<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221</id><updated>2012-02-16T14:08:37.847+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Thoughts of a broken product</title><subtitle type='html'>Showbiz.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>123</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-1259114036829155872</id><published>2010-09-12T14:31:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T14:34:39.868+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"there's something about you. the way you talk, the way you clearly have a deep sense of understanding, and caring... I can read a lot about people just from their eyes, and I nearly got lost in yours. you make me feel at home, and welcome, in an environment i'm unfamiliar with, and to be honest, I had the feeling I should hold your hand at one point.&lt;br /&gt;you're just lovely; a wonderful example of what a lot of the population could aspire to be."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-1259114036829155872?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/1259114036829155872/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/09/theres-something-about-you.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1259114036829155872'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1259114036829155872'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/09/theres-something-about-you.html' title=''/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2196613241705033557</id><published>2010-08-10T22:51:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2010-08-11T02:49:48.351+03:00</updated><title type='text'>When a tornado meets a volcano</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"i'm just sorry cuz i'm not... too normal or too myself right now.  i used to be determined brave strong.. a fighter.&lt;br /&gt;e o perioada tare lunga in care am fost doborata de prea multe ori. but... it always happens for a reason." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toti copii sunt inocenti. And then they grow up si pe masura ce invata [as in traiesc] mai mult, pe atat sufera mai mult, pe atat se schimba mai mult, si nu neaparat in bine. Ii admir pe oamenii ce isi pot pastra bunatatatea intacta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am fost si eu un copil. For a long long time. Si imi amintesc ca in inocenta si in ignoranta mea, i was happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe cand acum.. I'm my biggest enemy. I know life is scary. And people are scary. But i'm okay and used to it. But when it comes to myself.. That scares me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to know how to control myself, imi impuneam foarte multe lucruri, pana si ce sa simt. And then i lost control. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno if i know myself anymore. And it's not necessarily a bad thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i'm scared of myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think i'm masochistic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes you may feel that you've lived for nothing. that you've done shit with your years. that you do not own them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sometimes you feel that you do not know who you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but do not regret anything cuz everything you have done is who you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i have no idea if i have done more good deeds than bad ones. maybe that's why people invented the judgement day. if were to die right now, i have no idea what i'd say up there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i know people are both good and evil, kind and selfish, loving and vengeful. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i got used to having a bad opinion about myself. too bad, actually. it made me feel unspecial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ego is a tricky thing. it was my first and one of my best armours. but in time, i forgot how to use it well and it turned against me. just as the other armours, which got worse and worse and hit me more and more. cuz i'm my biggest enemy. yeah it's between me and Tyler. my bad imaginary friend. my devil. Max is the very good, very cool imaginary friend and i love that guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;if today was judgement day... mi-ar parea rau. nu am facut ce imi doream pe pamantul asta, nu tot. i'd look back, i'd want back. i'd leave treasures in here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i've done too little in my first 20 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;am uitat [cum] sa fac oamenii sa zambeasca. am fost egoista rea paranoica posesiva egoista egoista egoista. si razbunatoare. and i've hurt lots of people. i still dunno exactly how to forgive but ive tried to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;am iubit. asta e primul lucru bun de spus. am iubit in multe feluri si incredibil de mult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;am incercat sa le arat altora caile pe care le consideram corecte. desi asta poate intra in categoria "bossing people around cuz i'm an egocentric selfish bitch". dunno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;uneori am ajutat fara a avea vreun interes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;de multe ori am uitat sa imi arat recunostiinta. am lasat multi prieteni in spate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;after all, am invatat multe. ca totul e trecator. ca se poate mai rau. ca exista dreptate undeva. am invatat sa o accept de multe ori. ca tot raul spre bine. ca everything in this world happens for a reason. ca hope can get you through anything but it can also kill you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ca people make mistakes. ca you shouldn't be judgemental cuz you can do it too, in the same way or worse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ca e greu ca o persoana sa te inteleaga. ca iti trebuie multi ani si incredibil de multa munca pt ca cineva sa ajunga sa te inteleaga. ca asa ceva e rar, pt ca, as i said, totul e trecator. prietenii vin si pleaca, oamenii se schimba. niciodata total, dar pe alocuri, suficient. ca you're very lucky when you have that special someone and you should cherish him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ca everyone needs faith. or a muse. ca i still have one. i'm still waiting. i'm still loving something, wow. i still have a soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ca ignorance is bliss. ca being in love is bliss. oricat ai suferi, tot esti mai fericit in durerea ta imensa decat daca nu ai mai avea pe nimeni la care sa te gandesti. oh, trust me. ca having smth to die for makes it beautiful to live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ca greutatile in viata vin si trec. si se rezolva. ca viata e o insiruire de evenimente care ne fac sa nu ne dam seama cat de lungi si de boring sunt de fapt anii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ca omul e o fiinta sociala. si o bestie. si un martir.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ca orice ai face, se va intoarce inapoi la tine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i lost innocence and i gained knowledge. i lost happiness but i gained wisdom. i lost my dreams and i gained pain. pain can open your eyes. i lost part of my kindness and i gained experience. i lost the ability to trust people and i gained friends. i lost love and i gained eternal loyalty. I lost pieces of my sanity on the way but i gained the biggest treasure ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2196613241705033557?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2196613241705033557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/08/when-tornado-meets-volcano.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2196613241705033557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2196613241705033557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/08/when-tornado-meets-volcano.html' title='When a tornado meets a volcano'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-5365882804456680273</id><published>2010-05-31T23:15:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2010-05-31T23:41:53.287+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Cumva dezinflatia mi-a amintit de dezindragostire... Hmmm.</title><content type='html'>Mai e cineva pe lumea asta care crede ca dragostea dureaza etern? Chiar sunt curioasa. Am impresia ca ramasesem ultima amarata care mai credea asta inainte. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cert e ca... maybe you never know. Dar in general... Prima dragoste chiar nu e ultima. Nu degeaba exista proverbul asta. And maybe at some point you'll wake up one day realising that it's so weird that for some time now you haven't felt those sweet things for the one that you used to. And you haven't even noticed the change, just cuz it's good like that. Maybe. Who knows. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At some point sentimentele dragute se vor indrepta spre altcineva. Sau nu. Dar unde erau inainte nu vor mai fii. Se poate ca asta sa te dea peste cap, sa te schimbe ca om, sa te faca sa nu mai stii ce vrei de la viata sau chiar sa nu mai vrei nimic. Sau se poate pur si simplu sa ramana ceva frumos si linistit unde inainte fusese foc. Sau se poate sa ramana durere, neimplinire, regret. Depinde de povestea fiecaruia i guess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sau se poate sa nu ramana nimic. Sa fie nepasare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si sa continui sa speri si sa visezi la ceva cat de cat bun. Sau nu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, I'm gonna fuck everything up sooner or later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-5365882804456680273?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/5365882804456680273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/05/cumva-dezinflatia-mi-amintit-de.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/5365882804456680273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/5365882804456680273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/05/cumva-dezinflatia-mi-amintit-de.html' title='Cumva dezinflatia mi-a amintit de dezindragostire... Hmmm.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2873439787676772517</id><published>2010-05-11T07:56:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2010-05-11T08:03:37.742+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Stres</title><content type='html'>O saptmana incredibil de incarcata, si evident, de stresanta. Totul a inceput vineri, cu primul test, si ar fi trebuit ca in weekend sa ma pregatesc pt saptamana ce urma, adica numai referate, proiecte, teste, partiale, etc... Si, ca de obicei,a sa cum am facut tot anul, nu am pregatit sau lucrat nimic. Iar luni m-am trezit dupa 4 - 5 ore de somn ca sa dau primul test greu, si sa aflu cu cate puncte intru in examen la o alta materie. Apoi am venit acasa si CHIAR am lucrat la vreo 3 proiecte. Doua-s terminate, unul complet, celalalt aproape... Iar al treilea e inceput. Si chair sunt mandra pt ca am descoperit cum se lucreaza in Microsoft Access!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At some point ieri cand lucram in Access simteam ca nu mai pot gandi si ca ma dor ochii asa ca vreo doua ore am luat o pauza si am dormit. Si am visat ca stau toata noaptea sa termin proiectul si ca nu apuc sa dorm si ca adorm la facultate si nu mai apuc sa il prezint sau asa ceva, oricum STRES la maxim. Dar am terminat totul ieri si acum sunt icnredibil de relaxata [nu, dar as fi fost MULT mai rau daca nu le terminam]. Azi si maine mai am teste si prezentari de proiecte importante. Prima zi s-a dus... Mai e un pic. Apoi e mai lejer totul. xD &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Macar asa, cu saptamana asta incarcata, imi iau si eu gandul de la alte prostii. Si asta e cam a doua sau a treia zi in care ma obisnuiesc cu gandurile mele "normale", deci maine sau poimaine cel tarziu voi fi okay, pt ca obisnuinta este imperativul categoric. xD&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2873439787676772517?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2873439787676772517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/05/stres.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2873439787676772517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2873439787676772517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/05/stres.html' title='Stres'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-558317283447309141</id><published>2010-05-09T20:43:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2010-05-10T05:14:58.117+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Hysteria</title><content type='html'>Hope sprays eternal. Yes, it really does. But who the fuck thinks that's a good idea?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana acum... nu pot spune ca mi-a adus numai lucruri rele. Mi-a adus lucruri bune, recunosc. Dar m-a facut sa trec prin o groaza de cacaturi, drumul spre (semi-)reusita a fost mereu lung si pavat cu greutati, suferinta si rahat. Si vad ca tot nu ma invat minte, masochista din mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu TOT ce iti doresti se poate implini. Unele lucruri chiar nu tin de tine. Si unii oameni au prostul obicei [sunt putini, indeed.] de a spera in ceva intr-un mod obsesiv, uneori pt ani intregi. Ca sa ce? Ca sa isi depuna toata energia si sanatatea mintala in acel lucru, sa vrea acel lucru atat de mult incat sa fie orbiti de el si... in final sa nu reuseasca. Pt simplul motiv ca "soarta"/God/altii nu vrea/vor sa le dea ceea ce ei isi doresc. Simplu. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iar sentimentul sperantelor pierdute dupa ce erai CONVINS ca vei reusi.. este... epic. Pur si simplu epic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si cumva oare Oana vrea sa treaca din nou prin asta? Nu s-a invatat minte deja? Hmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scriu cu intentia de a imi tine o morala. Pt ca nu e nicio persoana lucida mai aproape de mine care sa ma traga tare de brat si sa imi spuna "Femeie, trezeste-te!". Iar daca mi-ar spune nu stiu daca as si crede-o.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So WTF Oana? Ti s-a urat cu binele? Sau doar iti era prea bine cand era bine si acum cand nu mai e, vrei sa crezi ca va fi din nou at some point? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, probabil ca va fi bine din nou someday, dar in alta situatie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mmmm cafea cu lapte mmm...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cine crede ca nu mai poate fi [foarte] surprins de viata se insala amarnic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oana, trezeste-te la realitate. Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It had to happen though. Am invatat multe din chestia asta. Chestii destul de mari. Ca mai pot gasi fericirea, e posibil. Ca people make mistakes and it could happen to anyone and that i should be less judgemental. Ca life does go on. Ca... maybe I'm doing smth wrong? Myeah...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it was nice. And pretty. And weird. And annoying. And kinda long. *sighs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Macar se invata din toate experientele naspa si fiecare se intampla pt a iti aduce ceva bun mai incolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parca e destinul meu sa repet aceleasi greseli apropo de ceea ce simt. Si sa trec prin situatii foarte asemanatoare si de cacat. Jesus... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels so awkward to feel similar things in situatii diferite, dupa 3 ani de "rutina". But i guess it's better. Macar acum sunt ceva mai lucida. I hope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'm addicted to happiness. Cuz I want it now.....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-558317283447309141?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/558317283447309141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/05/hysteria.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/558317283447309141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/558317283447309141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/05/hysteria.html' title='Hysteria'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-1627532806780941404</id><published>2010-05-05T08:17:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2010-05-05T09:17:55.964+03:00</updated><title type='text'>How to save a life</title><content type='html'>Nu am mai scris de foarte mult timp. Si nu am mai scris ceva important de preaaaa mult timp. Poate pentru ca toamna trecuta am acceptat ca poate am o problema si am incercat sa o rezolv. Si asa, in timp, am ajuns sa nu mai fiu deprimata. Asa ca inspiratia/muza mi-a disparut. Acum sunt doar un om... as fi spus normal, dar as minti. Sunt un om foarte talentless. Doar faza cu scrisu' o aveam si eu. Pacat de ea ca s-a pierdut. Da' tot e mai bine decat sa fii deprimat, I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything changes in this world. Cand eram mai mica si auzeam asta, mereu ma gandeam ca "nu, nu e adevarat, cel putin dragostea troneaza forever. Iar oamenii nu se pot schimba foarte mult.". Yeah, right. Oamenii se schimba, extrem de mult. Se schimba de la culorile preferate pana la gandire si mentalitate. Planeta se schimba. Gusturile se schimba. Iti schimbi stilul vestimentar, prietenii, persoana iubita. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, dragostea se poate sa nu dureze o viata. Cred ca la unii oamenii e posibil sa make it work, IF they really want it to, dar in general... Se duce. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am trait pe propria piele faza cu "Dragostea dureaza trei ani". Si nu sunt singurul caz. It's weird. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La inceput am fost foarte dezamagita, almost heart broken actually, sa descopar ca toate promisiunile si toate sperantele, toate dorintele din dragoste.... se pot duce asa, pur si simplu.... E trist. Acum pur si simplu am acceptat "crudul adevar". Uneori se poate, alteori nu. Life's tough. Nu e totul asa frumos cum imi imaginam la 17 ani...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E ciudat cum unii oamenii sunt atat de dezamagiti in amor, si totusi continua sa isi doreasca dragoste cu aproape aceeasi ardoare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of them are not scared at all. Poate pentru ca au suferit prea mult si prea indelungat prima data ca sa considere ca pot gasi ceva mai rau de atat... But...you never know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca nu gasesc pe nimeni pana in 2018, am un pact. Ma voi casatori cu un tip genial. we are each other's safety net. I find that cool. DAR. La cum ma stiu pe mine in dragoste, se prea poate ca el sa gaseasca pe cineva pana atunci si eu nu :)) Cuz I am THAT lucky. Si probabil atunci imi voi cumpara multe pisici si voi imbratrani drept "fata batrana si artagoasa cu multe pisici de care rad copiii".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's hope that's not gonna happen. :))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M-am gandit eu asa intr-o zi si am descoperit ca daca cineva/ceva are sanse sa fie dragostea mea eterna pt toate vietile mele.... acel ceva e Muse. Muse au cele mai multe sanse. Muzica lor.... 8-&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In iarna am facut un fel de experiment. Practic, concluzia din el a fost ca inca pot crea o legatura cu cineva apropiat. Ca inca pot arata afectiune cuiva si ca ma pot bucura sa am pe cineva aproape. It was awesome si mi-a aratat ca maybe I don't/wouldn't suck so much in a sortof relationship. Yeah, I'm kinda psycho, dar se poate muuult mai rau. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt intr0un punct in care viata trece pe langa mine while I'm having fun and i have no idea what tomorrow will bring and i don't care too much about that. Ah de cateva luni/saptamani I started "trusting" people again. Am mereu pe cineva in jur si mi-am largit cercul de "prieteni". Decat 3 sunt cu adevarat prietenii mei. Cat despre ceilalti... I guess they're fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's wrong with me and liking unavailable people? I had a crush for some time si persoana respectiva at some point pur si simplu disparuse. Si eu eram amorezata la greu si de cand a reaparut si ne vedem in fiecare zi....nush ce sa mai cred. Si nush ce simt. Adica.. it feels good. I want more, even though I don't. Cuz I'm scared. Cuz i dunno how i feel. And i dunno how i feel cuz it's not "more" between us (yet). And i don't want "more" between us until I know that I DO feel smth for sure. Cuz i don't wanna have "more" and realise I feel shit and end it just like that, like another meaningless crappy incercare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In momentul de fata nu cred ca mai stiu ce vreau intr-o relatie, ce caut la o persoana etc. I have no idea and i have no idea if that's a bad sign or not. Maybe is it cuz my expectations in ceea ce priveste oamenii are sooo low?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viata te surprinde intotdeauna. First because karma is a bitch. Te poti trezi in EXACT aceeasi situatie ca cineva pe cineva pe care ai judecat. Si cel mai probabil te VEI trezi asa. Si acea persoana judecata de tine la fel, pt ca o fi judecat si ea pe cineva at some point, poate chiar pe tine. Si probabil situatiile voastre vor avea loc in acelasi timp. It's interesting. And bad. So bad. Second pt ca nu stii nicidoata ce iti poate aduce ziua de maine si ce se va intampla. Cand esti convins ca vei castiga un pariu, in general poti primi o porunca. Cand esti convins ca ai gasit finally o rezolvare, te trezesti ca privesti in spatele unui geam cum un intreg univers se darama, fix sub ochii tai. Si stai dupa geam si te uiti ca bou'. Cand esti convins ca toate incep sa iti mearga bine, vine ceva extrem de important care sta sa se strice de foarte mult timp si care te demoralizeaza aproape total...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing is, I've become evil. Without realising it. Maybe I've always had it in me, not sure. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always wanted to know how evil people feel when they're being evil. Thing is, maybe they don't (know what they) feel. Just like sociopaths.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-1627532806780941404?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/1627532806780941404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/05/how-to-save-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1627532806780941404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1627532806780941404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/05/how-to-save-life.html' title='How to save a life'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2864702010339814203</id><published>2010-02-15T05:07:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-15T05:11:05.038+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Re-watching sex and the city - starting season 5 riight now, cu un mic dejun pregatit in 15 min in care am fost adormita, i loove coffee, and later i'm gonna have it again with my friend, si pana atunci am noi materii la facultate, and i just felt the need to write that life is good. Except for the fact that i eat EEVERYYYTHING these days. No, seriously, I do. Uuu breakfast and sex and the city yaaay.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2864702010339814203?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2864702010339814203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/02/re-watching-sex-and-city-starting.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2864702010339814203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2864702010339814203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/02/re-watching-sex-and-city-starting.html' title=''/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-5518958649397719216</id><published>2010-02-06T20:59:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-02-06T21:01:39.490+02:00</updated><title type='text'>SATC</title><content type='html'>"in love relationships there is a fine line between pleasure and pain. in fact there is a common belief that a relationship without pain is not worth having. to some, pain implies growth. but how do we know when the growing pain stops and the pain pain takes over? are we masochists or optimists if we continue to walk that fine line? when it comes to relationships how do you know when enough is enough?"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-5518958649397719216?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/5518958649397719216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/02/satc.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/5518958649397719216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/5518958649397719216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/02/satc.html' title='SATC'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-6451439192748801548</id><published>2010-01-26T17:18:00.009+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-26T18:00:53.266+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The violence in your heart.</title><content type='html'>Some time ago, I used to be cool. Smart, popular, active, cute and naive. And then i fell in love. Si nu mi-a mai trecut. Si acum, three years later, descopar ca... azi te pot iubi, maine te pot uri. Si ieri voiam sa te bat doar asa de plictiseala. Asta daca ai onoarea, sau mai bine zis ghinionul, sa te observ, bineinteles. Ca vreau sa ma mai indragostesc si nu reusesc inca. Si ca imi e tare frica de momentul in care se va intampla. Ca nu stii la ce sa te astepti de la mine, ba sunt incredibly sad, ba increhehedibly angry, ba...nu simt nimic. Ca nu stiu ce as mai putea avea de oferit pe plan moral, sentimental. Ca i'm not relationship material. Maybe i never was. Intr-o relatie ori tre sa am extrehehem de multa libertate si de asta se va termina in maxim o luna pt ca nu te suport respirandu-mi aerul, ori acaparez TOT si vreau si mai mult de atat. I shouldn't do relationships... Ca nimic nu ma mai impresioneaza, putine lucruri imi plac si SI MAI putine ma bucura. Ca nimic nu mai e suficient de satisfacator. Ca sunt alta persoana. Una pe care nu o cunosc. Una care simte ca nu mai are cine stie ce de pierdut. Una care si-a dat seama uimita de curand ca vrea (inca mai vrea..?) lucruri total opuse fata de ce voia cea de acum trei ani. Una care nu mai vrea multe totusi. Una care vrea sa fie lasata in pace. Poate pentru ca e mai safe asa. Una care nu stie de capul ei. Una care nu stie nici ce simte. Una egoista, furioasa, plictisita si extrem extrem de fucked up. Un sac de piele in care sunt indesate resturi si bucati dintr-o persoana buna. Resturi mototlite twisted intoarse pe dos si cu multe spatii de vid intre ele. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I started wondering, is love really the most beautiful thing in this world?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-6451439192748801548?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/6451439192748801548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/01/violence-in-your-heart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6451439192748801548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6451439192748801548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/01/violence-in-your-heart.html' title='The violence in your heart.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3801263834214668904</id><published>2010-01-25T10:55:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-25T10:57:21.595+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Make you feel pure</title><content type='html'>"I want to exorcize the demons from your past...."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3801263834214668904?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3801263834214668904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/01/make-you-feel-pure.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3801263834214668904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3801263834214668904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/01/make-you-feel-pure.html' title='Make you feel pure'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-8937495773596454766</id><published>2010-01-20T21:01:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-20T21:08:21.344+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Three</title><content type='html'>Hmm, maybe some things never change. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"This photo of us, it don't have a price, ready for those flashing lights?&lt;br /&gt;Baby there's no other superstar, baby you'll be famous, &lt;br /&gt;Chase you down until you love me"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You healed these scars over time,&lt;br /&gt;Embraced my soul, you loved my mind, &lt;br /&gt;You're the only angel in my life"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You touched these tired eyes of mine, and somehow growing old feels fine..."&lt;br /&gt;"You wrap your thoughts in works of art and they're hanging on the walls of my heart..."&lt;br /&gt;"And though my edges may be rough, I never feel I'm quite enough, it may not seem like very much... But I'm yours."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-8937495773596454766?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/8937495773596454766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/01/three.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/8937495773596454766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/8937495773596454766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/01/three.html' title='Three'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3235245488544873785</id><published>2010-01-15T22:32:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-15T23:24:45.821+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Mr. Mackey il chema, ma!</title><content type='html'>I know grandmas and grandpas always say that, and maybe all the people with this problem advice other people to not deal with it, but now i'm gonna be all cliche and not cool and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids, do NOT smoke! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..Not because it'll kill you, wtf, i don't really care about that, I mean, who does? Who is thinking these days "Oh my God i don't wanna die of cancer"? Yeah, we don't care. - Don't smoke because it's really expensive these days. SO expensive. It hurts your pocket, trust me :)) Also, they could make you feel sick, they could give you pains - headaches, lung pain dunno. They ruin your health as in you can't run fast, you can't work out much [how could you live without thaaaat?], you hate stairs, you can't hold your breath underwater [or not] for more than twenty seconds, you cough a lot and it's pretty not sexy at all.. They're also not that satisfying actually - they only hurt your throat - and everything's in your head. The "Oh my God, i can't deal with this problems without a cigarette"... Which proves my point. All they EVER give is dependence. And yellow teeth and yellow fingers. And smell of smoke in your clothes... And in your pretty used-to-be-perfumed hair....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sighs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah. Don't smoke. Smoking is bad mmkay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. I should suck more candies or something instead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3235245488544873785?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3235245488544873785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/01/mr-mackey-il-chema-ma.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3235245488544873785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3235245488544873785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/01/mr-mackey-il-chema-ma.html' title='Mr. Mackey il chema, ma!'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-6773527950889160598</id><published>2010-01-01T16:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T16:52:03.207+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Rocher</title><content type='html'>"In your house I long to be, &lt;br /&gt;Room by room, patiently..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-6773527950889160598?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/6773527950889160598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/01/rocher.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6773527950889160598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6773527950889160598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2010/01/rocher.html' title='Rocher'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-6844556467432749584</id><published>2009-12-29T10:15:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-01T16:43:24.534+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Paparazzi?</title><content type='html'>"Concrete jungle where dreams are made of,&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing you can't do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No dreams. No big wishes anymore. Ca si cum nu ar mai exista energie pentru asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, chiar nu mai exista.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eram una dintre cele mai constante persoane pe care le stiu. Si acum ma transform in altcineva. Poate in semn de revolta. De parca persoana care fusesem timp de 3 ani era una made of in mod special si trebuie pastrata in timp si in amintire, dar atat. Sau poate nici nu trebuie tinuta minte macar, cine stie. Everything changes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si iubeam sa cred ca unele lucruri nu se vor schimba sau deteriora niciodata. Teapa, i guess...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma bucur sa vad jumatate din beneficiile si partile bune ale anumitor situatii. Dar din pacate nu le prea vad pe cele care ma avantajaza pe mine. Nu inca. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to love it. What happened to that?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-6844556467432749584?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/6844556467432749584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/12/paparazzi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6844556467432749584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6844556467432749584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/12/paparazzi.html' title='Paparazzi?'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-1393051061288585905</id><published>2009-12-24T09:44:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T11:42:03.263+02:00</updated><title type='text'>H8 is the one for me</title><content type='html'>Freedom was the second best plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep on falling in and out...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-1393051061288585905?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/1393051061288585905/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/12/freedom-was-second-best-plan.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1393051061288585905'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1393051061288585905'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/12/freedom-was-second-best-plan.html' title='H8 is the one for me'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-7307844439748724990</id><published>2009-12-17T00:24:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T06:44:31.217+02:00</updated><title type='text'>obsessive..?</title><content type='html'>cand ti se spune ca esti prea slaba si tre sa mai pui pe tine, atunci e &lt;em&gt;normal&lt;/em&gt; sa simti ca you have finally achieved your goal si sa iti doresti sa devii si mai slaba sau macar sa te mentii asa. *laughs* mai ales daca ti se pare ca acum abia ai inceput sa iti lucrezi corpul putin. *smug*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-7307844439748724990?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/7307844439748724990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/12/obsessive.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7307844439748724990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7307844439748724990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/12/obsessive.html' title='obsessive..?'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-1664698226501919117</id><published>2009-12-09T19:31:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-12-09T19:33:42.283+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i don't care if anyone reads this or not, i don't care what you think, i don't give a crap, pur si simplu vreau sa exprim undeva ce simt. ma rog, o parte din ce simt. miiiica parte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;si anume: okay, Jenny nu moare. pt ca NU ma voi uita la sezonul 6. No no no. mai bine ma uit la Twilight. da. there. i said it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh God. Oh God...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-1664698226501919117?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/1664698226501919117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-dont-care-if-anyone-reads-this-or-not.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1664698226501919117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1664698226501919117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/12/i-dont-care-if-anyone-reads-this-or-not.html' title=''/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-4264251599711916960</id><published>2009-11-28T20:47:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-28T20:52:23.018+02:00</updated><title type='text'>All the right moves.</title><content type='html'>"All the right friends in all the right places &lt;br /&gt;They've got all the right moves in all the right places" *smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tg3JASrzggc&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Tg3JASrzggc&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-4264251599711916960?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/4264251599711916960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/11/all-right-moves.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4264251599711916960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4264251599711916960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/11/all-right-moves.html' title='All the right moves.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-6885483927316767628</id><published>2009-11-15T11:30:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T12:12:26.922+02:00</updated><title type='text'>As if you have a choice.</title><content type='html'>Pana acum fusese foc, incendiu, scantei, artificii. Acum e liniste. Dupa 3 ani, imi dau seama ca am ajuns exact de unde am plecat. Aproape. Am in fata mea un ocean imens. Frumos, cald, albastru linistitor, cuminte, cu valurile care mangaie tarmul in timp ce gem usor. Atat de intins, atat de nesfarsit, atat de incredibil de calm in aparenta, dar atat de adanc si pur si simplu imens... Soarele isi reflecta razele rosiatice deasupra lui.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freedom. Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oare e posibil sa rupi o parte atat de gigantica din tine fara sa ramana nimic acolo? Niciun semn, nicio cicatrice, nicio ramasita? Dar poate nu ai rupt chiar atat de mult... Uneori totul se transforma. If you're lucky enough. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa poate nu pierzi prea mult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viata asta reuseste sa ma invete multe lucruri pretioase...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru prima oara ever, ma simt invingatoare si infranta in acelasi timp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must say, I enjoyed this, the best dream I could ever have. *smiles*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-6885483927316767628?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/6885483927316767628/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/11/as-if-you-have-choice.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6885483927316767628'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6885483927316767628'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/11/as-if-you-have-choice.html' title='As if you have a choice.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-196435034778543227</id><published>2009-11-09T01:15:00.010+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-09T03:52:20.031+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything you want will eventually happen.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Svdwa_PbfUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/GFOGPfuWJ7w/s1600-h/DCC_SaraShahi-e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Svdwa_PbfUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/GFOGPfuWJ7w/s320/DCC_SaraShahi-e.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401909887009258818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Cineva obisnuia sa spuna ca nu intelege cum unii oameni ajung sa creada ca nu mai au scapare. Nici una. Cred ca acum incep sa inteleg ce voia sa spuna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De multe ori am simtit si eu asta. De foarte multe ori. Ca there's no way out, ca nu e cale de scapare sau cale de mai bine. Un sentiment de disperare care te mananca lent pe dinauntru. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar eram atat de coplesita incat nu vedeam ca intotdeauna se poate mai bine. Numai sa incerci. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa te straduiesti, sa vezi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sau sa ai rabdare. Sa te tii pe picioare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa ai prieteni geniali. *huge proud grin*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Life is scary. Get used to it. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Din ce am putut extrage din experienta personala, am aflat ca intotdeauna e loc de mai bine. Si ca la un moment dat &lt;strong&gt;va fi&lt;/strong&gt; mai bine. Nu excelent pt toata lumea, dar placut, macar in unele momente.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bine, desi in cazul unora se dau doar franturi de bine pe ici pe colo. *laughs* Eu una inca astept o bucata mai mare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu am mai scris de mult. Nu am mai fost asa de down, nu a mai fost nevoie. Mi-am iesit din mana. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, poate ca suntem singuri o mare parte a vietii, poate ca de ce ne e frica nu scapam, poate ca ni se folosesc si ataca pana la urma toate slabiciunile, poate ca trecem exact prin fenomenele pe care obisnuiam sa le judecam... Actually who am i kidding, chiar asa se intampla! Si doare si uneori chiar iti doresti sa mori. Dar intotdeauna sunt unii care o patesc mai rau... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si intotdeauna soarta te loveste cu o mana dar te mangaie cu cealalata. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..Sau macar iti zambeste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;There are no magical fixes. It's all up to you.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca iti doresti ceva in mod sincer, cu siguranta ai si forta de a ajunge sa ai acel lucru. Se naste odata cu acea dorinta, i think it's kinda meant to be. Ce e mai greu e sa afli cum poti gasi acea forta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mie mi-a luat extrem de mult. Forta a fost, dar am irosit-o in mod gresit. Dar nah, greselile te fac mai bun. Deci sunt constructive after all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Continui sa cred ca atunci cand iti doresti ceva, nu are cum sa nu se intample la un moment dat, intr-un anumit fel, si sa te bucure. Nimic nu se termina niciodata, nu exista sfarsit. Viata te surprinde mereu. She loves it.. Ma simt foarte safe lately.. sa redescopar ca intotdeauna mai ai sanse. Tot mai ai ocazia sa zambesti. Tot apare ceva care sa te readuca pe drumul cel bun... Sau pur si simplu pe un drum. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si pana la urma viata nu e atat de nenorocita si chiar iti da, in cantitatile hotarate de ea, ceea ce vrei. *smiles* Si nu poti decat sa fii recunoscaor. Si sa te bucuri de ce ai. Si de cine esti. Si de ce vei mai avea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand iti doresti ceva cu adevarat, cred ca nimic nu te poate opri si intr-un fel sau altul, pana la urma vei reusi. Trebuie doar sa lupti si sa incerci la nesfarsit, uneori aproape pana la epuizare... Ah da, si sa nu devii obsedat de asta. Nu rau. Ca atunci nu mai vezi bine. Stiu eu pe cineva care obisnuia sa faca asta mereu. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si unii sunt chiar norocosi si castiga mai multe lucruri... Eventually. *smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nothing in this world that's worth having comes easy.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate de asta pretul de platit tre sa fie atat de scump si cu preaaa multe rate...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, poate de data asta chiar incep si eu sa inteleg o mica particica din ce mi-ai spus... *little shy smile*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Un test, eh..?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-196435034778543227?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/196435034778543227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/11/everything-you-want-will-eventually.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/196435034778543227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/196435034778543227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/11/everything-you-want-will-eventually.html' title='Everything you want will eventually happen.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Svdwa_PbfUI/AAAAAAAAAIg/GFOGPfuWJ7w/s72-c/DCC_SaraShahi-e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2287608647198443396</id><published>2009-10-23T00:16:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-10-23T00:19:40.997+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>"look at us; i'm frozen and you're dead. and i love you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evan: I just thought that you should know. &lt;br /&gt;Kayleigh Miller: Know what? &lt;br /&gt;Evan: That you were happy once... with me. &lt;br /&gt;Kayleigh Miller: You know there's one major hole in your story, there is no fucking way on this planet, nor any other I would ever be in some fucking sorority. &lt;br /&gt;Evan: [Whispering] You were happy there...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2287608647198443396?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2287608647198443396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/10/evan-i-just-thought-that-you-should.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2287608647198443396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2287608647198443396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/10/evan-i-just-thought-that-you-should.html' title=''/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-7811344078708052145</id><published>2009-10-12T19:35:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T19:39:13.469+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Would you find it in your heart to make this go away and let me rest in pieces...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-7811344078708052145?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/7811344078708052145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/10/would-you-find-it-in-your-heart-to-make.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7811344078708052145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7811344078708052145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/10/would-you-find-it-in-your-heart-to-make.html' title=''/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-7869658686624631955</id><published>2009-10-04T12:10:00.007+03:00</published><updated>2009-10-04T12:35:38.237+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Change</title><content type='html'>E foarte interesant cat de mult te poti surprinde pe tine insuti si cate poti (re)descoperi despre tine intr-o viata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oana is not here anymore, faceti cunostiinta cu umbra mutilata a ce fusese ea odata. Pregatiti-va sa va distruga vietile. *big fake grin*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You think you're weak, but you're not", "I did see Claudette inside you - a true fighter.", "In a way, you are too kind". Yeah... Oana fusese misto. *sad smile*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-7869658686624631955?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/7869658686624631955/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/10/change.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7869658686624631955'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7869658686624631955'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/10/change.html' title='Change'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3711027339093577743</id><published>2009-09-29T09:50:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T10:13:00.068+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Like a stone?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SsGwwppLkdI/AAAAAAAAAIY/Kt8e3EWqmYk/s1600-h/aww.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 293px; height: 268px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SsGwwppLkdI/AAAAAAAAAIY/Kt8e3EWqmYk/s320/aww.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386780979170611666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Time will help you through&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E foarte ciudat cand se inverseaza rolurile brusc si te trezesti la polul opus al... situatiei. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu inteleg de ce sa intelegi nimic nu mai vrea sa fie eliberator. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But it doesn't have the time&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cred ca nu e doar Furia problema mea. Dar cealalta nu imi dau seama ce nume are.. Pain, i guess. Dar e foarte insistenta si enervanta si FARA mare motiv aici. Si totusi imi da toate planurile peste cap. And i don't get why. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana acum pamantul imi fugise de sub picioare. Si reusisem sa plutesc pentru un timp. Acum s-a intors la mine si incepe sa arunce cu caramizi si cu ce apuca. And i'm like "Hey, what the hell, man?". Si sunt in cadere...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;To give you all the answers to the never-ending why.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ma gandeam acum cateva zile, cu oarecare dispret, WHAT kind of a warrior would give up his dreams and all of his beloved beliefs...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si habar nu am daca sunt unul foarte bun sau nu sunt unul deloc...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3711027339093577743?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3711027339093577743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/like-stone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3711027339093577743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3711027339093577743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/like-stone.html' title='Like a stone?'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SsGwwppLkdI/AAAAAAAAAIY/Kt8e3EWqmYk/s72-c/aww.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-831179664142726364</id><published>2009-09-27T10:08:00.013+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T10:44:31.083+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Insemnari (random)</title><content type='html'>Da, geniala ideea cu ursuletii de plus giganti care distrug orasul. Indeed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, mai e un nenorocit de ciorchine plin. Din pacate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, uneori zambetul isi pierde valoarea atunci cand e doar o masca. Cat traieste, omu-nvata..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*note to self* Sa te crezi Dumnezeu nu e cea mai buna solutie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fiecare zi e diferita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viata e satisfacatoare pentru unii. Si asta e super cute. Ma bucur pt ei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe vremea mea lucrurile astea... well, atunci ar fi trebuit sa se intample. *laughs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hey, chill, apreciez. Mai bine mai tarziu decat niciodata. I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acum nu sunt doar batrana, mai devin si actrita. Destul de buna, cred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De multe ori invidiez ignoranta unora. I miss it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am ajuns sa spun imi pare rau prea des. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si sa ma pierd in cuvinte imbecile si neimportante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ce mai poate ramane dintr-o persoana oare...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And how bad are bad people?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, intotdeauna vom avea Muse. Thank God. Whoever that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Uom7_9PHtnc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Uom7_9PHtnc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-831179664142726364?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/831179664142726364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/insemnari-random.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/831179664142726364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/831179664142726364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/insemnari-random.html' title='Insemnari (random)'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-5980197864092995674</id><published>2009-09-25T20:17:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-25T23:04:48.785+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Maybe I'm the one...</title><content type='html'>"Just nineteen and sucker's dream, I guess I thought you had the flavor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's like one step forward and two steps back..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"With your your feet in the air and your head on the ground try this trick and spin it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It's only after you lose everything that you're free to do anything."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-5980197864092995674?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/5980197864092995674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/maybe-im-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/5980197864092995674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/5980197864092995674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/maybe-im-one.html' title='Maybe I&apos;m the one...'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-6729611348621062647</id><published>2009-09-24T09:11:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-24T09:55:52.592+03:00</updated><title type='text'>In the end</title><content type='html'>This is my very special hundreth entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"My heart still has a beat..