aiba valoare, as vrea ca oamenii sa-si dea seama de asta. As vrea ca lucrurile marunte sa nu mai stea in calea planurilor mari. As vrea ca el sa ma poata urma, as vrea sa fie fericit. As vrea sa demonstrez ca pot, ca pot sa reusesc si singura. As vrea sa fie pace in lume si...la naiba, as vrea sa pot salva si balenele albastre!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar maine plec. Din nou. Pentru o saptamana. Intr-un oras care nu imi e nici drag, dar pe care nici nu-l urasc, la o facultate...eh, peste as putea sa trec...in general, undeva unde nu e acasa, unde nu prea imi e dor sa ma intorc. Insa viata merge mai departe, ca doar asa si trebuie, cu ups and downs, cand la vale cand la deal, cand cu boii mici cand cu cei mari. Poate pana la urma o scot la capat, sperand ca o sa fie onorabil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: da, nu se prea intelege nimic din post-ul asta, nici nu stiu daca trebuie sa se inteleaga prea multe avand in vedere ca totul e atat de subiectiv si de "al meu", insa unii se vor simti si ei atinsi de cele spuse; in cele din urma e vorba de studentul plecat de acasa, aveti putina compasiune *puppy eyes*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-1954722806997786513?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/oUr2XbwxyBA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/1954722806997786513/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=1954722806997786513" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/1954722806997786513?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/1954722806997786513?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/oUr2XbwxyBA/o-scrisoare-undercover-pentru-un-mos.html" title="O scrisoare undercover pentru un Mos Craciun inexistent" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2008/12/o-scrisoare-undercover-pentru-un-mos.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQFRHw-fip7ImA9WxRbEEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-5087942232141353096</id><published>2008-11-30T20:43:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T21:11:55.256+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-30T21:11:55.256+02:00</app:edited><title>Cum (n-)am votat...</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/STLlb08zUzI/AAAAAAAAAEc/Ofl2-FKW2Uc/s1600-h/art_95710_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/STLlb08zUzI/AAAAAAAAAEc/Ofl2-FKW2Uc/s200/art_95710_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274530379837166386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Revenind la ce spuneam tot in cursul zilei de astazi legat de vot, o daaa, am fost la vot. Am fost pentru ca nu am vrut sa stau acasa, cu mainile in san. Da, am votat...in alb. O mare fasaiala si chestia asta imi e atat de evidenta mai ales acum cand imi creier imi rasuna vocea lu' Geoana care se bucura precum un copil pentru cele 36,2%. Faptul ca majoritatea din cei prezenti azi la vot erau pensionari si cu maxim 4 clase spune multe, zic eu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voi cum (n-)ti votat?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-5087942232141353096?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/XOJq_-z_6JI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/5087942232141353096/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=5087942232141353096" title="3 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/5087942232141353096?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/5087942232141353096?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/XOJq_-z_6JI/cum-n-am-votat.html" title="Cum (n-)am votat..." /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HoG1G62UF6M/STLlb08zUzI/AAAAAAAAAEc/Ofl2-FKW2Uc/s72-c/art_95710_1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2008/11/cum-n-am-votat.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEBSHc7eCp7ImA9WxRbEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-4703790394860983686</id><published>2008-11-29T23:00:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T11:50:59.900+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-30T11:50:59.900+02:00</app:edited><title>Criza-m-as si n-am cui</title><content type="html">OK, locuiesc, inspir si expir aer (aer?) de capitala si ma simt la fel ca in Evul Mediu lipsita de TV si internet. Vin acasa si informatiile incep sa ma bombardeze: prin  Bombay mor aia pe capete pentru ca unii au probleme si criza economica ne anunta zambitoare ca ne-a luat pe toti dracu. Daca n-ar fi atatea figuri incruntate si daca n-as simti un vanticel rece si prin buzunarele alor mei (implicit ale mele, spre rusinea subsemnatei) as zice ca iar exagereaza. E foarte posibil sa ne dam cu capul de pereti de pomana, asa cum e foarte posibil sa ne chiar ia naiba pe toti. Cum eu si economia nu avem nimic in comun, am sa ma opresc aici, la o parere care de fapt nu e parere si la o introducere absolut insipida, incolora si inodora, intocmai ca apa imbuteliata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trecand la subiect, dupa ce o saptamana intreaga am incercat sa ma impac cu gandul ca eu raman singura in camin in timp ce dragii mei colegi merg pe la cashile lor, vineri am luat subit decizia de a ma intoarce totusi pe plaiurile natale. De ce? Nu, nu ca sa votez. Si nici nu am venit pe gratis pentru simplul motiv ca nu circul cu trenul, ci din motive...obiective, ca sa fiu politically correct. Si ca tot veni vorba de a fi "politically correct", nevasta/sotie/consoarta/femeie/muiere...cum vrei sa zici, intr-un termen p.c. se numeste "unpaind sex slave". Asta era din termenii p.c. de pe o lista cu care ne-am amuzat la un curs de engleza. Daca ar fi sa ma iau dupa listuta aia, as zice ca destul de multi barbati sunt politically correct, chiar