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They say life is a sum of coincidences. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there are no coincidences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa ca, pana la urma, viata te poate duce oriunde vrea ea. Uneori s-ar putea chiar sa iti placa. Deoarece coincidentele alea sunt asezate intr-un mod atat de ordonat si atat de armonios incat nu poti sa nu stai cu gura cascata din cauza fascinatiei si sa te minunezi. Asta, evident, daca apuci sa mai vezi ce merita vazut. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uneori esti prea obosit ca sa mai conteze. Si atunci curentul devine chiar bunicel. Pentru ca altceva n-ai. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ajungi sa te simti... mai putin Dumnezeu. Si devii un fir neajutorat de praf intr-un Univers rece, ordonat si poate crud. Un fir de praf atat de constient de existenta lui dominata, incat de ce ar mai incerca sa se miste macar.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sentimentul asta nu e pentru oricine. Probabil nici pentru mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Sometimes when I'm alone I wonder..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si cel mai important... Yeah.. In the end, it doesn't even matter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there is no end. It never is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-6729611348621062647?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/6729611348621062647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/in-end.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6729611348621062647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6729611348621062647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/in-end.html' title='In the end'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-8760939499626135249</id><published>2009-09-23T23:49:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-23T23:50:52.549+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Not meant to be</title><content type='html'>I hate it when i doubt myself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-8760939499626135249?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/8760939499626135249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/not-meant-to-be.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/8760939499626135249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/8760939499626135249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/not-meant-to-be.html' title='Not meant to be'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3057680541167138581</id><published>2009-09-19T00:05:00.011+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-19T00:39:54.876+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/XrROiUNwgCM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/XrROiUNwgCM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THIS is the perfect color for my hair. *grins*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh God, am visat la ea atat de mult timp incat se simte ca si cum mi-as fi dorit-o toata viata... Doi ani de incercari... *sighs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fucking crave for it. (No, I really mean it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Distrugerea parului e doar pretul pe care trebuie sa il platesc.... *daydreams about the awesomeness color*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God damn it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Actually, daca stau sa ma gandesc mai bine... Imi place mult mai mult culoarea tipei de la Paramore. xD *giggles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SrP9GKqRwnI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/23Ct2eOxwCQ/s1600-h/hayley_williams_paramore.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SrP9GKqRwnI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/23Ct2eOxwCQ/s320/hayley_williams_paramore.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382924262020596338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SrP8U8C-StI/AAAAAAAAAH4/3io3_-Sx5bw/s1600-h/hayley_williams-large-msg-120269957949.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 235px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SrP8U8C-StI/AAAAAAAAAH4/3io3_-Sx5bw/s320/hayley_williams-large-msg-120269957949.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382923416284056274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SrP8c8lXWGI/AAAAAAAAAIA/aFRBZinmGnI/s1600-h/paramore_250807_5_version1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SrP8c8lXWGI/AAAAAAAAAIA/aFRBZinmGnI/s320/paramore_250807_5_version1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382923553867257954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kay, my eyes hurt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3057680541167138581?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3057680541167138581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/bliss.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3057680541167138581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3057680541167138581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/bliss.html' title='Bliss'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SrP9GKqRwnI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/23Ct2eOxwCQ/s72-c/hayley_williams_paramore.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-4561557675033773453</id><published>2009-09-14T02:03:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T02:08:48.090+03:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm your biggest fan</title><content type='html'>I'll be there till the stars don't shine,&lt;br /&gt;Till the heavens burst &lt;br /&gt;And the words don't rhyme...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Forever and a day, always.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-4561557675033773453?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/4561557675033773453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/im-your-biggest-fan.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4561557675033773453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4561557675033773453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/im-your-biggest-fan.html' title='I&apos;m your biggest fan'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-6358395914123570790</id><published>2009-09-12T22:31:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-12T22:39:27.982+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Awesomeness</title><content type='html'>Cineva tocmai a castigat un mare - poate cel mai mare - razboi cu sinele. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"All things come to an end". Asta invatasem si eu de curand pe propria piele. Dar, la fel ca restul oamenilor, uitasem un amanunt. Apoi l-am observat, am bagat de seama ca e cam peste tot in jur, in orice situatie, si m-am prins de cum sta treaba de fapt... Si atunci mi-am amintit ca odata, un nene foarte cul observase si el asta, si a spus ca nimic nu se pierde, totul se transforma. *smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tare as vrea sa ii dau o bere pentru asta. *laughs*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-6358395914123570790?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/6358395914123570790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/awesomeness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6358395914123570790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6358395914123570790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/awesomeness.html' title='Awesomeness'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-142132259412181414</id><published>2009-09-06T11:20:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T11:36:09.806+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretty in scarlet</title><content type='html'>Prometeu inlantuit se bucura de lumina soarelui care-l incalzeste vesnic, dar i se si sfasie ficatii everyday, no matter what. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In cutiuta mea preferata imi pusesem ultima farama de speranta. Just in case. Dar se pare ca demonul care o pazeste nu e atat de cool pe cat imi parea la inceput.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abia de curand am realizat ca interpretasem in mod gresit lectia din povestea lui Claudette. Mareata, cruda, draga mea Claudette. Si ca nu ar trebui sa o iau drept exemplu, ci sa invat din greselile ei prostesti. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, orice pe lumea asta are si un sfarsit. Intotdeauna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SqN0Wiy7RNI/AAAAAAAAAHo/QLIjPnS6F9k/s1600-h/Sharmen_Desktop_by_calicoJill.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SqN0Wiy7RNI/AAAAAAAAAHo/QLIjPnS6F9k/s320/Sharmen_Desktop_by_calicoJill.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378270310656853202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-142132259412181414?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/142132259412181414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/pretty-in-scarlet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/142132259412181414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/142132259412181414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/09/pretty-in-scarlet.html' title='Pretty in scarlet'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SqN0Wiy7RNI/AAAAAAAAAHo/QLIjPnS6F9k/s72-c/Sharmen_Desktop_by_calicoJill.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-7443209596543710748</id><published>2009-08-04T14:02:00.014+03:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T23:47:30.382+03:00</updated><title type='text'>"I smile when I'm angry, I cheat and I lie..."</title><content type='html'>Dupa doua sezoane dintr-un show genial cu personaje fascinante, am cam cazut pe ganduri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Cum showul reuseste sa arate si aspectele foarte negative si urate ale vietii, dar dezvaluie atat de frumos bunatatea din oameni. Care a ajuns sa se gaseasca foarte rar sau deloc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And this actually breaks my heart. Si probabil ca am vazut peste tot atat de multe lucruri rele si urate, incat atunci cand gasesc bunatatea undeva... imi e greu sa o recunosc. Ma tem sa o vad, crezand ca poate e doar o iluzie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ultima data cand am avut curaj si cand am reusit sa o recunosc si apreciez, intradevar.... hm, well, s-a dovedit a fi o iluzie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si stau si ma gandesc... in viata e.. bine sa fii kind? Reusesti vreodata ceva daca esti asa?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sau trebuie pur si simplu sa iti vezi propriul interes si sa calci pe cadavre? Si doar asa poti reusi si poti castiga ceea ce vrei sa ai si doar asa esti apreciat si fericit? Well, irl, chiar asa e si chiar asa se intampla. Dar intrebarea mea e... Cat de real e totul? Da, multumit stiu ca te face daca nu ai constiinta, dar... va dura? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ai putea fi in stare sa pastrezi lucrurile luate in mod marsav sau intotdeauna se vor destrama si vei fi acolo sa vezi ca nu meriti tot ce ai?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am stat si am privit cum, atunci cand eu faceam lucrurile corect, altii care doar au trisat si au mintit si au inselat, mi-au luat-o inainte. Si au ajuns acolo unde era visul meu sa fiu. Si am ramas ca fraiera in urma, singura. Si cu inima distrusa.. Si in viata reala de fiecare data se intampla asa...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I'm kinda confused... Maybe... Maybe that's the way to do things?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ar trebui sa imi pastrez... the shade of kindness pe care am reusit sa o culeg de curand si sa ma bazez pe ea in ceea ce fac? Voi reusi ceva daca raman fidela credintelor mele si voi incerca sa imi dezvolt...virtutile? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sau calea e sa actionez egoist si sa joc oamenii pe la spate, sa ii folosesc, sa fac doar ce vreau eu?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sau sa imi ascult inima si sa imi cred speranta aia firava pe care abia o mai aud?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viata iti arata ca doar cei "rai" castiga. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intotdeauna am fost atrasa de personajele negative. Am fost atrasa de "baietii rai" si de lucrurile iesite din comun, si de zmei si vrajitori malefici. Nu am tinut cu ei niciodata, dar mi se pareau atat de hot. Si de multe ori mi-a placut sa joc si am si jucat roluri...rele. Mai mult pe scena decat in viata reala, i hope. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi, nu as vrea ca ei sa castige.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they're so cool. *laughs* &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probabil ca ma atrag pentru ca eu sunt "o fata buna". Or.. who knows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cred ca in fiecare dintre noi exista o parte buna si una rea, lumina si bezna, raze de soare reflectate in apa si ruine dezgustatoare. Cred ca depinde spre ce directie decide sa o ia fiecare...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mult timp am fost confuza. Sau... mai bine zis... ambele mele parti sunt suficient de puternice. In anumite domenii, ascult o parte, iar in altele, domina the other one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si de multe ori ideile isi schimba conducatorii. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ba sunt "ca painea calda", ba sunt nemiloasa. Depinde, i guess..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi place de mine oricum. Doar ca... in linii mari si per total... Cum iti dai seama.... ce fel de om esti de fapt?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cum iti dai seama daca esti un om bun sau unul rau si cine ar putea decide asta? Si in functie de ce? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parca nimic nu e sigur. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tot ce recunosc cu adevarat e acest sentiment de kindness pe care il ai in anumite momente, cand pur si simplu esti inundat de ceva ce te face fericit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's weird, yeah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si am avut gandul asta nebunesc ca viata e o poveste, dar nu chiar o poveste. Si poate ca nu are intotdeauna un happy-ending. Poate de aia nu e o poveste adevarata. I don't know... Cred totusi ca nu toti avem un drum initiatic in fata... Poate pentru ca trebuie intai sa avem sansa de a alege daca vrem sa fim zmei sau eroi, printi sau cersetori. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana la urma tot ce am invatat pana acum, toate lectiile la care tin enorm, pot... sa nu imi mai spuna nimic uneori. Si deci ma intreb... How good is it to be bad? And how bad do you have to pay for being good...? Si ce fel de poveste e viata... Unde-s palatele de clestar... Si pantofii fermecati... Vad numai dragonii ce trebuie infruntati.. Dar unde e curajul eroilor de a ii invinge...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si unde e empatia, si unde e dorinta de a salva vreo printesa fara a vrea sa i-o tragi, si unde e bunatatea...? I miss it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate faptul ca e un sentiment atat de inedit si de special e de ce ar trebui sa incerc sa nu o pierd. Dunno. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu poti lua curcubeul acasa ca sa il protejezi, dar daca esti atent in jur, il vei revedea, pentru ca e vesnic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De multe ori ma....ma consider un fel de sfanta. Yeah, i have issues.. Dar daca intradevar as fi... ipotetic vorbind.. probabil ca as fi una dintre cele mai pacatoase sfinte. I guess. Sau una dintre cele mai sfinte pacatoase. *laughs* Sounds better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si uite ce face Indoiala din om... Te face sa nu mai vezi bine calea. Iar. Si sa nu mai stii ce vrei. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ador lupta asta dintre bine si rau... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si e atat de greu sa iti pastrezi credinta intr-o lume ca asta... Credinta ca e &lt;strong&gt;bine&lt;/strong&gt; sa fii corect. Si ca nu esti doar un fraier pe care nu il va lua nimeni in seama niciodata. Si ca nu exista apa vie si cai fermecati... Si roata aia pare ca nu se mai intoarce niciodata. Nu pentru tine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-7443209596543710748?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/7443209596543710748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-smile-when-im-angry-i-cheat-and-i-lie.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7443209596543710748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7443209596543710748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/08/i-smile-when-im-angry-i-cheat-and-i-lie.html' title='&quot;I smile when I&apos;m angry, I cheat and I lie...&quot;'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-7226969509719010457</id><published>2009-08-01T13:57:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T14:03:02.161+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Dried flowers on my desk..</title><content type='html'>"Stii, nu esti ce-mi doream sa fii."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-7226969509719010457?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/7226969509719010457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/08/dried-flowers-on-my-desk.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7226969509719010457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7226969509719010457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/08/dried-flowers-on-my-desk.html' title='Dried flowers on my desk..'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3362831692511891505</id><published>2009-07-30T22:36:00.008+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T01:23:40.615+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Lightened shackles</title><content type='html'>Funny thing si chestia asta cu visele si cu sperantele si cu dorintele.. Nu stii niciodata cu ce te mai surprind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmm. Cred ca tocmai am experimentat pentru prima data cum e sa iti vezi o mare parte importanta din ele cum sunt distruse si totusi sa...intelegi. Sa sa fii sad, dar sa nu disperi. Sa doara, si totusi sa nu doara rau. Daca reusesti sa vezi si partile bune, it's actually kinda cool. Eliberator. Sortof.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Superb sentimentul ca, no matter what, vei avea intotdeauna ceva foarte special. Cred ca el are puterea de a te salva, si de a te face sa zambesti foarte sincer, desi trist. Si sa poti merge mai departe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi se pare ciudat si cam greu de inteles si...nedrept totusi cum, pe masura ce trec anii, incepi sa simti cum ti se ia si ti se farama tot mai mult din sperantele ramase...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ty1K9T6eh6E&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ty1K9T6eh6E&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3362831692511891505?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3362831692511891505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/lightened-shackles.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3362831692511891505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3362831692511891505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/lightened-shackles.html' title='Lightened shackles'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3017203764795954105</id><published>2009-07-29T00:20:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T09:21:49.977+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Funhouse</title><content type='html'>I like the lead singer from Nickelback. Nu doar pentru vocea unica, ci si pentru clipurile foarte interesante si destul de.. inedite, care aduc ceva nou si frumos pe piata asta muzicala foarte pitzi. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am devenit si mai interesata de soarta lui atunci cand a zis ca a visat ca va muri pe scena de un infarct si ca publicul va crede ca face parte din spectacol.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Show me what it's like&lt;br /&gt;To be the last one standing..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De doi ani... astept momentul asta. Like finally. *smiles* &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu mai credeam ca se poate. But it's just so goddamn awesome.....*melts*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm actually really angry right now. Cred ca abia acum incep sa ies din soc si eu. Si incep sa realizez ca lumea asta... chiar... nu vad ca ar mai avea vreo sansa de scapare. Daca pana si ultimii oameni in care imi pusesem sperantele se dovedesc a fi jigodii nesimtite si fara scrupule... Pe cuvant, sunt dezgustata... Doar cand ma gandesc la asta imi vine sa vomit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bine ca abia acum imi dau seama cum sta treaba de fapt, si nu s-a intamplat mai devreme. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E un tantar in camera. Incerc sa il omor de vreo 10 minute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno, i guess everything happens for a reason. Continui sa imi spun asta atunci cand nu reusesc sa inteleg tot. Si chiar cred asta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si nu, nu ma refer la tantar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Spui cuvinte mari, pe care nu le-ntelegi..."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E o parte foaaaaaaaarte mititica din mine care inca spera ca, vorba aia, ca mai exista cineva suficient de bun pe lumea asta... Pentru mine sau...pur si simplu. Dar sincer, vocea se micsoreaza pe zi ce trece. Pentru ca sunt realista. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si nu sunt atat de trista pe cat ar trebui din cauza asta. E mai mult un fel de realizare. Pentru ca simt ca imi vine si mai mult mintea la cap. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De fiecare data cand gasesti ceva, o sclipire de bunatate, un om cu potential, o persoana ce pare macar un pic deosebita... pana la urma se pierde totul. Ori e doar o iluzie, ori e o farama atat de pierduta si de ingropata de chestii fucked up....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincer, de aia nici nu mai incerc. De aia nu mai vad binele din oameni. De aia nu ma mai incred in ei. Pentru ca pana la urma, ajung la acelasi deznodamant. ACELASI, de fiecare data. Ori sunt prosti, ori te dezamagesc, ori sunt ipocriti, ori sunt egoisti, ori te tradeaza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu mai incerc pentru ca nu am de ce sa imi pierd timpul cautand ceva ce oricum nu e de gasit pe aproape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si asta e foarte trist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stiu, totusi, ca daca cineva intradevar e deosebit, cumva voi vedea asta. Pentru ca, macar un pic, in general simt chestiile de genul asta. Ma cam mandresc cu treaba asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si daca e cineva smecher si eu nu vad asta de la inceput, mai bine sa ii vad intai partile rele si apoi sa ma impresioneze cu ceva wow si sa ma... wow, sa ma dea peste cap. Desi...mda. Mmda. Poate cu vreo cinci vodka. Atunci probabil sunt mai iubareata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meh, partea visatoare din mine spera inca sa intalnesc un specimen asa la un moment dat. Pe trezie. Desi probabil ca pe parcurs ma va dezamagi, but anyways. Ar fi fun. Diversitate. I like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa, ca fapt divers... Nu am mai intalnit pe cineva "special" de ani de zile. Cred ca de...5 ani. Si atunci eram foaaarte naiva. Deci sunt convinsa ca ma inselam. Pentru ca orice zbura se manca pe atunci. Chiar cu fascinatie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E atat de trist...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ajung sa cred ca nu exista pe lumea asta cineva... pe masura mea. Da, probabil suna narcisist, stuff, probabil ca la un anumit nivel chiar e, dar nu asta e intentia. Ba chiar ideea e ca... e chiar un strigat de ajutor. De 20j de ani [si in mod special de 2] astept... Nush... Sa mi se dovedeasca faptul ca "Rasare soarele si pe strada ta". Ca... ceva. Ca second prince charming is there somewhere. Alive and...smart. Dunno... Pff. Something..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se spunea despre romantici, aia care-au inventat curentul prin secolul 19 in poezie si proza, gen Alexandre Dumas si Hugo, ca sunt genii vizionari, mediatori intre divin si terestru, care nu sunt prinsi de lumea asta, deoarece stiu ca dincolo exista altceva si vor sa transceada, dar ca nu apartin nici acelei lumi nici acesteia. Si ca aici sunt intotdeauna nefericiti din cauza dragostei, deoarece genul de iubire perfecta pe care o cauta ei e imposibila deoarece idealul lor e mult prea...mare si niciun muritor nu ii poate implini vreodata. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stiu asta pentru ca iubesc operele de genul asta. Si romanticii. Si hmmm, oare ma regasesc? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu pot sa nu ma intreb... Daca sunt singura muritoare de rand care vede tot ce vede si care intelege tot ce intelege si care intuieste tot ce intuieste si care crede tot ce crede si care doreste tot ce doreste... atunci &lt;em&gt;ce dracu' sunt&lt;/em&gt;? De ceva timp ma intreb asta... Devine usor disturbing... Sau scary.. Ca sincer...nu cred ca am retinut chiar fara motiv definitia romanticului.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E greu sa cred ca sunt altfel, dar...vad ca sunt. And it's weird. And, again, sad. God, de ar mai fi inca 5 persoane ca mine in tara asta, am face o revolutie... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu vreau sa ma simt mai cu mot, serios, la origini sunt timida si modesta.. Si totusi... Nu ai cum sa nu ajungi sa gandesti ca esti altfel atunci cand vezi tot ce vezi in jur... Cum frate? Cum merg toti astia de pe strazi in continuare cu constiinta okay si cum se pot privi in oglinda dimineata? Serios, nu ai cum sa nu te intrebi cum de pot trai unii cu ei insisi... Pe de alta parte...Nici nu ai cum sa ii intelegi VREODATA pe altii. Pentru ca de multe ori am incercat sa privesc totul din punctul de vedere al unui om prost. And i just can't. E imposibil.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oamenii chiar nu se prind cat de norocosi sunt uneori... Tot ce fac e sa se planga non-stop si sa critice si sa urasca atat de tare si sa distruga lucrurile frumoase ce li se ofera. Genul asta de creaturi ma scoate din sarite. Umbla ca niste zombie ratati lovindu-se de zidurile pe care ei singuri si le pun in fata prin cacaturile lor si habar nu au ce inseamna viata. Nu vor avea niciodata. Dar se cred zei. Intotdeauna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana la urma oamenii nici nu merita toate lucrurile frumoase ce li se ofera... I dunno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate ca de-asta nu am nici eu tot ce imi doresc, pentru ca-s la fel ca ei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt in general revoltata de chestiile astea dar e totul atat de naspa incat nici nu mai am chef sa vorbesc despre asta. Dar acum m-a lovit asa cu furie nesimtirea de care sunt capabili unii. Nici nush de ce am scris despre asta, oricum nu rezolv nimic. Furia e pusa bine, la pastrare. Ca deh. Nu e prima data. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Futu-i tantaru' ma-sii. Au.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaah, bere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Doar un vis urat care s-a intins pe ani grei..."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Privindu-mi gingas noua bratara *smug* si intrebandu-ma cum e pana la urma faza aia cu "ce dracu' sunt?"... Ma intreb daca sa scriu tot ce imi trece prin minte in continuare in postul asta, sau sa ma culc si sa scriu in urmatorul. Mi-e lene sa continui acum dar abia am inceput berea so...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana la 17 ani mi-am dorit o groaza de lucruri pentru mine si viata mea... Si toate cele pe care mi le-am dorit cu adevarat.. s-au intamplat. Ori pentru ca am luptat foarte mult pentru ele, ori pur si simplu au venit de la sine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acum nu imi mai doresc atat de multe ca pe atunci. Dar totusi s-a schimbat ceva... Si abia acum cateva zile am realizat asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inainte imi doream toate lucrurile astea frumoase si aveam toate visele astea...cu modestie. Ba chiar ma rugam pentru ele, plangand and stuff. Cu sinceritate si fara ranchiuna si ca un copil cuminte si...foarte modesta.. Si era un sentiment atat de frumos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acum... cand imi doresc ceva... well, mi-o doresc cu incapatanare, cu...patos, si... fiind foarte aroganta si.. de neoprit. Niciodata nu accept ideea ca as putea pierde, desi stiu ca posibilitatea aia e acolo. Sunt trufasa, capoasa, si violenta. Si daca lucrurile nu ies cum vreau eu....Hmmmm. Scuip flacari in jur peste tot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like that. M-am prins de asta abia dupa ce am realizat cat m-am schimbat la chestia asta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De la un copil inocent si supus am devenit o masina de...urat. Fun... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chiar ma doare rau ca am devenit asa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt ca un om care nu avea nimic si dormea pe strazi acoperit cu ziare colorate si intr-o zi a primit sansa de a face ceva frumos cu viata lui. A renuntat la bautura, s-a dus si s-a tuns, si-a gasit o slujba - nu i-a mers perfect, a avut ceva probleme, dar cu greu a reusit sa isi ia o rulota. Mai cu chiu cu vai, a muncit mai mult, si a reusit sa isi ia o garsoniera. Si a fost atat de recunoscator pentru ea.. Si extrem de fericit. Asa ca a avut forta si curaj sa munceasca si mai mult. Si si-a luat apartament cu doua camere. Si a devenit si mai inflacarat. A muncit iar, desi era mai greu sa faci fata stresului orelor suplimentare si astea, si acum are un apartament luxos cu trei camere. Si e atat de incantat de el. Nu l-ar da pentru nimic in lume, n-ar iesi de acolo nici mort. Dar visul lui e sa aiba apartamentul penthouse cu vedere la...dunno, NY.. in care sa poata turna filme porno daca vrea si sa danseze la bara cu maimutele in tanga. Si pentru ca vrea asta foarte tare, in niste accese de furie, a inceput sa improste cu noroi apartamentul pentru care a muncit atat...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu isi da seama cand o face, dar totusi se intampla...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand oi fi devenit asta, habar nu am... Nu am avut timp sa ma prind..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*laughs* Chiar as avea nevoie de un buton cu Ego - off. Mama, sunt tare curioasa ce s-ar intampla atunci...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana una alta, m-am prins ca sunt de fapt foarte fraiera - penthouseu' ma-sii - pentru ca vorba aia, if it makes you happy, it can't be that bad...*smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu iert repede. Nu am multe straturi. Nu am ganduri profunde si dubioase si frumoase. Nu pot privi o situatie din mai multe perspective. Cand ma supar, nu imi trece a doua zi. Nu ma gandesc intai la binele celui de langa. Nu ma intereseaza sa fac pe nimeni sa rada. Nu sunt foarte curajoasa. Nu am vise...interesante. Deloc. Nu sunt dispusa sa inteleg si/sau sa tolerez orice actiune a cuiva. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..That's why I'm so human and you are God. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And i like [love] God tocmai pentru ca e asa, si pentru ca nu mai e nimeni ca el.. Si ma simt atat de...mica, si sunt atat de... beyond recunoscatoare pentru orice urma de divinitate din viata mea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si e atat de ciudat ca nu ma prind cum se face ca, dintre toti oamenii din lume, am parte de ceva atat de special si de overwhelming... Chiar nu-nteleg... Really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And... i am proud of myself because i'm your creation. Atat de batuta in cap si de human. Si de bine pazita... Si pana la urma, tu mi-ai dat egoul asta. Are si el partile lui negative acuma, ce sa fac...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3017203764795954105?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3017203764795954105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/funhouse_29.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3017203764795954105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3017203764795954105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/funhouse_29.html' title='Funhouse'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-1919638408945115797</id><published>2009-07-28T10:49:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T11:05:55.424+03:00</updated><title type='text'>"...Sangele se face apa, se lupta frate cu frate"</title><content type='html'>Acum vreo saptmana - doua, mergeam la un amic, si dintr-o masina foarte...bengoasa, se auzea foarte loud melodia asta. Pe care am recunoscut-o, stiam si cine o canta, dar nu mai stiam CE melodie e. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ascultam asa ceva, hip-hop la greu, pe la 14 - 15 ani. Si e foarte placut sa imi amintesc de perioada aia si de songurile astea. It's nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si nush ce m-a apucat in dimineata asta, si de la "Vorbeste vinul" si "Cheia de sub pres" am dat peste melodia asta. Si m-a facut sa zambesc. Pentru ca mi-am amintit cat de... pura si de... well, luptatoare devotata eram. Sau ceva de genu'. N-am mai regasit inocenta aia atat de capoasa si de curata si de al dracu' de puternica. De pe vremea cand incepeam si eu sa aflu cum e viata..*smiles* Funneh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qfRLIbkxThM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qfRLIbkxThM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e frica de viata cum imi este de moarte&lt;br /&gt;Prea cruda mi se pare ironia sortii&lt;br /&gt;Dai nastere la viata in timp ce-ti numeri mortii&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Religia ar trebui sa nasca armonie&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi mii de oameni mor zilnic dintr-o prostie&lt;br /&gt;Se stie aproape totul despre nimic&lt;br /&gt;Te crezi prea mic sa-ncerci sa schimbi un pic&lt;br /&gt;Mai tragic mi se pare acum ce-o sa zic&lt;br /&gt;Mai nou nu mai esti mare decat cu suflet mic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Ridic cuvantul impacat cu gandul&lt;br /&gt;Ca tuturor le vine pan-la urma randul&lt;br /&gt;Si-n adancul inimii as vrea sa regasesc&lt;br /&gt;Credinta-n acel lucru care m-opreste sa m-opresc&lt;br /&gt;Si ma feresc sa o arat prea des&lt;br /&gt;Pentru ca de la atata ura incep sa obosesc&lt;br /&gt;Sa va intorc obrazul sunteti atenti la fete&lt;br /&gt;Am box in mana stanga sunt gata sa va fac zdrente&lt;br /&gt;Pentru ca ati ajuns tarfe pe fata&lt;br /&gt;Am trei degete pe care-mi numar prietenii in viata&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. &lt;3 Parazitii.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-1919638408945115797?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/1919638408945115797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/sangele-se-face-apa-se-lupta-frate-cu.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1919638408945115797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1919638408945115797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/sangele-se-face-apa-se-lupta-frate-cu.html' title='&quot;...Sangele se face apa, se lupta frate cu frate&quot;'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2144545627703153263</id><published>2009-07-20T06:22:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T06:30:35.312+03:00</updated><title type='text'>L word</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Cklb7L0OA1c&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Cklb7L0OA1c&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Breath it in and breath it out &lt;br /&gt;and pass it on it's almost out &lt;br /&gt;We're so creative and so much more &lt;br /&gt;We're high above but on the floor &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not a habit it's cool &lt;br /&gt;I feel alive &lt;br /&gt;If you don't have it you're on &lt;br /&gt;the other side &lt;br /&gt;The deeper you stick it in your vein &lt;br /&gt;The deeper the thoughts there's no more pain &lt;br /&gt;I'm in heaven I'm a god &lt;br /&gt;I'm everywhere I feel so hot &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not a habit, it's cool &lt;br /&gt;I feel alive &lt;br /&gt;If you don't have it you're on &lt;br /&gt;the other side &lt;br /&gt;I'm not an addict (maybe that's a lie) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's over now, I'm cold, alone &lt;br /&gt;I'm just a person on my own &lt;br /&gt;Nothing means a thing to me &lt;br /&gt;Oh, nothing means a thing to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's not a habit, it's cool &lt;br /&gt;I feel alive &lt;br /&gt;If you don't have it you're on &lt;br /&gt;the other side &lt;br /&gt;I'm not an addict (maybe that's a lie) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Free me, leave me &lt;br /&gt;Watch me as I'm going down &lt;br /&gt;Free me, see me &lt;br /&gt;Look at me I'm falling &lt;br /&gt;And I'm falling...&lt;br /&gt;It is not a habit, it is cool &lt;br /&gt;I feel alive I feel...&lt;br /&gt;It is not a habit, it is cool &lt;br /&gt;I feel alive &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not an addict, I'm not an addict, I'm not an addict.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2144545627703153263?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2144545627703153263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/love.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2144545627703153263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2144545627703153263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/love.html' title='L word'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2927367399768874006</id><published>2009-07-20T03:53:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T04:02:57.524+03:00</updated><title type='text'>In general reclamele sug. Rau. Mai ales in Romania. But...</title><content type='html'>Love this fucking commercial:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/S1ZZreXEqSY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/S1ZZreXEqSY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8-&gt; Aren't they just so sweeeeet? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one of the reasons why i like guys sometimes. Cum se bucura ca niste copilasi de un lucru atat de simplu... :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And i find this also kinda cute :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/xZbfGLbTKyw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/xZbfGLbTKyw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha ha ha ha ha. E ce ar face orice om normal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2927367399768874006?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2927367399768874006/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/in-general-reclamele-sug-rau-mai-ales.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2927367399768874006'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2927367399768874006'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/in-general-reclamele-sug-rau-mai-ales.html' title='In general reclamele sug. Rau. Mai ales in Romania. But...'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2375881331625389458</id><published>2009-07-19T11:54:00.008+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T17:37:45.292+03:00</updated><title type='text'>In ajun de 2 si 1/2</title><content type='html'>Un cantec, un gand si o bere rece.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, mi s-a luat marea "piatra" de pe inima.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Cause you were my hero &lt;br /&gt;My fridaynight &lt;br /&gt;You wrote the soundtrack to my life&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And gave me something &lt;br /&gt;To hold on to&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's just so overwhelming to feel so protected..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When i was growing up &lt;br /&gt;You were the rock &lt;br /&gt;In my life&lt;/em&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[..Nici nu-mi mai amintesc cati ani au trecut de cand nu mai dansasem de una singura, spontan, din pura placere.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am vrut sa ma uit la QOTD din nou, dupa atata timp, but i couldn't. Nu singura. Mi-a fost prea teama ca va durea prea tare sa realizez cat de prost e facut de fapt. Si sa nu il mai gasesc la fel de fascinant. Couldn't break the rules. *smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Stie ca el e doar in imaginatia ta. Deci e la fel de viu ca ea.. si la fel de mort ca ea."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2375881331625389458?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2375881331625389458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/in-ajun-de-2-si-12.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2375881331625389458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2375881331625389458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/in-ajun-de-2-si-12.html' title='In ajun de 2 si 1/2'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-1764354578493920193</id><published>2009-07-18T09:11:00.010+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T10:38:52.229+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Nu am chef azi. ..Nici la noapte. Nici maine, nici poimaine.</title><content type='html'>I think i'm sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tot anu' am asteptat sa termin cu bacu' ca sa pot citi, pentru ca din cauza stresului n-am mai citit nimic. Bai da' cum am asteptat asta... Cu cat se apropia bacu' mai mult, cu atat jubilam mai tare ca "OMG o sa citesc, o sa citesc! OMG OMG". Am dat bacu' si in ultimele doua saptmani am citit 57 de pagini. 57! DOAR 57. In doua saptamani! I suck so hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt la partea cea mai enetertaining a cartii dar nu am chef sa citesc. Adica e atat de fermecator totul, dar cand sa iau cartea in mana sunt like "Mneeeah..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tre sa imi fac unghiile de doua zile dar mi-e lene si nu am chef.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tre sa fac Pilates in fiecare zi dar mi-e lene si nu am chef.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As dormi si as zace intruna dar nu pot pt ca am somnul prea usor si pt ca e prea cald. Si pt ca atunci cand dorm, nu dorm bine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si pt mine somnul e EXTREM de important. Putin si bolnavicios asa, dar SFANT. Daca nu dorm, urasc pe toata lumea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-a dus juma de vara fara sa ma prind, cu examene si cacat mult, si nu simt ca e vara. Nu simt nici ca n-am griji, nu simt nici ca n-am responsabilitati. Pe dracu' n-am. Ma simt in continuare "om mare". Mare si plictisit... Si mai ramane juma de vara in care voi fi plecata si ma voi plictisi [...si mai rau.]. Awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De cand sunt in vacanta, nu simt ca e vacanta. N-am facut absolut nimic entertaining care sa ma faca sa simt ca... traiesc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu am chef nici macar sa ma uit la un film ceva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nici sa ascult muzica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frate nici de bere nu mai am chef ca inainte! I miss that..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De aia cred ca-s foarte bolnava or smth. Oricum, ceva se intampla clar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cred ca ori am acumulat si mai mult stres, ori nush... Sunt deprimata rau... Ori... I'm really old, man. No, REALLY old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*rolls eyes*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nici sa scriu nu mai am chef.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desi vreau sa fac n si n si n si m lucruri. Dar... n-am chef. Nu-mi arde. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N-am facut nimic asa, de "vara", sa simt si eu ca e fun si ca e vacanta si vara si astea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's so deppresing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vacanta my ass. Un cur e vara asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tot ce am "realizat" vara asta a fost sa ma cert cu toata lumea si sa zac. Si parca tot n-am zacut suficient. As mai zace. Da, stiu ca am mai zis asta, dar suna atat de bine... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Singura "placere" mai mare de care sunt vinovata vara asta e sa stau in pat si sa ma uit la tv, in special la Friends si LA Ink si Dadaca. [Ca altceva ma enerveaza si inchid teveul si zac fara el.] Imi e atat de lene incat nici nu ma mai deplasez pana la pc ca sa le vad acolo pe net. Imi e lene sa stau pe scaun anyway. Mai bine zac cate o zi ca sa astept continuarea din ziua urmatoare. Yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coaie, nici de inghetata nu mai am chef.... Jesus, e grav...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e lene si sa apas butonul care introduce cratimele din cuvintele din smsurile pt prieteni, asa ca le trimit incorecte gramatical. Si apoi zac iar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm too fucking old. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ce cacat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-1764354578493920193?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/1764354578493920193/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/nu-am-chef-azi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1764354578493920193'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1764354578493920193'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/nu-am-chef-azi.html' title='Nu am chef azi. ..Nici la noapte. Nici maine, nici poimaine.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-1521751318825957352</id><published>2009-07-14T22:08:00.026+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T17:16:35.995+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Romania Ink [hahahahahahahahahaha.]</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Slzfvx93_MI/AAAAAAAAAGg/i4q2-Bbb3V4/s1600-h/24-446.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Slzfvx93_MI/AAAAAAAAAGg/i4q2-Bbb3V4/s320/24-446.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358403668623752386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma consider o semi-nationalista. Sunt mandra de tara mea si de faptul ca e frumoasa, bogata, cu o istorie interesanta and stuff. Nu sunt mandra de tot, dar de ce sunt, e un sentiment destul de puternic. Daca cineva ar vorbi urat si neadevarat despre Romania, as deveni foarte curcalot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deci sunt &lt;em&gt;destul de multe&lt;/em&gt; lucruri care-mi plac la tara mea, dar evident ca sunt &lt;em&gt;multe&lt;/em&gt; lucruri care nu-mi plac la ea [va rog simtiti diferenta atunci cand va uitati la cuvintele inclinate]. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si de cativa ani incoace - mai exact de la caderea comunismului dar eram eu prea mica [si in primele doua luni de democratie chiar nenascuta] ca sa observ - tara asta mititica si fara noroc in viata a incercat din rasputeri sa intre si ea in randul statelor occidentale, care sunt mari si tari si smechere. In ultimii...sa zic 5 - 10 ani, procesele au devenit si mai rapide. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca au prins sau nu la populatia noastra conformista si inculta, asta e altceva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar in ultimul timp observ cat de mult s-a schimbat populatia Romaniei. Ca sa zic asa, "pe vremea mea", era cu totul altfel. Acum... sunt cateva categorii clare de oameni in Romania.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar deviez de la subiect. Si nu am chef sa vb acum despre prostie si alte alea. Nici despre faptul ca tinerii cu oleaca de creier folosit din tara asta, sunt suficient de openminded si ca incearca sa se afirme si sa aduca noul pentru romani [ca pentru alte state, nu mai e nimic nou de zeci de ani]. Aia care-si folosesc creierul si mai asiduu, se cara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlzhX2iwthI/AAAAAAAAAGo/9dhxXywOeeY/s1600-h/katnineteen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlzhX2iwthI/AAAAAAAAAGo/9dhxXywOeeY/s320/katnineteen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358405456558601746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In ultima saptmana cred ca am vazut... parca as fi trait intr-o lume a deja-vu-urilor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma enerveaza ca la romani niciodata nu vezi ceva iesit din comun. Ati observat asta? Decat foaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarte rar. ..Si atunci e de obicei de prost gust. De oribil gust, de fapt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parca sunt toti trasi la xerox. Romanii 100% adica, din aia cu slapi si tricouri pe care scrie gen "Iti pot oferi o gradina de trandafiri". DA, am vazut asa ceva. *straight face*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Metroul e ca un zoo uman. I swear, azi muream de somn, si nimic nu m-a putut tine treaza, decat interesul pentru a observa cat de dezgustatoare si de amuzante si de hilarious sunt...majoritatea persoanelor. Genul de chestii la care te-ai uita cu o punga de floricele in mana, o cola in cealalta, ragaind si dandu-ti coate cu prietenii printre hohote de ras zicand "Ia uite frate".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Romanii si tatuajele. Gasca si mitraliera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oana de acum cativa ani in urma ar fi sperat si ar fi zis "Lasa frate ca in cativa ani va evolua totul si vom fi si noi in rand cu restul lumii". Mhm. Sigur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma amuza si ma intristeaza same time cliseele astea pur romanesti. Like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.) Acum cateva zile ceea ce m-a facut sa ratez imaginea mea reflectata intr-un geam [da, mereu ma holbez la mine] a fost tatuajul unei tipe din fata mea pe pasajul de la metrou. Era pe brat, sus, intre biceps si umar [nu sunt prea tare la anatomie]. Mi-a atras atentia si asa am inceput sa o studiez si pe ea. Si sa o urmaresc. Fac asta foaaarte rar, si e aproape fascinant uneori, pentru ca se intampla doar cand dau peste cineva extrem de interesant / hot. Si ea parea a fi amandoua. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In urmarirea mea am analizat-o si am descoperit-o tot si tot mai mult pana am ajuns la concluzia mult dorita si satisfacatoare. Pentru ca dupa aia sa o las sa se duca la treaba ei, evident. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Revenind la subiect, avea tatuat un text, probabil in araba sau in ebraica, ceva de genu', dar arata foaaaarte sexy stilul, si se infasura ca o bratara pe brat, unde am explicat mai sus. Purta un maieu negru si era bruneta si se vedea bine. Eram chiar curioasa ce text si-o fi scris acolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asta a fost cel mai reusit tatuaj pe care l-am vazut trantit in zona aia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Una din zonele cliseice pt tatuaj la romani e bratul. Foarte multi oameni isi tatueaza chestii acolo. Iar problema si mai mare a romanilor e ca de obicei tatuajele lor SUG. GRAV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Zona asta de obicei e rezervata tipelor care inca nu stiu ca sunt gay. Asta, evident, din ce am observat in ultimul timp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.) A doua zona cliseica e omoplatul. Problema romanilor e ca acolo de obicei se pun fluturasi si chestii pitzi, facute naspa si fara nicio semnificatie adanca [cel putin mie asa mi se pare]. Again, o zona tipic feminina [as spune tipic pitzi da' ma rog].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probabil e zona pe care o etalezi in club cand iesi aproape dezbracata si arati cat de hot si de....um.... fragila esti. Asta vrea sa spuna fluturasul acela care pare desenat de un copil de 4 - 5 ani.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.) Zona a treia pentru tatuaje romanesti e spatele, acolo deasupra curului, cat mai inspre unde-se-unesc-bucile. Hai ca toata lumea stie faza, in general tatuajul acesta trebuie sa fie NEAPARAT tribal si sa arate LA FEL ca toate celelalte tatuaje puse in zona aia pe toate celelalte tipe din Romania. Parca sunt trase la indigo, pe bune. Difera doar marimea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E ceva foarte special la tatuajul asta... Cred ca atunci cand "tipele" si-l fac, li se da o lectie, sau le pune tatuatorul o conditie: "Tatuajul asta de unde-se-unesc-bucile TREBUIE, orice ar fi, purtat doar cu suncile pe dinafara! Fii cat mai grasa si mai oribila, si poarta chestii cat poti de scurte, respectiv, cu talie extra-joasa. Asa tatuajul va avea un farmec aparte iar oamenilor nu le va mai pasa prea tare ca pe voi pun acelasi model. E strategie. *winks*"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi place sa numesc acest model 150% romanesc: The Ultimate Coca. Si pe cuvant ca e preferatul meu. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh God...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.) Acum din categoria tipilor, ca sa nu se simta neglijati. Binecunoscutul tatuaj pe brat sau umar. ACOLO e singura lor zona. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ceea ce e teribil de amuzant e ca orice tip care are un tatuaj, il are &lt;strong&gt;doar&lt;/strong&gt; acolo. Si e SINGURUL lui tatuaj. E un fel de "Uite, am tatuaj". Ca pasarile care tre sa fie shinny pentru a curta femela, dar ei fiind romani...nu prea au multe idei despre cum sa fie...dunno, ingeniosi? Originali? Curati...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Din ce am observat, acel tatuaj e si el strategic. E genul de tataj pe care il acoperi la scoala cu un tricou cu maneca scurta dar care are rolul de a aparea brusc atunci cand mergi in club si dansezi pe haus. Sub luminile colorate ale neoanelor romanesti, tatuajul tau urla "Am tatuaj!" insemnand doua lucruri: 1. arata ca esti barbat dur, 2. arata ca esti rebel / ca ai bani / ca ai valoare manca-ti-as.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sighs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mai e si zona, la tipe, gleznei. Dar tatuajele de acolo sunt o idee mai rare si parca arata o tzara mai okay. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Sl4KFSF0kGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/hwob4A_wq1I/s1600-h/chord.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 207px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Sl4KFSF0kGI/AAAAAAAAAHg/hwob4A_wq1I/s320/chord.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358731692489347170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; De mica am fost intrigata de tatuaje. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu sunt multe chestii de care sa fiu intrigata. Cred ca-s vreo trei. Una dintre ele e din domeniul sexual. Si fiecare lucru care ma intriga mi se pare neaparat si ingrozitor, si extrem de atragator. Iar astea doua trebuie sa depinda una de alta si sa nu poata exista una fara alta. E o conditie. Atunci sunt cu adevarat intrigata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu ceva timp in urma ma hotarasem sa nu ma tatuez vreodata. Pentru ca nu eram sigura ca as putea rezista cu un desen pe piele pt toata viata cand pe mine ma caracterizeaza atat de multe si ma pot schimba, pentru ca ma temeam ca voi da peste persoane care nu agreaza femei cu tatuaj / le considera vulgare, si pt ca mi se pare o schimabre mare si unnatural pt corpul meu, iar eu imi iubesc corpul asa cum e el de la natura. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aceste idei inca mi-au ramas, dar ma influenteaza la un nivel mult mai mic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand vad un om tatuat pe o mare suprafata a corpului nu pot sa nu ma holbez. Reactia instinctiva e sa ma tem, la fel ca restul muritorilor, pentru ca indeed, mi se pare ca arata dur si cam vulgar, si nu stiu ce reprezinta pt el fiecare dintre acele tatuaje, deci nu stiu la ce sa ma astept. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Urmatoarea reactie e sa fiu foarte interesata si sa imi spun ca si daca e un criminal in serie, tot tre sa fie o persoana al dracu' de interesanta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlzqaIJMyYI/AAAAAAAAAGw/RNMlkFcoH6I/s1600-h/785aa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlzqaIJMyYI/AAAAAAAAAGw/RNMlkFcoH6I/s320/785aa.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358415391247616386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Oh my God, doesn't she look so pretty in this picture...? *fucking fascinated puppy eyes*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi poate lua un timp sa ma obisnuiesc cu infatisarea aparte. I find it/them kinda weird dar fascinant. Si ma face si curioasa oare cum ar arata pielea acelor oameni fara nimic pe ea... Desi de obicei persoanelor de genul ala le sta bine doar tatuati asa, iar fara ele ar arata awkward. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlzrozD7VWI/AAAAAAAAAG4/F-kkaXZHDUw/s1600-h/la_ink_17_full.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlzrozD7VWI/AAAAAAAAAG4/F-kkaXZHDUw/s320/la_ink_17_full.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358416742798021986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Imaginea asta [si cele de mai sus actually] mi se par foarte sexy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider ca fiecare tatuaj trebuie sa spuna o poveste si sa reprezinte...ceva. Sa suporti durerea aia si din ea sa se nasca ceva...important. Nu inghit deloc tatuajele puse acolo doar pt a avea tatuaj. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana la urma, nu e doar arta, e arta pe piele, e arta...intima. Ar trebuie sa fie mult mai..bonding si mai important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bine, &lt;strong&gt;ar trebui&lt;/strong&gt; sa fie arta. Ca sincer.... la "artistii" din Romania... Deci bai frate, sunt foarte dezamagita. Ce dracu' au romanii frate? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Copiii deseneaza mai bine. Nu inteleg care e misterul...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am vazut numai tatuaje de cacat, sobre, cu linii drepte si ienxpresive, care nu au culoare sau sentiment, nu inspira ABSOLUT NIMIC. E atat de trist. ATAT de trist. Ma deprima sa vad ceva ce ar trebui sa fie extrem de frumos... Si sa fie distrus in ultimul hal. E ca o bataie de joc, pe bune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu am vazut un singur tatuaj frumos, cu adevarat FRUMOS, in Romania, si nu am intalnit niciun tatuator bun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca unul care lucreaza de 30 de ani are jumatate din tatuaje absolut varza.... Si eu sunt genul de persoana paralela cu arta de orice fel, sunt zero, nu am nicio inclinatie, nicio nimic. Doar chestiile bune, foarte bune, ajung sa ma impresioneze, dar atunci chiar imi spun ceva. De asta imi si place arta. Pentru ca-s curioasa sa aflu daca artistul x ajunge la mine sau nu; sunt ca un cobai. Si totusi ma uit la "arta" asta fara sa pot sa ma abtin sa nu simt nimic si ridicand o spranceana. Adica se vede clar ca e varza. Nu se transmite nimic. Nici macar modelul nu e DELOC facut extraordinar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iar un alt "artist" intalnit de mine care pare sa aibe multe de spus nu stie ce e ala nazism... Nu, serios, eu nu as vrea un astfel de "artist" sa puna laba pe pielea mea. Cand faci asa ceva, ca tatuator, iti lasi "arta" si o parte din tine pe acel om, si se creaza [ar trebui sa se creeze] o oarecare legatura intre voi, datorita initimitatii, durerii, si a faptului ca lucrezi direct pe o PERSOANA. Daca m-as duce la un asemenea artist si i-as spune ca vreau sa-mi tatueze moaca lui Hitler si ar zice ca nu stie cine e, l-as scuipa intre ochi [daca as fi tip] si as pleca. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's really fucked man. Tocmai d-aia ma gandesc serios sa astept sa ma tatuez atunci cand ies din tara asta. Nu ma imaginez avand incredere in cineva de pe aici...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu prea-mi place la ideea unui singur tatuaj pe piele ca tatuajul respectiv spune ceva despre tine, dar odata ce se afla mesajul exprimat, oamenii vor crede ca numai acel lucru e de tine, si te vor cataloga in functie de acel lucru si cand isi vor aminti de tine / se vor gandi la tine, acel lucru le va aparea in minte ca fiind caracteristic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si consider ca fiecare persoana e atat de complexa si sigur are un intreg univers functionand inauntrul sau si e in continua evolutie si ca sunt ATATEA lucruri de descoperit la oricine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ca si cum daca ti-ai face doar unul singur... Nu ar mai arata cu adevarat cine esti... Dunno. It kinda has to be perfect. Sau foarte reprezentativ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider ca un tatuaj ar trebui pus intr-o zona frumoasa a corpului fiecarei persoane, si astfel acea zona va fi pusa in evidenta si infrumusetata si mai mult. De aceea cred ca zona trebuie aleasa cu oarecare grija.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu-mi plac textele tatuate ce nu pot fi citite, de exemplu cele cu un stil dubios sau cu literele prea alungite.. Cred ca ar trebui sa poata fi citite din prima. Doar de aia ti le-ai si tatuat nu? Zic si eu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma enerveaza zonele astea tipic romanesti pt tatuaje. De ce p**a mea nu vezi in Romania pe cineva tatuat pe fata? Sau pe tot bratul? Sau pe tot torsul? Or stuff?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma enerveaza ca nu vezi decat chestiile de prost gust care se traduc prin "I wanna be fucked" si niciodata ceva....real, sau ceva cu adevarat original. Sau ceva indraznet. Ceva altfel. Ceva BUN. Jesus. Now i'm pissed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, eu una nu m-as tatua pe o zona atat de extinsa, si MAI ALES pe fata *laughs* Ar fi prea unnatural pt mine [stai sa ma obisnuiesc cu ideea intai]. But that's just me; i'm a pussy. Unii insa traiesc pt asta, sunt facuti pt asta, dar unde sunt in tara asta mare? Teoretic, Securitatea ar fi disparut in '89. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlzxKIBQrSI/AAAAAAAAAHA/ee5mxeEBkOM/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 188px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlzxKIBQrSI/AAAAAAAAAHA/ee5mxeEBkOM/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358422812917804322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlzxNd17YhI/AAAAAAAAAHI/RlXv-zs5-jc/s1600-h/untitledk.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlzxNd17YhI/AAAAAAAAAHI/RlXv-zs5-jc/s320/untitledk.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358422870315459090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Evident. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gheisele de demult aveau un farmec aparte. Oricum culturile asiatice sunt absolut impresionante. Dar un lucru mi-a atras atentia mai mult la ele [gheise], si anume ca incepatoarele, care banuiesc ca erau si virgine, pentru a atrage barbatii, aveau coafuri...speciale. Evident ca trebuiau sa doarma cu parul lasat in aceeasi coafura pt luni intregi [erau incredibil de greu de facut], dormeau cu capul ridicat pe o placa de lemn or smth. Eh, si novicele aveau un coc, facut din parul lor negru, in forma de, si reprezentand...organul lor genital feminin. Iar in mijlocul cocului era o panglicuta roz-rosie, care arata...miezul...modelului reprezentat. Incercau sa aminteasca de asa ceva. Mi s-a parut genial. Mai ales pt ca ele intampinau barbatii in fiecare casa, local sau incapere si ii conduceau, luand-o inaintea lor. Asa era traditia. Si trebuiau sa treaca prin holuri multe si alte alea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Erau imbracate din cap pana in piciaore, cu zeci de mii de straturi [serios, aveau la tzoale si la straturi...] si nu aratau piele pe nicaieri. Decat... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa cum la europeni a inceput sa fie sexy ca intai femeile sa isi arate gleznele, asa aveau si gheisele un loc pur sexual... Singura particica de piele care nu era acoperita de kimono era ceafa. Parul ridicat cu totul in acel coc entertaining, iar dedesupt, pe ceafa, desene, tatuaje. Puteau fi desenate tot felul de chestii interesante, si se lasau totusi destul de discret si cateva portiuni de piele libere...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi se pare fascinant si incredibil de sexy. Yep, de aici mi-am inspirat ideea. *daydreams about it*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-1521751318825957352?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/1521751318825957352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/romania-ink-hahahahahahahahahaha.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1521751318825957352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1521751318825957352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/romania-ink-hahahahahahahahahaha.html' title='Romania Ink [hahahahahahahahahaha.]'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Slzfvx93_MI/AAAAAAAAAGg/i4q2-Bbb3V4/s72-c/24-446.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-107481178936971888</id><published>2009-07-13T21:50:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T01:00:20.154+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Damn... Gotta love Pain.</title><content type='html'>"O vedeam draguta si plina de viata in fata mea, o faptura sclipitoare si nepretuita care, in curand, avea sa imbatraneasca, sa moara, sa piarda acele momente care, prin caracterul lor intangibil, ne promiteau gresit.... gresit, nemurirea. De parca aceasta ar fi fost dreptul nostru castigat prin nastere, al carui sens nu il puteam pricepe decat in acel moment de la jumatatea vietii, cand inaintea noastra se intindeau tot atatia ani cat lasasem deja in urma. Cand fiecare moment, absolut fiecare moment trebuie intai cunoscut si apoi savurat."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, de cateva zile si eu ascult cam aceleasi melodii...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Era o scena in Fight Club in care Tyler Durden ii ardea mana celuilalt tip al carui nume nu e dezvaluit niciodata pe parcursul filmului dar nimeni nu se prinde de asta vreodata, si ii spunea ca "You have to know - not fear - to &lt;strong&gt;know&lt;/strong&gt; that someday you will die."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vreau ca cineva sa imi faca si mie asa ceva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si sunt multe chestii din filmul ala pe care vreau sa le fac. Si asta e una dintre ele. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adica nu o vreau asa cum vreau sa ma iau la bataie cu cineva ca sa simt durerea si adrenalina, ci vreau o experienta asemanatoare care sa ma faca sa realizez si eu asta pe bune. Vreau constientizarea acelui fapt, nu experienta in sine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vreau sa realizez si eu asta. Pentru ca o realizez, and somehow, i don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viata e atat de fragila. Chiar e. De cateva ori am simtit asta pe pielea mea. M-am prins ca sunt destul de aproape de bariera. Desi nu am..vazut-o, probabil niciodata, pe bune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it always scared me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chiar ma tem pentru viata mea... Chiar vreau sa mai raman aici, desi ma plang mereu de tot ce e naspa pe lumea asta si vreau sa fac sa para ca nu ma tem de chestii. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mereu am crezut ca motivul pt care viata mea e atat de pretioasa pt mine e ca am lucruri de realizat in ea pe care imi doresc mult, mult, sa le duc pana la capat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar analizand acea frica... Nu stiu sigur daca e doar asta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm really scared of getting hurt. Mereu mi-a fost teama de asta. Nu voiam o moarte dureroasa. Cand eram mica, gandul asta ma speria. Si amintindu-mi de acea stare de vis si de negare, si de "Can't be me, this can't happen right now", observ ca am un... un fel de instinct foarte disperat de conservare. De "I love myself so much that i CAN NOT get hurt. I can't accept it." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De curand mi-am dat seama insa ca I enjoy pain. A lot. In timp, dragostea pentru durere tot creste. In diferite situatii. I think it makes me feel powerful. E una dintre putinele senzatii care sunt atat de puternice incat iti pot lasa semne, atat fizice, cat si emotionale. Te schimba, iti transmite ceva, isi lasa o urma asupra ta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's why i love pain. Dar... nu atunci cand e folosita pe altii si in exces si stuff...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Credeam ca nu imi e frica de moarte. Sincer, mult timp am obisnuit sa ma simt... imuna la asta. Mi-am luat-o in cap, am devenit ingamfata si aroganta, spunand de fiecare data cand aveam ocazia ca sunt de neatins and stuff. It felt really good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cred ca in ultimul timp am realizat ca unele chestii nu depind doar de puterea noastra, sau nu 100%. Si ca stuff can happen daca nu esti atent. Si ca...nimeni nu e invincibil. Oricine urca tre sa si coboare la un moment dat. Cel putin pe lumea asta...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intradevar, cred ca sunt la un punct in viata in care ma simt capabila de orice si nu constientizez ca pot muri as i write daca ma inec cu cafeaua pe care o beau chiar acum, pentru ca nu vreau sa constientizez asa ceva. In general realizez ca in orice situatie o pot da in bara si ca pot esua, si vad si cum ar fi, dar NICIODATA nu accept ideea ca voi esua. Adica stiu ca posibilitatea e acolo, dar pur si simplu nu o iau in seama, imi zic ca it can't happen. Nu accept ca acea posibilitate se va intampla. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cu siguranta de asta nu accept ca sunt fragila si ca pot muri maine fara sa am cea mai mica bnuiala. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bine, m-am obisnuit si sa cred ca asta e cam foarte greu sa se intample, deoarece daca traiesc aici de 20j de ani, inseamna ca traiesc cu un scop. Si inca n-am facut mare cacat la viata mea. Deci, logic, nu o sa mor chiar maine. Decat daca am un destin extrem de trist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deci, in momentul de fata, tineretea isi spune cuvantul in ceea ce ma priveste. Ma face sa ma simt oarecum de neinvins. Dar in acelasi timp, am ajuns sa detin o oarecare doza de maturitate incat sa realizez ca nimic nu e vesnic, si sa constientizez - in mare parte - cam cu ce ar trebui sa se manance viata, cam ce am reusit pana acum, si cam ce ar mai trebui sa fac, si sa estimez cam cat timp mai e pentru asta... Si sa realizez ce &lt;strong&gt;trebuie&lt;/strong&gt; sa fac si ce &lt;strong&gt;vreau&lt;/strong&gt; sa fac, pentru ca-s doua lucruri total diferite. Si sa vad cum impart relatia dintre ele. Si si ce &lt;strong&gt;pot&lt;/strong&gt; sa fac, evident. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Daca ai muri maine, would you be proud of yourself?" I feel like I would. Eh, dar atunci, de ce frica asta din preajma mortii? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca nu mi-ar fi frica, nu ar trebui sa zic "Come on, show me what you got, hai sa vedem care e mai bun" si sa nu imi pese daca se termina sau nu? Dar stiu foarte bine ca sunt prea legata de ce e aici. Si sincer, nu-mi pasa daca asta e bine sau nu. Pentru ca...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Give me something good to die for to make it beautiful to live". That's it. I like it, for one reason it's really beautiful in here. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totusi... O alta spaima a mea e ce as face atunci cand nu as mai avea acel motiv. O sa citez ceva din Twilight pentru prima - si sper ultima - data in viata: "When you can live forever, what do you live for?" Adica imi e super spaima de momentul in care voi realiza ca "Oh shit. Am atata timp in fata dar nu am ce face cu el". Gandul asta ma sperie. Ca voi ajunge sa imbatranesc si ca pielea mea mult iubita se va rida si lasa si ca parul super vopsit nu-mi va mai rezista pe teasta si ca de la durerea de oase nu voi mai putea face Pilates si-mi vor atarna toate alea. Si ca nu va fi cine trebuie acolo ca sa ma iubeasca cu toate astea. Yeah. What do you live for then? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si sincer... Parca imi e mai frica de chestia asta, de timpul care ramane in care sa te chinuiesti aici fara niciun scop, motiv sau tinta, decat de a parasi lumea asta cu gandul ca am trait cat mi s-a permis dar nu m-am oprit niciodata din luptat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sau nu stiu, nu vreau niciuna dintre astea...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se pare ca ma tem de mai multe lucruri decat as vrea sa recunosc vreodata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu vreau sa mor batrana si linistita in patul meu inconjurata de copiii pe care i-am adus pe lumea asta nenotocita cu pretul de a fi galeata. Okay asta din urma suna foarte naspa, but my point is... Really, i don't wanna die an old hag in my own pee, prefer sa se termine cand inca sunt in floarea varstei, sa fie ceva tragic si big si preferabil sa ramana toti socati si sa isi aminteasca de mine cand eram tanara si frumoasa si paranoica. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si sincer, pana sa gasesc motivul asta de a trai, nu intelegeam si nu suportam oamenii care gandeau asa. Bine, cei pe care ii cunoscusem eu aveau de gand sa se sinucida, nu spuneau ca "prefera sa". Nu eram de acord deoarece consideram ca atata timp cat ti-a fost data o viata, intotdeauna poti face ceva bun din ea, atat pt tine, cat si pt ceilalti. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar de cand am inceput sa ma cunsoc mai bine... pasiunea pe care am descoperit-o in mine e atat de patimasa si de fidela incat nu vrea sa fie irosita si sa piarda timpul aiurea. Si pur si simplu pentru ce sunt eu facuta nu suporta compromisurile, si scopul meu aici e atat de important pentru mine, incat nu accept sa traiesc fara el. That's it. Si l-as urma oriunde.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah.. I don't want this passion to fade away. Fara ea, nu as mai fi cine sunt eu cu adevarat and that'd be pretty much screwed. Ca acum nu mai stiu cum sa fiu altceva decat sunt si decat vreau sa fiu. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mereu m-am intrebat oare cum e sa fii batran.. Mult timp nu am putut intelege. Acum sunt la stadiul in care reusesc sa incerc sa imi imaginez uneori. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma tem ca esti obosit, simti ca stii prea multe ca sa mai stii ceva bine, te dor toate alea, iti e dor de cei care nu mai sunt langa tine, te gandesti mereu la vremurile trecute in care aveai forta si dorinte si vise, si tot ce vrei e putina pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trag concluziile astea din ce imi imaginez si din ce am observat pe la batrani.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu sunt extrem de curioasa sa aflu pe pielea mea cum e.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ba da. Ar fi interesant... Pentru o saptmana or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ar mai fi o varianta totusi... Am observat si batrani mai putin batrani. Am cunoscut spirite tinere pentru totdeauna. Si sincer....Cred ca spiritul itnradevar ramane mereu tanar si ca e mereu predispus sa mai invete ceva nou, si sa evolueze. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana acum, si chiar si in momentul de fata, ma consider un copil. Un copil care nu a putut fi copil la timpul lui pentru ca s-a maturizat fortat. Si acum cauta timpul pierdut. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar e prima data cand mi se intampla sa imi recunosc si sa imi apreciez...tineretea. Acum nu mai sunt DOAR copil. O simt pulsandu-mi prin vene si impingandu-mi rapid sangele cu putere, o simt hotarata si totusi suficient de cumpatata si inteleapta, si ma face sa ma simt atat de...Dumnezeu. Acum inteleg de ce suntem priviti cu atata "maturitate" si ni se spune ca la varsta asta nu aveam habar pe ce lume traim si ca avem impresia ca toata lumea e a noastra si ca nu e nimeni la fel de bun si ca avem dreptate in toate. Well da, la un anumit nivel, fiecare simte asta. And it feels DAMN good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sensul nemuririi nu il putem intelege decat "...in acel moment de la jumatatea vietii, cand inaintea noastra se intindeau tot atatia ani cat lasasem deja in urma." mi se pare ca suna foarte interesant. Nu stiu de ce, dar aici m-am regasit. Parca ma simt la jumatatea vietii. Si nu stiu de ce. Si e puuuutin ciudat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"In another life, I was a queen.&lt;br /&gt;And then I was a beggar.&lt;br /&gt;And a fox.&lt;br /&gt;And a rabbit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oare cum o fii sa simti ca ai trait atat de mult si ai cunoscut atat de multe si ai suferit atat de rau incat.... sa nu mai poti? Sa iti imbatraneasca spiritul? Ma intreb, oare asta e posibil? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where's the point when you can't take it anymore?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tyler Durden: &lt;em&gt;Fuck off with your sofa units and strine green stripe patterns, I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let... lets evolve, let the chips fall where they may. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh, maybe that's why I like Fight Club so much. Tocmai pentru ca am atatea reguli pe care as vrea sa mi le incalc uneori.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Narrator: [Tyler steers the car into the opposite lane and accelerates] What are you doing? &lt;br /&gt;Tyler Durden: Guys, what would you wish you'd done before you died? &lt;br /&gt;Ricky: Paint a self-portrait. &lt;br /&gt;The Mechanic: Build a house. &lt;br /&gt;Tyler Durden: [to Narrator] And you? &lt;br /&gt;Narrator: I don't know. Turn the wheel now, come on! &lt;br /&gt;Tyler Durden: You have to know the answer to this question! If you died right now, how would you feel about your life? &lt;br /&gt;Narrator: I don't know, I wouldn't feel anything good about my life, is that what you want to hear me say? Fine. Come on! &lt;br /&gt;Tyler Durden: Not good enough. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu vreau ca viata mea sa fie o sarada. Nu vreau ca viata mea sa fie un bal mascat. Nu vreau sa fie un circ. Nu vreau sa joc teatru fata de lume si fata de mine. Ever. Pentru ca imi iubesc viata si apreciez ca o am. Si vreau sa scot ce e mai bun din ea. Vreau sa o traiesc asa cum cred eu ca e mai bine pentru mine, chiar daca ceea ce fac poate ca e gresit in ochii altora. Dar pentru mine, &lt;em&gt;fiecare&lt;/em&gt; alegere si fiecare actiune - care btw, sunt gandite meticulos - sunt luate, respectiv, facute doar pentru binele meu. Ce fac, fac pentru ca stiu ce fac, si fac pentru ca stiu ca doar asta imi aduce fericirea. Ce nu fac, nu fac pentru ca imi e lene, pentru ca am lucruri mai importante cu care sa imi pierd timpul si energia, si pentru ca nu ma incurc cu cacaturi si cu lucruri superficiale, false sau inutile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alegerile pe care EU singura le iau pentru mine nu le voi regreta niciodata. Pentru ca orice s-ar intampla, voi stii ca am ales ce era cel mai bine pentru mine la momentul respectiv. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vreau ce e mai bun pentru viata mea iar modul in care actionez doar asta demonstreaza. Dar pur si simplu am nevoie de lucruri diferite decat restul oamenilor. Si daca gresesc, voi continua sa fiu la fel de mandra de mine. Pentru ca mi-am asumat riscul de a pierde...uneori chiar tot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se poate spune ca nu apreciez viata, daca refuz o parte din timpul care mi s-ar da, ipotetic, dar fara motivatia de a il trai. Nu stiu, poate asa o fi. Daca e asa, atunci imi pare sincer rau ca sunt nerecunoscatoare. Dar stiu ca apreciez viata ce mi-a fost data, chiar pot spune asta sincer. Dar cred ca mai mult apreciez DE CE mi-a fost data. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm strong, cred ca pana la urma as gasi ceva cu care sa ma ocup si cu care sa imi omor timpul. Probabil ceva care sa ii invete si ajute pe cei in nevoie. Nu cred ca as dezerta. Nu stiu. Dar oricum ar fi totul ca o mare mare imensa pedeapsa pentru mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca o sa am parte de asa ceva.... Hm. E naspa. Naspa e putin spus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But who knows....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sper sa nu mi se ia / distruga vreodata puterea de a visa. This is all i have left. A fost torta mea prin momentele grele, de-a lungul intregii vieti. Daca mi se ia asta, Oana dispare. It's my weapon and my shield. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tyler Durden: Fuck damnation, man! Fuck redemption! We are God's unwanted children? So be it! &lt;br /&gt;Narrator: OK. Give me some water! &lt;br /&gt;Tyler Durden: Listen, you can run water over your hand and make it worse or... &lt;br /&gt;[shouts] &lt;br /&gt;Tyler Durden: look at me... or you can use vinegar and neutralize the burn. &lt;br /&gt;Narrator: Please let me have it... *Please*! &lt;br /&gt;Tyler Durden: First you have to give up, first you have to *know*... not fear... *know*... that someday you're gonna die.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-107481178936971888?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/107481178936971888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/damn-gotta-love-pain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/107481178936971888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/107481178936971888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/damn-gotta-love-pain.html' title='Damn... Gotta love Pain.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-1302751602718482277</id><published>2009-07-12T22:12:00.007+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T23:18:23.543+03:00</updated><title type='text'>The Money and the Power</title><content type='html'>De cand am terminat cu bacu' si cu astea, si am si eu oleaca de liniste, mai arunc cate un ochi pe la tv [in general uram sa ma uit la jegurile difuzate]. Urmaresc doua emisiuni constant pe Discovery, si uneori mai gasesc cate-un film si cate-o chestie pe Mtv. Si am vazut la un moment dat sfarsitul unui reality-show al lui 50 Cent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tin sa precizez ca atunci cand el s-a lansat, eram la pubertate. Si ritmul piesei "In da club" chiar mi-a placut, dar pe el l-am urat din PRIMA. Fata lui pur si simplu ma enerva; m-a enervat tot timpul. Nu l-am putut inghiti deloc. Eveer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar emisiunea m-a facut curioasa, pt ca era vorba de cum unii invata sa gestioneze bani si afaceri, pt el. Si am zis "What the hell, hai sa ma uit, poate invat si eu ceva care sa ma ajute in viata, ca un viitor manager extraordinar ce sunt." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acum am terminat episodul 2. Si tre sa zic... Nush daca fata lui ma mai enervaza sau nu, da' omu' e tare. E prea tare. E bestial. He kicks fucking ass. He is smart, stie ce vrea, stie sa castige ceea ce vrea, stie sa citeasca oamenii foarte bine, si nu se incurca cu cacaturi. Sincer, m-a lasat masca. I'm actually impressed. Bravo frate. Bun asa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are si stil and he is so. fucking. bad. Tacut, serios, impunator, si al dracu' de rau. Mean. Exact genul de nenorocita care vreau si eu sa fiu. *laughs* *american slang accent* He is baaad. Un om de afaceri foarte bun. Wow. Awesomeness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A durat doua episoade, dar tocmai mi s-a schimbat parerea despre el.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-1302751602718482277?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/1302751602718482277/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/power-and-money.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1302751602718482277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1302751602718482277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/power-and-money.html' title='The Money and the Power'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-8394434551643012328</id><published>2009-07-12T01:58:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T03:19:45.552+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Under my umbrella</title><content type='html'>Just.... Briliant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A legend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Genul de barbat pe care nu ai cum sa nu il iubesti. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sarm, voce si talent nemarginite. Atat ca artist, cat si ca om. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doar Mozart si-a mai inceput cariera la 5 ani.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si arata al naibii de chipes cam in orice. La orice varsta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The best father you could ever imagine".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Carry me&lt;br /&gt;Like you are my brother&lt;br /&gt;Love me like a mother&lt;br /&gt;Will you be there? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they told me&lt;br /&gt;A man should be faithful&lt;br /&gt;And walk when not able&lt;br /&gt;And fight till the end&lt;br /&gt;But Im only human&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lead me&lt;br /&gt;Lay your head lowly&lt;br /&gt;Softly then boldly&lt;br /&gt;Carry me there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hold me&lt;br /&gt;Love me and feed me&lt;br /&gt;Kiss me and free me&lt;br /&gt;I will feel blessed&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cat de frumos ploua afara...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy and honoured he is the first artist I've ever known.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-8394434551643012328?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/8394434551643012328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/under-my-umbrella.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/8394434551643012328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/8394434551643012328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/under-my-umbrella.html' title='Under my umbrella'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-7379189234947116084</id><published>2009-07-11T02:19:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T02:22:41.600+03:00</updated><title type='text'>I love Pilates</title><content type='html'>I love Pilates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pilates make people happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I just love Pilates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xD&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-7379189234947116084?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/7379189234947116084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-love-pilates.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7379189234947116084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7379189234947116084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-love-pilates.html' title='I love Pilates'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-4920342275211016020</id><published>2009-07-09T23:20:00.038+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T03:30:51.375+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Panteonul unui om "ce se zbate intre cer si pamant" atat de frumos</title><content type='html'>I &lt;3 Lestat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi-am amintit scene din volumul 2 - "Vampirul Lestat", povestea lui geniala. Francez din Auvergne care a devenit vampir in 1789, parca asa era. Cred ca volumul incepe cu el [om fiind] luptandu-se cu niste lupi care il atacau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acasa familia nu era foarte bogata. Ma-sa era fiinta care il intelegea cel mai bine si care il iubea enorm. Ma-sa and his best friend. Avea multi frati. Si pana la urma ma-sa se imbolnaveste. Si dupa ce e tranformat in vampir, pentru ca nu voia sa o piarda, o transforma si pe ea. Gabrielle o chema. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Au o scena grozava in care, vampiri fiind, se saruta, iar el isi musca limba si ii da sa bea din sangele lui. In timp ce continua sa se sarute. Chestia asta mi s-a parut atat de incredibil de kinky.. Cred ca era prima scena mai puternica de genul asta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Duh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E interesant si imi place la Anne Rice ca in primul volum din cele 12 - Interviu cu un vampir - Lestat e pus intr-o lumina ingrozitoare. E descris crud, egoist, fals, batjocoritor, arogant, etc. Dar pe urma... in urmatoarele volume, se schimba povestea. El e personajul principal cam peste tot si e totul privit din perspectiva lui si se descopera ca de fapt are un caracter si o personalitate absolut fucking fascinanta. Si ca nu e asa de nemernic. E ca si cum autoarea ar fi scris primul volum, a vazut ca are succes si ca se face si film dupa ea si ca ideea prinde, si s-a gandit "Hmmmm Lestat asta are potential. Ia sa fac eu ceva din el." Si apoi s-a hotarat sa il ia, sa ii spele onoarea, sa schimbe totul la 180 de grade si sa il centreze pe el in fiecare poveste, pentru ca are acel "ceva" nesimtit care atrage si care poate face un barbat sa arate minunat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlcSl1LB0CI/AAAAAAAAAGY/HyXpzVRL8k4/s1600-h/lestat-booklike.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlcSl1LB0CI/AAAAAAAAAGY/HyXpzVRL8k4/s320/lestat-booklike.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356770722918289442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider ca primul volum e cel mai slab. Ceea ce e dubios, deoarece pentru a a trage publicul, ar trebui ca primul sa ia ochii si sa indemne la continuari. Deci e de fapt foarte tare daca m-a determinat sa citesc restu' in continuare. Si consider ca e cel mai putin interesant pentru ca e prezentat si dintr-o perspectiva usor boring [usor de tot de tot - si asta doar comparativ cu urmatorul volum] si mai ales, pentru ca actiunea nu e la fel de fantastica si de smechera ca-n celelalte carti. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, recitesc Cronicile. Am inceput cu volumul 1. Merge cam greu, pt ce am spus mai sus, si probabil si pt ca imi e extrem de teama de cum le voi percepe acum, dupa 3 ani, cand nu mai sunt atat de copil; imi e foarte teama sa nu le stric farmecul. Asa ca o iau super incet. Plus ca vreau sa savurez si sa inteleg si sa analizez fiecare fraza, fiecare cuvant, fiecare detaliu. Sa vad tot ce inainte nu reusisem, si sa devorez tot ce uitasem. Asa ca imi iau tot timpul pt asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si, pe masura ce citesc, ma fac sa incep sa ma gandesc la tot feluld e chestii, si sa imi amintesc altele... si sa scriu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi plac scenele [impresiile] usor gay de aici. De exemplu " "Acum, asculta-ma, Louis", mi-a zis Lestat, asezandu-se langa mine, pe trepte, miscarile fiindu-i atat de pline de gratie si atat de insinuante, incat imediat m-au facut sa ma gandesc la un iubit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;" "Asculta, tine ochii deschisi", mi-a soptit Lestat, miscandu-si buzele pe gatul meu. Imi aduc aminte ca acea miscare a buzelor lui mi-a zbarlit tot parul de pe trup, provocandu-mi o senzatie puternica ce nu era departe de placerea pasiunii..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SAAAAAU. Poate ca [doar poaaate...] i like-like Lestat a lot-lot si din cauza asta mi se pare extrem de hot sa il vrea si un tip. xD Si... cam toata lumea din volumele alea. Yeah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi se pare genial ca dupa trei, chiar patru ani, desi s-a schimbat TOTUL pentru mine, inca ma pot regasi atat de extrem de mult...aici. It's not my true home, dar e foarte placut pentru ca e... Dunno, o camera de hotel foarte comfortabila, calda, familiara. Intesata de amintiri si de semnificatii, unde-mi place mereu sa revin si o fac din timp in timp, on my own. Nu mai gasesc alta camera la fel de mare, de frumoasa si...la fel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cica Anne Rice pregateste al treispelea volum, despre care spune...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The novel, if ever written, would be entirely Christian in framework and would involve Redemption. It would affirm my dedication to Christ and my belief in Him and my commitment to write only for Him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Let me affirm: the book --- if ever written --- would reflect my commitment to the Lord to write for Him and for Him alone. The novel is still in the idea stage, and represents an attempt to bring my deep Christian commitment to my old hero and bring my old hero to my Christian commitment. The novel would only be written if and when I find a space to do it that does not interfere with my writing of Jesus’ life on earth in the Christ the Lord series."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, I did famously say I would never write about those old characters again, and I meant it when I said it because I could not then envision a redemptive novel with Lestat. I had attempted redemptive novels with him like Memnoch the Devil and Blood Canticle and they had not entirely succeeded. Also my new vocation, to write directly for Christ, became the dominant theme of my entire life. And it still is the dominant theme of my entire life."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"There is no possibility for me to return to writing about the vampires as heroes of a dark realm in which they are the only authority on their actions. There will be no more rip roaring adventures for the godless Lestat. That is dead and gone. I found the light in Christ for which my old characters were always searching. The question is: can I bring my Christian faith back to one of those old characters in a meaningful and deeply religious way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu ce sa zic. Ma tem doar sa nu le strice asa, la sfarsit, cum le e specific oamenilor. Am citit pana la volumul 11 si continuau sa aiba acel "ceva". Adica da, cool, dintotdeauna am considerat ca tipa are "ceva", pt ca stie si intelege mai mult decat restul populatiei. That's why i kindof respect her. Sa vedem... Astept sa aflu ce o sa faca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc de mult timp unde si ce fel de tatuaje mi-as face. Am ales trei locuri, si stiu de ce. Si ma gandisem la trei modele de tatuaje. Dar.... Am inceput sa ma gandesc si am realizat ca... nu cred ca le-as putea purta pentru tot restul vietii. Decat unul dintre ele. Bine, decat daca iese PERFECT. Nu pot pe toate pentru ca m-am gandit ca... Sunt doar vreo doua, probabil trei lucruri care, intradevar, ma caracterizeaza, no matter what. Dar cum ramane cu restul de elemente si aspecte ale vietii mele, care sunt atat de foarte importante, dar atat de multe? Cum sa le reprezint pe fiecare intr-un tatuaj de cativa centimetri...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si sa imi fac tatuaje pe toata suprafata pielii nu mi se pare chiar okay..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlcAcm-ImRI/AAAAAAAAAFg/PI8H2Gv3NEI/s1600-h/KatVonD_4_S_1208465443.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 129px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlcAcm-ImRI/AAAAAAAAAFg/PI8H2Gv3NEI/s320/KatVonD_4_S_1208465443.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356750773277989138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;-- Love her show though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlcAkUyT0fI/AAAAAAAAAFw/t1Gb1VwGeh4/s1600-h/01-la-ink-dvd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 232px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlcAkUyT0fI/AAAAAAAAAFw/t1Gb1VwGeh4/s320/01-la-ink-dvd.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356750905835508210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"[Oamenii care inceteaza sa creada in Dumnezeu sau bine, in general, continua sa creada in diavol. Nu stiu de ce. Nu, chiar ca nu stiu de ce.] Raul e posibil. intotdeauna. Iar binele e intotdeauna dificil. [...] Nu-i nevoie sa-l vezi pe Satana cand e alungat. Dar sa fii in prezenta unui sfant.. Sa crezi ca acel sfant a avut o viziune. Nu, refuzul nostru de a crede ca asa ceva se poate intampla unor semeni de-ai nostri e vanitate."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it makes me wonder... Daca ar veni intr-o zi la voi cineva si v-ar spune "Sunt vampir." [nu o luati ad-literram, e un exemplu] si v-ar si dovedi asta, cati dintre voi ar fi dispusi sa creada?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La viata mea am intalnit atat de multi oameni vanitosi incat.... m-au sictirit. De-asta nu ii mai plac. Sincer. 99% dintre oamenii carora m-am deschis si carora mi-am expus sentimentele pe tava pentru ca am avut incredere.. au fost nu doar vanitosi, dar si prosti. Si nu ii pot ierta pentru asta. Pentru ca au judecat ceva ce nu au putut intelege. Ca prostu' pana nu e fudul...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jesus, imposibil sa write down tot ce simt si-mi trece prin minte. Weird..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ideea e ca am realizat cu surprindere ca, daca e vorba de asa ceva, eu nu am fost niciodata vanitoasa. Se pare ca nu-mi sta in fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sau.. nu eram.. Adica depinde. Ca daca vine ultimu' prost la mine si-mi spune ca a fost in iad, ori il iau la misto ori plec. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si sa realizez asta [ca nu-s trufasa] m-a mirat &lt;strong&gt;f tare&lt;/strong&gt;. Pentru ca nu sunt oarba si constientizez cate defecte [asa le-ar numi unii xD] am si care-s alea, si sunt....big. Really big. Dar sa nu fiu vanitoasa...m-a facut sa ma simt happier. Kinder. Nu ma prea asteptam.. But it felt awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar.... Nu stiu. Poate ca depinde si cine vine la mine si-mi zice ca e vampir. Chiar nush ce sa zic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate ca odata eram mult mai inocenta decat acum. Sau ca poate ca pur si simplu am vazut ca nu sunt mintita. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar as fi putut fi vanitoasa. Probabil ca exista toate aceste motive pt care n-am fost si totusi nu e nici unul.. *smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate ca voiam si eu f tare sa cred in ceva, si sa gasesc raspunsuri la ce ma atragea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atunci cand esti inocent vezi adevarul exact asa cum e. Vezi...intotdeauna partea cea mai evidenta si mai simpla si mai frumoasa a fiecarei situatii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apoi, apar alte cacaturi si griji si probleme si egoism si complicatii..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De asta copiii sunt atat de inteligenti. Ei vad si vor vedea INTOTDEAUNA lucrurile exact asa cum sunt, in esenta lor si atat de in fata noastra incat noi...nu mai reusim sa vedem bine mereu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ei nu se complica... Probabil ca de asta inocenta mi se pare atat de importanta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stiu si ma oftica faptul ca inca am....mintea unui muritor, si ea nu poate curpinde, crede si intelege inca muuulte lucruri din cate as vrea sa poata. *sighs* Adica da, dar unele...nu atat de mult pe cat mi-as dori, pe cat ar merita. Dar sincer... Cred ca imi e si foarte frica. Ma tem foarte tare sa am asteptari SI MAI mari, asta fiind consecinta actiunii de a imi pune toata credinta si toata....vointa si constiinta in a crede intr-un singur...Dumnezeu. Adica, daca as face asta, asa cum vreau, unde ar mai exista echilibrul si intelegerea dintre noi? Nu ar mai fi o relatie, nu? Ar fi o scara ierarhica. Plus ca...stiu ca pe lumea asta nimic nu va fi niciodata perfect de la sine, slefuit de natura sa FIE perfect. Si deci...Fiind constienta de acest lucru, e cam extrem de greu sa ador ceva 130%. I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus ca, totuusi, nu ma pot simti chiar asa de speciala. *silent laughter*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probabil ca nu intelegi nimic din ce spun. Sper sa fie asa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlcNLq8qM5I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/_8EW-Xnn0s4/s1600-h/2678i-klimt-angels.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 117px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlcNLq8qM5I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/_8EW-Xnn0s4/s320/2678i-klimt-angels.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356764775938929554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Oricum... Cred tot ce pot sa inteleg si tot ce vreau sa cred. Cred intr-un singur Dumnezeu, in existenta unor ingeri pazitori that kick ass, in eroi si povesti de basm cu zane si zmei care-mi dau cosmaruri cu vrajitoare. Cred in prietenie si in dragoste, in karma si destin, in cainta, in indreptarea greselilor, in puterea viselor.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am momente in care ma indoiesc de...fiecare dintre aceste lucruri. Dar mereu, cand imi vin in fire, imi spun "That's the doubt, the doubt, the trust in it". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si banuiesc ca asa e. Daca ai fi 100% sigur de ceva, care i-ar mai fi farmecul? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tin minte ca eram atat de credincioasa. Adica...in Dumnezeul crestin. Wow. Foarte. Si deodata, a venit ceva care a reusit sa imi schimbe parerile atat de bine infipte in pamant si atat de puternice. Oricum, e singura forta care reuseste asta cu mine, no matter what. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sari de pe pod!". O sa comentez si poate o sa fiu curcalot, si o sa stau un timp sa analizez, ca asa-mi sta mie in fire, sa ma panichez si sa ma complic pana la infinit and shit, dar o sa sar. Si e placut. Foarte placut. Ar trebui sa gaseasca fiecare o forta de genul asta. Te simti neajutorat sau ceva de genu'... I don't know how much "being strong all the time" fits me..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mai am doar o credinta pe care nu o poate invinge niciodata though. Pentru ca o am de la ceva o idee mai puternic. O tzara, oleaca. Pentru ca e principala [daca nu singura] mea sursa de speranta si gigantul stalp de rezistenta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu am reusit sa surprind deloc esenta a ce simt acum de fapt. Ma oftic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca Dumnezeu ar fi uman, cat de Dumnezeu ar mai fi? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ca sa fii luat drept divin, trebuie sa fii... intotdeauna fara de pata si fara de greseala. Daca ai astea insa, te trag in jos si imaginea iti e stricata. Oamenii nu vor crede suficient in tine si nu te vor sluji niciodata cu adevarat pentru ca te vor considera la fel ca ei, sau chiar mai rau. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dragostea de Dumnezeu, credinta - mi-a fost umbrita de iubire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa am reusit sa inteleg blasfemica expresie "sa il infrunti pe Dumnezeu pentru dragostea ta". Si asa am gasit o noua credinta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0YTYvX7jKEI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0YTYvX7jKEI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt; --&gt; live suna MULT mai bine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Taie-mi mainile, taie-mi picioarele&lt;br /&gt;Taie-mi gandurile toate in doua&lt;br /&gt;Dar nu te face ca ploua&lt;br /&gt;Taie-mi pletele, scoate-mi ochii&lt;br /&gt;Astupa-mi urechile cu dopuri&lt;br /&gt;Dar nu calca pe nervii mei cu tocuri &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Potriveste-ma si impotriveste-ma&lt;br /&gt;Fa-ma si desfa-ma in mii de bucatele&lt;br /&gt;Nu voi fi niciodata altceva decat sunt&lt;br /&gt;Un om ce se zbate intre cer si pamant&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taie-mi visele, rupe-mi ridurile&lt;br /&gt;Indreapta-mi nasul, fa-l si mai stramb&lt;br /&gt;Dar nu te atinge de vïsul meu natang&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate ca intotdeauna am fost un Toma necredinciosu' undeva la origini.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi, in proportie de 98 - 99%, cred. Cred tot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mai putin cand ma razvratesc. Dar atunci e din cauza dragostei, nu a credintei. Si deci, probabil ca nu imi afecteaza idolatria. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana la urma, de ce am ales sa cred? Pentru ca am stiut ca am gasit ceva divin si ceva sacru. Da, cred ca asta e raspunsul. Si de acolo a pornit totul. ..Ca un fel de presimtire ca am gasit adevaratul meu Dumnezeu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu insa cat de bine e ca de multe ori sacrul se amesteca foarte tare cu profanul... Sunt tare curioasa cat de puternic si de...compact ar fi daca as putea simti totul fara alte "tulburari" mai mult sau mai putin lumesti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sper si imi doresc foarte tare ca mai incolo sa nu imi mai fie frica de a recunoaste ceea ce stiu ca exista atat de aproape de fapt, putin in fiecare dintre noi poate, si sa raman inmarmurita in fata inexplicabilului. Imi doresc asta atat de mult. Sa fiu redusa la tacere, sa ma simt zero. Sa recunosc maretia pe care acum fiinta mea se teme sa o vada cu totul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlcMSlNFqdI/AAAAAAAAAGI/PeUZvK9E5Xo/s1600-h/dav.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 306px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlcMSlNFqdI/AAAAAAAAAGI/PeUZvK9E5Xo/s320/dav.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356763795144681938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ingerii au fost pentru o clipa stravezii ca lumina si am vazut prin ei siluetele celor doi calugari care inchideau usile. Mastema se uita la mine cu privirea sa puternica si nemiscata.&lt;br /&gt; - S-ar putea citi orice pe chipul tau, am zis.&lt;br /&gt; - Asa sunt toti ingerii."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Unii scriu despre indoieli si intuneric.&lt;br /&gt;Altii, despre lipsa de noima si despre liniste.&lt;br /&gt;Eu scriu despre inefabila flacara celesta care arde in fiecare dintre noi.&lt;br /&gt;Eu scriu despre o sete de sange care nu se ostoieste niciodata, despre cunoastere si despre pretul acesteia." ---&gt; Yeah... Good point. That's why they say ignorance is bliss. Inainte nu imi dadeam seama la ce se refera expresia asta...&lt;br /&gt;"Luati aminte: lumina se afla inauntrul vostru. Eu o vad. O vad in fiecare dintre voi si asa va fi mereu. O vad atunci cand sunt infometat, cand ma lupt, cand ucid. O vad palpaind si stingandu-se in bratele mele cand ma infrupt.&lt;br /&gt;Imaginati-va, asadar, ce ar insemna pentru mine sa va omor pe unul dintre voi!&lt;br /&gt;Rugati-va sa puteti vedea lumina in cei din jurul vostru si asta nu cu pretul crimei sau al dezonoarei. Va doresc sa nu aveti de platit un pret atat de scump. Lasati-ma pe mine sa ispasesc si pacatele voastre!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I lifted the long wick that lay there for the lighting of candles, and I dipped it into an old flame, and made a&lt;br /&gt;new one burst into being, hot and yellow and finally steady, giving off the sharp perfume of burnt wax.&lt;br /&gt;I knew the candle was for me.&lt;br /&gt;It was for all those beings, and for the devil who stood here now, because he loved candles, and he loved&lt;br /&gt;the making of light from light. Because there was no God in whom he believed, and no saints, and no Queen&lt;br /&gt;of Heaven.&lt;br /&gt;Because he was alone, no matter how near to him that friend. And because happiness had returned to nun,&lt;br /&gt;as if it were an affliction he'd never fully conquer, the impish smile already spreading on his lips, the thirst&lt;br /&gt;leaping inside him, and the desire in him rising just to step outside again and wander in the slick and shining&lt;br /&gt;city streets.&lt;br /&gt;Yes. For him, that little candle, that miraculous tiny candle, increasing by that small amount&lt;br /&gt;all the light in the universe! And burning in an empty church the night long among those other little flames. It&lt;br /&gt;would be burning on the morrow when the faithful came; when the sun shone through these doors.&lt;br /&gt;Keep your vigil, little candle, in darkness and in sunshine.&lt;br /&gt;Yes, for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-4920342275211016020?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/4920342275211016020/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/panteonul-unui-om-ce-se-zbate-intre-cer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4920342275211016020'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4920342275211016020'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/panteonul-unui-om-ce-se-zbate-intre-cer.html' title='Panteonul unui om &quot;ce se zbate intre cer si pamant&quot; atat de frumos'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlcSl1LB0CI/AAAAAAAAAGY/HyXpzVRL8k4/s72-c/lestat-booklike.