daca ei sarmanii habar n-au ce e aia sau cu ce se papa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trecand peste, si revenind totodata la ideea de mai sus, cu votul, va jur cu mana pe mouse ca nu mai suport fata bunicutei aleia din afisele electorale cu "ei cu ei...si restul cu p-zda ma-sii". Aia grizonata si cu geanta pe o parte, aia cu degetele in V (de la "ce varza suntem"). E imposibil sa nu-mi apara in fata pentru ca o gasesc mereu fie pe la metrou, fie pe un dita panoul in intersectie, fie in statia de autobuz. Eh, si in momentele alea imi vin sa-mi bag bocancii in el de drept cetatenesc ca oricum ei cu ei si cu noi nimeni. Bine ca se termina azi. De fapt nu. Abia azi incepe. La TV numai despre asta o sa vobeasca si inca vreo 2 zile de acum incolo vor bate campii despre alegeri, despre ce au facut, vor face, cum s-a ales, cine, cum, cat, unde si mai ales de ce? Eu una habar nu am cu cine sa votez si de ce ar trebui sa votez. Sau in general, noi, cetatenii. De ce sa votam? Ca sa ne dam mai apoi constant cu pumnii in cap? Daca ii putem pune acolo sus de ce nu avem puterea sa ne si intoarcem impotriva lor? S-a intamplat o data si nici atunci rezultatul nu a fost cel scontat. De atunci, parca suntem niste tanci care urla ca le e foame, dar care sunt total ignora(n)ti. Deci, incotro? Quo vadis? Sau pe ce alta limba mai doriti.  Tine minte trei cuvinte: voma!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ca sa inchei, va urez un Sf. Andrei fericit (unde e cazul) si un 1 Decembrie plin de spirit national, fasole si ciolan, concerte pe gratis si parade militare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Va salut!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-4703790394860983686?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/oXy1w-JnZn8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/4703790394860983686/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=4703790394860983686" title="0 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/4703790394860983686?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/4703790394860983686?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/oXy1w-JnZn8/criza-m-as-si-n-am-cui.html" title="Criza-m-as si n-am cui" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">0</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2008/11/criza-m-as-si-n-am-cui.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkQNRXw_cSp7ImA9WxRUFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1194139294239336343.post-4460110749033182074</id><published>2008-11-23T09:13:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T10:53:14.249+02:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2008-11-23T10:53:14.249+02:00</app:edited><title>Cand "noi" moare</title><content type="html">Gresise din nou. Gresise si simtea ca orgoliul, egoismul, reprosurile, tradarea se intorceau acum asupra ei cu o putere de o mie de ori mai mare. Se intorceau cu ura si o loveau cu o violenta la care nu se asteptase, pe care nu o prevazuse. Credea ca tineretea, imaturitatea ei o vor scapa, ii vor oferi scuza, pretextul perfect. Cat a putut sa se insele, cat de mult a reusit sa scada in ochii lui, cat de mult a putut sa raneasca...asta avea sa o afle abia dupa acea seara oribila, abia dupa ce a vazut cu ochii ei prin ce trecea el de fiecare data cand se certau la telefon si minutele treceau cand in liniste, cand vibrau din cauza tipetelor. Reusise sa distruga in doar 2 luni, ani de fericire, ani de intelegere, de vise, de planuri. Si pentru ce? Pentru ca ea avea frustrari, pentru ca ea nu accepta compromisuri, pentru ca ea simtise miros de libertate si ducea la extrem dorinta ei de manifestare, pentru ca dorea sa-si demonstreze siesi ca poate sa puna piciorul in prag, ca e o femeie independenta. Cu ce pret? Calca in picioare tot, il calca in picioare pe el. Cum de nu se gandise ca pe el il doare? Cum de crezuse ca totul se va rezolva de la sine? Cum nu anticipase ea ca avea sa se afle pana la urma pe margine prapastiei?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Orbire. Orbire din partea amandurora. Isi pierdusera echilibrul. Cat de orbi au putut fi, cat de ignoranti, cat de egoisti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nicio o femeie nu merita nimic"...si nici ea nu merita ca el sa sufere. De ce ar fi meritat cand ea se tranformase in ceva de nerecunoscut? Cat de realist privea acum lucrurile. Vedea intr-adevar ca s-a schimbat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ii e sila de ea insasi. Oricat de mult ar vrea sa imparta vina...majoritatea e a ei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultima sansa. Atat. Si apoi...s-a terminat. S-au dus dracului toate visele.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1194139294239336343-4460110749033182074?l=welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~4/pmmzXx9G8yI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/feeds/4460110749033182074/comments/default" title="Postare comentarii" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=1194139294239336343&amp;postID=4460110749033182074" title="4 comentarii" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/4460110749033182074?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1194139294239336343/posts/default/4460110749033182074?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/dfuV/~3/pmmzXx9G8yI/cand-noi-moare.html" title="Cand &quot;noi&quot; moare" /><author><name>Oana Chitu</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13791179181007701511</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="12658362428764936466" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://welcometoparanoialand.blogspot.com/2008/11/cand-noi-moare.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>