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2587105702174235386</id><published>2009-07-09T21:34:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T22:36:41.243+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Pentru ca prostia ma enerveaza II</title><content type='html'>Nu aveam ce face intr-o seara si am intrat pe Youtube pe Favoritesurile unui prieten. Si acolo era o parodie foarte smechera Twilight. Am vizionat-o cu placere si apoi am cautat altele. Le-am vizionat pe toate cu o placere crescanda. Oricat de proaste ar fi fost, m-am uitat de a naibii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iar asta cred ca va deveni postul meu favorit, deoarece urmatorul video are cam tot ce vreau eu sa exprim si reprezinta baza problemei mele fata de... nici nu vreau sa ii pronunt numele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa ca va rog, voi, cei care ma iubiti, ca atunci cand aveti un sfert de ora de frecat menta, sa vizionati. Pentru o lume mai buna. *winks*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/41OixAKZQWQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/41OixAKZQWQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*giggles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apoi parodia care mi s-a parut mie cea mai funneh:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZAmpKcnuqPI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZAmpKcnuqPI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De s-ar sfarsi asa  si-n realitate :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2587105702174235386?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2587105702174235386/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/pentru-ca-prostia-ma-enerveaza-ii.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2587105702174235386'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2587105702174235386'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/pentru-ca-prostia-ma-enerveaza-ii.html' title='Pentru ca prostia ma enerveaza II'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-199193375201700301</id><published>2009-07-09T17:21:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T17:41:54.085+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Pentru ca prostia ma enerveaza.</title><content type='html'>Am fost azi sa imi iau fisa matricola si diploma de bac de la liceu. Am asteptat trei ore. Cand eram fix in fata secretariatului, apare un fost coleg de clasa. Voi reproduce aici dialogul. Ma rog, tentativa de dialog. Din pacate, nu pot reproduce si expresiile de pe fata mea. Ce e pus intre paranteze e ce gandeam in respectivul moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh Oana, dai tot la Romano-Americana?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Da. [Duh.]"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah am si eu un prieten care va da si el acolo."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"*raises eyebrow guessing what he wants to say* Mhm.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Si i-am zis ca dai si tu. El da la Finante, ca si tine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Eu dau la Management."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ah. Si el, Finante sau Management, ca tine. Vine din Chisinau si el, ca mine."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aaah. *smiles* [Deci o sa-l recunosc repede dupa accent. Funneh.]"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Da, poate o sa vorbiti."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mhm. [Just look how much i care.]"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iau actele si dau sa plec, zic pa celor care asteptau [mai mult pt Rares am zis], iar respectivul fost coleg de clasa imi zice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Paa si sa vorbim pe mess ca sa iti dau idul lui."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"*smurf* Daa. *leaves being kindof rude* [Right. Hmph.]"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ceva imi spune totusi ca nu s-a prins de nimic din faptul ca am plecat ca nesimtita fara a il salut si uitandu-ma urat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cred asta pentru ca dupa patru ani de stat cu mine in acelasi loc cateva ore bune zilnic, nu a reusit sa vada exact cat de sociabila si de outgoing, si de caring, si de incredibil de vioaie si de extrem de iubitoare, si de deschisa si de entuziasmata sa intalnesc noi oameni si sa imi fac noi prieteni si sa ii iau sub aripa mea protectoare si ATAT de roz sunt. *flashes eyelashes with an angelic face*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*rolls eyes and sighs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oare trebuie sa mai lucrez la imaginea mea intunecata? :-?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like... Multe piercinguri si par rosu de vrajitoare? *scratches head* Hey, asta nu suna deloc rau! *laughs* &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Witches are really cool, actually. Nu toate, dar ideea in sine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-199193375201700301?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/199193375201700301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/pentru-ca-prostia-ma-enerveaza.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/199193375201700301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/199193375201700301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/pentru-ca-prostia-ma-enerveaza.html' title='Pentru ca prostia ma enerveaza.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2829427256684738936</id><published>2009-07-08T01:59:00.011+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-08T10:55:37.876+03:00</updated><title type='text'>The story of Joan of Arc MY ASS.</title><content type='html'>Mi-am facut curaj sa termin nenorocirea aia de film cu Mila Jovovich in rolul Ioanei D'Arc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu imi place sa las filmele si cartile neterminate. Oricat de naspa ar fi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evident, am de adaugat o groaza de chestii naspa despre el:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se prezinta incoronarea lui Charles la Reims. Acolo au bagat astia de la ei o scena in care se termina uleiul divin cu care se ungeau adevaratii regi ai Frantei la incoronare. Asta arata ca e un semn de la Dumenzeu ca nu e de acord cu alegerea regelui si deci, cu planul Ioanei. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, wrong. Istoria arata foarte clar ca nenea a fost un rege foarte bun, care a domnit pana la sfarsitul vietii, lucru care nu se prea intampla cu totii regii. Da, o fi dat-o pe Ioana englezilor dupa tot ce facuse ea pentru el, dar a facut-o doar pt a salva Franta. Nu spun ca sunt de acord cu asta, but who knows, poate ca asta era destinul fetei. But he was a good king. Chiar asta o dovedeste, daca a tradat-o pe fata pentru propria tara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, i hate this movie..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prin scena cu lipsa uleiului se intelege ca Dumnezeu nu era deloc bagat in planurile Ioanei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imediat dupa asta, se prezinta asediul ei asupra Parisului, care a fost un mare esec. Apoi astia de la Curte vorbesc despre ea si se spune clar si raspicat "She is crazy", urmand ca la palat sa apara chiar ea, fiind o fiinta furioasa si agitata si rea, insetata de sange si osbedata de macelarirea englezilor din cauza uciderii sora-sii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si Ioana D'Arc NU era genul asta de persoana. Sunt convinsa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu sigur care incearca sa fie ideea filmului [imi e scarba sa stau sa ma gandesc la el], dar cred ca vrea sa spuna ca tipa de fapt era nebuna - eu asta inteleg. SAU, a doua varianta, ca de fapt cumunicase cu Satan. Si da, poate fi un punct de vedere interesant. Iar democratia lasa un oarecare drept de a alege sa ai pareri de genul asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar in primul si in primul rand, aceasta teorie nici macar nu e bazata pe faptele reale. Sunt inventate chestii cu caru'. I'm so pissed off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-a trezit un prost care nu s-a informat nici 3 % in ceea ce o priveste [cum sa nu respecti dovezile istorice? Jesus], a luat-o pe Jovovich ca sa aiba vanzari si succes, si o lume intreaga de ignoranti crede ce vrea el.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hai sa ne gandim, cand a fost capturata de englezi, istoria spune ca a sarit dintr-un turn de 20 de metri in incercarea de a evada si ca NU a murit. Era oare sub protectie divina..? Hmmmmm. I couldn't tell. Hmmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cica a fost violata in inchisoare... Chiar ma miram sa nu fi patit asa, avand in vedere ca era pazita de soldatii englezi carora le tabacise fundurile in razboi... [desi Inchizitia hotarase sa fie pazita de maicute intr-un fel de manastire] Englezii o urau in ultimul hal. Sunt convinsa ca au vrut sa se razbune pe ea cat mai bine..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca s-a intamplat asa, s-a dus dracu' numele ei de "The Maid of Lorraine" in momentul ala...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fost o persoana incredibil de puternica moral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fost un strateg de milioane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fost ranita de doua ori, o data chiar cu o sageata in gat, si a continuat sa lupte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fost judecata doar pentru erezie, pentru ca nu aveau ce altceva sa ii faca. Iar procesul a avut loc din cauza englezilor care voiau tronul Frantei. Si daca dovedeau ca fata e eretica, atunci domnia regelul pe care il pusese ea pe tron era in pericol si tronul mai usor de luat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si nu a trait decat 19 ani..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Dar nu, dom'le, daca auzi niste voci, gata, CLAR esti nebun. *rolls eyes*]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Domremy. Cand o sa ajung prin Franta [ca e visul meu de cand ma stiu] o sa trec si pe-acolo...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De cand am vazut filmul prima data cand eram mica, ma cam enerva fata Milei Jovovich si nu stiam eu exact de ce. Mi se parea ca ii sta ca naiba cu parul scurt si cu fata aia de martira pierduta care plange disperata. Acum imi dau seama ca e vorba de CE joaca. Si sincer, imi vine sa ii rup capu'. Ma uit la fata ei si-mi vine sa i-o despic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O dispretuiesc pe ea si modul in care a dat viata personajului ei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;URASC filmul ala. Dar cu un patos mult mai puternic decat Twilight, de exemplu. Twilight e un cacat, nici nu merita atentie, dar filmul asta vorbeste despre persoane reale. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si a manjit cu noroi nu doar imaginea ei, ci si pe a regelui, si a Frantei, a intregii povesti. Si a intregii istorii de fapt. I HATE it. A lot-lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Din cauza a cat revoltata sunt, sigur o sa dezvolt o pasiune puternica pentru REALA ei poveste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trial record demonstrates her remarkable intellect. The transcript's most famous exchange is an exercise in subtlety. "Asked if she knew she was in God's grace, she answered: 'If I am not, may God put me there; and if I am, may God so keep me.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The question is a scholarly trap. Church doctrine held that no one could be certain of being in God's grace. If she had answered yes, then she would have convicted herself of heresy. If she had answered no, then she would have confessed her own guilt. Notary Boisguillaume would later testify that at the moment the court heard this reply, "Those who were interrogating her were stupefied".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She acquiesces to the pressure of torture at the hands of her oppressors, and agrees to sign a confession relinquishing the truth behind her voices, so that she can live a life in permanent confinement without hope of parole. Upon hearing this, Joan changes her mind:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joan: "You think that life is nothing but not being dead? It is not the bread and water I fear. I can live on bread. It is no hardship to drink water if the water be clean. But to shut me from the light of the sky and the sight of the fields and flowers; to chain my feet so that I can never again climb the hills. To make me breathe foul damp darkness, without these things I cannot live. And by your wanting to take them away from me, or from any human creature, I know that your council is of the devil."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2829427256684738936?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2829427256684738936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/story-of-joan-of-arc-my-ass.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2829427256684738936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2829427256684738936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/story-of-joan-of-arc-my-ass.html' title='The story of Joan of Arc MY ASS.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2330696485282573754</id><published>2009-07-07T10:16:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T10:16:56.127+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/R9DDTiPzJCk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/R9DDTiPzJCk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2330696485282573754?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2330696485282573754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2330696485282573754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2330696485282573754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-1489837885079209198</id><published>2009-07-07T03:47:00.008+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T09:57:57.275+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh my God, they killed the whole effin' story! You bastards!</title><content type='html'>Nu nu nu nu nu nu this is not possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Messenger: The story of Joan of Arc". E filmu' ala cu Miha Jovovich. Da. E scos in '99, la fel ca un alt film facut dupa povestea Ioanei D'arc, numit simplu "Joan of Arc". Asta din urma e cu o tipa cu par lung, foarte draguta. Filmul ala e extrem de UMAN pe langa cacatul asta cu Jovovich.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand eram mai mica, intai si intai l-am vazut pe cel cu Jovovich, si abia dupa ani si ani am vazut si a doua varianta. Pe care am revazut-o de curand. Si chiar mi-a placut. Si e un film special pentru mine si pentru ca l-am vazut cu cineva anume. Si e chiar touching si pretty, prezinta povestea si pe Jeanne D'Arc foarte frumos. O arata si umana, si puternica, dar si ca o biata femeie intr-o lume condusa de barbati. Etc etc. Adica frumos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, nu-mi mai aminteam exact cum era asta cu Mila. Pentru ca eram prea mica pe atunci cand l-am vazut pt prima [si singura] oara. Asa ca am zis, hai sa ma uit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In primul si in primul rand, povestea e stricata de la inceput, in care se arata cum sor-sa tipei e ucisa si violata intr-un mod barbar, grotesc, sangeros, imputit, oribil, de nici nu am putut sa privesc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu de as fi Ioana D'arc si as fi moarta, in momentul asta as fi foarte suparata ca dupa 500 de ani s-a trezit un cacanar care sa imi pateze onoarea si istoria familiei in halul asta, pentru totdeauna. Sunt deja foarte furioasa si fara a fi Ioana D'arc si fara a fi moarta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In al doilea rand, tot filmul, respectiva fata e prezentata intr-un mod tampit si jalnic. Mila Jovovich joaca rolul ala ca si cum tipa era nebuna. Si nu o acuz pe actrita, mi se falfaie, o fi de la scenariu, o fi de la nush de la ce. Dar TOT nenorocitul ala de film, Ioana D'Arc e NEBUNA. NE.bu.na. Adica, mai rau decat ORICE nebuna. Cum poti frate sa prezinti un personaj de genul asta in asemenea hal? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus ca ma scoate din sarite ideea ca orice om care cunoaste mai mult decat un oarecare ignorant de pe strada si care are ceva special, e luat drept nebun sau mai rau. URASC chestia asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trei la mana, filmul reprezinta un macel oribil. Sunt numai scene jegoase in care astia isi taie capete si maini si urla si Jesus... Adica da, razboi, dar de ce scene de cate 15 minute care ti-ar da cosmaruri pentru luni de zile? I really don't get that. No, really. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..Oribil..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu m-am putut uita pana la capat. Nici pana la jumate. Ma enerveaza cat de nebuna o arata si nu mi se pare deloc corect. God damn it, si chiar daca era, nu asta e ideea a ce a facut..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Din cate imi amintesc de cand am vazut filmul cand eram mica, se termina cu ideea ca ea de fapt primise mesaje de la Satan, nu de la God. Si e un cacat. Pentru ca e singurul film care lasa atat de evidenta indoiala de dupa vizionare: "O fi primit mesaje de la Dumenzeu sau de la Diavol? Brrrrr vai ce ma sperie ideea de Diavol pentru ca sunt un muritor prost care nu poate gandi de unul singur si vaaaaai iti dai seama? Dar daca a vorbit de fapt cu Diavolul tot timpul? Ptiu ptiu"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus ca nici macar nu primise mesaje de la Jesus, cum se prezinta in film, ci de la Sfanta Ecaterina, Sfanta Margaret si Arhanghelul Mihail. Lucruri care par MULT mai credibile decat daca ar fi zis ca sunt de la Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus ca in film, Jesus e prezentat extrem de creepy. He is FUCKING &lt;strong&gt;creepy&lt;/strong&gt;. Da' rau. He's scary gen. Si sunt niste scene oribile in care se uita cu ura spre ecran si in care e plin de sange pe moaca si urla si THE fuck, man? You don't fucking do that. He is Jesus Christ pana la urma. Macar putin respect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si e prezentata povestea cu "vocile" si cu semnele pe care ea le primise atat de cu dispret. Atat de ordinar si de in deradere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God... God... Ce oameni de cacat pe lumea asta.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-1489837885079209198?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/1489837885079209198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/oh-my-god-they-killed-whole-effin-story.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1489837885079209198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1489837885079209198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/oh-my-god-they-killed-whole-effin-story.html' title='Oh my God, they killed the whole effin&apos; story! You bastards!'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-7209539517885359788</id><published>2009-07-06T22:56:00.020+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-07T01:45:46.420+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Butterfly Effect</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlJW6x3rvNI/AAAAAAAAAFY/ObWZLIGmFKE/s1600-h/harta_metrou_bucuresti.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 252px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlJW6x3rvNI/AAAAAAAAAFY/ObWZLIGmFKE/s320/harta_metrou_bucuresti.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355438474716232914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ruta desenata cu rosu e ruta mea magica. Dureaza 40 de minute de la un capat la altul. Imi place pentru ca e cea mai lunga ruta si ca nu trebuie sa schimbi nimic [adica e comod], si ajungi exact de unde ai plecat fara sa fii facut nimic. Adica iti savurezi lenea si te mai si plimbi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iau ruta asta atunci cand am cate-o ora de pierdut sau cand vreau sa ma gandesc. Sau ambele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foarte smecher cine a inventat metroul, ii transmit multumirile mele sincere. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astazi trebuia sa pierd niste timp cumva si am sperat ca.... who knows. Poate, poate ma regasesc daca am un moment singura... Si da, speranta se simte minunat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar nu ma asteptam sa se intample ceva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ascultam muzica si stateam pur si simplu. La inceput nu m-am putut gandi la prea multe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totul a inceput cu o sclipire, o explozie spirituala &lt;strong&gt;foarte&lt;/strong&gt; placuta, singurul sentiment care mi-a amintit de...mine, dupa atat de mult timp in care am fost aproape empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si mi-am scos carnetelul si am inceput sa scriu... Ca sa nu uit ce imi trecea prin cap. Am simtit ca daca pierd ideile alea... it's pretty much fucked up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu am mai facut niciodata asta. De obicei nu imi place sa se holbeze oamenii la mine cand scriu. But i didn't care, aveam atata nevoie de asta...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Nobody said it was easy..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am numit scrierea "Butterfly Effect" pentru ca... dupa ce am asternut pe hartie prima idee, am simtit ca am schimbat cursul intregii situatii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru ca stateam eu asa si ma gandeam... "Bah cwae, destinu' e destin. Vine de la whatever God there is, da? Adica cine dracu' se poate pune cu el? Pana acum credeam ca pot. Dar acum... Nu vad cum. E...pana mea, destin. Nu e nimic mai presus de el." Si atunci mi-am dat seama. Ca dintotdeauna am considerat ca dragostea e cea mai puternica forta din Univers. Fara egal. Fara adversar. Ca sunt convinsa ca - vorba aia cliseica - dragostea "poate muta muntii din loc". Nu, nu, eu chiar cred asta. As muta muntii din loc, i don't care how. Si abia atunci mi-am dat seama ce arma incredibila am. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma imaginez manjita pe fatza ca Rambo, urland puternic, cu Bazooka in mana ciuruind destinu'. Ha. Funneh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si am scris. Si am atins mai multe puncte ale problemei. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ideea salvatoare e ca... Am privit totul din alt punct de vedere, dupa ce am realizat ca da, exista ceva mai puternic decat destinul si karma si stuff. Am hotarat sa iau toate astea ca pe niste teste. Sa vad toate astea ca pe niste simple teste. Da, grele, dar..teste. Si testele sunt facute pentru a fi trecute. Si... dragostea poate invinge &lt;em&gt;orice&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa ca... M-am simtit mai safe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si am gandit mai limpede. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"It's whether you get up..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dupa atata timp, am gasit singura idee...singurul lucru de care m-am putut prinde. Asa ca nu am de gand sa renunt la ea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si mi-am dat seama ca ma tem degeaba. Nu am de ce sa o fac. Pentru ca, fata de anumite momente trecute din viata mea in care am fost...mai mult sau mai putin eu insami (vezi perioada Jet Li), fata de atunci cand eram furioasa, egoista si obsedata, acum i really want my friends to be happy. Now i'm a better person. Much better, maybe. Si acum sunt suficient de puternica pentru a face cam orice pentru asta, pentru ei. Si am realizat ca... this is love. Pure love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si aveam parte de melodii tot mai frumoase, si mai semnificative.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si la un moment dat, aproape de finalul rutei, cred ca mi-a trecut iar prin cap "cine sunt?". Asa, ca o chestie de departe care batea incet, incet la o usa. Si m-am enervat usor si mi-am zis "Ce conteaza? Nu stiu. In momentul de fata nu stiu prea multe. Asta e. Dar stiu ceva sigur. Tot ce stiu acum e ca sunt o persoana kind. I'm changed. Am invatat sa iert si sunt o persoana buna, care stie si poate sa renunte la ceea ce iubeste tocmai pentru ca iubeste, si tocmai de aia sunt o persoana care IUBESTE. Si din cauza asta pot face orice. Asta sunt."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu am mai gandit asa despre mine [ca sunt kind] de foarte mult timp. Ani. And it kinda felt great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asta e tot ce am gasit clar in intregul asta haos si in ceata.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nitel cam weird asa. *laughs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe parcursul ultimelor trei melodii de dinainte sa cobor, am privit totul altfel. Din foarte multe puncte de vedere. Iar privirea imi era din nou clara, curioasa, si fara de teama. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt &lt;strong&gt;strong&lt;/strong&gt; again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si am coborat din metroul ala exact acolo de unde plecasem. Si exact acolo unde trebuia sa ajung. *smiles* Dar persoana care a coborat era alta. Una care mergea drept, hotarat, cochet, si cu capul sus. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"No one ever said it would be this hard..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feels good to be back. Damn good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..Macar din cand in cand. *smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Confusion never stops, closing walls and ticking clocks..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si exact cand m-am ridicat de pe scaun pentru ca ajungeam la statia unde trebuia sa cobor, ultimul gand a fost indreptat spre... persoana care m-a adus aici. Care m-a luat in carca si m-a carat pana aici. Persoana fara de care nu as fi reusit sa ma...sortof regasesc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si m-am simtit vinovata. Pentru ca eu nu i-am facut atat de mult bine vreodata. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank. you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2-RjMRP5IbI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2-RjMRP5IbI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just because I'm losing&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't mean I'm lost&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't mean I'll stop&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't mean I will cross&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just because I'm hurting&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't mean I'm hurt&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't mean I didn't get what I deserve&lt;br /&gt;No better and no worse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just got lost&lt;br /&gt;Every river that I've tried to cross&lt;br /&gt;And every door I ever tried was locked&lt;br /&gt;And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You might be a big fish&lt;br /&gt;In a little pond&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't mean you've won&lt;br /&gt;'Cause along may come&lt;br /&gt;A bigger one&lt;br /&gt;And you'll be lost&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every river that you tried to cross&lt;br /&gt;Every gun you ever held went off&lt;br /&gt;And I'm just waiting till the firing starts&lt;br /&gt;And I'm just waiting till the shine wears off&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS. Intr-o zi, cea mai ingrozitoare persoana de pe fata pamantului, Britney Spears [care e de fapt barbat] s-a dus la balcon si a dat-o pe laba. Si asa a iesit si a aparut... Twilight. Da. *crazy look* Twilight e samanta raului. *shouts* Samanta raului, I tell you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-7209539517885359788?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/7209539517885359788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/butterfly-effect.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7209539517885359788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7209539517885359788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/butterfly-effect.html' title='Butterfly Effect'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SlJW6x3rvNI/AAAAAAAAAFY/ObWZLIGmFKE/s72-c/harta_metrou_bucuresti.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-429335490160048894</id><published>2009-07-05T12:42:00.014+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-05T21:18:03.341+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Intre Diplomatie si Conflict in secolul XXI. part 3</title><content type='html'>In p**a mea, sunt foarte nervoasa. Nu nervoasa, suparata. Nu suparata, fucking mad. I don't know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am si visat... Da, acum imi amintesc... Am visat ca ma certam RAU cu cineva pt ca luam apararea cuiva la care tin. Mama, ce rea eram *laughs* Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well da, sunt suparata pt ca.... Gah. Parca tot Universul comploteaza pt a ma intoarce din drumul pe care l-am ales pentru mine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, de-a lungul timpului, si mai ales anul asta, mi s-au tot dat semne, pe care le-am vazut sau nu, like: "Don't leave your family" si "Nu da la facultatea x". Dar acum Universul se leaga de ceva care means the world to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si asta ma deruteaza rau. Am ajuns sa ma intreb daca nu cumva are dreptate. Dar inca nu vreau sa accept asta. *revolted* Nu vreau si gata! *pouts*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am mai patit ceva de genul asta acum 4 ani, cand am vrut ceva important pt mine si iesit din comun. Si toata lumea "Nu nu" "Nu nu". Si tot ca mine-am facut. Si da, a fost greu, dar pana la urma a iesit bestial. Asa ca ce plm vreti? Si acum toti trag de mine si ma opresc si vor sa fac ce li se scoala lor sa fac. Jesus. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu e nimeni ca sa ma incurajeze, nu? Retards. I hate humans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt foarte suparata. Pt ca e atat de greu sa accepti ca am o varsta si chiar daca da, poate ca nu sunt suficient de matura pt o groaza de chestii, dar am dorinte si ratiune si planuri si vise. Si poate ca daca vreau lucrul X foarte foarte foarte tare, NU ar trebui sa va puneti in cur in fata mea urland "NU" crezand ca stiti mai bine. Chiar daca ati stii mai bine, nu aveti dreptul. Si oricum as asculta o singura persoana. Si aia stie cand sa ma indrume si cum. Ha. *rolls eyes*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si frate, sunt atat de pissed off. Nu am mai cerut de mult de la nimeni [prietenii nu se pun in categoria asta] nici dragoste, nici bani, nici libertate. Dar inca am o cerinta. Respect. E atat de greu pt oameni sa invete ce e ala respect. E atat de greu sa il ofere. Dar toti il pretind. God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss A a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deci, ce pot sa zic, am de ales intre a face ceea ce m-a sfatuit "muza" mea sa fac, fiinta in care cred extrem de mult, sau in toti astia care mi se pun in cur in fata si urla organizati in armate "NU". Hm. Si da, strigatele lor ma fac sa ma intreb si ma fac sa ma gandesc noaptea "Dude, poate ar trebui totusi sa ii ascult... Oare ar trebui? What should i do?" dar intr-un final, imi dau seama ca tot ce vreau eu are MUUUHUHUUUUUUHULT mai multa logica. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mrrr. *curca*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edmond never stopped so... *frowns*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate e doar un test. Ca sa se vada cat de mult cred in ceea ce cred. Mai ales in perioada asta. *smiles* Si acum patru ani in urma, probabil a fost tot un test, dar ca sa aflu cat de hotarata sunt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chiar daca nu iese bine ca mine, asta e. Imi asum riscul si nu imi va parea rau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Insa daca nu fac ca mine si nu imi urmez visul, voi regreta TOATA viata. Asa ca hai sa ne gandim. Hmmmmm. *sdf*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, de multe ori scriu chestii de genul asta ca sa.. prind curaj.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/myg4AzJ6wTI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/myg4AzJ6wTI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asta e prima melodie pe care am ascultat-o pe anul 2009. Si atunci am simtit ca imi va "reprezenta" anul. And i was right. De atunci o tot ascult si stiu ca se refera la "ceva" oarecum nedefinit din viata mea. Se potriveste cam in fiecare moment important al meu. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi-a palcut melodia de mica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw, tipa canta despre pierderea virginitatii. "I don't care, i have no luck, I don't miss it all that much", "I'm ashamed lying naked on the floor / Ilusions never changed into smth real"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am niste parinti buni. Nu sunt extraordinari, nu sunt cei mai buni din lume, dar nu sunt nici ingrozitori. Sunt..buni, in felul lor. Si sunt persoane misto si interesante. Si sunt mandra ca am luat... de la tata inteligenta, bunatatea, hotararea, curiozitatea innascuta, ochii, lectiile de viata, cat si iubirea pt alcool si problemele cu nervii, iar de la mama forta, bunatatea, tendinta de a visa, zambetul, caldura, afectiunea, duiosia, instinctul f puternic de a supravietui si de a apara lucrurile dragi ca o fiara. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama imi spune ca in viata trebuie sa fii diplomat. Ca atunci cand cineva te ameninta, nu trebuie sa arati imediat ca te-ai prins de asta si ca vrei sa il distrugi. Ma invata ca trebuie sa... sa te faci ca ploua, sa il observi, si sa ai rabdare sa gasesti momentul oportun de a iti lua razbunarea / a il lovi atunci cand nu se asteapta. Si sa o faci in asa fel incat sa nu te poata acuza de nimic. Asta numeste ea "diplomatie".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, geniala strategie, dar ar merge intr-un razboi [adica razboi la propriu]. Consider ca in viata de zi cu zi in care dai de vreun prost care se ia de tine, lasi dracu' diplomatia. Mie una imi vine FOARTE greu sa fiu "diplomata". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider ca intr-o oarecare masura, in anumtie situatii in care preferi sa fii diplomat, de fapt te lasi calcat in picioare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De ce, doar pentru ca mai incolo ii vei spune ceva usturator "dusmanului", pana atunci sa il lasi sa iti intre neinvitat in casa si sa fie nesimtit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Diplomatia ei mi se pare gresita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adica da, consider ca in anumite situatii din viata modul asta de "lupta" e extraordinar. Dar stiti cand? Atunci cand ai un adversar pe masura. Atunci cand e o idee mai greu sa il zdrobesti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar in general, cel putin in tara asta, oamenii nu ar intelege ce faci tu. Da, probabil ca asta ar face lucrurile mai fun. Dar sincer, mie nu mi se pare extraordinar de fun sa ma joc cu un om prost. e fun pt o zi, doua, pana cand prostia lui incepe sa ma scoata din sarite. Mi se pare mult mai fun sa incerci sa te joci cu cineva care nu poate fi jucat atat de usor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, consider ca oamenii sunt prea prosti pt aceasta diplomatie. Pt ca diplomatia asta e discreta. Si oamenii din ziua de azi nu prind subtilitatile. Oamenii normali nu o prind pt ca nu sunt in stare, iar barbatii.... nu o prind pt ca sunt barbati. Nu le sta in fire. Femeile care se asteapta ca barbatii lor sa inteleaga ce inteleg ele din "Am impresia ca rochia asta nu sta bine pe mine" / "Vai, dar e atat de rusinos sa faci lucrul cutare" vor ramane foarte dezamagite si frustrate. Nu, barbatul nu va intelege niciodata mai mult decat ceea ce tocmai ai spus si nu il vei determina niciodata astfel sa iti spuna ceea ce vrei tu de fapt sa auzi. Din pacate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De asta am conflicte cu mama, deoarece nu sunt de acord cu tehnica ei de a trece prin viata. Nu sunt de acord cu cat de mult tine cu dintii de aceasta diplomatie idioata. Consider ca se lasa calcata in picioare. Consider ca pentru a opri asta, trebuie sa ai tupeu si sa spui clar si raspicat ce gandesti. Sa inteleaga prostu'. Adica "Fah, iesi in plm afara din camera mea si bate din nou la usa daca vrei sa te primesc", de exemplu. Eu asa fac. Ea nu. Ea lasa proasta sa faca ce rvea si dup-aia e suparata pe ea, fara a spune nimic persoanei in cauza. Deci, oamenii nu se tem de ea. Doar pt ca ii inteapa uneori unde ii doare... Hmph, asta trece. Asta nu ii aduce respectul lor. Nu ca i-ar fi vital, dar odata cu el sau cu teama, o vor lasa cat de cat in pace. Right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probabil ca asta am invatat-o de la Claudette. Cel putin asa imi place sa cred. De ce ai pierde timp si energie alergand in jurul adversarului pana il ametesti pentru ca apoi sa il injunghii cand e slabit, cand poti pur si simplu sa te duci si sa ii dai una fix in bot, sa stie cu cine are de-a face? Mi se pare mult mai corect. si mie-mi palc chestiile corecte. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E posibil sa am ideile astea pt ca inca sunt tanara si nu am suficienta experienta de viata, si e posibil ca mai incolo, cine stie, sa ajung sa ii dau dreptate mamei. Dar e si mai posibil ca asa sunt eu. Consider ca viata e un razboi. Si ce fel de diplomatie exista in razboi?  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu, frate, in razboi n-ai timp sa te gandesti cat de inuman sau de gresit sau de filosofic sau de intens e ceea ce faci. In razboi ucizi sau esti ucis. In razboi nu sta nimeni sa se gandeasca la pierderile de vieti omenesti sau la cat de bun e scopul pt care dai batalia, sau la Dumenzeu - poate decat cei care nu lupta, ei au timp. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi-ar placea sa studiez arta razboiului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Titlul triologiei de posturi e inspirat dintr-o lectie din unul ditnre cele 7 manuale ale mele de istorie. Da, mi-am cumparat 7 manuale de istorie si no matter what, se vor afla intotdeauna in biblioteca mea personala. :x Lectia respectiva avea titlul asta, dar se referea la secolul 18 parca. Si mi-a atras atentia, pt ca mi se parea ceva mai dificil de retinut decat "Primul razboi mondial" si "Transilvania in Evul Mediu".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;App de asta, voiam sa mentionez ca... ii sunt si cred ca ii voi fi mereu foarte recunoscatoare lui Bogdan Stoica. Imi amintesc si acum primele intalniri cu el si cat de mult l-am admirat, si pentru ce. Si acele calitati ale sale au ramas si acum, peste 4 ani. Ii sunt foarte recunascatoare pentru ca m-a determinat sa tin minte tot ce m-a invatat, si in materie de istorie, si in materie de viata. Ii sunt recunoscatoare pentru ca facea totul sa fie atat de fun. Ii sunt recunoscatoare pentru ca inca imi amintesc ce m-a invatat acum 4 ani. Ii sunt recunsocatoare pentru ca m-a invatat ce inseamna competitia si m-a determinat sa ii fac fata. Ii sunt recunoscatoare pentru ca mi-a amplificat pasiunea pt Franta. Ii sunt recunsocatoare pentru ca, fara sa stie asta, m-a ajutat sa ma descopar. Ii sunt recunoscatoare pentru tot ce a facut pentru mine, fara sa stie [pt ca deh, e barbat]. Si da, ii stiu si partile naspa, si le consider foarte naspa. Dar asta nu schimba ce influenta puternica a avut asupra mea ca om. Sunt mandra ca l-am cunoscut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See, deci pana la urma caile pe care le aleg pentru mine chiar sunt cele corecte. xD&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-429335490160048894?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/429335490160048894/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/intre-diplomatie-si-conflict-in-secolul_05.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/429335490160048894'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/429335490160048894'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/intre-diplomatie-si-conflict-in-secolul_05.html' title='Intre Diplomatie si Conflict in secolul XXI. part 3'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-4848458030947428917</id><published>2009-07-04T21:38:00.025+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-04T23:55:58.714+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Intre Diplomatie si Conflict in secolul XXI part 2. "Si zeii"</title><content type='html'>Uneori nu ma inteleg. Desi intotdeauna ma inteleg intr-un mod super dubios si de neinteles, probabil cel mai bine. Ca -vorba lu' Fizz- daca nu eu, atunci cine? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Privesc la unghiile mele pictate cu oja alba in incercarea de a arata vampirice, si la picaturile rosii care par sa curga de pe varfurile celor de la mana stanga, dand imrpesia ca am zgariat un corp insangerat, si la floarea alba si imensa de pe biroul meu, langa petale galbene uscate si statuete grecesti... Si un parfum. Si bere. Si muuulte carti. Si o mare dezordine. Si bijuteriile mele. Toate lucrurile mici si importante care ma completeaza si ma determina sa fiu cine sunt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cine sunt? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Urasc intrebarea asta, Jesus fucking Christ.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, de mult timp ma consider smartass, superioara, extraordinara, atotstiutoare, Dalai Lama pierdut in timp si in spatiu al secolului XXI din generatia Mtv. Asadar, credeam ca stiu raspunsul foarte bine la aceasta intrebare de - vorba Addei - Stan Marsh [awesome kid, btw.].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar.... In ultima perioada, se pare ca mi s-a dat o mare teapa. Soarta [sau viata, nush] din nou mi-a aratat ceva. Mi-a aratat ca tot ca ea e. ..Daca eu nu sunt atenta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E posibil ca nimeni sa nu afle raspunsul la intrebarea asta niciodata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si mi se pare foarte trist si minunat in acelasi timp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru ca intotdeauna vor mai ramane cateva lucruri de descoperit, oricat ai fi trait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Traiesti vieti, observi ce te caracterizeaza, incerci sa intelegi, incerci sa unesti punctele, consideri ca iti cunosti sentimentele si reactiile mai bine decat oricine, desi te privesti doar din prisma celui prins bine undeva in interior si niciodata in afara situatiei. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cum te-ai putea cunoaste cu totul, daca nu te poti privi din exterior?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..Si daca exista si un alt/alte punct/e de vedere din acel interior, pe care tu il/le ratezi? Poate ca exista cineva care te cunoaste mai bine din propriul tau interior, decat tu insuti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si daca punctul tau de vedere e impus..?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu mi-am mai pus intrebarea asta ["Who am i?"] de la 11 - 12 ani, cred. Jesus, that's a long time... Pe atunci nu era doar o simpla intrebare, era un zbucium ingrozitor, pt ca atunci chiar i had no clue. Si de data asta m-a determinat sa imi ridic probleme filosofice faptul ca suntem cu totii actori. Binecunoscutul cliseu cum ca viata e o scena iar noi suntem actorii nascuti cu scenariu-n mana si invatat pe de rost. Dar...*laughs* Cred ca de foarte multe ori suntem doar papusi. Sau mai tot timpul suntem.. Pentru ca actorii pot iesi din rol si isi analizeaza personajul. Noi nu. Nu toti, at least..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Persoanele de care am fost indragostita, cele pe care le-am respectat si admirat de-a lungul vietii, muzica pe care am ascultat-o, oamenii care m-au facut sa sufar, amintirile din copilarie, situatia materiala, cartea de la profa de filosofie. Prietenii. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Consider ca fiecare om pe care il cunosti o idee mai bine, isi lasa o ampreta, cat de mica, asupra ta. Faptul ca te impresioneaza cu ceva, sau ca ceva te socheaza la el sau dezgusta. La momentul respectiv, si pentru un timp, te influenteaza, mai mult sau mai putin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In cazul meu, cel putin, asa fusese. Incercam sa invat de la oricine cate ceva. Si cred ca fiecare om a scos o parte la iveala din fiinta mea, mai mare sau mai mica. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De asta demult obisnuiam sa spun ca "Am o fata pentru fiecare". In functie de cat de mult il plac sau nu, in functie de ce am de gand sa ii ofer din tot ce stiu ca isi doreste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi-am cladit personalitatea in functie de lumea inconjuratoare, de familie, si, mai ales, in functie de sufletul meu, de dorintele si nevoile mele. Si fiecare om oarecum important care a reusit sa imi imprime ceva pe suflet, m-a determinat sa ajung... unde eram atunci cand m-am regasit cu adevarat [acum 3 ani in urma].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si de atunci incoace, am crezut ca asta sunt eu cu adevarat. Inca mai cred asta. Pentru ca doar asa sunt fericita. Pana in momentul de fata, cel putin. Cat despre mai incolo..chiar sunt tare curioasa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lestat. Claudette. Mama. Franta. Suferinta. Speranta. Criss. Dumnezeu. Lucrurile [ce mi-au venit acum in minte] care au avut, probabil, cea mai mare influenta asupra mea. Iar cat despre cei care nu ma cunosc indeajuns de bine, nu va asteptati sa intelegeti ce inseamna fiecare dintre aceste cuvinte de fapt pentru mine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt destul de multe lucruri [vezi cele de mai sus] care inseamna totul / extrem de mult pentru mine, sunt altele destul de improtante care m-au ajutat sa ajung pe drumul bun, si mai sunt si cele de care imi pare ca nu imi amintesc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dupa 20 de ani de viata... nu credeam ca e atat de greu sa iti mai amintesti cine obisnuiai sa fii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iubesc toate lucrurile astea care m-au format si care inca ma caracterizeaza. Le ador. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi.. Cum e posibil ca un om sa se poata schimba atat de mult intr-o viata? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stiu de unde vin, stiu incotro [vreau sa] ma indrept, dar... nu mai sunt sigura ca stiu - nu neaparat cine sunt, dar - cat de bine am impresia ca stiu cine sunt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Momentan.. e o mare gaura neagra undeva, in toata schita asta, viata mea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totusi, se simte foarte bine atunci cand reusesc sa fac ceea ce vreau cu adevarat, in loc sa accept sa fiu o papusa. Extraordinar de bine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si sincer... Nu imi vine sa cred, imi e greu sa cred, e atat de flatant si de... aproape imposibil sa cred ca sunt cine arata faptele mele ca sunt. Pentru ca din interior e cu totul altfel decat ceea ce iese in fata celorlalti. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e greu sa cred ca sunt atat de puternica pe cat m-am obisnuit sa imi spun, si imi vine dubios sa cred ca pot face o multime de lucruri la care nu credeam ca sunt deloc buna, iar de multe ori imi e imposibil sa cred in mine si in ce doresc din toata inima sa fac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si nu spun asta ca sa ma plang, o spun cu uimite si cu placere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu inseamna toate indoielile astea ca de fapt sunt slaba..? Sau inseamna doar ca sunt human? Oare si zeii au sperante pierdute si cosmaruri?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oare indoiala te tine pe loc si te face sa esuezi..?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Observ ca pana acum am fost orbita. Nu oarba, orbita. Asta a fost intotdeauna greseala mea. Si ma tem ca ma caracterizeaza. Si atunci e naspa. Pt ca mereu pierd din cauza ei. ..Fara ca macar sa imi fi dat seama, pana acum. Si ma tem ca poate nu voi ajunge niciodata la nivelul ala de maturizare in care voi stii sa imi stavilesc impulsurile si sentimentele absolut demente. Daca nu voi ajunge acolo.... Presimt ca va fi cam naspa. Or who knows... Maybe that's just me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate ca pana la urma chiar sunt prea sincera si extroverta. Nu stiu daca voi putea fi vreodata suficient de "diplomata". ..Mai ales in ceea ce priveste sentimentele mele si &lt;strong&gt;cum&lt;/strong&gt; simt. *smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma enerveaza ca in momentul de fata am impresia ca vreau lucruri pe care Oana cea reala nu le-ar fi dorit &lt;strong&gt;niciodata&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De-a lungul timpului, am fost orbita de un singur lucru, si in functie de asta am actionat intotdeauna. Si in functie de asta mi-am ghidat viata. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar... nu pot sa nu ma intreb o groaza de lucruri... Like.. Daca acel element important nu ar mai fi fost prezent in viata mea, ce as fi facut cu ea?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si mai ales... Ce ar trebui sa fac &lt;em&gt;altceva&lt;/em&gt; cu ea? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se spune ca viata e scurta. Consider ca e asa pt ca trece repede si e fragila, dar si pt ca... Modul nostru de a o trai e construit in asa fel incat nici 5 vieti nu ar fi suficiente pentru a ne indeplini toate dorintele. Viata e scurta pentru ca noi singuri ne-am creat greutati si probleme si conflicte si tampenii si aberatii si oameni care ies din societate prosti, egoisti, care manevreaza si distrug ce si cum vor. Orice prost cu bani e pupat in c*r mai rau decat Dumenzeu, as my friend said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cred ca ma aflu intr-un moment in care nu mai stiu ce trebuie sa fac. Nu mai stiu care cale e buna pentru mine. Nu stiu nici macar ce ma asteapta inainte. Iar pana acum imi imaginam, avand o intuitie foarte buna, si asta imi dadea o nota de siguranta, sa stiu dinainte ce ar trebui sa urmeze. Ma intarea, ma preagatea. Dar acum nici de asta nu-mi mai arde. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru mine viata nu e atat de scurta, i guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ma enerveaza atat de tare ca... sunt mintita. Ceva incearca cu disperare sa ma deruteze... Si mai si reuseste. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma scoate din sarite ca am ajuns sa fiu constienta ca nu vreau de fapt lucrul x, dar sa nu pot sa NU il vreau. Si altele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt &lt;strong&gt;foarte&lt;/strong&gt; confuza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt foarte manioasa pe cine e responsabil pentru asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu mai stiu sigur care-s eu si care nu din tot ce simt si mi se intampla. Probabil de-asta toate intrebarile astea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, sunt intrebari frumoase si probleme interesante, dar nu pentru almighty Oana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chiar nu stiu ce o sa se intample. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pot doar sa intuiesc ca voi invinge, avand in vedere ca am mai avut de a face cu asa ceva, desi acum mult timp. Da, e vorba doar de un an in urma, dar imi pare asa de departe. Chiar nu mi se pare ca viata mea e extrem de scurta, btw [again]. Poate ca aceasta concluzie a oamenilor cum ca viata e scurta, e determinata de frica de moarte. Mie nu imi e chiar asa frica de ea. Singurul motiv pt care ma tem de ea / nu imi prea place ideea e ca am pentru ce sa raman aici. Altii se tem de mai mult, nu de asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pot doar sa sper ca exista un motiv foarte bun pt care mi se intampla ce mi se intampla de cateva luni, si ca se va transforma intr-un lucru bun. E posibil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GjQUhA0U37U&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GjQUhA0U37U&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana la urma... Poate ca nu conteaza "Cine sunt" mai mult decat "Incotro ma indrept". Ar fi frumos sa cred(em) ca "Incotro ma indrept" determina si "Cine sunt". Si atunci as impusca doi iepuri dintr-o lovitura. Poate ca asta e raspunsul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-4848458030947428917?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/4848458030947428917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/intre-diplomatie-si-conflict-in-secolul_04.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4848458030947428917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4848458030947428917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/intre-diplomatie-si-conflict-in-secolul_04.html' title='Intre Diplomatie si Conflict in secolul XXI part 2. &quot;Si zeii&quot;'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-1937895529957802261</id><published>2009-07-02T02:53:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T03:26:38.211+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Symphaty for the Devil.</title><content type='html'>Lestat: Your body's dying. Pay no attention, It happens to us all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yvette: [to Louis] Are you not hungry sir? &lt;br /&gt;Lestat: Aux contraire mon cher, he could eat the whole colony. &lt;br /&gt;[starts to laugh] &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louis: They know about us. They watch us dine on empty plates and drink from empty glasses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lestat: Come to New Orleans then. The Paris Opera's in town. We can try some French cuisine. &lt;br /&gt;Louis: Forgive me if I have a lingering respect for mortal life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lestat: [dancing around with the corpse of Claudia's mother] ''Non Piu Andrai, Farfallone Amoroso Notte e Giorno D'intorno Girando'' There's still life in the old lady yet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/IxK9OsAWECg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/IxK9OsAWECg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Lestat: Evil is a point of view. God kills indiscriminately and so shall we. For no creatures under God are as we are, none so like him as ourselves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lestat: Whining coward of a vampire that prowls the night killing rats and poodles; you could have finished us both. &lt;br /&gt;Louis: You've condemned me to Hell. &lt;br /&gt;Lestat: I don't know any Hell. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louis: The statue seemed to move, but didn't. The world had changed, yet stayed the same. I was a newborn vampire weeping at the beauty of the night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louis: A little child she was, but also a fierce killer, now capable of the ruthless pursuit of blood with all a child's demanding. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louis: And for all the things i've done and couldn't undo, I longed for one second of peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Claudia: Locked together in hatred. But i can't hate you, Louis. Louis, my love. I was a mortal to you, you gave me your immortal kiss. You became my mother and my father. And so I'm yours forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Claudia: Who will take care of me my love, my dark angel, when you are gone? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louis: Bear me no ill will my love we are now even. &lt;br /&gt;Claudia: What do you mean? &lt;br /&gt;Louis: What died in that room was not that woman. What has died is the last breath in me that was human. &lt;br /&gt;Claudia: Yes, Father. At last we are even. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louis: But the world was a tomb to me, a graveyard of broken statues, and each of those statues resembled her face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;Santiago: Just as this flesh is pink now, soon it will turn gray and wrinkled with age. &lt;br /&gt;Mortal Woman on Stage: [weeping] Let me live. I don't care! &lt;br /&gt;Santiago: Then why should you care if you die now? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louis: Where are we? &lt;br /&gt;Lestat: Where do you think, my idiot friend? We're in a nice, filthy cemetery. Does this make you happy? Is this fitting, proper enough? &lt;br /&gt;Louis: We belong in hell. &lt;br /&gt;Lestat: And what if there is no hell, or they don't want us there? Ever think of that? &lt;br /&gt;Louis: But there was a hell, and no matter where we moved to, I was in it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Armand: They had forgotten the first lesson, that we are to be powerful, beautiful, and without regret. &lt;br /&gt;Louis: And you can teach me this? &lt;br /&gt;Armand: Yes. &lt;br /&gt;Louis: To be without regret? &lt;br /&gt;Armand: Yes. &lt;br /&gt;Louis: Then what a pair we could make, but what if it's a lesson I don't care to learn. &lt;br /&gt;Armand: What do you mean? &lt;br /&gt;Louis: What if all I have is my suffering, my regret? &lt;br /&gt;Armand: Don't you want to lose it? &lt;br /&gt;Louis: Why? So you can have that too? The heart that mourns her, her that you burnt to a cinder. &lt;br /&gt;Armand: Louis, I swear that I... &lt;br /&gt;Louis: Ah, but I know you did. I know. You who regrets nothing, you who feels nothing, if that's all I have left to learn, I can do that on my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DAsQimbUNsY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DAsQimbUNsY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finalul e absolut genial...*fascinated* Briliant. Cred ca voi reciti Cronicile curand. xD&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-1937895529957802261?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/1937895529957802261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/symphaty-for-devil.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1937895529957802261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1937895529957802261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/symphaty-for-devil.html' title='Symphaty for the Devil.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-4076906307238084000</id><published>2009-07-01T14:24:00.008+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T22:58:15.774+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Intre Diplomatie si Conflict in secolul XXI</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SkrNF4YjfjI/AAAAAAAAAEw/D_BP3sI9PoY/s1600-h/107917_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 171px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SkrNF4YjfjI/AAAAAAAAAEw/D_BP3sI9PoY/s320/107917_2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353316608001670706" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  Oh yes, oh yes, pozele astea sunt atat de orgasmice pentru mine... Oh fuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SkrNQKXfjhI/AAAAAAAAAE4/qkBrZfXqcps/s1600-h/untitledh.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SkrNQKXfjhI/AAAAAAAAAE4/qkBrZfXqcps/s320/untitledh.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353316784627748370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Pe urmatoarea am pus-o aici pentru homofobi xD Si da, si pentru ca mi se pare ca arata genial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SkrNW4iND8I/AAAAAAAAAFA/F7WeGqSh0h4/s1600-h/interview-with-the-vampire-157.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SkrNW4iND8I/AAAAAAAAAFA/F7WeGqSh0h4/s320/interview-with-the-vampire-157.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353316900099919810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana si costumele le sunt mindblowing *so in love with this movie* &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si chestia de pe degetul lui Lestat, ca un inel care taie si despica... Crap, now i want one. *laughs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SkrOJ-ogCsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/GteGRDnWkAs/s1600-h/untitled..bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SkrOJ-ogCsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/GteGRDnWkAs/s320/untitled..bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353317777910270658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asta-seara. Oh my God, abia astept. *actually drooling*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se spune ca visele sunt refulari ale subconstientului and shit. Well, stiam ca am un subconstient dubios and shit, dar... astazi dimineata am aflat ca e si foarte pe invers, avand in vedere ca pana acum, nopti la rand visasem materia invatata la geografie [da, visasem harta Europei and shit], iar azi, ca am examen la geografie, am visat materia la istorie din examenul trecut, ala de ieri. Myeh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apropo de asta, sunt foarte ofticata pentru ce am facut la examenul de azi. Da' ma rog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cat despre bac.... Sunt usor uimita de faptul ca... Treaba sta cam asa: la romana scris am fost in sala 10, locul 13, randul 3, locul 3 - ce coordonate -, la istorie am fost in sala 13, locul 10, iar la geografia de azi, in sala 8, locul 13. How awesome is that? Si se pare ca si 8 e un numar care ma sortof protejeaza [din cauza mamei]. Si daca e sa o dau in paranoia grava, la orale am extras biletele 18 [mereu mi-a placut cum suna numerul asta :)) ] respectiv 35 [3 plus 5 egal 8].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Concluzia 1: Misto.&lt;br /&gt;Concluzia 2: Mi s-a aratat ca va fi bine.&lt;br /&gt;Concluzia 3: Ha, nu sunt ghinionista, cum mi-a spus cineva asta-iarna :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not supposed sa vorbesc despre ceea ce vreau sa vorbesc in continuare. Si anume, bacul de anu' asta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar unu la mana, vreau sa vb despre asta, si doi la mana, daca restul lumii nu stie ce inseamna corectitudinea... Acum nu cred ca am de ce sa ma chinui eu sa fiu si sa imi tin gura.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi s-a parut absurd, patetic, jalnic si extrem de enervant ca anu' asta s-au luat ataaaaaatea masuri extreme de precautie ca sa nu se copieze. Gen, dau sa intru pe poarta scolii: "Geanta se lasa afara dom'soara" "Unde, in plina strada?" "Nu ma intereseaza. Cu geanta nu intri in bac." *beeep* copiii ma-tii de retard....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M-au scos din sarite cu absurditatile lor. Nu, frate, pe bune, e de cacat. Atat de roman prost si de dezorganizat sa fii incat sa fie greu coaie sa gasesti o sala, o ceva, in tot cacatu' ala de liceu, in care sa depozitezi toate cacaturile retarzilor astora care au venit [majoritatea] &lt;em&gt;singuri&lt;/em&gt; ca sa dea bacu'. Mama ta de capatanos la cravata. Prostu' pana nu e fudul, nu e prost destul. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si extrem de ironic la chestia asta e ca am impresia ca asta a fost anu-n care s-a copiat cel mai grav. Chiar nu ma asteptam sa fie asa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bine, intr-un fel parca si-au cerut-o cu toate precautiile lor imbecile...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana mea, cele mai dubioase si adanci zone ale corpului omenesc au fost folosite in scopuri "nobile" in astea 3 - 4 zile de trezit dimienata si scris din presupusa cultura generala. Plus ca e criza, deci cateva milioane de lei de la fraieri nu strica niciodata. Si nu, nu vreau sa ma leg de nimeni, nu am nicio problema personala cu nimeni. Si nu m-am nascut ieri si sunt constienta ca... pana mea, exista liber arbitru si fiecare poate hotari cat de "ilegal" vrea sa fie. Si fiecare isi face drumul in viata cum vrea / cum poate. Si ca suntem in Romania... Si chiar nu am judecat pe nimeni. Mi s-a parut chiar amuzant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar... anul asta, am gasit o singura persoana care a fost ceva de genu' "Frate, eu prefer sa iau 5u' de trecere decat sa trisez." Si chiar consider ca asta e o chestie de demnitate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si in momentul ala m-am simtit foarte mandra ca am stat ani de zile cu omu' ala-n aceeasi banca. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru ca sa te duci la un examen de genu' asta ca o floricica adunata de pe coclaurile romanesti imputite pline de gunoaie si prezervative folosite, si sa nu stii sa iti folosesti materia cenusie mi se pare....low. Dar sunt fraiera la faza asta, pentru ca nu ar trebui sa ma mire, avand in vedere fetele romanilor nostri. Se pare ca nu au doar un IQ foarte scazut, ci mai e si trist. E unul foarte deprimat. Cand urcati scarile rulante la metrou, uitati-va la fetele celor care coboara. Daca in minutul ala, veti gasi un singur om care PARE inteligent...e mult. Si probabil doar pare.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar sa ai 12 clase, 12 ani de scoala, si sa nu stii ce e ala nazism.... Du-te frate si impusca-te. Esti o pleava pentru societate. Sau poate doar pentru mine, avand in vedere ca societatea si tot ce tine de ea suge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus ca... sincer... Cunsoc oameni despre care am sperat f mult sa nu treaca oralele. Pentru ca nu ar merita. No, really, unii chiar nu au ce cauta la scoala. Pur si simplu nu au ce cauta acolo. Motivul principal e ca oricum pentru ei scoala e inutila. Pentru ca prostu' tot prost ramane, doar ca va deveni [sau parea] un om mult mai sincer FARA diploma. Cunosc niste specimene care ma repungna. Nici macar nu stiu sa vorbeasca propria limba corect si tu le permiti sa intre in bac? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt foarte revoltata de chestia asta. Foarte. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmmmmmm.... Deci poate ca pana la urma Hitler did have a point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cat despre a (te) trisa la un examen de cultura generala, bai... Pur si simplu nu mi se pare corect. In cazul meu nu cred ca trebuie sa imi fac probleme ca Maricica de la Baicoi imi ia locul la facultate pt ca a copiat la bac. Pentru ca nah. Dar asa, ca idee, chiar nu e corect. Si poate ca sunt unii mai slabi decat mine, dar nice guys, care chiar au fost sinceri... Ah, stai ca tocmai am realizat ca asta e pretty much imposibil. Dar oricum, continuand ideea... poate ca acestor persoane le va schimba viata ca Gogoasa Dezvirginatoru' din Grup industrial de Cai Ferate sau ca Rebelde_pussy_jmek3ra69 din Grup Industrial de Benzi Rulante de pus pe Chirbituri au intrat inaintea lor la facultate. *scratches head*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si pur si simplu nu e corect. Unii nu merita nu doar sa fie in sala aia, si sa respire acelasi aer cu mine, ci sa si ia note mai mari decat mine, in mod INCORECT, avand in vedere ca am fost stresata un an intreg si am tocit zile intregi, in loc sa ies sa beau. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Romania e cea mai josnica si de cacat societate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voi explica titlul in postul urmator, ca acum tre sa inceapa filmul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah apropo, astazi in metrou am stat langa o domnisoara care tinea foarte [no really, FOARTE.] dragastos la piept o carte neagra pe al carei spate scria "Doar un lucru e mai important pt Bella decat insasi viata ei: Edward Cullen". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi cer scuze pentru pauza de cateva randuri in care voi lipsi pentru a ma duce la baie sa borasc cu sange.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*back*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M-a facut sa realizez, in timp ce ma holbam oripilata la ea si la cartea ei, gata sa o sfasii [cartea, nu pe ea]. Daca e ceva pe lume care urasc DIN TOT SUFLETUL, e "Amurg." &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Shit, iar tre sa merg la baie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-4076906307238084000?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/4076906307238084000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/intre-diplomatie-si-conflict-in-secolul.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4076906307238084000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4076906307238084000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/07/intre-diplomatie-si-conflict-in-secolul.html' title='Intre Diplomatie si Conflict in secolul XXI'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SkrNF4YjfjI/AAAAAAAAAEw/D_BP3sI9PoY/s72-c/107917_2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3743123335706531128</id><published>2009-06-30T15:14:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-01T06:00:50.012+03:00</updated><title type='text'>My friggin Umbrella.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SkrMuO7-jxI/AAAAAAAAAEo/G4YdlHWSsP8/s1600-h/lol.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SkrMuO7-jxI/AAAAAAAAAEo/G4YdlHWSsP8/s320/lol.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353316201738964754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viata e plina de surprize si "misterioase sunt caile Domnului". No, really. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A fost genial ca... a aparut exact atunci cand devenise ultimul lucru de care ma mai puteam indoi si mi-a dat un semn ca sa ma faca sa vad cine sunt eu cu adevarat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si sincer... Inca nu stiu daca imi place de mine asa sau nu, dar a fost un sentiment &lt;strong&gt;foarte&lt;/strong&gt; placut. Aparently, atat de pierduta eram/sunt...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adica primul pas cred [sper] ca a fost facut. Primii, de fapt. Pentru ca din exterior am primit o groaza de ajutor. Si sunt foarte recunoscatoare pentru asta..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cat despre semnul ala... M-a facut, pur si simplu, sa realizez cine sunt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"And this is how you remind me"...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, i'm a tiny [vorba Addei, fiveheadu' care ma face] selfish crazy bitch. But i'm not this....stupid hateful vengeful horrible miserable bitch. E o diferenta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si cine mai sunt... Sincer, nu stiu daca sunt atat de puternica pe cat imi place sa cred, dar... Stiu ca sunt o persoana care a asteptat toata viata un lucru care mi le lumineaza, infrumuseteaza si coloreaza pe toate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o persoana care s-a nascut pentru un motiv. Unul foarte special.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o persoana care are puterea sa faca un popor intreg sa o asculte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o persoana care are the balls sa injunghie si sa ucida pentru ceea ce isi doreste, pentru ceea ce apara, sau pentru ceva in care crede. Pe oricine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o persoana care iubeste cum nu multi pot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o persoana in stare sa reuseasca lucruri uman imposibile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o persoana care nu poate fi controlata de nicio forta din Univers. Iar singura care reuseste sa ma supuna totusi, o face pentru ca EU ii permit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o persoana care il admira fara limite pe Edmond Dantes nu pentru &lt;strong&gt;ce&lt;/strong&gt; sau &lt;strong&gt;cum&lt;/strong&gt; a facut, ci pentru ca &lt;em&gt;nu s-a oprit niciodata&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt o persoana care in mod sigur nu e o mamaliga manevrabila in mana oricui. Sunt o persoana care nu e nici &lt;em&gt;lasa&lt;/em&gt;, nici &lt;em&gt;proasta&lt;/em&gt;. Si nici nu ar vrea sa fie vreodata. Sunt o persoana care stie foarte bine cine e si ce vrea si care, desi in momentul de fata e in pom si pomu-n aer, e cu picioarele bine infipte in pamant. So just do your worst. For I will do mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Now that it's raining more than ever..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3743123335706531128?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3743123335706531128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-friggin-umbrella_30.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3743123335706531128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3743123335706531128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-friggin-umbrella_30.html' title='My friggin Umbrella.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SkrMuO7-jxI/AAAAAAAAAEo/G4YdlHWSsP8/s72-c/lol.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2313260424413980146</id><published>2009-06-29T10:38:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-29T10:48:20.110+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Take Me Slow.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aOQ8roKaiQ4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aOQ8roKaiQ4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am vazut-o la tv, mi-a amintit de adolescenta, si nu m-am putut abtine. Yeh, i know, i know... Da' nah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2313260424413980146?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2313260424413980146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/take-me-slow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2313260424413980146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2313260424413980146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/take-me-slow.html' title='Take Me Slow.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-1323157888921323664</id><published>2009-06-28T05:24:00.018+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T21:21:21.889+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Porthos is actually bleeding.</title><content type='html'>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;The oldest by some years, &lt;strong&gt;Athos&lt;/strong&gt; is a father figure to the other musketeers. He is described as noble and handsome but also very secretive, drowning his secret sorrows in drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Aramis&lt;/strong&gt; loves intrigues and women, which fits well with the opinions of the time regarding Jesuits and abbots. As a musketeer, his great ambition was to become an abbé; as an abbé he wishes for the life of the soldier. In the books it is revealed he became a musketeer because of a woman and his arrogance: as a young boy whose (plausibly genuine) ambition was to become an abbé, he had the misfortune to be caught and thrown out of a house, while (innocently or not) reading to a young woman. &lt;br /&gt;Despite his Machiavellian attitude, Aramis holds very firmly to the sacred concept of friendship. In fact, the only wrong moves Aramis ever made were done when he refused to harm a friend (or a friend's feelings). &lt;br /&gt;Aramis even tells the truth to Porthos about the man in the iron mask's real identity, despite fearing that Porthos would kill him. Friendship is so important to Aramis that it is strongly implied, at the end of Le Vicomte De Bragelonne, that he cried (for the first time in his entire life) when one of his friends died. Later, he explicitely told someone that he considered him a true friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Porthos&lt;/strong&gt;, honest and slightly gullible, is the extrovert of the group, enjoying wine, women and song. His eating abilities even impress King Louis XIV during a banquet at Versailles. As the story advances, he looks more and more of a giant, and his death is that of a titan.&lt;br /&gt;He carries a sword that Aramis nicknamed Balizarde.&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aramis: Sometimes there are more important things in life than a good pair of tits. &lt;br /&gt;Porthos: Really? If you can name me one thing that is more sublime than the feel of a plump, pink nipple between my lips, I'll build you a new cathedral. &lt;br /&gt;Aramis: Forgiveness... &lt;br /&gt;Porthos: Forgiveness...? &lt;br /&gt;[Porthos farts] &lt;br /&gt;Porthos: There... i am i forgiven? Come on... am i forgiven? &lt;br /&gt;[play fight ensures between them] &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Athos: What gives you the right to judge me, to play God with the lives of others? Is it because you're so much holier than everyone else? &lt;br /&gt;Aramis: Well yes, there is that. But also because I'm more intelligent than anybody else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porthos: I'd rather die covered in blood than an old man lying in my own piss. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;D'Artagnan: No. If anyone sees... it is death. &lt;br /&gt;Queen Anne: If I don't kiss you, I'll die anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D'Artagnan: Anne, I know that to love you is a treason against France, but not to love you is a treason against my heart. &lt;br /&gt;Queen Anne: Then we will both die traitors, D'Artagnan.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Re-watching "The man in the iron mask" tocmai m-am prins de ce il ador pe Alexandre Dumas atat de mult. :x [da, observati ca eu nu folosesc semnul asta niciodata.] Pentru ca scrie chestii care ma fac sa plang - pt ca e atat de incredibil de cheesy dar e atat de incredibil de bun la asta. xD Si multe altele, dar in principal asta-mi place la romantismul lui.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aramis: Athos, if we fail in this - and we probably will - it will be an honor to die beside you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aramis: [the Musketeers preparing for the battle] Our old uniformes. From our days of glory. I was saving them so that we could wear them in death. And so we shall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Louis: You think my affairs are empty... &lt;br /&gt;D'Artagnan: I think that it is possible for one man to love one woman all his life and be the better for it, yes.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Athos: [to Phillipe] Once I, once all of us, believed in serving something greater than ourselves. Aramis had his faith, Porthos his lust for life, D'Artagnan his devotion and I had Raoul. But we all had a common dream. That one day we would finally be able to serve a king who was worthy of the throne. It is what we dreamt, what we bled for, and what we have waited a lifetime to see. I taught Raoul to believe in that dream, and now my son is dead. And now I want to know if my son's life was in vain, and the only person who can answer that is you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porthos: I'm going to hang myself. ..As soon as i'm sober.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Athos: What is Porthos doing? &lt;br /&gt;Aramis: Walking into the barn naked, or so it would seem. &lt;br /&gt;Athos: But what is he doing? &lt;br /&gt;Aramis: About to hang himself, I suppose; he's been threatening to do it for months. &lt;br /&gt;Athos: Hang himself? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Porthos: [he puts the rope around his neck and prepares to jump] Farewell cruel world... farewell to useless Porthos. &lt;br /&gt;[jumps] &lt;br /&gt;Athos: [Aramis and Athos are watching the building from the outside] What was that? &lt;br /&gt;Aramis: It's all right; I sawed the beam. &lt;br /&gt;[the building promptly collapses, and Athos stares at Aramis in disbelief] &lt;br /&gt;Aramis: Well, I'm a genius, not an engineer! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aramis: Why are you so glum? &lt;br /&gt;Porthos: I expected action. There was no fighting, there was no killing. I was useless. &lt;br /&gt;Aramis: [angry] Porthos, I grow tired of this attitude. You're surrounded by beauty, by intrigue, by danger. What more can a man want? The robins are singing, the pigeons are cooing. Can't you listen to their song? &lt;br /&gt;[he walks off in disgust as Porthos is raising an eyebrow; Porthos takes off his hat when something falls on it to reveal it's bird-dung] &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louis: D'Artagnan, I am not angry with you. I knew you would lead me to them, and so you have. Lay down your sword and I will not punish you. I will let you retire in peace, and I will give your friends a swift execution, if you surrender NOW! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aramis: Perhaps you should take his offer. We're dead anyway. &lt;br /&gt;Porthos: He's right, D'Artagnan. &lt;br /&gt;Phillippe: Wait. Bargain me to Louis for all your lives. You've done your best. Please let me go. &lt;br /&gt;D'Artagnan: No, I cannot do it. Even if I could give up my king, I could never give up my son. &lt;br /&gt;[they all look at him, thunderstruck] &lt;br /&gt;Phillippe: Your son? &lt;br /&gt;D'Artagnan: I loved your mother. I love her still. You are my son. I never knew you existed. And I never felt pride as a father... until this moment. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Louis: Cowards! Twenty men run from four? &lt;br /&gt;Lt. Andre: The corridor nullifies our numbers, and nobody has the stomach to fight the captain! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[the Four Musketeers and Phillipe are trapped by riflemen at the other end of the hallway] &lt;br /&gt;Aramis: D'Artagnan... They're young Musketeers. They've been weaned on our legends. They revere us. It is an advantage. &lt;br /&gt;Porthos: Yes. Why don't we charge them? &lt;br /&gt;D'Artagnan: I trained these men. They will fight to the death. But if we must die - if WE must die - let it be like this. &lt;br /&gt;[He draws his sword and points it at the floor. Aramis, Porthos, and Athos, join their swords with his] &lt;br /&gt;Athos: One for all. All for one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[as the Four Musketeers and Phillipe charge] &lt;br /&gt;Louis: Shoot! [no one has the balls to shoot the Musketeers. They all just stare stunned.]&lt;br /&gt;Lt. Andre: Magnificent valor... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abbe Faria: Here is your final lesson - do not commit the crime for which you now serve the sentence. God said, "Vengeance is mine". &lt;br /&gt;Edmond Dantes: I don't believe in God. &lt;br /&gt;Abbe Faria: It doesn't matter. He believes in you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mercedes: I want to be free of you... the way you, obviously, are free of me. &lt;br /&gt;Mercedes: I don't know what dark plan lies within you. Nor do I know by what design we were asked to live without each other these 16 years. But God has offered us a new beginning... &lt;br /&gt;Edmond: God? &lt;br /&gt;Mercedes: Don't slap His hand away. &lt;br /&gt;Edmond: Can I never escape Him? &lt;br /&gt;Mercedes: No, He is in everything. Even in a kiss.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“There is neither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness.” Chapter 117&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until the day when God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these two words,—'Wait and hope.'” Chapter 117&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Napoleon: In life, we are all either kings or pawns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Edmond: Life is a storm, my young friend. You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next. What makes you a man is what you do when that storm comes. You must look into that storm and shout as you did in Rome. "Do your worst, for I will do mine!" Then the fates will know you as we know you: as Albert Mondego, the man!&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;D'Artagnan i-a lasat trandafiri reginei pentru toata viata, in secret, pe unde apuca. Trandafiri rosii. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Revazand filmul, am realizat ca e un film care arata destul de bine ce inseamna onoarea, respectul, unitatea, curajul si mai ales, prietenia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-1323157888921323664?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/1323157888921323664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/porthos-is-bleeding.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1323157888921323664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1323157888921323664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/porthos-is-bleeding.html' title='Porthos is actually bleeding.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2257374778570893562</id><published>2009-06-28T01:27:00.011+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-28T02:53:11.963+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Mon Chateau d'If.</title><content type='html'>De cand am citit cartea aia, am simtit ca Edmond Dantes e un fel de alter ego al meu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Povestea lui m-a fascinat iar pe el l-am admirat pentru inocenta lui si m-a socat soarta lui incredibil de cruda. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Il consider my alter-ego pentru ca e puternic, mandru, corect, iar la origini e kind. Dar lumea il transforma intr-o chestie care distruge calm si calculat, cu o satisfactie incredibila, si care nu greseste &lt;em&gt;niciodata&lt;/em&gt;. Admiram ca nu lasa sa se vada nimic din tot ce simte. Il admir [e la prezent, nu la trecut] pentru precizia, rabdarea, meticulozitatea si placerea cu care isi calcula fiecare miscare; si pentru modul genial in care nu se abatea niciodata de la plan. Il admir si pentru faptul ca m-a surprins enorm ca putea si sa crute inca. Il admir pentru sangele incredibil de rece. Il admir pentru partea sa umana, cat si pentru cea cruda si inumana. Il admir pentru...purul simt al dreptatii. Si pentru &lt;strong&gt;puterea&lt;/strong&gt; de a iti face singur dreptate. Si de a se asemana cu Dumnezeu prin asta poate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt atat de multe lucruri pt care il admir atat de foarte mult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand am terminat cartea, am stiut ca ne asemanam pentru ca "si eu as distruge fara mila pe oricine se pune in calea fericirii mele".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though, in timp, am incercat sa ma indepartez de felul lui de a fi. Si sa fiu un om mai bun de atat. Si... cred ca a existat o perioada in care chiar am reusit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And teach me wrong from right / And I'll show you what I can be"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand am citit cartea, am inteles de ce a procedat asa. Si am inteles un lucru foarte important. Ca da, sunt o persoana razbunatoare. Nu stiu de ce. Si nici nu stiu daca asta-mi place la mine sau nu, sincer. Dar am invatat si ca razbunarea e ultimul lucru pe care il mai poate avea un om. E ultima....posibilitate, ultima sansa de a mai face &lt;em&gt;ceva&lt;/em&gt;. Cand nu mai ramane nimic - nici speranta, i guess - apare dorinta de razbunare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deci poate ca nu speranta e cea care moare ultima.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Razbunarea apare doar atunci cand nu mai ai &lt;em&gt;nimic&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate de asta m-am prins la un moment dat ca Edmond Dantes e totusi inca foarte departe de mine. E un fel de..ultima mea parte. Desi e importanta. Si ca am mult pana a ajunge la el.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ca daca asta se intampla, then everything's pretty much fucking fucked up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ceea ce e cam naspa, deoarece sunt constienta ca inca am multe lucruri. It's just weird. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cred ca il mai admir si pentru asemanarea povestilor noastre. Nu, nu mot a mot, ci "stilizat". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru ca si eu sunt in Chateau d'If de ceva ani si mai am multi in fata de stat aici. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"These iron bars can't hold my soul in"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi-am cumparat inelul ala ca al lui. Inelul meu cu piatra sangerie. Ca sa ma pot uita la el si sa imi amintesc ca el nu s-a oprit niciodata din drum si nu s-a abatut niciodata de la ceea ce si-a dorit. Inelul ala inseamna atat de mult pt mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si intradevar, pana acum nu m-a "dezamagit" niciodata magia lui. Il port zilnic doar pentru a il privi la nevoie si a imi aminti chestia asta. Si a mers de fiecare data. Cand nu mai era nimic care sa ma faca sa ma ridic si sa continui, priveam inelul. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doar ca uneori.... Uneori ma uit la el si stiu ca trebuie sa merg inainte, dar...el nu imi poate arata si calea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iar calea lui Edmond... nici acum nu sunt sigura ca era cea corecta.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2257374778570893562?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2257374778570893562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-chateau-dif.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2257374778570893562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2257374778570893562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-chateau-dif.html' title='Mon Chateau d&apos;If.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-926835044500195082</id><published>2009-06-27T19:05:00.007+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T22:16:05.951+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Pachet de tigari Uno.</title><content type='html'>E ciudat cat de mult te poate face o persoana importanta sa te schimbi, desi ramai acelasi. Si placut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miercuri se va difuza Interviu cu un vampir la tv, si incep sa ma caute persoane la care m-am gandit in ultimul timp. Detalii d-astea frumoase. 'Ts cool. Am noroc d-asta, ca de obicei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abia azi mi-am dat seama ca de mica nu suportam sa vad fiinte suferind, si mai si incercam sa le ajut. Poate ca asta fac si cu mine. Acopar ranile si gaurile cu ce apuc, ca o pasare d-aia care-si construieste cuib din chestii shinny pentru a isi atrage si curta partenera. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Macar eu sa o pot face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate am acoperit prea mult. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..Avand in vedere ca asta e tot ce mai pot exterioriza. *laughs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You don't want to hurt me, &lt;br /&gt;But see how deep the bullet lies. "&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-926835044500195082?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/926835044500195082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/pachet-de-tigari-uno.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/926835044500195082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/926835044500195082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/pachet-de-tigari-uno.html' title='Pachet de tigari Uno.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2070131462171628257</id><published>2009-06-27T00:21:00.008+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T11:38:17.304+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Look what we've done</title><content type='html'>Cand eram mica, erau vreo doua clipuri difuzate pe Mtv la care pur si simplu ma HOLBAM ca o retardata, pt ca ma fascinau 100%, si care cred ca si-au lasat amprenta puternic asupra mea ca om. Unul dintre ele [si poate chiar prmul] este&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/f8muMo0fw_M&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/f8muMo0fw_M&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si inca ma impresionezaza. Inca ma intristeaza, inca ma face sa plang. Si inca spune atat de mult.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si pentru ce a facut nenea asta la viata lui, respect. RIP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about sunrise&lt;br /&gt;What about rain&lt;br /&gt;What about all the things&lt;br /&gt;That you said we were to gain&lt;br /&gt;What about killing fields&lt;br /&gt;Is there a time&lt;br /&gt;What about all the things&lt;br /&gt;That you said was yours and mine&lt;br /&gt;Did you ever stop to notice&lt;br /&gt;All the blood we've shared before&lt;br /&gt;Did you ever stop to notice&lt;br /&gt;This crying Earth this weeping shores?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaaaah, Oooooooooh&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaaaah, Oooooooooh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What have we done to the world&lt;br /&gt;Look what we've done&lt;br /&gt;What about all the peace&lt;br /&gt;That you pledge your only son&lt;br /&gt;What about flowering fields&lt;br /&gt;Is there a time&lt;br /&gt;What about all the dreams&lt;br /&gt;That you said was yours and mine&lt;br /&gt;Did you ever stop to notice&lt;br /&gt;All the children dead from war&lt;br /&gt;Did you ever stop to notice&lt;br /&gt;This crying Earth this weeping shores&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaaaah, Oooooooooh&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaaaah, Oooooooooh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to dream&lt;br /&gt;I used to glance beyond the stars&lt;br /&gt;Now I don't know where we are&lt;br /&gt;Although I know we've drifted far&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaaaah, Oooooooooh&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaaaah, Oooooooooh&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaaaah, Oooooooooh&lt;br /&gt;Aaaaaaaaah, Oooooooooh&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, what about yesterday&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about the seas&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;The heavens are falling down&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;I can't even breathe&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about everthing&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;I have given you&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about nature's worth&lt;br /&gt;(Ooo, ooo)&lt;br /&gt;It's our planet's womb&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about animals&lt;br /&gt;(What about it)&lt;br /&gt;We've turned kingdoms to dust&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about elephants&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;Have we lost their trust&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about crying whales&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;We're ravaging the seas&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about forest trails&lt;br /&gt;(Ooo, ooo)&lt;br /&gt;Burnt despite our pleas&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about the holy land&lt;br /&gt;(What about it)&lt;br /&gt;Torn apart by creed&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about the common man&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;Can't we set him free&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about children dying&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;Can't you hear them cry&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;Where did we go wrong&lt;br /&gt;(Ooo, ooo)&lt;br /&gt;Someone tell me why&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about baby boy&lt;br /&gt;(What about it)&lt;br /&gt;What about the days&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about all their joy&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about the men&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about the crying man&lt;br /&gt;(What about us)&lt;br /&gt;What about Abraham&lt;br /&gt;(What was us)&lt;br /&gt;What about death again&lt;br /&gt;(Ooo, ooo)&lt;br /&gt;Do we give a damn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7Hg-IRZk4D0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7Hg-IRZk4D0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BzzgqtPO42Q&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BzzgqtPO42Q&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2070131462171628257?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2070131462171628257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/look-what-weve-done.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2070131462171628257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2070131462171628257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/look-what-weve-done.html' title='Look what we&apos;ve done'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3723493096557791695</id><published>2009-06-26T04:15:00.012+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T02:10:09.685+03:00</updated><title type='text'>No Words.</title><content type='html'>*beep beep beeep* de bac si de insomnii idioate din cauza cacatilor din viata mea! *beep beeep fucking beeeep*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"When you have insomnia, you're never really asleep and you're never really awake."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hai sa mori tu. *sdf*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*would so beat someone up*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. Daca tot sunt prea nervoasa ca sa mai invat....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah cat am asteptat asta....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt puse oarecum in ordinea logica si cronologica [as far as i remember, evident].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rUs3rBtDxwA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rUs3rBtDxwA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/crDo1lEogFM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/crDo1lEogFM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3TM7vcVvvDE&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3TM7vcVvvDE&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tca4bVCI9oQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tca4bVCI9oQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/cbUDE7S6LbU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/cbUDE7S6LbU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hehe, pe Cops back home am avut un dans interesant cu Adda. Awesomeness, man, awesomeness. &lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/5T98OEuvHrQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/5T98OEuvHrQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/tVWHSMl_aK4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/tVWHSMl_aK4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JQvb2Tj9jOU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JQvb2Tj9jOU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1SfTqlQwYhw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1SfTqlQwYhw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/XnE0FhsbMA8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/XnE0FhsbMA8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;  &lt;-- Kewl.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fsE0DlVODpY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fsE0DlVODpY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Duuuuuude, ma aud. *laughs* Si suntem si noi aici in fata cui filmeaza, dansam. I can see myself. xD &lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QRCLMLzEv54&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QRCLMLzEv54&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt; ..Funneh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-tPr7Z8xKV8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-tPr7Z8xKV8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;   Hahaha i was so exhausted aici.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/x4h91QBBz94&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/x4h91QBBz94&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-wHaHCPWut4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-wHaHCPWut4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aN0TnSO0GJ8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aN0TnSO0GJ8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asta cred ca era la al doilea bis, cand deja nu mai putema striga "Placebo" [dupa 5 minute de asa ceva] si nimeream ceva de genu' "Plabiso" *laughs* :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/uOUY9Z5iziI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/uOUY9Z5iziI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asta posibil ca e chiar la sfarsit de tot. Ei saracii tot incercau sa scape de noi si noi nimic. Au bagat si subtilitate cu Song to say goodbye. Nu mi stiu care fusese ultima, Taste in men sau asta. &lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/voy0UjMT0Lg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/voy0UjMT0Lg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZkDPJqsz4wQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZkDPJqsz4wQ&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;-- Cand i-am chemat inapoi a doua oara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4tWWPkB3uiI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4tWWPkB3uiI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were so exhausted and voiceless here, dar in public era o atmosfera interesanta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/htytaiP8bu0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/htytaiP8bu0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6M6mPC-LPK4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6M6mPC-LPK4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3723493096557791695?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3723493096557791695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/no-words.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3723493096557791695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3723493096557791695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/no-words.html' title='No Words.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-8228777430846483823</id><published>2009-06-22T11:59:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T12:23:58.681+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Shoot an apple off my head.</title><content type='html'>Toti colegii mei sunt in panica. I can fucking feel it. Grrr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Abia m-am trezit, sunt la cafea, si.... Well, o sa explic altfel situatia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In ultima saptmana de scoala, profa noastra de romana ne-a prins pe mine si inca doua colege in clasa intr-o zi in care aveam romana [noi chiar ne pregateam sa plecam da' n-am mai apucat] si am facut simulare de oral. Well, si la cum m-am "prezentat", mi-a zis "Tu pici bacu'. Jigodie." Nu, nu va speriati, nu ma uraste, ba dimpotriva, dar ea cu apelative de genul asta ne alinta, iar prin propozitii de genul ala vrea sa ne ambitioneze sa fim mai buni. Well, that was SO wrong. Da, intradevar, m-a determinat sa tocesc nitel. Dar dude you don't fucking say that! Mai ales mie, care am un subconstient absolut bolnav si dement! De cand cu chestia asta, eu de romana oral ma tem. Daca trec de romana oral, merg fluierand, si consider ca nu am niciun bac de dat, pt ca ma descurc minunat la restu'. Tipa m-a cam demoralizat grav grav grav. Numai sa nu ma blochez in fata comisiei. 'mortii ma-tii de subconstient stupid! Jeez. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. Colegii sunt in priza. Iar eu... well, ma bazez pe teoria asta ca "am invatat" [pe dreacu' but shhhh.] si inca reusesc sa imi pastrez atitudinea cool si sa fiu like whatever spunandu-mi "the fuck, man, am trecut si prin chestii mai grele".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si indeed, asa e. Sper sa ma tina atitudinea asta pana atunci. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meeeeh. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gained some new friends in toata perioada asta. Si nush....odata ce trec de bac, presimt ca - daca as vrea - ar putea veni o perioada de schimbare, ca de curand imi doream asta cu DISPERARE. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ieri... Placebo cred ca a fost ca un fel de moment de tranzitie. Mi-am luat la revedere de la ce a fost si poate si de la vechea eu si... astept acea schimbare, i guess. Dunno. Dar cert e ca ieri am realizat niste chestii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm kindof changed. Asta e una. Si nu stiu cat ma va tine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si da, sunt a tad worried pentru viitorul meu. Si pentru.... sincer, si pentru dorinta de a mi-l crea. Pentru ca ma aflu intr-un punct in care nu sunt sigura ca mai stiu nici cine sunt, nici ce vreau. But shhh. Merg pe burta cat se poate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... am realizat ca, daca as vrea, as putea avea cam orice. As putea avea un alt stil de viata, as putea avea noi prieteni, as putea avea... multe. Asta evident, daca nu mi-as mai dori imposibilul. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu daca voi vrea toate astea si toate oportunitatile care simt ca ma asteapta dupa colt, dar faptul ca am realizat ca as putea avea atat de multe a...a facut schimbarea, ca sa zic asa. Sau macar inceputul ei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am mai realizat.... ca oricine ma cunoaste ceva mai bine, ma cam place. Si asta m-a facut sa vad ca sunt o persoana...incredibly strong and minblowingly kewl. Imi pare rau pt narcisism, dar asta e. Si reunesc o suma unica de calitati grozave, cum nu mai gasesti in combinatia asta geniala in alta parte, si am defecte care nu fac decat sa imi accentueze calitatile. Sunt o tipa incredibila cum nu mai exista pe nicaieri. Si merit tot ce e mai bun. Iar cei carora le-as putea schimba viata ar trebui sa se simta norocosi. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faptul ca am realizat asta....nu stiu daca e un lucru bun sau rau, dar sincer... Imi era dor sa vad asta. De mult nu am mai putut "gasi" asta in ceea ce ma priveste. De asta e actually really fucking nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Numai de as crede-o tot timpul...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meh... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si presimt ca daca voi continua sa cred asta, mai devreme sau mai tarziu voi avea acea "schimbare" pe care o astept. Si care habar nu am la ce se refera.... Dar parca stiu ca e pe drum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, what can i say, life sucks and it's wonderful in the same time. Cred ca asta e ultima vara pe care o mai am drept copil. Si ma intreb spre ce dracu' ma va duce drumul asta pe care il aleg, si care....parca nu e ales de dragul meu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Serios, uneori imi spun ca poate destinul meu era sa dau la Arheologie si sa descopar, i dunno, Troia. Who knows....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeh, ce inseamna liberul arbitru...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-8228777430846483823?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/8228777430846483823/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/shoot-apple-off-my-head.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/8228777430846483823'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/8228777430846483823'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/shoot-apple-off-my-head.html' title='Shoot an apple off my head.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-754882931397502811</id><published>2009-06-21T23:42:00.016+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T12:27:25.131+03:00</updated><title type='text'>"It's a song to say goodbye"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Sj62wZkD4dI/AAAAAAAAAEg/6JHdZB7Keag/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 210px; height: 201px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Sj62wZkD4dI/AAAAAAAAAEg/6JHdZB7Keag/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349914349974839762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu mai aud bine. My everything hurts. Tocmai m-am lovit in coltul geamului de termopan cand m-am ridicat de jos luand castile aruncate langa pc. Au. Fucking hurts more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't really matter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toata perioada asta [de aproape un an] se pare ca a fost incredibil de stresanta pt mine. Maine incepe bacul, iar saptmana care se incheie aici a fost groaznica, pt ca a fost pura asteptare pt neplacutul punct culminant. Finally, vine! Sa scap odata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So... Cu o zi inainte de marele eveniment si de importanta zi idioata de luni, 22 iunie, ziua primel probe la bac, avea loc un eveniment f frumos pt mine: al doilea concert Placebo in Romania. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe primul il ratasem din pura ignoranta, acum 3 ani in urma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M-am luptat ca asta de acum sa devina un mare must in agenda mea, si am reusit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa ca pe la ora 5 ma invarteam in jurul Romexpoului cu Adda mergand pe jos ca niste nebune si cautand poarta C sau ceva de genu'. Fetze dubioase pe acolo, asteptand la intrare, printre ele enumerandu-se pitzi, wannabes, pokemoni, fitosi, really stupid people, dar si oameni "mari" care pareau cool. Nu era chiar asa rau pe cat ma asteptasem totusi. Desi energiile negative m-au obosit rau, cat am asteptat acolo pana sa intru, vreo ora. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Din fericire, in multime am reusit sa stam chiar langa [cred eu] cei mai okay oameni din toata multimea aia. It was awesome, i really liked those persons. In many ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Concertul trebuia sa inceapa [dupa cum scria pe afise] la 19.00, iar dupa ce scria pe bilete, la 20.00. Si a inceput la 21. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eram undeva prin randul... sa zic 7. Adica destul de aproape de scena. Vedeam exact pe centru. Am facut tot posibilul pt asta, gonind ne-doritii care mi se puneau in fata and stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well... Mu am prea multe de spus...*takes a deep breath* Au inceput cu doua melodii de pe noul album, pe care eu nu l-am ascultat. Sincer, am mers la concert pt zecile de melodii vechi pe care le ador.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deci pe primele doua melodii am dansat mai usurel, ba chiar mai mult i-am analizat, pt ca am vrut sa imi conserv energia pt adevaratul dezmat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A treia melodie a fost Battle for the sun, pe care o stiam, si eu si restul multimii, se pare. So, aici am inceput sa ma dezmortesc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probabil inca o melodie noua care imi era necunoscuta, apoi For what it's worth, cunoscuta melodie care se tot difuza prin Fire in clipul careia Brian are parul lung [da, il are si acum asa, dar era prins, si da, ii statea cam genial.] so nostalgie, astea. Dezmorteala si mai multa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apoi.... I swear, nu-mi amintesc. Si de obicei retin amanuntit orice melodie, gest, cuvant, cand ceva ma intereseaza. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it was &lt;em&gt;that&lt;/em&gt; mindblowingly awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tin minte doar ca nu ma miscam asa cum as fi facut-o in mod normal, imi era cam greu sa pierd controlul si sa incep sa dansez cu adevarat asa cum simt si sa ma manifest ca in mod normal. Cred ca de la stres. Cred ca i'm too tired. Cred ca i'm too old for this shit, once again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meh. Dar.... La un moment dat, ne-am bagat si mai in fata, nush ce ii venise Addei si m-a tras dupa ea, si nu eram hotarata daca sa protestez sau nu. Am ajuns cu greu undeva prin randul 4 sau 5. Era ATAT de inghesuiala. Astia de aici, din fata, erau mult mai activi, era o energie extraordinara acolo, si le simteam pielea uda lipindu-se de a mea, dar era atat de incredibil totul incat era chiar placut [oh my God, i actually said that.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Au cantat si melodii vechi. Din pacate, nu si Twenty years, care era un fel de must pt mine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Avand in vedere ca e al doilea lor concert aici, tind sa cred ca le place de noi. Si din ce am vazut in seara asta... they really liked us. Brian a fumat si doua tigari pe scena, asa, ca se simtea prea bine :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stiu ca momentul cel mai intens pt mine a fost... cand cantau o melodie noua, Come undone. Nu o stiam. Dar mi-a placut din prima cum suna. Si am avut sentimentul asta dubios ca "Oh dear, ce ar merge un joint acum.". Si am vrut sa ma peird. Am vrut sa uit tot... Am vrut, pur si simplu, sa ma rup de realitate. Si pentru cat a durat toata melodia aia, am inchis ochii, am simtit bubuitul basului in pamant si in jur, am auzit doar ritmul atat de frumos, si am dansat ca o nebuna. Am dansat fara sa imi pese de cine ma lovesc, cine se inghesuie in mine, fara sa mai tin cont de nimic altceva. Eram doar eu. Eu si melodia astora de la Placebo. Si zambeam cu gura pana la urechi, si mai simteam vantul din cand in cand, si nu imi amintesc de cand nu am mai fost atat de fericita doar lasandu-l sa ma racoreasca. Si am dansat si am tot dansat, pentru alea 3 sau cate minute or fi fost. Si da, m-am pierdut. Da, m-am rupt de realitate, ca niciodata pana acum. I actually did..... It was just... Nu. Nu am cuvinte sa pot exprima. O experienta unica pe care nu o pot explica. Dar au reusit cu mine ce n-a mai reusit NIMENI ever. *smiles* I came. De la acea euforie. Without even any sexual thought or anything. [I came on Come Undone hahaha]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8bZg5sUbAcc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8bZg5sUbAcc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Altceva, hmm... E de neuitat ca am cerut bis de doua ori. Iar ei s-au intors de fiecare data, dupa ce ne-au lasat -pe bune- fara aer strigandu-i acolo ca disperatii. Dar si cand s-au intors, se simtea ca erau incantati de noi si...sortof mandri, fericiti. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi-a placut atat de mult sa le vad fetele incantate [mai ales cea a membrului nou, a fost placut surprins] si de la Brian pur si simplu am simtit ca...ne respecta si ne multumeste pentru energia si dragostea pe care le-o oferim. A fost ceva inedit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tot ce mai tin minte e ca melodii ca Infra-red, Meds [oh, Meds...Cum a fost pe Meds, Jesus. I loved Meds si atmosfera ei....], Special K, Follow the cops back home, Taste in men, Bitter end, si mai ales....Song to say goodbye nu vor mai suna la fel ca pana acum... Acum au un cu totul alt gust. Pe cea din urma am avut o stare asemanatoare cu ce am mentionat mai sus. Sau, mai bine zis, a fost usor revelatoare [anumite versuri].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu am primit niciun bat de-al tobosarului, si-au aruncat vreo patru in multime. Mereu mi-am dorit asa ceva dar niciodata nu le prind. Nu am cumparat nici suveniruri, nu aveau decat tricouri si genti pe care scria Placebo, si totusi, nu-s asa groupie. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tot cu ce m-am ales sunt... amintirea extraordinara si bratara mea alba cu negru care ne diferentia pe astia din zona A de cei din zona B. E suvenirul meu and i really love it. Si nici nu o pot scoate deloc, pt ca e lipita foarte bine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Initial voiam sa mi-o puna pe mana dreapta, dar am realizat ca nu ar fi dat bine cu ce mai am pe mana respectiva, deci sta foarte bine, singurica, pe stanga. Love it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si am facut foarte bine ca mi-am conservat energia. Pentru ca atunci cand publicul era in delir si toti aplaudau si urlau ca disperatii, eu taceam, pt ca oricum nu ma auzea nici dracu' in multimea aia de glasuri [si mie-mi trebuie atentie, deh.]. Si doar ma uitam la Placebo zambind. Si cand astia taceau si erau epuizati, ma trezeam eu si urlam din toti plamanii singura de nebuna, cu foarte mult patos, iar cei care tocmai tacusera erau antrenati de asta si incepeau din nou, dupa un timp de relaxare. Astfel, Placebo au avut parte de o atmosfera incendiara NON-stop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt mandra ca eu le cam dadeam tonul. Mai ales ca la inceput au fost un public destul de cuminte si tacut. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Concertul asta m-a lasat deshidratata [cine dracu' s-a mai miscat din fata scenei timp de doua ore, cat au fost ei acolo..?], obosita moarta, cu dureri la ceafa [i'm tiny, nu puteam vedea de restul capetelor din fata mea], la umeri, la spate, la genunchi, la gambe si la talpi. De la cat am urlat si cat le-am dat, i swear, diafragma mea mai avea putin si se rupea de epuizare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand s-a terminat totul, nu puteam merge. Pe ultima melodie, aproape am cazut pe jos de durere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's fucking awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar... a meritat fiecare strop de sudoare. A meritat fiecare zona dureroasa cu care ma confrunt [si mandresc] acum. De as pica si bacul maine de la oboseala sau de la lipsa de voce, i wouldn't care - a meritat fiecare banut, fiecare moment de enervare pt te-miri-ce, toata asteptarea, tot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I might say it is the best concert i've ever been to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A durat de la 9 la 10 jumate sau ceva de genu'. Dar nu am simtit timpul. Parca as fi fost acolo dintotdeauna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the look on Brian's face la sfarsit... Si incantarea tobosarului... De nepretuit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La un moment dat m-am uitat la Brian cu atentie. Si nu am vazut [asa cum ma asteptasem] un drogat ruginit si imbatranit, fara niciun Dumnezeu. In spatele acestor lucruri, am vazut.... sincer, am vazut un om care si-a implinit destinul. Un om care ar putea avea tot ce si-ar dori. Am vauzt un om &lt;strong&gt;fericit&lt;/strong&gt;, acolo, pe scena. Si am zambit. That was really nice. Si i-am dorit sa nu piarda asta. Si sa nu &lt;em&gt;se&lt;/em&gt; piarda. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru concertul asta, I respect him. Mi-a castigat admiratia. E un om mic, dar bine facut, ca sa zic asa. A fost ca un fel de test, deoarece chiar credeam ca a ajuns rau. Dar a fost mai mult decat la inaltime. Si daca ceea ce ne-a aratat a fost sincer si nu doar artificiu managerial / discurs invatat pe din afara pentru a face fanii sa se simta bine, well then, that was awesome, man. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/geig9DCpucI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/geig9DCpucI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-754882931397502811?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/754882931397502811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-song-to-say-goodbye.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/754882931397502811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/754882931397502811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/its-song-to-say-goodbye.html' title='&quot;It&apos;s a song to say goodbye&quot;'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Sj62wZkD4dI/AAAAAAAAAEg/6JHdZB7Keag/s72-c/untitled.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-1360688286153371003</id><published>2009-06-20T08:27:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-20T08:51:23.953+03:00</updated><title type='text'>*in so MUCH effin' pain*</title><content type='html'>Nu sunt multe persoane de care ma simt atrasa. In viata reala sunt vreo doua [as far as i remember], poate trei. Iar dintre "celebritati", sunt tot trei care-mi plac mult. Printre ei se numara si Chris Cornell de la Audioslave / Soundgarden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si astazi imi beam cafeaua dimineata si butonam TVul. Si btw, de cand nu am mai facut asta, s-au schimbat atat de multe... TVul chiar a devenit ceva absolut distructiv.... Jesus. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana si canalele de muzica sunt...o instigare la incultura. Inainte mai gaseam ceva okay, acum tocmai am vazut-o pe Nicole Scherzinger purtand o rochie aurie, mulata si sclipicioasa, aratand ca o cocalara. I like her, cum arata and shit, dar de data asta m-am cutremurat din strafuduri si am schimbat oripilata canalul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ce gasesc eu pe Mtv... Imi atrage atentia un clip. Un tip brunet, cu par destul de lungut, se afla pe un ring de dans, intre gagici care danseaza lasciv fiecare pe langa un tip, respecivu' nene cantaret stand pe-un scaun si cantand "No, that bitch ain't a part of me". Povestea era ca femeia oricui pana la urma insala sau isi face de cap sau ceva de genu'. Ascult eu versurile, zic "Funneh" [si nu neaparat neadevarat]. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma uit eu mai bine la tipul cu freza foarte a la Ovidiu, cu fata lui boema de tip gay care a luat heroina cu cateva ore inainte, si incep sa il cam recunosc pe Chris Cornell... Si sunt adanc surprina. Ma uit eu mai bine, ascult mai atent si ma prind ca ritmul e unul foarte...hmm, how should i put it, foarte....pop? Foarte...dance? Foarte...sortof Backstreetboys? Si il arata pe Chris mai bine intr-un cadru si, finally, il recunosc, cu un mare "NUUU" in suflet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E un featuring cu Timbaland, de aia stilul foarte "Justin Timberlake". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si stau si ma intreb.... Prin ce ar trebui sa fi trecut omul asta ca sa ajunga sa faca asta...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Clipul asta ma face sa realizez ca se poate si mai rau decat mine, frate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Il consideram cam extra cool. Si acum cu parul ala exact Ovidiu-like care ii sta cu o p**a si se vede clar ca e totul foarte fake. Si vocea lui atat de puternica si de masculina si de sexy pe "Show me how to live" cantand cacaturi de genu' ala fara sens? JESUS. JEEESUS. Stai, ca abia acum incep sa realizez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asta e omul care canta "Be yourself" si "Like a stone"? &lt;em&gt;Asta?&lt;/em&gt; Holy fuck, man, where's this world going....&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Serios, ce o fi patit... Daca vrei o schimbare, du-te frate si fa-ti un tatuaj, get drunk, calatoreste, fa un menage a trois, something, nu sa te injosesti de buna voie la tv. Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why...? It hurts. Why....? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And i really thought he was cool.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acum nici hot nu mai e. Damnit. Cred ca mi-a murit pentru cateva luni bune. Jesus. Ce soc.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cum mai ascult eu Like a stone acum? O sa-mi fie rusine....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/42hnE8WWnY0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/42hnE8WWnY0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh God..... It actually HURTS. I swear. Oh God....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Why&lt;/em&gt;....?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-1360688286153371003?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/1360688286153371003/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/in-so-much-effin-pain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1360688286153371003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1360688286153371003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/in-so-much-effin-pain.html' title='*in so MUCH effin&apos; pain*'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3424837636037497908</id><published>2009-06-18T04:45:00.010+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T12:43:15.265+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Blue-eyed yellow clocks.</title><content type='html'>Yellow. That's a weird color, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma enerveaza ca se poarta in sezonul asta. Tocmai au facut-o mai putin speciala. Cah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saptmana asta m-am culcat mereu la 5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As bea o cafea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am obosit asa de atata invatat. Nu ca ar fi mult da' ma rog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lolita e un film interesant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi plac ochii albastri. Mi-au placut dintotdeauna atat de mult...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why are all English guys soo hot?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yellow clocks. I imagine yellow clocks. *scratches head* Si suna si bine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm bored and sleepy and tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma intreb cat de lunga ar putea fi viata asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meh.... Nu nostalgie. NU.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu mai tin minte ce anume din Fight Club m-a facut sa realizez ca nu sunt fara de frica, si toate fobiile mele au inceput sa imi treaca lent prin fata ochilor, pentru PRIMA data ever. Pana acum nu le constientizasem si chiar ma consideram fearless. Si ma oftic ca-s atat de multe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e frica de leagane. Yep. Imi e frica si sa ma dau eu, dar si sa vad pe altii in ele. Foarte frica. Probabil mi se trage de la cazaturile din copilarie. Nush exact. But i find it kinda weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e frica de apa adanca. Imi e frica de adancimea ei. Si cred ca si de vietatile ei. De-aia nu pot sa invat sa inot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e cam frica de inaltime, de cand am cazut 8 metri. Ma simt uncomfortable de fiecare data cand sunt pusa deasupra pamantului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uneori imi e frica de intuneric. Ca si cum nu as mai putea controla chestia asta si imi revin in imaginatie fantomele pe care mi le imaginam cand eram mica. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e foaaaaaaaaaahahaaaaaaaaaaaarte frica de suferinta. De orice fel, sentimentala, fizica, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e [nu frica, ci] groaza de violenta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e cam frica de insecte, nu le vreau pe mine sau in jurul meu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e foarte frica de barbati.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e frica de... esec.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e frica de durerea pe care as putea sa o provoc celor dragi in mod neintentionat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e frica de... mine, cu indoielile si dubioseniile mele duse la extrem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi e frica sa merg cu masina / orice vehicul pe roti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cred ca imi e frica si de oameni, da, la un oarecare nivel.. Adica asa imi explic neincrederea constanta pe care o am fata de ei. Pe toti ii desconsider. Deci probabil am un instinct de conservare bolnav.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi plac pietrele pretioase. Mai ales safirul, ca e albastru. Si opalul, ca e foarte shinny si kinda fascinating. Si rubinul, ca e ATAT de frumos de rosu. I love that color... Si onixu-mi place. Si obsidianu', ca e all black and cool. Si ametistul, ca e mov si are un nume interesant. Si jasperu' [weird name], e dubios asa. Si bloodstone, e cam foarte genial. I love girl stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shall go to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da' mi-e lene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karma is cool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blue eyes and yellow clocks. Hm, interesanta combinatie. Nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do i love how that sounds? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o.O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si de ce gandesc in imagini...? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeh... Oboseala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ce am gasit in Dexul nostru: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SCIENTÍST, -Ă, scientişti, -ste, s.m. şi f., adj. 1. S.m. şi f. Adept al scientismului. 2. Adj. Care aparţine scientismului, privitor la scientism. [Pr.: sci-en-] – Din fr. scientiste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjoIXAdZKBI/AAAAAAAAADw/p4pCKPzWCik/s1600-h/ametist.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 202px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjoIXAdZKBI/AAAAAAAAADw/p4pCKPzWCik/s320/ametist.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348596698809182226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Lights go out and I can't be saved &lt;br /&gt;Tides that I tried to swim against &lt;br /&gt;Brought me down upon my knees &lt;br /&gt;Oh I beg, I beg and plead &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20 de ani de asteptare... Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Singin', come out if things aren't said &lt;br /&gt;Shoot an apple off my head &lt;br /&gt;And a trouble that can't be named &lt;br /&gt;Tigers waitin' to be tamed &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pacat ca am alte ganduri pe care nu le pot spune. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Confusion never stops &lt;br /&gt;Closing walls and ticking clocks &lt;br /&gt;Gonna come back and take you home &lt;br /&gt;I could not stop that you now know &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yellow clocks.. [suna atat de bine]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Singin', come out upon my seas &lt;br /&gt;Curse missed opportunities &lt;br /&gt;Am I, a part of the cure &lt;br /&gt;Or am I part of the disease &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cine stie sa-mi spuna o poveste mai frumoasa decat cea cu Ulise si Penelopa? Vreau ceva nou, Jesus....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Oh nothing else compares &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Home, home, where I wanted to go &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh, I don't even remember how that feels... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, this was truly random.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanna play smth...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lights go out and I... just go to sleep. I hope. Between closing walls and ticking yellow clocks... [ha, I said it again. xD]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3424837636037497908?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3424837636037497908/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/yellow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3424837636037497908'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3424837636037497908'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/yellow.html' title='Blue-eyed yellow clocks.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjoIXAdZKBI/AAAAAAAAADw/p4pCKPzWCik/s72-c/ametist.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-7813925956540113854</id><published>2009-06-17T14:06:00.014+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T16:21:38.165+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Fury</title><content type='html'>Lots of things happened. As putea scrie despre atat de multe lucruri... Probabil ca asta e motivul pt care uneori nu scriu, desi as vrea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ascult singura melodie care ma poate face sa ma simt high. Ascult juma de minut din ea si gata, ma ia si plutesc pe undeva cu ritmul si cu tot ce exprima. Si ma uit in negrul cafelei. Si mi-e cald dar nu mai simt. Si nu mai conteaza. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pray that there's no God"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am revazut [iar] Fight Club acum 2 nopti. De fiecare data descopar ceva nou la el.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi-a amintit ca uneori poti castiga si luandu-ti bataie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sau ca uneori trebuie sa fii batut fara mila pentru a castiga. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I make no sense. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dupa ce am dat examenul de capacitate la romana m-am intors acasa foarte fericita. Iar in lift a urcat cu mine un vecin pe care il placeam la vremea aia. Si nush ce vorbeam noi acolo, si ce ii ziceam eu, and he said "Toate la timpul lor". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mai auzisem expresia respectiva si inainte, dar atunci, in liftul ala, a fost prima data cand am inteles-o pe bune. M-am blocat si m-am uitat la el si am realizat ca he's right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate ca e ca un fel de "Nothing worth having comes easy" [Bob Kelso ruuuuuules], nush, dar zilele astea.... M-am tot gandit si am realizat ca pana acum, cam uitasem de chestia asta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar uitandu-ma in urma... La tot ce mi-am dorit, la tot ce mi s-a intamplat, la tot ce am avut si am pierdut... TOATE au venit la timpul lor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uneori suntem furiosi sau nerecunoscatori pt ca vrem lucrul x dar God sau providenta sau whatever nu ni-l da. Cand de fapt... lucrul x poate nu e ceea ce ne trebuie. Poate nu e ceva bun pt noi... But one can't really see that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And I'm too old to change..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Fight Club Tyler Durden era foarte revoltat si vorbea despre acceptarea faptului ca poate Dumnezeu te uraste. Well, m-am gandit la asta. Si nu stiu cum se simt ceilalti, dar eu stiu ca... cineva/ceva divin ma iubeste si protejeaza. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si fac ce pot pentru a imi creea un drum pe aici, in functie de ce oportunitati mi se ofera. Chestia e ca stiu ca tot ce se intampla, bun, rau, este de fapt... ceea ce am nevoie. Ca si cum acea mana care ma protejeaza imi trimite toate astea cu un scop bun, stiind ca as face fata sau ca...dunno, ca voi putea vedea ce se afla in substratul fiecarui lucru. Sau in adstrat, nush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blah. Thing is... Si eu sunt de multe ori nemultumita sau furioasa pt ca se intampla lucrul x, dar.... pana la urma, fiecare dintre ele e facut pentru mine. Si fiecare se intampla cu un scop, care in general imi schimba viata intr-un mod foarte bun. Motivul pentru care am probleme cu Aramis e sa putem fi si mai apropiati. Cu Athos... ca sa ne invatam minte si sa nu o mai facem. Motivul pentru care sunt nefericita pt atat de mult timp e sa pot aprecia atunci cand voi avea fericirea. Si sa fiu pregatita pentru ea....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De multe ori stau si ma gandesc si imi spun "Daca nu s-ar fi intamplat lucrul x, nu s-ar mai fi intamplat nici y, nici z, si nu as mai fi ajuns acolo... Si acolo fusese atat de bine.."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Viata mea e ca o scara. Una de marmura, care arata foarte frumos, cu sculpturi, inscrustatii si ornamente. Si atat, atat de rece. Fiecare pas are un ecou metalic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi place sa cred si sa sper ca la sfarsitul ei [al scarii, nu al vietii xD], acolo sus de tot, e ceva minunat. De cele mai multe ori nu imi vine sa cred asta si rad nemilos de mine si de propriile ganduri si dorinte. Dar... ceva imi spune ca intradevar, oricum as da-o, sus de tot e ceva de bine... Si pare logic asa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chiar nu pot vedea ce e acolo. E atat de sus... Nu bat pana acolo.. Pentru ca acum sunt atat, atat de jos. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De multe ori realizez ca "oh my God, uite cat de mult am reusit sa urc, si uite cat de sus ma aflu" dar nu e chiar asa... Sunt mai sus decat inainte, indeed, si cand ma uit inapoi, pare o mare realizare. Cand privesc in ansamblu insa, sunt inca atat, atat de jos... Sunt atat de jos incat nici nu imi pot imagina cum e doar cu cateva trepte mai sus. And i can't picture myself there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20 de ani si sunt incat ATAT de jos. Parca ar fi mers totul in slow motion.. Well yeah, pt ca de foarte putin timp am devenit constienta de existenta scarii si de ce trebuie de fapt sa fac. Sunt doar vreo doi ani de atunci. Nu [vreau sa] imi dau seama prin cate tre sa trec in urmatorii ca sa urc asa mult pana acolo....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar de fiecare data cand mai fac un pas, efectiv simt ca l-am urcat si ca nu am coborat. Un pas mic pe scara, unul mare pt Oana, vorba aia. De fiecare data cand se intampla ceva si sunt intr-un anumit loc, simt ca locul ala e &lt;em&gt;right&lt;/em&gt; for me. Si ca totul fusese asezat in asa fel incat eu sa ajung acolo, si acolo sa fie cu un milimetru mai sus, nu mai jos. And this is a really nice feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And i'm too young to care..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu inteleg tot. Si nu vad tot. Si nu accept tot. Si nu ma pot imagina inca atat de sus incat sa pot face toate astea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu daca pentru astea e de vina firea mea umana sau incapatanarea oarba.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sper doar ca pe drum e si o treapta unde pot realiza mai mult din toate astea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ideea e ca... zilele astea [mi-am amintit si] am invatat [mai bine] ca....toate la timpul lor. Everything you want will eventually happen. Dar doar daca e bun pentru tine, i guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tin minte ca acum niste ani in urma, mi-am dorit foarte mult sa intru intr-o gasca anume. Oamenii de acolo mi se pareau foarte cool si mai vorbeam cu cativa dintre ei. Dar mereu separat. In gasca lor mai mereu ma simteam kinda uncomfortable, dar nu o realizam. Doream foarte mult sa ma accepte. Si pana la urma... au trecut alte chestii peste mine. Si am cam uitat si de ei, si de a "lupta" pt ceea ce imi doream. Iar acum trec pe langa ei si, desi sunt mai mari decat mine, observ ca ei au stat pe loc si eu am mers mai departe. Atat la propriu, cat si la figurat. Ei nu au viata, eu...ma lupt pt ea. Si desi nu pot spune ca am o viata, si ca nu sunt o mica loserita de 20j de ani care sta cu ai ei, si desi nu pot sa nu fiu foarte mad at myself pt toate cele pt care nu lupt pt a le avea, macar...nush, chiar sunt multumita de cum imi traiesc viata. Sunt fericita cu ce am si e important pt mine, si sunt okay, ba chiar happy de cum imi duc existenta. Pentru ca e..altfel. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cat despre gasca aia... acum trec pe langa ei zambind. Pentru ca ei ma fac sa vad ca sunt buna. Mai buna decat altii. Si asta ma bucura. Pentru ca ma face sa cred ca am o sansa sa ajung sus candva si sa vad ce dracu' e acolo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca as fi intrat in gasca aia, poate ca as fi fost prinsa si as fi fost la fel ca ei si as fi stagnat pentru toata viata, who knows. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si de asta cred ca tot ce iti doresti dar nu primesti, [cel putin in cazul meu] ori nu ti-l doreai suficient, ori nu ti-ar fi facut bine. Ori, cel mai probabil, ambele. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, de foarte mult timp nu prea suport oamenii mari care stau cu parintii si/sau sunt intretinuti. Mi se pare patetic. Mi se pare patetic sa &lt;strong&gt;alegi&lt;/strong&gt; sa stai cu ei. Dar, ironic, asa cum mi se intampla in viata asta cu majoritatea lucrurilor pe care le urasc, pe alea trebuie sa le traiesc [si] eu! Ha. How awesome. *frowns*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probabil asta e ca o pedeapsa, un fel de "acum du-te la colt ca sa inveti sa nu mai judeci data viitoare".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kinda works...*looks elsewhere being revolted*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus... Sincer, inca nu as fi fost pregatita pentru altceva. *tiny smile* Pana la urma... toate la timpul lor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si asta [ca am ales sa fiu o intretinuta la 20j de ani - nu conteaza din ce motive] ma scoate din sarite si ma face sa fiu mad at myself, yes. Dar... partea buna e ca asta ma face sa vreau sa ajung si mai sus. Si mai ales, above all, e un lucru bun ca sunt atat de mad at unele persoane. Pentru ca nu te poti enerva asa decat pe cineva pe care &lt;em&gt;respecti&lt;/em&gt;. Cand nu voi mai fi furioasa si curca, si nici ei pe mine....va fi naspa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, uneori tre sa fii batut crunt pentru a castiga ceva, si toate vin la timpul lor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De cateva ori as fi putut avea fericirea. Dar....nu era momentul potrivit. Am si simtit asta, ca smth is really wrong about it. Si m-am dat inapoi. Probabil nu era momentul potrivit si pentru ca nu vazusem pe bune ca "dude, as putea sa o am chiar acum", si nici nu o prea apreciam cu adevarat.... Si cred ca din cauza asta, nici nu am stiut cum sa ma duc la ea si sa o iau pur si simplu. Era chiar acolo si nu am vazut-o bine. Probabil pentru ca sunt atat de jos pe scara. Si de multe ori ma pierd in ornamente si flori si detalii si uit ca de fapt am o treaba de facut si ca mai trebuie sa si inaintez.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus, daca acum un an in urma ar fi venit peste mine toate astea care au venit acum, sunt convinsa ca nu as fi facut fata. De asta au venit acum si nu cu o luna inainte, de exemplu. Conteaza foarte mult. Fiecare zi conteaza si are un cuvant de spus, fiecare ora poate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iar faptul ca fericirea fusese in fata mea si eu nu am vazut-o...imi arata mai multe lucruri. In primul rand, ca fericirea exista. Nu e o himera. Si ca la un moment dat va putea veni din nou la mine. Apoi, ca trebuie sa fiu mai constienta de ce se intampla in jurul meu ca sa o pot recunoaste data viitoare. Si, mai ales, ca trebuie sa fiu &lt;em&gt;pregatita&lt;/em&gt; pentru a o putea aprecia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ca...ultimele dati, ori...nu am meritat sa o am si de aia s-a dus, ori...nu am fost in stare sa o vad tocmai pentru ca la momentul respectiv nu era chestia right for me. Si poate ca a trecut pe acolo doar ca sa ma determine sa fiu mai buna pentru ea data viitoare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si de cateva ori am stat si m-am intrebat pe mine... de ce dracu' am obsesia asta cu "a fi buna in orice". Am stat si m-am intrebat, oare conteaza cu adevarat pt cineva/ceva anume? Chiar si pentru mine, are vreo importanta...? Oare ma ajuta la ceva? Mi se cam parea o obsesie fara sens. Dar avand in vedere ca viata mea e ascendenta...sa fiu destul de buna pt ceva anume pare a fi o parte din ceea ce tre sa accomplish pt a vedea ce e sus. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa fiu destul de buna pentru a fi fericita cu adevarat.. Suna atat de ca dracu'. Dar ma face sa ma gandesc la basme, cand zmeii sunt rai si niciodata nu ajung la happy ending, in schimb eroii care suferisera pana atunci si nu se dadusera in laturi de la a se tine pe drumul drept, din cauza "drumului initiatic" [vezi Harap-Alb] prin care trecusera in tot timpul ala, ajung sa fie fericiti. Ca o recompensa, ca si cum ar fi meritat-o pentru tot binele adus celorlalti, prin tot ce au facut. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oare e si viata fiecaruia asa? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pentru a avea un anumit lucru, tre sa fii &lt;em&gt;demn&lt;/em&gt; de el...? Tre sa fii suficient de &lt;em&gt;puternic&lt;/em&gt; pentru a ii putea face fata, avand in vedere ca e un lucru imens pentru tine? Ca Atlas, care era suficient de fortos pentru a tine globul pamantesc in maini atat de mult timp? Poate si pentru cazul in care lucrurile nu ar iesi asa cum iti doreai, sa poti rezista? Trebuie sa fii suficient de &lt;em&gt;bun&lt;/em&gt; [as in kind] pentru a avea parte de ceva bun [as in frumos]...? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cred ca raspunsul il gasesc chiar in existenta acelei scari. Poate ca lucrurile alea sunt puse atat de sus pe ea cu un motiv. Pentru ca sa cobori e mult mai usor. Si o poti face intr-o secunda, te pui pe balustrada si aluneci si te distrezi pana ajungi jos de tot. Dar sa urci... Obosesti mult mai repede, depui mult efort, astea... Si poate ca asta nu e doar scara frumos construita apartinand numai lucrurilor frumoase de pe lumea asta [din lumea mea, mai bine zis], ci probabil ca e si...scara &lt;strong&gt;mea&lt;/strong&gt;... Poate ma reprezinta pe mine. Poate d-asta sunt puse toate atat de sus si de departe... Si cu siguranta d-asta e atat de greu sa ajungi la ele.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totul are un pret pe lumea asta. Poate ca pur si simplu asta e pretul pe care trebuie sa il platesc eu pentru fericire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uneori e flatant sa realizez ca par atat de speciala. Poate d-asta imi e cam greu sa o accept. "Much more special than many would dream of being". Inca nush la ce se refera... Ma intreb daca voi afla vreodata..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Si Chirila sucks. Cum sa zici ca "fericirea este ceva ce nu se gaseste niciodata"? Ungrateful human being.] &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...I'm such a friggin kid.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-7813925956540113854?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/7813925956540113854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/fury.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7813925956540113854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7813925956540113854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/fury.html' title='Fury'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3776751287668546493</id><published>2009-06-15T12:44:00.008+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T03:07:11.327+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Corinthians 1st</title><content type='html'>Dintotdeauna mi-a placut si am cautat citatul asta, si datorita astora din How I Met Your Mother - care, brusc, imi place [sunt la sezonu' treeeeei], pt ca e vorba de o gasca unita de o mana de prieteni, si cautarea dragostei or smth like that - am reusit sa dau de el, si desi e din biblie si e extra cheesy, chiar imi place mult cum suna, so.... [Desi da, nu as recita-o la nunta mea, prea cliseu, totusi :P] Mereu ajunge la mine.... So cute. &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjYaJtU_LJI/AAAAAAAAADg/3-CF-4Cif90/s1600-h/1600.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 280px; height: 279px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjYaJtU_LJI/AAAAAAAAADg/3-CF-4Cif90/s320/1600.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347490361637809298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love is patient; love is kind; &lt;br /&gt;love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. &lt;br /&gt;(Love) does not insist on its own way; &lt;br /&gt;it is not irritable or resentful;&lt;br /&gt;(Love) does not rejoice in wrongdoing, &lt;br /&gt;but rejoices in the truth.&lt;br /&gt;(Love) bears all things; (love) believes all things, &lt;br /&gt;(love) hopes all things; (love) endures all things.&lt;br /&gt;Love never ends.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3776751287668546493?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3776751287668546493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/corinthians-1st.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3776751287668546493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3776751287668546493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/corinthians-1st.html' title='Corinthians 1st'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjYaJtU_LJI/AAAAAAAAADg/3-CF-4Cif90/s72-c/1600.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3602591086461210233</id><published>2009-06-15T01:57:00.012+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-16T03:06:37.316+03:00</updated><title type='text'>What would you wish you'd done before you died?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjYUg7zBFYI/AAAAAAAAADY/9B0K8sdGHNQ/s1600-h/fp1773-fight-club-soap.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjYUg7zBFYI/AAAAAAAAADY/9B0K8sdGHNQ/s320/fp1773-fight-club-soap.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347484163589084546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like Brad Pitt. Not like-like him, but like him. Adica simpatie, o dara de respect. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to like-like him a LOT-LOOOOOT. Cand eram mica, a fost a doua sau a treia mea "iubire" [prima fusese DiCaprio in Titanic], dar la el a fost MUUUUHUHUUUUUULT mai intens, din cauza personajului Louis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am vazut la tv un film cu el chiar in seara asta [da, ce fac eu in loc sa invat pt bac] si am realizat: I kinda like him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si asta m-a facut sa caut date despre viata lui. N-am gasit nimic entertaining. Tot cu ce stiam dinainte am ramas, ca e sagetator, ca a fost insurat cu Jennifer Aniston de care-mi pare rau ca s-a despartit [cred ca se potriveau f dragut], ca dintotdeauna a parut a nice guy in interviuri si chestii si....ca are copii cu Angelina. Care cam e reaaally beautiful. Si el, de asemenea. Sau ma rog, a fost. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adica tre s-o recunosti, fie ca il placi sau nu, tipu' are o frumusete atat de....frumoasa. I mean.. Jesus, ochii aia... Trasaturile alea si fata angelica dar atat de....puternica, de barbat. Si buzele alea roz si perfecte. Si nasul cute dar masculin. Frate, parca e sculptat in alabastru, in marmura, nush. Are trasaturi si corp de zeu. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ce am scris aici e pur si simplu partea care-l admira si il considera frumos, fara alte implicatii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si acum partea care a avut primele fantezii sexuale [as a kid] cu el: God, he is HAAAAAAAAWT! As fi zis ca he "was", dar tot e. E Brad Pitt, nu ai cum sa nu fii influentat de titlul de "sexyest man alive". Yum. Frickin' yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Partea care likes-likes him si-a spus cuvantul. Revenim la parerea obiectiva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bai, am cam.. crescut cu el. Dar asta nu ma face sa il plac, ca pana acum mi se foarte falfaia de persoana lui. Dar in seara asta am realizat o chestie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi place tot ce imi transmite munca lui. Despre asta e vorba. Am citit pe wikipedia ca omu' mai avea doua saptmani pana termina facultatea dar a fugit din orasul natal la Los Angeles ca sa ia lectii de actorie. A lucrat ce a putut pt a le plati, de la delivery guy pana la a se deghiza in pui la...cred ca un fel de restaurant de mancare mexicana or smth like that. And that's kinda cool. Adica se vede clar ca si-a urmat chemarea, a simtit ca e facut pt lucrul x si nu s-s dat in laturi de la nimic pentru a isi realiza visul. Si asta e de foarte admirat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si se pare ca asta a fost destinul lui. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus ca asta demonstreaza ca a inceput totul de jos. Si asta poate ca si-a lasat amprenta asupra lui ca om.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si dupa cum spuneam, munca lui. Well, are cam multe filme la activ, si cred ca am vazut majoritatea. Sau ma rog, jumatatea. *thinks again* Sau bine, cele mai "rasunatoare". Cred ca primul fu Interviu cu un vampir, care...din partea mea, nu cred ca mai are nevoie de vreo prezentare. Un fel de "filmul vietii mele", primul film special si minunat care m-a marcat mai mult decat puternic si mi-a cam influentat si viata, si felul de a fi. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apoi am mai vazut Legends of the fall [filmul unde avea pleata] si mi s-a parut okay; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;apoi Seven - care, la vremea aia, m-a cam lasat cu traume asa, adica fusese pretty good [adica entertaining]; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Twelve monkeys - in care a jucat cam genial, iar ca film, m-a ajutat mult sa inteleg anumite chestii despre un anume subiect important pt mine, d-asta filmul are o oarecare importanta pt mine; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 ani in Tibet - it was kinda good si ma bucur ca [am impresia ca] i-am prins mesajul; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meet Joe Black - evident ca ma uitam ca sa pot saliva la el [looking lovely in suit] pt ca era cam in floarea varstei, dar tind sa cred ca am inteles si din filmul asta ceva; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fight Club - ha. Tin minte ca prima data cand l-am vazut, m-am uitat pt ca my first big crush adora filmul asta; si m-am uitat si m-a cam fascinat asa. Era si atat de complicat, si de interesant, si coloana sonora, si dialogurile si... si filnalul genial, si... just... Awesomeness.; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snatch - funneh; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mexicanul - funneh and like it; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spy Game - l-am vazut dar nu-mi amintesc nimic de el deci probabil era un cacat; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oceans Eleven - really funneh and entertaining asa; tin minte ca manca TOT fucking timpul in filmul ala; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Troia - *deep breath* febletea mea. Iubesc filmele cu subeict istoric si cred ca asta e cel mai bine facut. Ah. Orgasms.; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr and Mrs Smith -  un mega extra CACAT. M-am uitat cu greu pana la jumate si l-am inchis ca eram prea plictisita [and i never do that, mereu termin cartile si filmele, oricat de mult le-as uri]; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Babel - interesting and kinda tragic, dar foarte. misto facut; i like it;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;si Benjamin Button, care...yeh, singurul film la care am plans in cinematograf, and i'm reaaaaally proud to say that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, in concluzie.... I like his work. Filmele lui au un mesaj si imi transmit ceva. Si joaca pretty good. Parerea mea sincera e ca tipu' poate mult mai mult pe partea asta, dar pt ca arata atat de bine si a fost considerat atat de "God", a uitat sa mai si munceasca pe bune. Cred sincer ca zace ceva foarte foarte bun in el. Am vazut asta in Twelve monkeys, juca bestial rolul de nebun. Acolo mi s-a cam schimbat parerea despre el [in bine, evident], pt ca ma cam impresionase cum juca. Cred ca acolo am vazut ca omu' e si actor, nu doar Louis cu care aveam fantezii :))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De mentionat ca la Legends of the fall si Fight Club m-am uitat si pt...you know, anumite....nevoi. xD *little drool remembering how Tyler looks*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...nenea asta a reusit cu mine ceea ce n-a mai reusit niciun actor EVER. Si anume sa aiba trei filme care sa ma influenteze extrem de mult. Si TREI, adica numarul meu magic. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si anume Interviu cu un vampir, Fight club, Troy. Sunt ATAT de speciale pt mine. Probabil pt ca au o oarecare legatura cu mine, viata mea si lucrurile la care tin. They're so so very special to me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dragul meu Ahile, pe care l-am placut de prima data cand am auzit de el :P, desi habar nu aveam de ce, mai ales ca nu ii intelegeam felul de a fi si il consideram cam prea evil pt gustul meu. How sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjWKqt1pPFI/AAAAAAAAADQ/L4-TCWKJZU0/s1600-h/Triumph_of_Achilles_in_Corfu_Achilleion.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 144px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjWKqt1pPFI/AAAAAAAAADQ/L4-TCWKJZU0/s320/Triumph_of_Achilles_in_Corfu_Achilleion.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347332599036066898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah. I like Brad Pitt. I really do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, astea trei sunt filmele super improtante, dar ar mai fi si Benjamin Button care ar putea fi atat de important. Adica stiti cum e...It miiiiiight be. But it isn't. But it just miiiiiiight be. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inca am sechele cand imi amintesc de filmul ala.. Awesomeness. Kinda really love it. Very much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imi place la cuplul "Brangelina" ca si ea are filme de genul asta, cu mesaj catre oameni and shit, si ea exprima ceva. Chiar am vazut unul mai demult asa, pe care inca nu il pot uita. M-a cam impresionat, ceva cu razboi si cu refugiatii din Somalia, smth... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah, si imi mai place de ea si ca se implica in ajutorarea oamenilor, organizatiilor, astea. Misto. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And i guess i used to "like-like" her. Adica she's....beautiful. *scratches head* Dunno. Considerata a goddess. Nu ma omor dupa ea, dar daca ar trebui sa fac un top cu chicks I'd have sex with, ar fi si ea pe acolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si imi place la el si ca imbatraneste frumos. Adica si-a pastrat the hotness pana pe la vreo 40 de ani, iar acum are 45 si arata asa:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjWKStPhnEI/AAAAAAAAADA/j70FIhKLiGY/s1600-h/215px-Brad_Pitt_81st_Academy_Awards.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjWKStPhnEI/AAAAAAAAADA/j70FIhKLiGY/s320/215px-Brad_Pitt_81st_Academy_Awards.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347332186559323202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah, nu imi place sa raspund la intrebari gen "melodia preferata", "trupa preferata", "actrita preferata", "filmul preferat" - probabil pt ca nu am doar cate unul/una singura din fiecare, si imi plac multe chestii in moduri diferite, si nici unul/una nu a reusit sa ma dea peste cap... [si probabil ma consider si prea cul pt a cataloga pe cineva/ceva asa] dar daca ar trebui sa spun "actorul preferat" cred ca el ar fi singurul raspuns. Cu siguranta toata lumea ar crede ca e din cauza fizicului, si asta ma oftica. Dar nu. E pt ca nu am gasit altul caruia sa ii port atata...sortof respect. Pentru acele trei filme, da, frate, good job, superb, you rock. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si chestia asta cu admiratia pt el ma face sa imi doresc ceva in mod special....*smiles*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3602591086461210233?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3602591086461210233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-would-you-wish-youd-done-before.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3602591086461210233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3602591086461210233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/what-would-you-wish-youd-done-before.html' title='What would you wish you&apos;d done before you died?'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjYUg7zBFYI/AAAAAAAAADY/9B0K8sdGHNQ/s72-c/fp1773-fight-club-soap.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-6693090464602430101</id><published>2009-06-13T15:54:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-13T16:40:21.624+03:00</updated><title type='text'>My mirror, my sword and shield.</title><content type='html'>I used to rule the world &lt;br /&gt;Seas would rise when I gave the word &lt;br /&gt;Now in the morning I sleep alone &lt;br /&gt;Sweep the streets I used to own &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to roll the dice &lt;br /&gt;Feel the fear in my enemys' eyes &lt;br /&gt;Listen as the crowd would sing &lt;br /&gt;"Now the old king is dead, long live the king" &lt;br /&gt;One minute I held the key &lt;br /&gt;Next the walls were closed on me &lt;br /&gt;And I discovered that my castles stand &lt;br /&gt;Upon pillars of salt, and pillars of sand &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing &lt;br /&gt;Roman calvary choirs are singing &lt;br /&gt;Be my mirror, my sword and shield &lt;br /&gt;My missionaries in a foreign field &lt;br /&gt;For some reason I can't explain &lt;br /&gt;Once you know there was never, never an honest word &lt;br /&gt;That was when I ruled the world &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was the wicked and wild wind &lt;br /&gt;Blew down the doors to let me in &lt;br /&gt;Shattered windows and the sound of drums &lt;br /&gt;People couldn't believe what I'd become &lt;br /&gt;Revolutionaries wait &lt;br /&gt;For my head on a silver plate &lt;br /&gt;Just a puppet on a lonely string &lt;br /&gt;Oh, who would ever want to be king &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing &lt;br /&gt;Roman calvary choirs are singing &lt;br /&gt;Be my mirror, my sword and shield &lt;br /&gt;My missionaries in a foreign field &lt;br /&gt;For some reason I can't explain &lt;br /&gt;I know Saint Peter won't call my name &lt;br /&gt;Never an honest word &lt;br /&gt;But that was when I ruled the world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_7OQSl4FdJE&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_7OQSl4FdJE&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tocmai si-au castigat un loc in lista trupelor [trei, cu ei] care-mi plac, datorita versurilor de mai sus si pentru ca pur si simplu m-am trezit plangand si zambind in acelasi timp, reascultand piesa asta.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-6693090464602430101?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/6693090464602430101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-mirror-my-sword-and-shield.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6693090464602430101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6693090464602430101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/my-mirror-my-sword-and-shield.html' title='My mirror, my sword and shield.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-9099304507654578527</id><published>2009-06-11T00:16:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T00:17:17.583+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Hyper Chrondiac Music</title><content type='html'>Well... "When there's nothing left to say, then something's wrong".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-9099304507654578527?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/9099304507654578527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/hyper-chrondiac-music.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/9099304507654578527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/9099304507654578527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/hyper-chrondiac-music.html' title='Hyper Chrondiac Music'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-7375194344033475183</id><published>2009-06-09T01:23:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-09T01:27:53.641+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Colors</title><content type='html'>I'm weird...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cred ca e prima data in 20 de ani cand nu ma pot prinde nici eu &lt;strong&gt;exact&lt;/strong&gt; ce se intampla cu mine, si mai ales &lt;em&gt;de ce&lt;/em&gt;. ..Kinda confusing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's just true and it's... never enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-7375194344033475183?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/7375194344033475183/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/colors.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7375194344033475183'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7375194344033475183'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/colors.html' title='Colors'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-7662775558201952367</id><published>2009-06-08T10:59:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T11:39:09.467+03:00</updated><title type='text'>You lucky bastards.</title><content type='html'>Nush ce am ca m-am trezit cu chef de melodia asta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OPD0H-qDkJM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OPD0H-qDkJM&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt; Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh, am ajuns sa ma prind. Am constientizat care e mai importanta pentru mine: prietenia sau dragostea. Oricum ar fi trebuit sa stiu pana acum, dar cred ca nu voiam eu sa imi recunosc mie asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, dragostea...sa zicem ca e mai... i dunno, multifunctionala? Dragostea e mai...pur si simplu e mai.... I dunno. Dar e. [Aha. Ati inteles tot.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luate impreuna, dragostea si prietenia, puse una langa alta, s-a dovedit ca pentru mine dragostea e ceva mai sus. Adica o consider forta suprema, iar prietenia...e ATAT de aproape de ea. Dragostea e mai sus cu doar un 0,1% or so. Dar nah... Acel 0,1% face diferenta. *smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cred ca mi-am dat seama de asta atunci cand le-am pus pe amandoua in fata mea si m-am prins ca doar asa se vede ca...prietenia e limitata. Luata separat, prietenia e atat de...wow, si de...nelimitata, dar comparativ cu dragostea, prietenia are anumite frontiere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe cand dragostea...consider ca nu are granite pe nicaieri. Si ca intervine pe toate planurile, unde vrea ea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma simt mai saraca...*sad smile*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mah, si sincer... nu cred ca sunt singura zbuciumata care simte asta. Dar eu pur si simplu o recunosc. Adica... pentru cei care nu se prind, ar trebui sa analizeze cat de mult ii schimba iubirea. Si cat de mult ii schimba persoana iubita. Chestie pe care prietenii nu o prea fac. Doar dragostea are forta asta de a te schimba atat de mult, si sincer, si atat de...frumos. Devii cu totul alta persoana. E chiar un comportament foarte ciudat si interesant de observat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De altfel, o persoana sufera mai mult atunci cand are prieteni dar nu are "jumatate", decat invers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Parca doar dragostea are puterea asta de a veni cand te astepti mai putin, si sa iti dea lumea peste cap. Si efectiv sa nu ii poti rezista. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si as i said... Prietenia e ATAT de aproape de ea... Pentru ca e atat de pretioasa si atat de greu de gasit, si chiar si de pastrat uneori. Dar... Consider ca tot dragostea e...you know, nenorocita aia care face TOTAL ce vrea cu tine. Pe cand prietenia e mult mai...cinstita, asa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate de aceea.... friends can become lovers but lovers can't be friends. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am vazut toate astea clar cand am realizat ca... I have two incredibly awesome friends [or more] and no one to love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-7662775558201952367?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/7662775558201952367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-lucky-bastards.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7662775558201952367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7662775558201952367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/you-lucky-bastards.html' title='You lucky bastards.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3084992342219266472</id><published>2009-06-07T14:04:00.021+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T22:20:38.099+03:00</updated><title type='text'>"Ca un shpritz au trecut patru ani de liceu..."</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SiuoaBtrVsI/AAAAAAAAACI/AD7jC1871YM/s1600-h/GEDC0233.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SiuoaBtrVsI/AAAAAAAAACI/AD7jC1871YM/s320/GEDC0233.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344550547895310018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Siup_QSsHUI/AAAAAAAAACY/DpZET6-VSCM/s1600-h/P1130312.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Siup_QSsHUI/AAAAAAAAACY/DpZET6-VSCM/s320/P1130312.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344552286975434050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SiusjbKIh9I/AAAAAAAAACo/q4qMSbrIuz0/s1600-h/GEDC0235.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SiusjbKIh9I/AAAAAAAAACo/q4qMSbrIuz0/s320/GEDC0235.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344555107390883794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SiuoxYjZSSI/AAAAAAAAACQ/PTdwajj390s/s1600-h/GEDC0256.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SiuoxYjZSSI/AAAAAAAAACQ/PTdwajj390s/s320/GEDC0256.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344550949163190562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SiuqMn8ib6I/AAAAAAAAACg/76yDi5QAkq4/s1600-h/GEDC0198.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SiuqMn8ib6I/AAAAAAAAACg/76yDi5QAkq4/s320/GEDC0198.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344552516663275426" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vineri 5 iunie. Ziua banchetului de absolvire. M-am vazut cu my best friends si nu aveam niciuuuun chef sa merg... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La 7 [cu intarziere de vreo 20j de minute] au venit sa ma ia din Herastrau cu masina parintii partenerului meu.. Pe la 7 si un sfert am ajuns la Clubul Diplomatilor. Intram noi acolo, vedem niste oameni imbracati de gala si nu recunoastem pe nimeni. Pe  masura ce ma apropii insa, recunosc trei colege si trei colegi. Aratau bestial. Evident, fetele se pupa si se complimenteaza. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Urcam sus, in salon. Camere de filmat, blituri peste blituri, chestii. Ne asteptau directoarele si profa de romana, care ne-a pupat cu drag. Stateam eu acolo simtindu-ma dubios, si deodata, cine intra in salon, eleganta si pe toculete frumoase si cu parul aranjat si micuta si draguta si zambitoare? Larry. xD M-am repezit la ea uimita si am luat-o in brate si am binevenit-o. A fost surpriza serii. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am trecut de doua ori pe covorul rosu. Prima data ne-a tras profa de romana, ca sa fim nitel mai cu mot asa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe la 7 jumate au inceput sa vina mai multi colegi. Ne-am strans toti jos, in...curte sau ce era aia. Oricum, foarte frumos si luxos totul. De la balconul salonului, directa tinea un discurs care era okay dar care ma plictisea. Singura chestie pe care mi-o mai amintesc e ca la sfarsit a zis "Felicitari, absolventi ai liceului Jean Monnet!" and that was really nice, pt ca acel cuvant, "absolventi", m-a facut sa realizez ca.. wow, [aproape] am terminat un liceu. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si apoi pana la 10, s-au facut poze. Si poze. Si poze. DOUA ore de poze! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar pe o scara de la 1 la 10, 10 inseamnand foarte boring, era de 5. So it was okay, dunno. Au venit si restul colegilor. Ne stransesem cam toti. Fu placut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tin sa spun trei cuvinte mici dar atat de curpinzatoare: Kokain. MARE om. Sunt mandra si flatata ca am fost colega cu el. *smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apoi ne-am pus la mese si am inceput sa bagam nitel in noi, apoi am dansat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si pana la miezul noptii totul a decurs foarte frumos. Rochile de gala se vedeau foarte misto, ringul de dans era plin, m-am rupt in figuri de dans cu Ruxy, era o atmosfera foarte tare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La miezul noptii DJul a zis ca avem un sarbatorit, si Rares a fost luat pe sus si aruncat de cateva ori in aer, de catre prietenii apropiati. L-am felicitat and all, apoi am stat putin cu el pe balcon si parea foarte emotionat. It was really sweet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La miezul noptii si doua, trei minute, s-au bagat ACDC si I love rock n roll and it was truly AWESOOOOOME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S-a bagat muzica foarte okay, de calitate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miezul noptii e momentul magic in care totul incepe sa devina extra funny... Fetele incepeau sa schiopateze graaaav de la pantofi, mergeau cu rochiile ridicate, si cam toata lumea era luata. Am asistat la cateva chestii super amuzante. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe la 1, 1 jumate, s-au bagat artificii, am coborat toti in gradina / curte / whatever si ne-am felicitat, huguit, am cantat si plans. S-a bagat Ani de liceu si s-a adus tortul. Vreo cateva colege au inceput sa planga. Sincer, imi cam venea si mie, dar in general eu.. plang pe interior. *rolls eyes* Cred ca a fost momentul cel mai intens. Eram toti acolo si ne imbratisam si chiar ne pasa sincer si asta se simtea... Plangeau si profesorii, si directele... Really sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am facut si hora. xD Eu cu niste fete de la alta clasa. Am stat si la barfa, am schimbat impresii si pareri cam cu toata lumea, nu s-a certat nimeni, toate antipatiile se uitasera, pe mine m-au strigat TOTI cand eram singura ratacita de la balcon si ei jos ca sa facem o poza cu totii, it was truly awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La 2 trebuia sa plec. Asa ca dupa ce s-au terminat artificiile and shit, n-am mai rezistat si dupa... hmmm, 7 ore de stat in pantofi, mi-am pus tenesii si am coborat la restul colegilor tipand "eu ma despart de voi in tenesi" si ei m-au intampinat cu aplauze si tipete. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toata seara bausem doua vodka, whisky, si vreo trei beri. Plus cele doua beri din timpul zilei. Si inainte sa plec, pe la 2, pusesem toti bani si am luat pe sustache o sticla mare si buna de Chivas. Si de la trei guri din sticla aia m-am facut MUCI, praf si pulbere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exact cand au venit parintii prtenerului meu sa ne ia, eu eram in culmea....betiei. Eram cam rupta. In masina eram eu cu el si cu o alta colega pe care am lasat-o la unirii, plus parintii in fata. Cat timp colega aia a stat cu noi in masina, i-am lasat pe ei sa vorbeasca cu parintii, pentru ca eu sigur nu articulam bine cuvintele. Si aproape ca adormisem acolo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A coborat colega la unirii, si urma momentul critic in care trebuia sa vorbesc ca sa le spun unde stau si cum sa ma aduca. Nush cum am reusit.... Cam muream de rusine asa, si cert e ca m-au adus in fata blocului. Cobor din masina, ma impeidic, injur, traversez, ajung la bloc, ma chinuiesc o groaaaza cu cheile, cand tot ce trebuia sa fac era doar sa apas cu ciuperca aia nenorocita pe interfon. Trag ca disperata de usa, intru, urc, ma duc fiiiix la baie, ca faceam pe mine. Ai mei dormeau. Ma lovesc de usi, astea, ajung in baie, reusesc cu chiu cu vai sa ma schimb, intru in dormitor, trantesc rochia pe undeva, ma pun in pat raspunzand cu "Mhm..." la intrebarile ingrijorate ale bunica-mii, si cel mai probabil... adorm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu cand am ajuns si sincer... nu ma prind nici cum am reusit sa ajung in pat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A doua zi... Sambata 6 iunie. xD Ma trezesc la 12. Nu pot merge drept. Nu numai, da' ma lovesc de toate care-mi ies in drum, usi, mobila, astea. Abia reusesc sa ajung la baie sa ma spal pe fata [am dormit machiata] si nu ma vad bine. Totul e neclar si in ceata. Se sperie ai mei de fata mea umflata. Ma doare un ochi si nu il pot tine deschis :)) Ma gandeam ca poate-i vanat *scratches head* Durea ca dracu'. Se invarteste casa raaau. Nici cafea nu pot sa beau. Ma hotarasc ca cea mai buna solutie e sa ma culc iar, sperand ca la a doua trezire voi fi mai...treaza. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ma trezesc iar pe la 3. Atunci e al dracu'.. Deja mahmureala se transforma in dureri, ameteli, stare naspa de voma, foame dar dracu' poate sa bage ceva in gura? Am baut la lapte in prostie [vreo doua cutii] gandindu-ma ca in Evul Mediu era un medicament genial :)) Si dupa vreo doua tentative de vomitat [am mancat un mar fortat pt asta] si multe vaiete si gemete, si plans la tata si intrebat daca sa beau zeama de varza ajuta, am adormit iar. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A treia trezire a fost cu noroc. La ora 7 seara totul parea mai linistit.... Era atat de bine... Ah, i-am multumit Cerului. Ma puteam misca mai bine... Tot nu vedeam eu clar dar macar treusera durerile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am mancat toaaaata seara. O pofta d-aia incredibila de a baga in tine. Poate de la faptul ca eram...pretty much imbalsamata. xD &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toata ziua aia, cand ma gandeam la alcool, imi venea sa borasc, si as fi vrut sa nu mai aud de asa ceva EVEEEEER. Efectiv am &lt;strong&gt;URAT &lt;/strong&gt;tot ce tine de bautura. Inca nu imi vine sa cred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am fost mai mahmura decat as fi fost vreodata [de obicei nu sufar de mahmureala, mi s-a intamplat de vreo trei ori in toata viata].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inca simt asa, un gol undeva in creier, probabil de la uciderea bietilor neuroni... Da' e bine, cred ca s-au obisnuit saracii... De atata timp de cand fac asta... Of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Piciorusele ma dor ingrozitor si sigur am si rani de la pantofi... Tot nu pot merge corect, dar de data asta nu mai e de la alcool.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am o ditamai vanataia in genunchi si habar n-am de unde. Incerc sa-mi amintesc dar...nimic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt extra mandra de toata ziua in care am zacut in pat de la ce rupere a fost. E o mandrie din aia dureroasa asa, cum nu se intampla prea des in viata. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though... O sa tin minte pentru data viitoare sa am grija cat ma imbalsamez. Jesus. Inconstienta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ca sa o dau si in chestii nostalgicoase... Frate, nu am simtit cand au trecut 4 ani. Si chiar daca nu era locul meu preferat din toata lumea, sunt 4 ani din viata petrecuti acolo.. Sunt amintiri frumoase si urate, dar ii dau acel gust... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chiar NU am simtit cand au trecut. Credeam ca povestile alea ca anii de liceu trec fara sa iti dai seama nu sunt adevarate. Dar chiar asa e. Si ce pot sa zic.. Nu va mai fi nimic la fel. *smiles* A fost frumos, frate. A fost foarte frumos. Si sunt mandra ca am putut duce pana la capat Liceul Jean Monnet plin de fite si atacat de bombe. Oana cea de acum 4 ani in urma m-ar felicita cu drag acum. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E locul unde m-am maturizat. Am trecut de la boboaca blonda la...nush ce sunt acum, dar oricum, sunt mai matura. Si astia toti au fost langa mine. Si sincer, ma bucur mult pt asta. A fost ceva...inedit. I dunno, man...*sighs* I know i'll miss it...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjAHSf9mXhI/AAAAAAAAAC4/P42ZI4LXMYo/s1600-h/DSC05918.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SjAHSf9mXhI/AAAAAAAAAC4/P42ZI4LXMYo/s320/DSC05918.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345780772087684626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12B, a fost frumos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acum patru ani ascultam Bitza si am retinut niste versuri care mi-au rasunat in minte zilele astea foarte puternic... Nu pot sa cred ca inca le mai tin minte...*sad smile*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In prima zi de liceu mi-au luat sapca cu japca,&lt;br /&gt;M-alinam cu gandul ca se-ntoarce roata, &lt;br /&gt;Am incalcat regulile mai tarziu, evident&lt;br /&gt;Contra exemplu perfect Declarat permanent.&lt;br /&gt;Tutun alcool si droguri se invarteau in jur,&lt;br /&gt;Din 7 zile 5 eram mahmur, snur se tineau baieramele&lt;br /&gt;Dispareau sticlele mai repede ca zilele.&lt;br /&gt;Belelele nu apareau decat cu ai mei, &lt;br /&gt;Cand ma vedeau ca umblu doar cu derbedei,&lt;br /&gt;Plin de idei, pentru o iesire din banal,&lt;br /&gt;Acel copil ciudat, cu acel ceva special.&lt;br /&gt;Ca un sprit au trecut 4 ani de liceu,&lt;br /&gt;Sapca altuia era acum pe capul meu.&lt;br /&gt;Intram in viata combatant, luptator,&lt;br /&gt;In razboiul in care nimeni nu e invingator.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3084992342219266472?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3084992342219266472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/ca-un-shpritz-au-trecut-patru-ani-de.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3084992342219266472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3084992342219266472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/ca-un-shpritz-au-trecut-patru-ani-de.html' title='&quot;Ca un shpritz au trecut patru ani de liceu...&quot;'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SiuoaBtrVsI/AAAAAAAAACI/AD7jC1871YM/s72-c/GEDC0233.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2348215275137055348</id><published>2009-06-04T00:48:00.020+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T13:18:56.271+03:00</updated><title type='text'>There are twenty years to go...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SirVqGpWaAI/AAAAAAAAACA/mK62tnnm47o/s1600-h/The_Butterfly_Effect_Wallpaper_5_800.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SirVqGpWaAI/AAAAAAAAACA/mK62tnnm47o/s320/The_Butterfly_Effect_Wallpaper_5_800.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344318827143784450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am o stare dubioasa… E oarecum visatoare si warm and fuzzy asa.. Weird. Nu m-am mai simtit de mult asa... dunno… increzatoare? Desi… Asta e doar un 1% din tot ce simt eu de fapt (restul nefiind chestii prea fuzzy), dar e atat de intens incat ma copleseste. And that’s pretty much awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma simt atat de… sa indraznesc sa spun “bine”?, incat nici sa scriu nu pot, nu am stare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;&lt; “Alchimistul” e una din cele doua carti care m-au schimbat, pe mine, viata mea, si modul in care sa privesc lumea. In “Alchimistul” se explica perfect ideea ca “everything happens for a reason”, pe care am aflat-o peste cativa ani dupa citirea cartii, de la tine. Probabil “Alchimistul” a fost pentru mine un prolog pentru ce aveam sa invat mai tarziu. Se spune acolo ca orice dorinta, orice vis, orice speranta, orice sentiment sincer si orice lucru pe care ti-l doresti din toata inima, s-a nascut in sufletul tau pentru ca asa doresc Universul, Dumnezeu, si destinul. S-a nascut in tine cu un motiv, si acel motiv e ca trebuie sa se intample. Altfel nu se nastea. Nu il simti degeaba. Se spune acolo ca atunci cand vrei ceva din toata inima, “tot universul conspira sa iti implineasca dorinta”. Invatasem foarte mult din acele cuvinte si chiar ma schimbasera, ma ghidam dupa ele. Chiar ma conectasem cu ele intr-un mod ciudat si, copil fiind pe cand le citisem, simtisem ca sunt adevarate. Si le-am pastrat mereu in suflet, se intiparisera in mine. [...] &gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a post scriptum in an old old letter to a good friend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am dat copy-paste aici pentru ca mi-a fost lene sa tastez de una singura cam aceleasi idei.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Alchimistul de Paulo Coelho a fost prima carte importanta din viata mea. *smiles* &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, as I said, de acolo am invatat primele lectii importante in materie de “cum functioneaza lumea asta in mod... oarecum nematerial”. De-a lungul timpului, a mai fost un roman care m-a marcat enorm, desi in alt mod, si din care am primit o alta lectie extrem de importanta. Apoi, a urmat sa primesc altele, mici dar… foarte curprinzatoare, de la unul dintre scriitorii mei preferati. *smiles* Si continui inca sa invat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Au fost cateva momente – nu multe, dar intense – in viata mea in care am avut anumite “rascruci”, in care mi-am pus cate o intrebare majora, care urma sa isi lase amprenta pe viata mea. Sa fi fost vreo trei…? Asta din ce imi amintesc in ultimii trei ani. Si oricum astea sunt cele mai inteligente si interesante lectii invatate. Tin minte ca la majoritatea intrebarilor de genul asta am primit raspunsurile, sau, mai bine zis, am fost in stare sa le vad, dar la una din ele… nu. Si era foarte importanta dar nimeni nu era in stare sa imi raspunda, iar eu eram prea devastata ca sa reusesc singura.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oricum, timpul le rezolva pe toate, mai devreme sau mai tarziu. Asa ca finally, m-am prins eu singura din mers cum sta treaba.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*bea pentru a treia oara pe ziua de azi, hahahahaha*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama ei de stare de "plutesc deasupra pamantului" or whatever, ca nu ma lasa nici sa ma concentrez sa fac altceva, dar nici sa scriu ceva concret nu pot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De foarte curand, m-am aflat la o alta rascruce. De fapt, cred ca inca nu a trecut, dar sunt pe calea cea buna acum, i think. Well, si faza e ca.... Din experienta anterioara, invatasem un anumit lucru. Bine, de fapt sunt mai multe, evident, si faza e ca.. tot ce mi se "releva" in mod miraculos de-a lungul vietii, devine pentru mine ca un fel de regula, si probabil ca imi intra in acel set de principii, sau cel putin le influenetaza. Ca un fel de... nush, proverbe mai mult sau mai putin noi si personalizate, pe care de multe ori le creez, si pe care le folosesc in continuare si pe care ma bazez cand am nevoie. Banuiesc ca fiecare are nevoie de ceva "divin" in care sa creada. Unii aleg crestinismul, altii islamismul, etc. Eu aleg... asta. Si multe altele. Banuiesc ca ma ajuta sa nu ma simt singura si sa nu ma sperii ca poate nu e nimeni acolo care sa pastreze un oarecare echilibru.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am credinte... dubioase. E ca un fel de religie, doar ca nu a auzit nimeni de ea. Daca sunt intrebata in ce cred... nu as stii ce sa spun. Incerc sa gasesc un nume, dar nu exista. Bine, exista pentru...Dumnezeul in care cred. El e...number 1. Cand sunt intrebata ce religie am, ceva face click in capul meu si el imi apare in minte. Dar pe langa, sunt o groaza de alte multe lucruri.. Si lor, per total, nu le-as putea da un nume. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cred in multe chestii, in mod gradat, i guess. Si in mod diferit in fiecare. Uneori imi place sa spun/cred ca am inventat o noua religie, care e cel mai aproape de adevar, si ca toti ceilalti ar trebui sa o urmeze. Dar sincer... Tin prea mult la ea ca sa o impart. Sunt egoista. Si e a &lt;strong&gt;mea&lt;/strong&gt;. Si oricum, inca nu e gata, continui sa o creez, asa ca jos labele. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Totusi e ciudat si enervant, dar atat de interesant, ca oamenii intotdeauna interpreteaza TOTUL. Si de cele mai multe ori [adica in 99,9% din cazuri] in mod gresit. Si eu sunt om. Deci ma cam tem sa nu fac si eu aceleasi greseli. I dunno, nu a venit nimeni sa imi spuna ca I'm the chosen one or something, si ca nu gresesc in tot ceea ce fac sau in ceea ce cred.. Si oricum, chiar si ei [the chosen ones] o dau in bara pana la urma, pentru simplul motiv ca sunt oameni. Dunno...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exista un subiect care ma chinuieste de ceva timp. Si l-am lasat in mod intentionat in aer, deoarece deocamdata nu am suficiente cunostiinte pentru a ma pune fata in fata cu el, si probabil ca nici nu sunt suficient de grown up pentru asta inca. Nu las multe lucruri si idei de genul asta sa ma chinuie, imi place sa imi raspund la orice. Sa am totul aranjat si oarecum sub control. Deci nu sunt multe teme nerezolvate prin mintea mea. Poate doar vreo doua, trei, printre care asta, care... tre sa recunosc ca ma cam depaseste: Calatoria in timp. Si...timpul in general, i guess. Cu trecut, prezent, viitor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As avea foarte multe intrebari referitor la... toate parile acestei probleme, dar.. nu vad rostul sa le enumar aici fara raspuns. Mai mult m-ar freca la creier si la pitici. As deveni mai constienta de ele and that would kinda suck. Deci, aman din nou confruntarea. Dar mana in mana cu chestia asta, sta.... schimbarea viitorului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si stau si ma intreb: cum e frate cu destinul si cu "ce iti e scris, in frunte iti e pus" si cu chestiile de genul asta? Si cum e cu schimbarea trecutului? Si cum e cu cunoasterea viitorului? Cat de eficienta si de "buna" e, daca everything is uncertain? Si de ce destinul e doar semi-construit? Sunt atat de multe unghiuri din care poti privi toata chestia asta si mi se pare pur si simplu... mind blowing. Ma fascineaza tema asta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Banuiesc ca inca nu am reusit sa imi explic toate dilemele astea, dar reusisem - acum nu mult timp in urma - sa fiu sigura de ceva: Iti poti schimba destinul. Sau nu destinul, cat viitorul. Pentru ca-s chestii cam diferite. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Treaba [imi imaginez ca] sta cam asa: Te nasti in punctul x, timpul y. Si destinul e ca o foaie d-aia dintr-o carte de colorat, in care tre sa unesti punctele ca sa apara din liniile facute un personaj din desene animate [or whatever] si dup-aia sa il colorezi. Adica ai pe acea hartie niste puncte facute dinainte cu rosu. Puncte importante unde trebuie sa ajungi. Dracu' stie de ce. *laughs* Da' iti sunt prestabilite. Si tu iei creionul [adica pixu', nu creionu' - ca pe ala il poti sterge, iar in realitate asta nu prea e posibil; o fapta facuta si un cuvant spus asa raman, nu ai guma de sters] si incepi si trasezi ca bou' liniute, cum crezi tu de cuviinta, pentru a ajunge la cate un punctulet din ala rosu. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Le trasezi cum crezi tu mai bine, in functie de oportunitati, alegeri, actiuni. Poti sa ajungi acolo direct, printr-o linie aproape dreapta si frumoasa, sau sa dai pe laturi ca retardatu' pentru ca inca nu stii cum sa tii pixu-n mana. Te priveste. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar teoria e ca acele puncte facute cu rosu sunt de neevitat. Cel putin asa imi imaginez. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si acum treaba sta asa. Tu nu stii in ce consta acele puncte si nu stii cand vin si care sunt. Deci e logic ca oricum nu le-ai putea evita. Dar daca le afli... Teoretic, esti mai avantajat decat restul oamenilor. Teoretic, te ridici la un alt nivel. Teoretic, cunosti mai mult si deci, mi se pare cam logic sa detii mai multa putere decat un simplu om. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daca te ridici deasupra desenului si te uiti la el, si da, nu poti sterge ce e deja pus acolo, dar nu e logic ca il poti schimba? Sau sa desenezi ceva peste? Sau sa o iei in alta directie..? Pare logic. Desi e adevarat, nu cred ca te poti pune cu destinul. Mai ales cand el nu vrea sa te ia in seama. Dar macar in teorie, pare foarte evident ca poti face CEVA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asta e teoria... In practica... nu cred ca stiu cum e.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Din experienta proprie, am observat ca atunci cand stiu ca trebuie sa se intample lucrul cutare, il pot opri. Pana acum asa [cred ca] s-a intamplat. Dar indeed, erau chestii mici. Nu cred ca era vorba de vreunul dintre acele puncte rosii de pe schita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Alchimistul se vorbea si despre asta. Unul dintre citatele pe care le-am retinut de acolo si dupa care ma ghidasem pana acum era "Dumnezeu nu iti arata viitorul decat atunci cand trebuie sa il schimbi". Chestie care mi se pare(a) foarte logica. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And still... Sa luam ca exemplu pe cineva care cunoaste viitorul. Vezi Cassandra din Antichitate, la greci. Era prezicatoarea pe care nimeni nu o lua in serios. Fusese blestemata de o zeita [parca] sa aiba darul asta dar sa nu o asculte nimeni niciodata. Unul din lucrurile pe care le-a spus a fost "Nu primiti calul in Troia, va va distruge" si ei "Batman, Batman". Pana la urma tipa a innebunit. Mi se pare normal; sa stii toate nenorocirile care urmeaza sa vina, si sa nu poti salva pe nimeni..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bine, dar ea era blestemata. Poate daca ceilalti ar fi crezut-o, ar fi reusit sa scape, sa schimbe ceva. I guess...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se poate si sa stii ce urmeaza sa se intample, dar sa nu VREI sa schimbi ceva. Dar oare daca ti-ai dori asta foarte tare... si daca ai stii ca urmeaza sa vina momentul x, oare ai reusi sa... faci ceva? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa actionezi in asa fel incat consecintele faptelor tale sa te conduca spre alt drum? Asa reusesti sa eviti nitel ce urmeaza sa vina? Asta probabil ca ar schimba "contextul", dar nu si "punctul rosu" prin care - teoretic - ORICUM vei trece. Dar adevarul e ca acel context conteaza foarte mult. Schimba cam tot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iar atunci cand ajungi in acel punct... Cum faci sa scapi de acea situatie, daca nu iti convine? Si oare poti face asta? ..Teoretic "Ce iti e scris in funte ti-e pus". Asta o stiu de cand eram mica, de la tata. Tot el mi-a mai spus ca omul caruia ii e scris sa moara din cauza apei, nu va muri niciodata impuscat, de exemplu. Si totusi... Daca iti e scris sa mori din cauza fumatului, dar ceva te determina sa te lasi... Atunci nu ai schimbat un "punct rosu"? Nu ai scapat de el? Si se schimba iar totul. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar chestia e ca poate... poate iti era scris sa schimbi asta. Si atunci esti tot o marioneta in mainile destinului...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Desi.. de multe ori stau si ma gandesc... Si daca iti e scris sa mori de cancer la plamani, sa zicem, si opresti cauza acelui eveniment, nu cumva soarta oricum e de neimvins, si deci vei muri tot de cancer, dar la altceva..? Who knows... E una din chestiile care ma bat la cap. Si chiar nu stiu cum e pana la urma... Banuiesc ca depinde de soarta daca vrea sa te lase in pace sau nu..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cred ca nu te poti pune cu destinul. Nu stiu de ce, poate pentru ca mi s-a dovedit ca oricat ai lupta, el exista si tot unde vrea el ajungi, si am simtit asta pe pielea mea, si pur si simplu daca el nu vrea ca tu sa faci ce iti doresti, nu reusesti si gata. E batut in cuie si asa va ramane, orice ai incerca.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si deci, am putut schimba / evita unele lucruri, pe cand pe unele pur si simplu nu. Si &lt;strong&gt;cat&lt;/strong&gt; am luptat si pentru alea....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si pana acum credeam ca daca iti doresti foarte tare sa schimbi un punct rosu din ala, chiar poti. Eram atat de convinsa de asta, ca poti schimba absolut ORICE iti doresti. Pana cand am observat ca sunt singura care crede asta dintre prietenii mei. Si asta mi-a taiat destul de mult din aripi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Butterfly Effect e filmul meu preferat. Si cam si Donnie Darko. Si ma intreb sincer daca e din cauza faptului ca amandoua prezinta acest subiect. Probabil ca da..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si pentru ca e vorba de oameni simpli care salveaza ori persoana iubita, ori.. cam pe toata lumea. Si asta m-a impresionat foarte mult. Ca Evan ar fi facut orice ca sa o salveze pe tipa, chiar si sa renunte la ea... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Butterfly Effect mi-a deschis apetitul pentru subiectul asta cu schimbarea destinului si m-a ajutat sa imi definitivez unele idei importante pt mine, pe cand Donnie Darko... sincer, mai mult m-a intrigat si m-a facut sa imi ridic altele... Dar pe astea inca nu mi le pot explica. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Omul e fiinta asta superioara celorlalte fiinte cica, dar facut "dupa chipul si asemanarea lui Dumnezeu". Blaga a interpretat chestia asta intr-un mod foarte indraznet, spunand ca inseamna nu ca Dumenzeu e un om in cer, ci ca omul e Dumnezeu pe pamant. Chestia asta m-a facut sa zambesc. Mi se pare foarte interesanta. Nici eu nu consideram ca acel Dumnezeu ar arata ca noi acolo in "ceruri", cum interpreteaza multe persoane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Omul e fiinta asta mijlocitoare. Nu e nici animal, cum s-ar spune.. fiara salbatica, dar nici fiinta divina. E undeva intre aceste doua lumi. Si are liberul arbitru de a se cobori cat de jos vrea, asemanandu-se cu fiintele mai lipsite de ratiune, sau... se poate ridica la divin, daca doreste si stie cum. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heh, o idee foaarte frumoasa. Dar daca ar fi asa, si fiecare din noi s-ar putea ridica la nivelul ALA la un moment dat, si sa fie asemeni acelei forte, sau pe acolo pe langa ea, nu inseamna ca acel om si divinitatea ar fi oarecum la egalitate? Nu inseamna ca ar fi o infruntare in care omul chiar ar avea sanse sa castige?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu consider ca eu sunt la acel nivel. Hahahahahahahahahahaha, nu. No way. Nu sunt nici macar un om... suficient de bun. Mai am ATATEA de invatat.. Mai am atat de crescut...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar.. in teorie, se arata ca un om ar avea sansa sa invinga, si sa castige lupta impotriva destinului, divinitatii, sau mai stiu eu ce.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iar cat timp e aici... are si aici beneficii. Cred ca omul poate face ORICE isi doreste. Dar numai sa isi doreasca asta cu adevarat. E o idee preluata din Alchimistul, indeed, chestia cu "iti doresti cutare lucru pentru ca Universul doreste ca tu sa doresti asta, si pana la urma ti-l va da, pentru ca asa e scris." Nu se foloseau exact cuvintele astea but anyway. E un fel de "Everything happens for a reason". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh dar problema mea intervine atunci cand ceea ce iti doresti foarte foarte mult nu e ceea ce iti e scris. Atunci... cate sanse ai avea sa castigi, daca te-ai lua la tranta cu destinul? Pentru ca destinul e totusi.... destin. Adica e cam foaaarte de neinvins. Dar pe de alta parte, statutul tau de om si de "creat dupa chipul si asemanarea lui Dumnezeu" - care inseamna ca ai si tu o oarescare putere divina - iti ofera acea sansa de a face ORICE. So yeah. WHAT happens then?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so. fucking. curious. Care e mai tare? Care castiga, si CUM? Daca destinul chiar nu ti-ar permite sa faci ceva impotriva lui, ce ai putea sa faci ca sa il "pacalesti"? Cat de bun ar trebui sa fii? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si cum gasesti dara aia de putere divina care zace in tine si cum inveti sa o folosesti?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si mai ales, cat de tare ti-ai dori ceea ce nu poti avea?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si daca reusesti sa castigi, s-a intamplat prin fortele tale proprii, sau tocmai pentru ca destinul ti-a dat aceasta sansa? Si astfel iti arata doar ca e mai bun decat tine, pt ca zice razandu-ti in fata: "Hai mah sa-l las si p-asta sa creada ca e cum zice el, ca oricum mi se falfaie. Hai ca e baiat bun, nu strica sa inchid ochii o data".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asta e alta fata a problemei, cum ar fi "partea a doua".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe de alta parte... Ce inseamna cand destinul iti trimite semne ca sa iti arate ca poti castiga? Desi tu stii ca pe schita sunt desenate cu totul alte puncte. Atunci acele semne de unde sunt, de la ceva mai sus pus decat soarta? De la ceva si mai divin, si mai puternic? De la ceva care...te place foarte mult? E cineva / ceva acolo sus care te vegheaza si careia ii pasa nitel de viata ta neinsemnata si totusi atat de importanta? Si daca da, wow, cat de norocos esti? Oare si ceilalti patesc la fel? E cineva care le arata in parte ce au de facut, daca au "ochi" sa vada si minte sa inteleaga? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar DE CE semnele arata contrariul destinului?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*sighs* Lumea asta e atat de interesanta uneori...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cum se face cand efectiv simti si... sufletul tau e convins 99,99% ca acele trei cuvinte citite intr-o carte iti marcheaza viata? Si ca te reprezinta? Si ca sunt acolo scrise special PENTRU TINE si pentru viata ta..? Frickin weird... Esti sigur de asta, desi... e atat de...imposibil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi e atat de greu... Ca indoiala e intotdeauna acolo. Doar ca uneori creste si te devoreaza. Alteori nu ii permiti. Dar e mereu acolo, in coltisorul ei. *smiles* In orice situatie. Nu cred ca poti fi sigur de ceva niciodata, nici Cassandra nu cred ca era... Si sincer, indoiala e singurul sentiment care te poate innebuni. De cele mai multe ori indoiala macina si doare mult mai tare decat adevarul. Adevarul are demnitatea asta de a iti da resemnare. Indoiala in schimb... e cel mai aprig si nemilos dusman. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though... Dupa cum spuneau Placebo, "That's the doubt, the doubt, the trust in it".. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa cum fara rau nu ai recunoaste binele si fara intuneric nu ai aprecia lumina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/XFMMFCRSVlU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/XFMMFCRSVlU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asadeci, ceea ce invatasem eu pana acum referitor la "poti schimba viitorul atunci cand il stii, pt ca duh, de asta l-ai aflat" e gresit..? E una dintre cele mai importante lectii pt mine. Si acum ma cam indoiesc de ea. And that's kinda really fucking confusing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cat despre acea impresie despre forta care mi-ar arata drumul.. De cateva ori am patit sa ma prind cine e si sa o recunosc. *smiles* In majoritatea cazurilor nu.. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno, poate asa ne e scris tuturor, sa existe anumite semne care sa ne ghideze si doar cativa sa fie capabili sa le citeasca. Eu m-am ridicat putin la alt nivel, datorita acestui lucru, ca sunt in stare sa le recunosc, i guess. Probabil ca uneori le iau prea in serios si o dau in paranoia, da' ma rog.. Cele de baza oricum sunt acolo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi... poate ca destinul e facut in functie de karma si tinand cont de "cum iti asterni asa dormi", dar... Daca e facut special pentru tine, dupa dorintele tale de care inca nu ai devenit constient, si dupa...exact ce ai tu nevoie? Poate ca la origini e doar o macheta a dorintelor tale ascunse. Poate de asta nu te lasa sa il schimbi atunci cand ceea ce vrei e fals, dar iti mai ingaduie asta atunci cand chiar ti-o doresti..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the end, and that's the start of it. &lt;br /&gt;That's the whole, and that's the part of it. &lt;br /&gt;That's the high, and that's the heart of it. &lt;br /&gt;That's the long, and that's the short of it. &lt;br /&gt;That's the best, and that's the test in it. &lt;br /&gt;That's the doubt, the doubt, &lt;br /&gt;the trust in it. &lt;br /&gt;That's the sight, and that's the sound of it. &lt;br /&gt;That's the gift, and that's the trick in it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2348215275137055348?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2348215275137055348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/there-are-twenty-years-to-go.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2348215275137055348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2348215275137055348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/there-are-twenty-years-to-go.html' title='There are twenty years to go...'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SirVqGpWaAI/AAAAAAAAACA/mK62tnnm47o/s72-c/The_Butterfly_Effect_Wallpaper_5_800.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-4509655436959115864</id><published>2009-06-02T07:10:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-03T00:07:22.853+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Micro Cuts</title><content type='html'>I fell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cadere libera vreo opt metri. Sau nu stiu exact cati, dar...suficienti. A fost atat de repede incat nu mi-am dat seama ce se intampla. Am ajuns la pamant, printre daramaturi si praf, cam inconstienta. Si am zacut asa pentru mult timp. Aproape moarta. Foarte mult timp. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand mi-am recapatat cunostiinta, intai am fost bulversata, si am incercat sa aflu ce am patit, si cum de am ajuns...acolo. Si am zacut. Iar. Like a mess. O auzeam pe Adda strigand "Oh my God, oh my God!" si incercand sa ma ajute. A ajuns acolo dar deja sangeram si nu ma mai putea ajuta prea tare.. Nici ea, nici altcineva de pe acolo, i guess. Am vrut sa vina el si am incercat sa il strig, desi glasul nu imi rasuna, din cauza durerii coplesitoare. A trebuit sa plece..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si am zacut. Si simteam sangele curgand pe fata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am auzit sirena ambulantei. Cineva a venit si m-a pus pe targa. A fost unul dintre cele mai grele si dureroase momente. Speriata, revoltata, cu dureri de neimaginat. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apoi a fost mai bine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana cand durerile au revenit. Nu la fel ca la impact. Eram la reanimare. Adica... incercam sa ma mentin pe picioare. Nu ma prea puteam deplasa. Imobilizata. Trista. Cam singura. Facuta praf. Incercam sa ma trag dupa mine, sa ma tarasc, dar asta durea mai rau decat cand eram la pamant. Macar atunci eram una cu el si nimic nu mai conta prea tare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si am zacut la pat. Asteptand sa se poata intampla ceva, si probabil sa fiu suficient de puternica pentru a ma sustine iar..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faptul ca stiam ca arat ingrozitor ma chinuia teribil. Am plans in hohote uitandu-ma in oglinda.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incet-incet dorinta de a imi reveni m-a vizitat. Desi inca nu eram in stare, si desi durerile persistau incapatanate, macar acum aveam o speranta. Aveam... O pofta frumoasa de a trai. Chiar daca trupul si tot ce aveam era distrus si imi cauza probleme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dupa un timp, ar fi urmat sa ies din nou. Si sa devin mai frumoasa. Sa mi se vindece ranile. Si sa intru din nou in lupta. Mai inversunata decat inainte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si el sa ma salveze iar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mult timp dupa asta, urma sa mai am dureri. Ca o cicatrice, ca un memo a ce a fost, ca o rana vie. Apoi.... dispare si asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inca sunt la pat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-4509655436959115864?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/4509655436959115864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/micro-cuts.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4509655436959115864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4509655436959115864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/micro-cuts.html' title='Micro Cuts'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-6622740830417809266</id><published>2009-06-01T17:52:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T21:30:11.972+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Dear A,</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SiQeC63psZI/AAAAAAAAAB4/NVLhFgWiaAI/s1600-h/Angel_by_Panlannen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 161px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SiQeC63psZI/AAAAAAAAAB4/NVLhFgWiaAI/s320/Angel_by_Panlannen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342428093479498130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[...]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-6622740830417809266?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/6622740830417809266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6622740830417809266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6622740830417809266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/dear.html' title='Dear A,'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SiQeC63psZI/AAAAAAAAAB4/NVLhFgWiaAI/s72-c/Angel_by_Panlannen.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-8254410417723230495</id><published>2009-06-01T01:53:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T14:00:31.545+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Death Rock Me Asleep</title><content type='html'>by Anne Boleyn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Her last poem, found in the tower where she waited for her execution.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O Death, O Death, rock me asleep,&lt;br /&gt;Bring me to quiet rest;&lt;br /&gt;Let pass my weary guiltless ghost&lt;br /&gt;Out of my careful breast.&lt;br /&gt;Toll on, thou passing bell;&lt;br /&gt;Ring out my doleful knell;&lt;br /&gt;Thy sound my death abroad will tell,&lt;br /&gt;For I must die,&lt;br /&gt;There is no remedy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My pains, my pains, who can express?&lt;br /&gt;Alas, they are so strong!&lt;br /&gt;My dolours will not suffer strength&lt;br /&gt;My life for to prolong.&lt;br /&gt;Toll on, thou passing bell;&lt;br /&gt;Ring out my doleful knell;&lt;br /&gt;Thy sound my death abroad will tell,&lt;br /&gt;For I must die,&lt;br /&gt;There is no remedy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alone, alone in prison strong&lt;br /&gt;I wail my destiny:&lt;br /&gt;Woe worth this cruel hap that I&lt;br /&gt;Must taste this misery!&lt;br /&gt;Toll on, thou passing bell;&lt;br /&gt;Ring out my doleful knell;&lt;br /&gt;Thy sound my death abroad will tell,&lt;br /&gt;For I must die,&lt;br /&gt;There is no remedy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Farewell, farewell, my pleasures past!&lt;br /&gt;Welcome, my present pain!&lt;br /&gt;I feel my torment so increase&lt;br /&gt;That life cannot remain.&lt;br /&gt;Cease now, thou passing bell,&lt;br /&gt;Ring out my doleful knoll,&lt;br /&gt;For thou my death dost tell:&lt;br /&gt;Lord, pity thou my soul!&lt;br /&gt;Death doth draw nigh,&lt;br /&gt;Sound dolefully:&lt;br /&gt;For now I die,&lt;br /&gt;I die, I die.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-8254410417723230495?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/8254410417723230495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/oh-death-rock-me-asleep.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/8254410417723230495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/8254410417723230495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/oh-death-rock-me-asleep.html' title='Oh Death Rock Me Asleep'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3956508083489415531</id><published>2009-06-01T00:31:00.007+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T09:17:24.546+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sing for Absolution</title><content type='html'>Funneh thing... How you can't avoid what's "meant to be".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sau daca poti.. e atat, atat de greu. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trei zile de cosmar. Trei incercari de a cere ajutor. Multe concluzii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pana una alta, am reusit sa ma semi-salvez eu singura. Oarecum. *smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tot e bine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Probabil am fost cea mai la indemana dintre cele trei variante. Si cea mai.. vie. *bitter laughter*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drumu-i lung si greu. Mi se pare &lt;em&gt;prea&lt;/em&gt; lung. Si daca de pe acum am clacat, nu stiu cum o sa pot ajunge la capat. Si incep sa imi pun semne de intrebare si in privinta lui "daca".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..Pentru prima data, ma indoiesc sincer si cu calm de atat de multe lucruri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si nu cred ca e suficient faptul ca I'm still standing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Macar am reusit sa ma regasesc. That's really good. Chiar era foarte naspa without myself around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Partea naspa e ca.... Somehow, tot ce contase pana acum pentru mine foarte foarte mult, acum... nu imi mai spune nimic. Si erau lucruri care ma ajutau sa merg mai departe. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi-a cazut majoritatea stalpilor de rezistenta. Dar banuiesc ca fusese "meant to be", la cat daramasem eu insami inainte..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stiam eu ca anul asta va fi greu. Dar nu atat de... aproape imposibil.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cica cel mai greu iti e inaintea succesului. Well, atunci sunt tare curioasa in ce domeniu urmeaza sa am succes. Pentru ca...ar trebui sa vina curand, avand in vedere prin ce am trecut recent. It'd better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt recunoscatoare pentru ce am. Dar sunt.. altfel. Si o mare parte din incredere s-a dus. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt curioasa... cum va fi anul ce urmeaza sa vina. Presimt ca interesant. Tot greu, dar cred ca se vor schimba multe. Si probabil cu o doza draguta de noutate. Sper. Again, it'd better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si acum banuiesc ca urmeaza a treia vara de cosmar. Ca deh, deja am trecut prin doua astfel. Nu stiu cum se face ca verile am cel mai tare de suferit.. *smiles* Intotdeauna. Funneh. O fi de la caldura. Se urca la cap and shit. No idea, dar se pare ca ele nu ma prea plac.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw. Nu lasati copiii din voi sa se piarda pe drum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you feel it crush you does it seem to bring the worst in you out&lt;br /&gt;There's no running away from these things that hold you down&lt;br /&gt;Do they compicate you because they make you feel like this&lt;br /&gt;Of all the colors that you've shined...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3956508083489415531?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3956508083489415531/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/sing-for-absolution.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3956508083489415531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3956508083489415531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/06/sing-for-absolution.html' title='Sing for Absolution'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2875825624651387201</id><published>2009-05-31T12:34:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T12:38:07.445+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Hullabaloo</title><content type='html'>Vreau Hullabaloo si in Romania. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Genial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Space Dementia nu a mai insemnat/exprimat atat de multe pentru mine ca in zilele astea. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/j6CpJ3-BzNA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/j6CpJ3-BzNA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"H 8 is the one for me.&lt;br /&gt;Gives me all i need."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2875825624651387201?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2875825624651387201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/hullabaloo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2875825624651387201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2875825624651387201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/hullabaloo.html' title='Hullabaloo'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-7642740978086694019</id><published>2009-05-30T11:13:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-30T13:51:21.043+03:00</updated><title type='text'>"I feel my wings have broken in your hands."</title><content type='html'>Nu imi amintesc sa fii scris vreodata despre prietenie. Si totusi... dintotdeauna a insemnat totul pentru mine. Consideram ca prietenii sunt mai importanti decat orice altceva. Era cea mai importanta "valoare" a mea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, sincer, de cand m-am indragostit, prietenia nu a mai fost atat de importanta pentru mine. Adica da, evident, dar... Gasisem ceva suficient de puternic cu care sa poata concura. Acum nu cred ca as putea alege care e mai importanta, they both are. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bai, nu as putea spune ce e prietenia. Gen nu o pot defini. Probabil ca e la fel ca dragostea, doar ca nu simti ca vrei sa i-o tragi persoanei aleia pana lesina. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Un prieten adevarat e mereu acolo, vorba aia, si la bine si la greu, in fiecare zi, mai mult sau mai putin neconditionat [nu cred ca exista ceva 100% neconditionat pe lumea asta], pentru ca ii pasa de tine. Un prieten te va apara atunci cand e nevoie. Un prieten NU te minte. Un prieten iti va spune intotdeauna adevarul. Un prieten te va ghida intotdeauna in directia pe care o considera potrivita pentru tine. Un prieten e dispus intotdeauna sa te ajute, cu orice poate, fara sa ii para rau or smth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno, sigur sunt mai multe chestii de spus, but i just can't write about it. *scratches head*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu multi verifica toate chestiile astea de mai sus.. E atat de greu sa gasesti un prieten adevarat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand esti copil, e foarte okay, deoarece chiar nu iti pasa prea tare ca prietenul de joaca din parc nu mai vine si a doua zi, si uiti de el. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La pubertate... Va jucati v-ati-ascunselea si va certati din nimicuri si furati flori si corcoduse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In adolescenta... Incepe sa te doara daca Roxana / Maria / Cristina spune altora ca iti place de baiatul X, desi o rugasei sa isi tina gura. Si cred ca atunci incepi sa te prinzi ca lumea nu e atat de roz pe cat ai fi vrut si pe cat poate ca ai crezut pana atunci. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am "schimbat" multi prieteni. Am avut "best friends" pentru ani de zile. Persoane chiar misto, care imi erau prieteni adevarati. Singurele probleme interveneau la caracter, ca ne mai bateam uneori cap in cap or something. Si probabil eram prea cu ciunga-n par ca sa fi invatat cum se lasa de la tine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu am nimic sa le reprosez unora. It was.... Tot ce imi dorisem la momentul ala. Si totusi... nu i-am putut pastra pe langa mine. Si uneori imi pare rau pentru asta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu, maybe it just wasn't meant to be... Pur si simplu.. aveam nevoie de altceva / altcineva. Si am mai incercat sa reiau legaturile dupa aia, dar... Not the same. Chiar nu imi pot explica ce s-a intamplat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Decat poate ca Dumnezeu nu a vrut sa am prea multi prieteni. *smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah da cred ca stiu de ce nu am mai putut ramane langa oamenii din trecutul meu. Pentru ca nu m-ar intelege. Nici modul de viata, nici ideile, nici dorintele, nici sentimentele etc. Nu sunt lucruri prea...normale. And they're human. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus ca... sincer, pentru mine, multi oameni in jurul meu ar insemna batai de cap. Si deja le am pe ale mele. Si ma...pierd foarte tare in ele. Si le iau si ma iau foarte in serios. Si daca ar mai fi si altii in jurul meu, mi-ar distrage atentia, si m-ar cam deruta i guess. Plus ca m-ar enerva cand i-as vedea cat sunt de "habar nu am pe ce lume traiesc", si/sau probabil ca as incerca sa ii ajut, daca mi-ar pasa suficient. Si deci, m-as lega la cap fara sa ma doara. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De asta prefer sa fiu singura, desi e greu. Nu stiu daca imi &lt;strong&gt;place&lt;/strong&gt; singuratatea, dar... asa am grija doar de mine. Si imi vad de ale mele. Si sincer, chiar consider ca am lucruri importante de facut in lumea asta. That's why i don't allow strangers beside me. Adica da, in general imi place mie sa ma complic, cam in orice situatie, dar cu lucrurile care conteaza. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's why i don't really like (new) people. Sunt atat de derutati si prinsi in material, si multi se dau atat de destepti cand de fapt nu cunosc nici macar 20 % din cum functioneaza lumea asta si de ce. Si sunt atat de confused cu totii... Si majoritatea nu stiu ce vor de la viata asta, si sunt atat de nerecunoscatori pentru ea... Si multe multe alte motive. Pur si simplu ma enerveaza. Pentru ca prostia de orice fel ma scoate din sarite. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De asta... persoana careia ii e scris sa stea langa mine, trebuie sa fie.... mai mult decat "wow". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ceea ce ma amuza e ca... inca mai sper (si cred) ca exista asa ceva in lumea asta mare. Asta e unul din rarele momente in care optimista din mine iese la iveala. La origini..chiar eram o optimista. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trebuie sa fie fascinant... Pur si simplu sa ma fascineze... Vreau sa pot sa ma uit la el cu orele si sa nu ma pot satura... Si vreau sa descopar in el lucruri care sa ma lase masca si sa imi faca inima sa bata mai tare si sa ma faca sa tremur de mandrie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vreau sa imi fie mama, tata, frate, prieten, iubit. Vreau sa imi castige respectul. Si sa ma faca sa ma gandesc la el aproape in fiecare clipa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be careful what you wish for, cuz you just might get it. Recunosc, imi e frica de ce imi doresc. Dar nu pot nega.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want love. I need it. Vreau dragoste, artificii, drama. Tragedie, pasiune si sange. Si liniste.. Vreau... povestea de basm. Calul alb and shit. Si nu doar vreau, dar am nevoie de asta. I want it with all my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vreau... sa fiu salvata. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cine va reusi sa faca asta, cu siguranta e un super-erou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Wx7J_wF2IfY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Wx7J_wF2IfY&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu nu mai sunt in stare de asta..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..So i guess this is BUM.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-7642740978086694019?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/7642740978086694019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-feel-my-wings-have-broken-in-your.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7642740978086694019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7642740978086694019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-feel-my-wings-have-broken-in-your.html' title='&quot;I feel my wings have broken in your hands.&quot;'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-440997831921948909</id><published>2009-05-28T21:05:00.012+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-29T00:24:54.536+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Showbiz..</title><content type='html'>my legs hurt. my feet hurt. my head hurts... E a treia zi in care simt ca imi va imploda..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i'm so very tired... pe toate planurile.. TOATE.. mai putin.. doua persoane. dar nici acolo nu imi merge minunat, i can feel it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i want cool Oana back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nu stiu de la ce o fi, bac, stres, schimbari bruste, stres, stres... poate stres? ah, am spus si de stres? si nu in ultimul rand, cred ca si de la stres. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;nush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just ADORE his voice si cum suna pe melodia asta... Si accentul, si modul atat de sweet si totusi agresiv in care rosteste cuvintele... *is fascinated*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QhEeHc6_2kU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QhEeHc6_2kU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cineva odata a spus ca viata e facuta din partile bune si din partile rele. Si ca daca acum dai numai peste ce e rau, ce ar trebui sa faci e sa inghiti si sa astepti sa vina si lucrurile bune mai incolo. Si sa speri. Well, poate suna foarte egoist si naspa, dar.... Eu cat mai tre sa astept..?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmph...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu imi dadusem seama pana acum, dar.... de pe 7 mai incoace, ceva s-a schimbat in ceea ce ma priveste. Ceva s-a schimbat in mine din momentul acela. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si ceva din mine s-a pierdut pe drum... Am lasat multe in spate, in urma mea. Farame..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astazi... a fost o zi plina...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astazi m-am surprins gandind ca de acum incolo poate ar trebui sa fac lucrurile pentru mine. Nu pentru vise. Nici pentru altii. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astazi am ajuns sa spun ceva ce nu mi-as fi imaginat ca voi ajunge sa spun vreodata. Si sa simt ceva ce nu voiam sa simt vreodata. Inca nu as vrea dar nah... Too tired to fight against it anyways... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plus ca... Deja mi-am incalcat principiile o data, asa ca nu stiu daca mai cred la fel de tare in ele...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu m-am mai simtit niciodata DEFEATED cum m-am simtit in toata luna asta... De atat de multe ori. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am scris la un moment dat ceva despre suflete pereche. Si tin minte clar ca eram foarte inversunata si consideram ca avem doar cate unul adevarat. Acum... cumva... astept sa mi se dovedeasca contrariul. Sau ceva de genul asta...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"De ce?" "Pentru ca merit."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmph. How L'oreal-like. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..Pentru ca merit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just... very tired...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't know you yet. And still... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to hate you. Now I want you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hm... *sad and dissapointed of herself* I really am changed..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-440997831921948909?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/440997831921948909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/showbiz.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/440997831921948909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/440997831921948909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/showbiz.html' title='Showbiz..'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-7845689785487185880</id><published>2009-05-27T16:34:00.015+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-28T15:18:45.964+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Divine. ..Or not?</title><content type='html'>Oamenilor le place sa se supuna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa a fost dintotdeauna, dupa cum se vede inca din cele mai vechi timpuri. Intai au aparut din astea, cum ar fi zeul focului, zeul fulgerului, zeul soarelui, zeul sexului. Da, ce credeti ca reprezentau zeitele fertilitatii? F**ai la greu i guess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De ce au simtit nevoia oamenii prmitivi sa inventeze fiinte divine? Pentru ca erau prea speriati de ceea ce se intampla in jurul lor, si multe lucruri nu puteau fi intelese. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Da, omul e o fiinta curioasa si dubioasa, deoarece nu se teme sa vaneze si sa se lupte cu fiarele si sa infrunte mai stiu eu ce dinozauri, dar totusi se teme de fulgere (si da, si in zilele noastre e la fel, desi la alta scara, la alt nivel). De ce? Pentru ca reprezinta necunoscutul. Si oamenii INTOTDEAUNA se tem de necunoscut. Why? Why are we so afraid of it? Inca nu am reusit sa imi dau seama...] &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa ca aveau nevoie sa se simta cumva protejati, cumva recompensati daca sunt baieti cuminti. Si probabil ca asa au si inceput sa isi construiasca legi, societati mici, etc. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apoi s-au trezit unii destepti sa spuna ca nu frate, nu e bine asa, hai sa avem un singur zeu. Si acei destepti au inventat monotesimul. De fapt chiar un "zeu" l-a inventat. Akenaton, asta o avea de nevasta pe Nefertiti.. Erau veri intre ei, si oricum se f**eau fiind rude, deci de-aia aveau capetele mari [no, really, de aia aveau alea pe cap atat de mari, din cauza unei deformari sau ceva de genu'] Erau faraoni, deci alesi de catre oameni ca zei trimiti pe pamant. Puteau face ce vor. Si nenea Akenaton asta s-a trezit ca vrea sa fie el singurul zeu recunoscut. Cred ca suferea de narcisism acut... Mai stiu eu pe cineva... Si s-a retras omu' si a incercat sa isi faca o mare cetate mare si sa faca pe toata lumea sa i se inchine. Si a reusit exact contrariul, deoarece egiptenii l-au urat pentru asta si se rusinau cu un asemenea faraon in istoria lor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Traiasca Stoica. Datorita lui mai tin minte toate astea. Really. 'Ts really cool.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa deci, din aceeasi nevoie oarba de a se lasa in mainile unei forte supreme, oamenii si-au creat "idoli". Efectiv au considerat ca oricine e putin mai rasarit decat restu', e trimis de divintate. Ceva de genu' "WOOOOOW he is so cool *dumb stare and little drool*" Si i-au pus acelei persoane toata puterea in brate. Si l-au facut faraon. Si l-au facut rege. Si l-au facut popa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa s-a creat monarhia, asa s-a creat clerul, asa s-a creat "Casa Domnului" and all that shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Foarte frumos.. ca poveste. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah... Intai si-au inventat zei cu puteri divine, apoi si-au imaginat cum astia trimit oameni cu puteri exceptionale [cine stie ce reusisera sa faca pt a impresiona turmele de gura-casca] si cum acei zei se transforma [pe la venirea lui Jesus asa] intr-unul singur si acesta isi spune cuvantul prin ALTI trimisi, tot oameni, si mai sfinti si minunanti, si astfel ne dau/da [zeii/zeul] noua de stire de vointa lor/lui.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bestial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si dupa ce au creat toate astea, au inceput sa se omoare intre ei de dragul acelor oameni carora li s-a dat putere absoluta. Ori deoarece credeau in ei orbeste, ori pt ca unii erau suficient de rasariti incat sa se prinda ca la putere e doar un om, ca si ei. Si ca ala face ce vrea cu ei. Sau ca a vinde indulgente nu e chiar calea perfecta spre Rai. Inteligenti oameni.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si au inceput sa se omoare intre ei, din nou si din nou, pentru ca isi inventasera prea multi zei! Si pentru ca au fost suficient de dobitoci incat sa nu ii accepte pe cei inventati de altcineva in afara de ei insisi. Dar oh Doamne, almighty God and sweet Jesus, esti un crestin atat de bun daca macelaresti si arzi oameni de vii incuiati -omg- CHIAR in biserici, ca sa iti impui religia. Ai o scuza, ai facut-o pentru a inceta crimele ereticilor care nu cred in Dumnezeul tau. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o.O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My point is... it's really weird, you know, how people NEED so much to believe in soemthing, to cling to it, to put their lives into its power. We all do that. Depinde insa daca alegem si ceva....worthy. Adica da frate, "give me something good to die for to make it beautiful to live". Astia suntem noi. Sincer, foarte frumos. But... Sa fii orbit de asta? Sa ucizi nevinovati in stanga si in dreapta?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si nu zic nu, fiecare religie are o multitudine de parti bune si invataturi misto si stuff. Acum depinde si cum sunt respectate / interpretate. Dar... WHY? De ce dorinta asta oarba de a iti pune tot ce ai in ceva ce nu cunosti / intelegi? De ce te-ai inchina unui rege si l-ai considera...parte din Dumnezeu, daca el nu a fost niciodata parte din viata ta? Ma rog, pe vremurile alea nu s-ar fi putut pune problema asa, ei asa se nasteau, cu invataturile astea and stuff... Fucking weird though!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si da, si eu... am credintele mele. Si cred in ele ORBESTE si cu pasiune. Dar... I dunno, nu creez nimic din asta, nu creez societati cu ele. Sincer, incerc doar sa le folosesc cat mai bine pentru a face lumea asta mai buna. Macar un pic. But shhh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si cred ca de la inceputul umanitatii, lucrurile au stat asa. Este cineva la putere care nu stie sa o foloseasca sau e orbit de ea sau pur si simplu i se falfaie de "muritorii de rand", si dupa aia ei se rascoala. Si incep sa se omoare intre ei. Si dupa aia pun pe ALTU' la putere, sperand ca ala ii va conduce bine. Si istoria se repeta, ca intotdeauna.. again and again and again...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bine, adevarul e ca daca nu ar fi "cineva" la putere, teoretic, ar fi haos. Si nu ar mai exista lege, si deci nici dreptate. Deci probabil ca e "un rau necesar".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De ceea ce ma legasem eu era chestia asta cu atribuirea fortelor divine cuiva si acordarea intregii puteri unei singure persoane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, tot nu am dezlegat enigma "DE CE doresc oamenii sa se lase condusi de ceva?". Si nu, nu ma refer la motivele logice, cu evitarea anarhiei and shit. Ci la faptul ca fiecare dintre noi, in sufletele noastre, credem cu tarie in puterea unui lucru si ne dorim foarte tare sa fie ceva beyond our forces, probabil din dorinta de a nu ne simti singuri. Poate ca pur si simplu ne e frica sa fim in varful piramidei. Poate ca e vorba doar pe lumea asta. Dar DE Ce ne e frica de asta..? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si toate aceste probleme si intrebari mi-au fost ridicate [au iesit la iveala cu putere] datorita - hai sa vedem cine si-a facut temele pentru acasa? - serialului The Tudors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And about it, i just want to say three big words:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael Hirst. Genius.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E producatorul The Tudors. Am vazut si alte filme la care a lucrat si meh, m-au lasat cam rece.. Dar in ceea ce priveste The Tudors....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu exact ce a vrut sa faca, dar cred ca a vrut sa ne faca sa vedem lucrurile prin ochii unui rege... prin ochii acelui "zeu", ala ales de oameni. Sa privim lucrurile din cu totul alt punct de vedere. Din cel al zeului. Din cel al celui care are puterea. Si care la randul lui e om. Deci are si el nevoile lui, la fel ca noi toti. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si daca asta a vrut sa faca, dude... Jos palaria. Pentru ca in primul rand, reuseste prin imagine, si prin cum e filmat totul, si prin atentia la detalii. Nu imi amintesc care a fost ultimul film in care atunci cand personajele erau in Franta, sa se vorbeasca franceza si nu engleza americanizata, sau daca erau in Spania sa se vorbeasca spaniola si etc etc. You got the point. Well aici se tine cont de orice detaliu de genul asta. Cred ca tipul gandeste. And that's really.. something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si accentele sunt geniale si atat de cute.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actorii joaca genial. Sau nu neaparat genial, dar... parca fiecare are ceva. Si reusesc sa dea fiecarui personaj cate un "ceva", o sclipire foarte puternica... O doza frumoasa de umanitate, o mandrie care te face sa te induiosezi, o tarie de caracter impresionanta, un impact puternic, si un mesaj. Sunt diferiti si colorati, dar parca toti exprima aceeasi.... Aceeasi frumusete. Cea a fiintei umane, cred. Cu partile ei bune si cu partile ei rele. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu cred ca am reusit sa mai vad de mult timp frumusete in oameni. Sau nu atat de puternic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I think I am obssesed with the show, yeah. Chiar ma minunam ca nu am mai facut o obsesie pt nimic de ceva timp. Eh, o sa imi treaca repede, dar oricum... chiar merita ridicat in slavi nitel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fiecare personaj exprima forta, si atat de multa pasiune... Chiar si o oarecare sfintenie, nush.. Castitate? Si totusi haos. Efectiv au VIATA. Nu stiu ce fac actorii aia sau ce li se da ca sa isi intre in rol, dar aduc secolele alea aici.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si decorul nu e genial, simti ca e improvizat si ca nu e real si natural - desi se incearca f mult si sunt reproduse cam identic - si nici efectele speciale sau mai stiu eu ce chestii pt filmari nu sunt spectaculoase, nu face cameramanul niciun trick pentru a impresiona ochiul oarecare, si ar fi fost frumos, dar.. Parca nu simti lipsa a asa ceva. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are "ceva".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sau poate pur si simplu o iau eu usor razna. *scratches head*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Episodul pe care l-am vazut acum se termina cu un mic "efect" din asta de imagine,  camera se ridica si indeparta, lasand sa se vada o ditaaaaaamai capela, reprodusa perfect, si atat de luxoasa. Si era reprezentat si un moment special si am ramas un pic "wow". *still thinks about it* S-a vazut frumos... Cum se descoperea tot si tot mai mult din incaperea si din lumea aia. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa, si ziceam de a privi totul din perspectiva unui rege. Well duuuuuude. It's good to be a king *laughs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As vrea sa fiu unul pentru o saptmana.... Oh Jesus... Really... Ai CELE mai bune avantaje ever... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se arata exact cum e sa fii tanar, educat, plin de viata, pasional, si sa ai intreaga lume la picioare. Sa poti face ce vrei cu ea. Si sa iti permiti sa te rasfeti si sa nu stii cu ce sa incepi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apropo de asta, voi pune aici un filmulet care explica -in mare- ce implica sa ai puterea suprema. Nu e facut perfect, nu e totul detaliat, si nu e... complet, si nici ca in show, dar tot e.. o idee. *smiles* E cam lung dar uitati-va.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/0w0aNWHLUOU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/0w0aNWHLUOU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...Si inca unul cu "beneficiile" cele mai frumoase pe care le ai ca rege. In show e totul MULT mai intens, mai natural, mai....detaliat, mai entertaining, mai incitant, mai real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/e4VOQ-knlas&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/e4VOQ-knlas&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It actually turns me on... Ideea ca.... ai putea avea pe OICINE. Doar sa te intrebi cum ar fi, and you might have her/him. Si ca ti s-ar supune atat de... cu teama. Si atat de... cu grija sa nu te supere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Duuude, it's good to be a king! *laughs*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chiar mi-ar placea sa fiu in locul lui.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da, de aia am zis ca as vrea sa fiu doar o saptmana. Pentru ca daca as putea avea CHIAR pe oricine doar pocnind din degete, cred ca m-as plictisi fara sa lupt nitel. I like the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eh, astea ar fi partile bune ale chestiei asteia. Dar sunt si parti negative. Multe. Pe cat de placute par cele bune, pe atat de nenorocite sunt cele rele. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu mai esti stapan doar pe tine. Adica nu esti responsabil doar de tine. Nici doar de tine si familia ta. Porti pe umeri o tara intreaga, poate chiar mai multe. Porti pe umeri divintatea. Si imparti lumea cu alti zei asemenea tie. Responsabilitatile sunt imense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tipu' a incercat sa isi asigure ceea ce are, adica domnia, dinastia, sa fie sigur ca lasa ceva in urma lui. Orice barbat simte nevoia de asa ceva, da' pai cel mai improtant din tara. Si tipu' a tot incercat si a incercat. Ma refer acum la a avea un mostenitor baiat, pentru ca baietii contau atunci. Eh, nu ca acum s-ar fi schimbat multe da' ma rog... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si in showul asta se arata ca omul a suferit ingrozitor. Parca era blestemat. Nu putea avea o familie.. Nu se stie de la ce a pornit totul, adica nu imi dau seama ce a declansat aceasta reactie in lant, dar a avut 6 sotii! SASE! Si a avut ghinion cu fiecare. Nu numai ca nu a reusit sa isi mentina dinastia prin baieti, dar i-au mai si murit nevestele sau l-au tradat sau mai stiu eu ce. M-am pus un pic in locul lui. Oribil.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa incerci atat de tare sa.. sa fii macar in modul asta un om normal, prin a avea o familie, si "divinitatea" sa nu iti permita. Acea divinitate pe care credeai ca o reprezinti si tu.... Cat de neputincios si de nimic ai putea ajunge sa te simti? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa ti se inchine o lume intreaga dar tu sa iti dovedesti tie insuti ca esti cam pwoerless.. Macar in ceea ce te priveste. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si sunt scene foarte bine facute in care se arata cum sufera. Era rege. Deci nu isi permitea sa se arate slab in fata nimanui, poate nici in fata lui insusi. Si... Sa afli ca ti-a murit mama, de exemplu. Si sa te afli in fata unei multimi. Si sa continui sa zambesti si sa le faci cu mana. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sau sa trebuiasca sa ucizi persoane pe care le iubesti si respecti din toata inima doar pentru ca asa scrie in legile pe care tu insuti si cu neamul tau le-ai creat. Sa iti privesti prietenii suferind si sa nu poti interveni in niciun fel, pentru ca trebuie sa dai un exemplu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa suferi din cine stie ce cauze dar sa nu poti spune nimanui ce se intampla cu tine, pentru ca tu esti in varful piramidei, si trebuie sa ramai acolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sa crezi ca faci ceea ce esti menit sa faci, si deodata sa te trezesti ca oamenii te urasc si te vor jos si iti intorc spatele. Si te huiduie. Si te blesteama. Si tot ce ai facut pentru ei crezand sincer ca a fost bine, se dovedeste a fi...useless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asta imi place la showul asta, ca spune atat de multe fara sa se spuna nimic. Nu stiu cine e de vina, actorii, regizorul, producatorul... Dar e... mindblowing. Exprima atat de multe doar prin cate o scena in care se observa un simplu egst. Dar spune atat de multe...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like this intro. E cel din primul sezon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MCX_Qs5vE3o&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MCX_Qs5vE3o&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In zilele noastre nush cum se face insa... Cred ca involuam, pentru ca daca cineva e "o idee mai rasarit decat restul" nu se mai crede ca e trimis de divintate, ci ca e weird si ca e trimis de Satan si ca e pur si simplu...wrong. Acum toti se sperie atat de tare de ceea ce nu inteleg, incat nici nu mai incearca sa gaseasca o explicatie, ci pur si simplu catalogheaza drept trash. Cand totul poate ca e de fapt invers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HnMQg_hW_B8&lt;br /&gt; kinda love this song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dunno, poate de asta nu vrea nimeni sa FIE Dumnezeu... Ci pur si simplu preferam sa credem ca exista si ca se ocupa de tot. Pentru ca suntem lasi. Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the King.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-7845689785487185880?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/7845689785487185880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/divine-or-not.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7845689785487185880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7845689785487185880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/divine-or-not.html' title='Divine. ..Or not?'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-7919559780126011362</id><published>2009-05-27T16:03:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T16:19:25.878+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Drama, istorie, Dumnezeu, crime si sex.</title><content type='html'>Dude... This is pretty f***ed up right here.... Parca dorm mai bine cand dorm doar 4 ore, si nu cat un om normal. Macar le dorm mai adanc si nu imi mai amintesc toate visele si dubioseniile. Oricum la fel de obosita sunt.. Yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Primul episod din sezonul 3 din The Tudors ma cam foarte dezamagise. Pana cand s-a terminat. Pt ca la sfarsit ramasesem extrem de curioasa si incantata de el. Si sezonu' 3 e diferit de primele 2 dar tot genial e. xD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Se schimba actiunea. In primele doua sezoane era vorba mai mult despre drama, femei, chestii funny, drama drama, tragedie si iar drama. Era misto, dar oricum... era entertaining, pe cand acum e mai... serios, asa. Acum sunt ridicate altfel de probleme. Nu mai e drama in centrul atentiei, ci... sa zicem fiinta umana? Si problemele ei. Si suferinta care ii e destinata. Si alte chestii misto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pare ca The Tudors s-a maturizat... Pana si actorii au un aer de genul asta. Tipul care il joaca pe Henric al 8-lea nu mai arata ca un pusti si are momente in care joaca si mai bine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like this. Ma asteptam ca sezonul 3 sa suga GRAV. Imi era teama ca va fi foarte naspa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though... Devine tot si tot mai crud... Realist [that's really good for a movie / TV show / whatever] si foaaarte. crud. That's pretty fucked up...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma prinde foarte tare... Ma face sa simt aproape orice scena. Iubesc pana si bijuteriile femeilor de acolo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naspa sa fii tradator. Naspa sa... sa te gandesti la tine si la ce iti e tie bine si sa stii ca de fapt cum procedezi e gresit. Si sa te doara sufletul din cauza asta. Dar sa nu poti face nimic. Pentru ca ai o familie care te asteapta acasa. Si deci nu ii poti face sa sufere asa. Dar pentru asta trebuie sa alegi sa faci alte familii sa sufere. Eventual sa fii si acolo si sa vezi totul si sa trebuiasca sa iti musti buzele pana la sange dar sa nu arati ce ti se intampla de fapt. Sa te consideri pe tine si sa te simti si sa te vezi ca un tradator. Si sa iti fie scarba de tine si de ceea ce faci si de ce ai devenit. Sa fii atat de scarbit incat sa nici nu mai poti da inapoi. Si nu ma refer numai la Charles Brandon acum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si mai naspa daca faci asta, daca devii un tradator, pentru ca apoi sa fii tradat, la randul tau. Tocmai pentru ca se stie ca esti un tradator.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ca si cum tradatorii ar merita sa fie tradati..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ca si cum si-ar cere-o... Really, foarte des tradatorii sfarsesc fiind tradati. Pana acum consideram ca o merita. Pana acum eram chiar inversunata si convinsa ca asa trebuie sa se si intample pana la urma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Odata cu pierderea inocentei... ajungi sa nu mai judeci unele lucruri si unele fapte ale altora. Pentru ca ajungi sa le intelegi. Pentru ca poate ai facut si tu asa ceva. Sau ceva asemanator. Sau stii ca poate vei face. Pentru ca.... ti-ai pierdut puritatea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate this about myself...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am invatat sa fac compromisuri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am fost pusa in situatia de a alege intre lumea mea frumoasa si utopica in care exista dreptate, si lumea reala. Si am vrut, vreau, si sper ca voi vrea intotdeauna sa aleg [si sa mai cred in…] lumea utopica. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu cred sa mai fi fost pusa pana acum intr-o situatie atat de “serioasa”. Nu cred ca am mai fost pusa vreodata sa aleg intre doua lucruri atat de incredibil de importante pentru mine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Astazi am invatat sa fac compromisuri pentru ceea ce vreau cu adevarat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hurt. ..E putin spus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and... Wow... Nu stiu cum pot unii sa vada atat de multa cruzime pe lumea asta... Serios, nu stiu cum rezista.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-7919559780126011362?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/7919559780126011362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/drame-istorie-dumnezeu-crime-si-sex.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7919559780126011362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/7919559780126011362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/drame-istorie-dumnezeu-crime-si-sex.html' title='Drama, istorie, Dumnezeu, crime si sex.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-3981732695951393661</id><published>2009-05-27T06:05:00.007+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-27T06:46:33.562+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Our lives are defined by opportunities, even the ones we miss.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Shyv8gqtyjI/AAAAAAAAABg/qWD5Elc7Lgc/s1600-h/3112297149_e5aebd177a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 234px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Shyv8gqtyjI/AAAAAAAAABg/qWD5Elc7Lgc/s320/3112297149_e5aebd177a.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340336712250673714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Benjamin Button: Sometimes we're on a collision course, and we just don't know it. Whether it's by accident or by design, there's not a thing we can do about it. A woman in Paris was on her way to go shopping, but she had forgotten her coat - went back to get it. When she had gotten her coat, the phone had rung, so she'd stopped to answer it; talked for a couple of minutes. While the woman was on the phone, Daisy was rehearsing for a performance at the Paris Opera House. And while she was rehearsing, the woman, off the phone now, had gone outside to get a taxi. Now a taxi driver had dropped off a fare earlier and had stopped to get a cup of coffee. And all the while, Daisy was rehearsing. And this cab driver, who dropped off the earlier fare; who'd stopped to get the cup of coffee, had picked up the lady who was going to shopping, and had missed getting an earlier cab. The taxi had to stop for a man crossing the street, who had left for work five minutes later than he normally did, because he forgot to set off his alarm. While that man, late for work, was crossing the street, Daisy had finished rehearsing, and was taking a shower. And while Daisy was showering, the taxi was waiting outside a boutique for the woman to pick up a package, which hadn't been wrapped yet, because the girl who was supposed to wrap it had broken up with her boyfriend the night before, and forgot. &lt;br /&gt;Benjamin Button: When the package was wrapped, the woman, who was back in the cab, was blocked by a delivery truck, all the while Daisy was getting dressed. The delivery truck pulled away and the taxi was able to move, while Daisy, the last to be dressed, waited for one of her friends, who had broken a shoelace. While the taxi was stopped, waiting for a traffic light, Daisy and her friend came out the back of the theater. And if only one thing had happened differently: if that shoelace hadn't broken; or that delivery truck had moved moments earlier; or that package had been wrapped and ready, because the girl hadn't broken up with her boyfriend; or that man had set his alarm and got up five minutes earlier; or that taxi driver hadn't stopped for a cup of coffee; or that woman had remembered her coat, and got into an earlier cab, Daisy and her friend would've crossed the street, and the taxi would've driven by. But life being what it is - a series of intersecting lives and incidents, out of anyone's control - that taxi did not go by, and that driver was momentarily distracted, and that taxi hit Daisy, and her leg was crushed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daisy: Would you still love me if I were old and saggy? &lt;br /&gt;Benjamin Button: Would you still love ME if I were young and had acne? When I'm afraid of what's under the bed? Or if I end up wetting the bed? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Benjamin Button: I was thinking how nothing lasts, and what a shame that is. &lt;br /&gt;Daisy: Some things last. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Daisy: And in the spring, 2003, he looked at me. And I knew, that he knew, who I was. And then he closed his eyes, as if to go to sleep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Benjamin Button: [Voice over; letter to his daughter] For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Benjamin Button: You never know what's coming for you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Benjamin Button: Our lives are defined by opportunities, even the ones we miss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"...And it's ending one minute at a time."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-3981732695951393661?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/3981732695951393661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/our-lives-are-defined-by-opportunities.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3981732695951393661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/3981732695951393661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/our-lives-are-defined-by-opportunities.html' title='Our lives are defined by opportunities, even the ones we miss.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/Shyv8gqtyjI/AAAAAAAAABg/qWD5Elc7Lgc/s72-c/3112297149_e5aebd177a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-4978561049837708344</id><published>2009-05-25T11:42:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-25T11:56:14.063+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Read my mind.</title><content type='html'>How the hell did we wind up like this &lt;br /&gt;Why weren't we able &lt;br /&gt;To see the signs that we missed &lt;br /&gt;And try to turn the tables &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish you'd unclench your fists &lt;br /&gt;And unpack your suitcase &lt;br /&gt;Lately there's been too much of this &lt;br /&gt;But don't think it's too late &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And all the roads we have to walk are winding&lt;br /&gt;And all the lights that lead us there are blinding&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh well I don't mind if you don't mind&lt;br /&gt;Cause I don't shine if you don't shine&lt;br /&gt;Before you go, can you read my mind?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...so i'll love whatever you become &lt;br /&gt;and forget the reckless things we've done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-4978561049837708344?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/4978561049837708344/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/read-my-mind.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4978561049837708344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/4978561049837708344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/read-my-mind.html' title='Read my mind.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-1221446914674364514</id><published>2009-05-23T22:03:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T22:03:56.070+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Just... Fury.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/zDWWAVNpBDA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zDWWAVNpBDA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-1221446914674364514?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/1221446914674364514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/just-fury.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1221446914674364514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/1221446914674364514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/just-fury.html' title='Just... Fury.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-6241143666820340875</id><published>2009-05-23T22:01:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T22:03:33.019+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Hmph.</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/_daXQ3UDSW8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/_daXQ3UDSW8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-6241143666820340875?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/6241143666820340875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/hmph.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6241143666820340875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/6241143666820340875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/hmph.html' title='Hmph.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-2372946484541394602</id><published>2009-05-23T12:03:00.009+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-23T12:35:50.917+03:00</updated><title type='text'>De-aia nu sunt eu sfanta.</title><content type='html'>14 - 31 august. Yupy! *sarcasm*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Voi fi plecata din tara. Suuuper. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma voi indopa in fiecare zi cu paste si ma voi plictisi crunt intr-o ditamai casoaia, si voi fi foarte deprimata gandindu-ma la cei de acasa si belind ochii intr-un televizor pe un canal de muzica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E atat de placut sa zaci pe o canapea fiindu-ti dor de casa si fiind inconjurat de straini, gandind "Oh, uite, poate ca stiu si ei melodia asta... Poate ca o asculta chiar acum..", "Acum probabil ca sunt in Fire si beau o bere pe caldura asta.... Mama, ce buna era...", "Acum probabil ca e in skate...", "Acum e la Metallica... Omg, e la Metallica...." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stiti ce obiceiuri misto sunt in Italia? Daaa, e atat de genial. Sunt o groaza de neamuri. Sotul mamei mai are un frate si o sora. Si astia, la randul lor, au copii si alte rude. Si au casele foarte apropiate una de alta. E un oras mic, in care pana si la sifon mergi cu masina pe stradute inguste. Ah, am precizat ca am frica de masina? *flashes eyelashes* Abia astept sa ma duca "ai mei" cu masina pana la mare pt juma de ora, pe drumuri inguste, iar in dreapta sa fie prapastie si teren arid. Si drumul format din curbe bruste luate cu viteza. FARA gard. *huge mrrrrrrrr*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De fiecare data cand intri in casa cuiva, chiar daca ai cunoaste gazdele, chiar daca nu, tre sa te duci cu cadouri si sa ii pupi. Te trezesti, te duci sa pupi oamenii. Iesi din casa, pupi. Te intorci in casa, pupi. Ei ies, pupi. Se intorc, pupi. Va duceti la culare, pupi. Te trezesti, pupi. Hmph. Adorabil. Mirific.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si neamurile astea ale mamei, adica implicit si ale mele... Sunt atat de dragastoase.... Si vin si ne viziteaza zilnic. Si nu doar atat, dar ne [ma] iubesc atat de mult incat intra in camera mea atunci cand dorm. Nu, nu se bate la usa in curu' Italiei, pur si simplu intri si ma trezesti. Si nu trebuie neaparat sa dorm, pot sa fiu in sufragerie. Ca tu intri si dupa aia ma chemi ca sa iti arat vreo rochie sau ceva de genu'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Italia, chiar daca iti e foame chiar daca nu, chiar daca iti e rau chiar daca nu, chiar daca iti plac cei de langa tine chiar daca nu, trebuie sa manance cu totii la masa in fiecare zi. Si trebuie sa se manance cate nspe mii de feluri de paste si chestii grele, apoi fructe, inghetata, yara yara. Stai cate o ora la masa. Si nu te poti ridica pana nu termina si ultima persoana de mancat. Prinzi radacini acolo. Ca altfel esti nesimtit. Eventual, gazda se mai si holbeaza urat la tine din fata ta. Tu esti deprimat si tot ce vrei e sa iti tragi un glont in cap sau, si mai bine, sa ALERGI pana in tara ta de cacat si plina de cocalari si care miroase urat [da, miroase urat.], si ei urla dupa tine sa vii la masa, ca sa inceapa sa pape. Sa. ALERGI. *flacari pe nas*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cand sunt sarbatori, toate neamurile se strang la un loc, si sunt vreo 15. De obicei se strang in casa mamei. Adica ea gateste, pune masa, yara yara. Pentru 15 persoane. Hmph. Si unii nefu***i ii mai spun si ce e naspa la ea acasa. Si se strang toti si baga in ei si rad si se pupa, pentru ca atunci cand ajunge fiecare la casa lui, sa inceapa sa se barfeasca si sa dea vorba mai departe despre ce a facut X si Y.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt trei persoane din familia aia pe care ii plac. Tata vitreg. Desi sincer... mi s-a cam luat de la unele chestii. Fratim-miu vitreg cica, Fabio. E stilat, cinstit, foarte harnic, dragut, inteligent. I like him. Ma bucur ca il voi revedea. Mai e cumnata mamei, Zoraide. In comparatie cu restul, nu e chiar asa harpie. E frumusica si isteata. Si de treaba. Tin minte ca nu stia ca inteleg si rup nitel de italiana, si a venit la mama si a inceput sa ma laude de fata cu cine mai era pe acolo. That was nice. Si in comparatie cu restul, parea sincera. She's nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In rest, OH MY GOD, abia astept sa intru in clanul serpilor ipocriti si sa ii las sa ma calce in picioare! Hahaha, that's so sweet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmph, nu degeaba sunt romanca. Le voi arata ca putem fi nesimtiti. Mama accepta o groaza de chestii, spunand ca in viata trebuie sa fii diplomat. Da, okay, trebuie sa fii si asta. Dar de data asta nu mai sunt noua acolo si daca cineva mai incearca sa faca ce vrea cu mine - intr-un mod "diplomat" - mi se foarte falfaie de cat ma vor vorbi de rau peste tot dupa ce ii voi pune la punct. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oricum nu stau acolo. Macar cand vin sa ma respecte. Nu le cere nimeni sa ma pupe nicaieri, pur si simplu sa ma lase in pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Intr-un fel sper sa fie la fel de "imbarligat" si cu probleme familiare ca anu' trecut, ca sa pot si eu macar sa imi ocup niste timp cu ceva entertaining. Ipocritilor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Super. Doua saptmani si trei zile. Doua saptmani si trei zile. Departe de tot ce e al meu. Si de tot ce iubesc. Chair si de tot ce urasc.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-2372946484541394602?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/2372946484541394602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/de-aia-nu-sunt-eu-sfanta.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2372946484541394602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/2372946484541394602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/de-aia-nu-sunt-eu-sfanta.html' title='De-aia nu sunt eu sfanta.'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-5012531885579999811</id><published>2009-05-22T22:56:00.007+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T23:29:55.379+03:00</updated><title type='text'>"Incrunta-ti fruntea aia, poate gasesti vreun sens"</title><content type='html'>Destul de deja-vu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mi-am amintit cum eram acum doi ani in urma, pe vremea asta. Ma simteam atat de prinsa si legata de maini si de picioare.. Era groaznic, nici nu puteam respira. Nu aveam cale de scapare, si cu cat ma zbateam mai tare cu atat era mai dureros.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu m-ar fi deranjat sa fiu atat de legata daca mi-ar fi fost bine. Dar erau momente in care efectiv as fi vrut sa scap, pentru ca numai bine nu imi era. Si atunci ma revoltam cu tot sufletul si tanjeam dupa libertate, dupa libertatea recent pierduta. Si de fiecare data faceam cate ceva pentru a incerca sa o recastig, pentru a incerca sa ma eliberez... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La fel ma simt si acum. Ca si atunci, stiam de dinainte ca sunt foarte prinsa. Dar evident ca imi placea. Insa abia in momentele de genul asta, aceasta dependenta devine ceva enervant si.. nociv. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si simtind toate astea, mi-am amintit de cum era pe atunci. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si de data asta, am avut acelasi impuls, aceeazi zvacnire rebela de a ma elibera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si mi-am adus aminte ca am incercat asta si atunci. Si ce am rezolvat? Well, am stricat mult mult mai multe, doar ca sa ma trezesc tot si tot mai prinsa. Si sa fiu si mai... sufocata de legaturi. Si sa ma adancesc tot mai rau in aceeasi nebunie. Si mai ales, tot ce am reusit a fost sa dau totul peste cap. Sa ingreunez totul de n ori. Si sa pierd tot, dar sa raman in aceeasi situatie. Sau mai rau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tot ce am reusit cu adevarat a fost sa distrug tot. Si dupa aia sa imi para rau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu m-am lasat pana nu am facut totul praf. Ca sa ce? Ca sa *laughs* ca sa mi se arate ca oricum tot degeaba, si oricum tot aia e, si oricum e ceva beyond me care ma poate pune in c*r oricand i se scoala. Isi poate pocni degetele si sunt inapoi de unde am pornit, fara sa ma prind de unde am fost luata. That thing scared me. It was pretty much horrible. Chiar am simtit asta pe bune atunci. M-am simtit atat de mica si de neinsemnata... Ca niciodata. It was fucked up. Si...extraordinar de uimitor. Really. Lectia aia am invatat-o bine. Tocmai pentru ca incercasem atata sa scap, si tot in van. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bai, da' imi amintesc ca eram perseverenta. Eu tot incercam sa scap si dadeam si dadeam. Claudette asta... Nu stie sa se opreasca fetita aia. Jesus. Neslefuita mai e.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yeah... De data asta ar trebui sa incerc sa fiu ceva mai docila si mai... wise. Oricum, oricat as incerca si oricat m-as enerva si oricat m-as zbate... sunt prinsa atat de bine, si asa voi fi intotdeauna. *smiles*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In sfarsit, am invatat asta. And after all... it ain't that bad... *soft smile*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si... banuiesc ca odata ce trece aceasta revolta, voi reveni la stadiul de "I'm so lucky to have it". Sentimentul asta e inca acolo, dar nah.. Oana. Claudette. Curcalot. D-astea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7189987968910045221-5012531885579999811?l=broken-product.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/feeds/5012531885579999811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/incrunta-ti-fruntea-aia-poate-gasesti.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/5012531885579999811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7189987968910045221/posts/default/5012531885579999811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://broken-product.blogspot.com/2009/05/incrunta-ti-fruntea-aia-poate-gasesti.html' title='&quot;Incrunta-ti fruntea aia, poate gasesti vreun sens&quot;'/><author><name>Wanna</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07139893548476469216</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/SemtubXTJlI/AAAAAAAAAA4/2zIhq96INcY/S220/Mini+Oana.bmp'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7189987968910045221.post-9195936829560451930</id><published>2009-05-21T21:35:00.015+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-22T06:13:22.254+03:00</updated><title type='text'>The Other Boleyn Girl.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/ShWw7194F3I/AAAAAAAAABY/SvR9CfvIC6c/s1600-h/AnneBolyne.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_l-lhPKxoLnk/ShWw7194F3I/AAAAAAAAABY/SvR9CfvIC6c/s320/AnneBolyne.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338367475462969202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm bored. Pretty pissy. Nu am stare. Mi-e cald. Ma enervez repede. Sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu de ce, dar am tot auzit ca fetitele din generatia mea [si nu numai] atunci cand erau mici, visau ca sunt printese in pericol salvate de printi. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama, nici sa scriu n-am chef pe bune.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu nu mi-am imaginat niciodata asta. Ba chiar... Intodeauna eram si eu eroina. Adica da, visam la super eroi and stuff, dar nu ca sunt salvata si "pusa bine" si protejata, ci ca ii ajut sa salveze pe altii. Weird. And cute. Tin minte ca primul personaj la care m-am gandit in felul "ala" a fost Zorro. *laughs* Pentru ca erau niste desene animate cu el. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cat despre ideea de printi si printese... Atunci nu s-a manifestat deloc. Cele din povesti ma lasau rece, castelele cam la fel, cam tot ce tinea de lumea aia imi era destul de indiferent. Nu am fost genul de copil fascinat de asa ceva. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar cand am crescut si mi-am descoperit pasiunea pentru istorie, mi-am descoperit si alte... dunno, inclinatii? Intai am fost foaaaarte atrasa de lumea antica. Egipt si Grecia. Inca sunt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doar ca.. de ceva timp incoace insa, de cand am aflat mai multe, cred ca pe primul loc a trecut Evul Mediu, ca perioada preferata. Plus ca sunt innebunita dupa istoria Frantei. Era o vreme cand stiam cam tot pe dinafara. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In timp, se pare ca pasiunea pentru Evul Mediu a tot crescut. Desi nu cred ca a fost vreodata foarte intensa, intr-un fel era chiar abia perceptibila. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iubind istoria, trebuie sa recunosc o chestie cheesy sau plictisitoare about me: imi place sa ma uit la filmele cu subiect istoric. Aproape orice. Pur si simplu imi place sa vad povestile alea puse in scena. Ma uit cam la tot ce prind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si de vreun an incoace [sau mai putin], tot vizionand chestii, mai ales din Evul Mediu, am inceput sa ma simt tot mai atrasa de lumea aia. Iar de cand cu The Tudors... Moama.... Am fost atat de PRINSA acolo... Bijuteriile, vestimentatia, stilul de viata, modul de a vorbi... I love it. Si-mi place sa ma uit si sa observ toate detaliile alea mititele din fiecare scena sau decor. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Asa ca odata cu the Tudors, chestia cu Evul Mediu, si mai ales, chestiile legate de regalitate, au devenit ca un fel de... ahem, fetis? Si pasiune in acelasi timp. *scratches head* Asa a iesit totul la iveala ca lumea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu stiu de ce simt toate astea. Tind sa cred ca e din cauza lui Claudette... Ea ar fi singura chestie care ar putea avea vreo legatura cu perioada asta. Dar cu regalitatea... Hmmm not really. So i dunno. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, pentru a mai observa unele.. detalii, m-am uitat la filmul "The other Boleyn girl". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acum sa va spun si povestea. Prin secolul 16 sau cam asa, in Anglia domnea Henric al 8-lea Tudor. Insurat cu Caterina de Aragon, printesa din Spania, pe atunci Spania fiind mare putere mare. Tipa era mai in varsta decat el asa ca nu i-a putut oferi decat o fata, Mary Tudor. Iar Anglia avea nevoie de un mostenitor la tron. Practic monarhia si domnia lui Henric era pusa in pericol. A inceput sa faca tratate cu Franta si sa incerce sa se inteleaga bine cu Spania and all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La curtea Frantei sau nush unde, le-a intalnit pe fetele Boleyn, domnite de p-acolo. Anne si Mary. Mary era amanta regelui Frantei, apoi a luat-o si Henri. S-a saturat de ea, ca si de restul de altfel, si a cunoscut-o apoi pe Anne. Asta, fata mai inteligenta, s-a lasat mai greu. Tot incercand sa o cucereasca, regele s-a trezit el vrajit. Dar fata nu si nu, ca nu voia sa fie dezonorata si nu si nu. Asa ca omu' ce putea sa faca? Pentru o femeie, a divortat de nevasta-sa [se stie ca in perioadele alea nu exista divortul nu?], a fost excomunciat de Papa, si-a infiintat propria Biserica Protestanta a Angliei, Anne insasi fiind protestanta, si a luat-o de nevasta. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toate bune si frumoase pana cand.. aceeasi poveste. Anne i-a facut doar o fata, cea care urma sa fie regina Elizabeth the Great. Pana la urma, istoria s-a repetat, Henri s-a indragostit de Jane Seymour, si a acuzat-o pe Anne de tradare si incest, si a trimis-o pe esafod. What goes around, comes around, eh? Din cauza lui Anne regina Catherine murise singura si bolnava si umilita, in exil. Heh. Karma asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oricum, as far as i remember, tipu' a facut asta cu 6 femei, nereusind insa sa primeasca mostenitori de parte masculina. Ah da, si cred ca avea si sifilis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing is.. Poate ca Anne intradevar doar a urmarit sa devina regina si woooow, s-a folosit de farmecele feminine pt a ii suci mintile regelui. Sau poate chiar era o femeie cu principii si nu voia probleme, si de-aia nu s-a supus din prima regelui Angliei. Oricum, avea cohones frate. In timpurile alea o femeie sa se opuna regelui? Wow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si da, evident ca nu sunt de acord cu asta, indeed, ar fi fost extrem de urat din partea ei sa distruga intentionat si in mod egoist relatia lui Henric cu regina. Dar daca a fost pur si simplu meant to be si nu a urmarit asta cu rautate...asta e. Se intampla chestii mai urate pe lumea asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si in filmul asta de care spuneam, dupa cum se precizeaza si in titlu, e vorba mai mult de Mary Boleyn. Sora mai mica, prima f**uta de Henri al 8-lea. E jucata de Scarlet Johanssen sau cum o cheama, iar Anne de Natalie Portman. Si Mary e pusa intr-o lumina frumoasa de micuta martira, iar Anne e data drept scorpia nenorocita care a distrus vietile tuturor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincer, nu stiu ce s-a intamplat cu adevarat atunci, si nu stiu ce fel de om fusese Anne Boleyn decat din ce scrie pe Wikipedia, dar filmul asta... suge. In primul rand pt ca e facut mediocru. Cu astea doua, chiar ma asteptam sa fie ceva at least entertaining. Dar chiar m-am plictisit. In afara de costume, nu a fost nimic... wow acolo. Si nici costumele nu au fost wow sau geniale.. Oricum nimic nu se poate compara cu The Tudors referitor la asta. I reaaally got bored, in afara de o singura scena in care cele doua surori aveau o lupta pentru a il castiga pe rege. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si frate, ma asteptam ca tipele sa joace bine si ma gandeam ca sunt frumoase si deci ma vor captiva. Dar nu mi-au transmis ABSOLUT NIMIC! Ba chiar cred ca acum Scarlet aia imi e si mai antipatica. Iar Natalie Portman m-a cam dezamagit. Nu zic ca au jucat deplorabil, Natalie Portman as spune ca a fost chiar okay, dar, repet, nu. mi-au. transmis. NIMIIIC. Asta a fost foarte fucked up. Nimic, niciun sentiment, o reactie, o tresarire, nimic! Asteptam sa se termine mai repede tot... Si sincer... am tot dat cursorul inainte. And i never do that... Iar ultimele 20 de minute nu le-am mai putut urmari. Mi se foarte falfaie. M-a enervat si am fost revoltata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;
