Wednesday, December 28, 2016

366 days: retrospection

     2016 in retrospect? Three words: restlessness, pain, risks.

     I remember: the New Year’s Eve and promises of I will return home and wait for me or I haven’t met anyone who deserves as much as you deserve, I recall my own frustrations and anxieties, I remember that I felt I decay, but I also remember the people who have held and dragged me after them until I healed.

     January was about theatre, affection and loved ones, but also about mistakes. February meant interviews, different kind of promises, and the inspiration I got from beautiful people and.. a respite. March brought unexpected encounters and the loveliest meet-ups. April came up with the excitement for zero waste lifestyle, compliments and laughter. From May I fondly recall the marathon, the yoga day and the first trip on my own to the Netherlands. 

Friday, December 16, 2016

Eudaimonia

     During a philosophy class (the only subject in all these years of high school that I would pleasantly attend), it came up in the discussion a writer who condemned the philosophers for "abstaining from life", for hiding in their ivory tower, for their refusal to comply to any profoundly human essences and for the fact that they lack tragedy, this tragedy typical to life. However, it seemed outrageously to me that the writer was himself a respected philosopher who lived more than 80 years.



     That, however, made me think. Not his disguised hypocrisy, but the topic he talked about: whether it is desirably to live a happy, long life, a quiet one, away from each torment specific to the human soul or to live a short one, so close to reaching insanity and delirium, bringing the exacerbation in every tedious part of life, at the risk of something cracking within you every moment. I could not let this idea fly by without any debate.  Below, some of the arguments.

Infinite above, limited around

     We are damned to live in a world with no answers, while we constantly have to face questions - apparently walls on the road to happiness, apparently always conditioned by subjectivism. However, the exuberance of this wretched hunt’s end never comes and no, it is not even expected. We designed some gods above us, action born from the impossibility (or from our inability?) to find an answer that at least scarcely resemble the truth.
Henrik Aarrestad Uldalen - Detach
     Thus, those gods become, with the aid of the prophets who have created them, the ultimate truth, the answer at the end of which there is no dot, but an exclamation mark. All that they preach is annoyingly incessant exclamation: the infinite is not for you, it only for our gods, all you have to do is to obey to the most significant commandment: we are doomed to finitude and thus we shall remain - the slaves of some entities we projected outside ourselves.

On self-illusion

     What we believe about ourselves is almost never what we actually are and, unfortunately, we find ourselves as duplicates of the opinions of those around or as refractions of the society through broken prism. We define ourselves by frivolous layers of our soul’s epidermis, by broken words, by small dreams, minimizing everything we could, in fact, truly become. Reflections of the outer world on our inner self are the venom getting to infect our entire being, and the inability to relinquish them appears as a fatality. 


     Everything is like a jungle: the struggle for survival, the strong versus the weak, the lianas among which our thoughts get stuck and we hang upside down, the frightened cries of abandoned beliefs.But what is beyond the jungle? What is beyond each fallen Bastille of the spirit

Tuesday, November 22, 2016

sunshine and sorrows

1. I am 20
2. Thus I have lived 240 months
3. I’ve had 3 homes
4. in 2 different countries
5. I have lost 12 important people
6. I’ve had 5 major existential crises (+ thousands of smaller ones)
7. I have 13 books I will never forget  
8. and there are 6 movies that irrevocably shattered my soul
9. I’ve had more than 19 haircuts
10. But I loved only 1 person and fell (deeply) in love with only 1 fictional character


11. I have visited 9 countries
12. and beaten 1 unpredictable & nasty disease
13. I’d started 5 novels and abandoned them all
14. but I’d loved all 20 cats that were mine
15. I went to 6 memorable concerts
16. and visited over 30 museums
17. Shamefully, there are 37 boys I had a crush on
18. I’ve drunk more than 14 000 liters of water
19. I shut down 2 blogs
20. and 3 projects left their footprint on my personality.

     And yes, I have been through too many disappointments, I disappointed too many people, I spent too many hours crying and doubting and shouting in my head and asking myself “is this a world worth-dying in?”. But then.. I’ve met so many wonderful people, read so many amazing books, I’ve fell in love with places and human beings worth-living for, movies and gestures, hugs and dogs and ideals and dreams. And I’ve received love maybe I didn’t deserve but I was grateful for each gram of it. When you look back, you realize you wasted your time on things that now don’t matter anymore, that lost their values, on people that you can’t even remember, on doubts, on being pointlessly angry, and realize.. you could’ve written down way more poems, more quotes, you could’ve taken more risks, could’ve given more appreciation, kisses.. trust.

     Let’s start with this beautiful and terrifying number that 20 is and to make an existence worth-telling your grandsons about and if you won’t have any grandson that’s fine as well, live for writing your life down and make sure you will feel proud reading it.

What if..

Saturday, November 19, 2016

Book review #5

     I will try to write this review so that it will be about the book itself and not about the only fictional character that I have ever fell in love with  (fortunately, up to this point, no fictional character impressed me so much so that I spend countless hours thinking about him!)

     I don’t know what Victor Hugo did, but it is certain that his talent made me irrevocably fall in love not only with the character I was talking about but also with his magnum opus - Les Miserables. At first I thought it would be quite useless to extoll this book since I suppose everyone is already aware of its place in literature, why would I write about it too? I tried to restrain myself, I swear, but I couldn’t help it, especially after I watched the musical from 2012, with its perfect cast and flawless soundtrack which became my favorite movie ever after half an hour..



     Hugo's novel is a fresco of the French society - deplorable in the nineteenth century. Or, partly deplorable since there still were people who worn with pride their virtues. The narrator follows Jean Valjean and describes all the injustices which Providence has condemned him to and which he swallows with an inexplicable inner strength. Hugo makes a very detailed portrait not only of Valjean, but of majority of the characters. Thus all, without exception, come to life and suddenly you are no longer reading a book, but watching a disturbingly poetic movie.

Wednesday, November 9, 2016

For all the poetry I cannot write

     I would find you in the darkest corner of my being, in the chaste intimacy, or in the failure to overcome my condition; anyway, I would not dare to search for you any longer. Maybe you are actually in my fear of an intense inner impact that I am not ready to face. Yet..? I tend to this latest version. I would write you down without any rhymes, only harmony rhymes; I would create you with miscellaneous lengths, since the inner flame does not allow me to limit you. Lyrics free from constraints, I would like to crown these white pages with your scent, to make my notebook the kingdom of a poetic delirium.


     How could I destroy the discrepancy between who you are and what you are understood to be? The chasm that could be born between these two edges would become an abyss over which only lightning would bow to. So I shall not write you, why would I, anyway? You place flowers in my hair, pleasures between my fingers and sophistication through the ribs. You enrich me as I, by myself, leafless of you, could not do. Stay mine, allow this selfishness of your keeper.

Monday, October 24, 2016

Diogenes' barrel

     While reading one of a highly appreciated Romanian author’s books, I came across what I had kept trying to depict and could not find the perfect metaphor: Diogenes’ barrel. Incidentally being said, many say that the philosopher chose to live in a barrel because he was disgusted by the outside world and, in fact, he really was. He is a cynical philosopher, after all. In any case, I shall not talk about cynicism, but to me, this eccentricity of Diogenes seemed very intriguing. 


Antoine Pirotte - Observant
     He chose solitude and yet, as the author I have mentioned describes, his decision included the solitude in the midst of the crowd. In other words, Diogenes desperately needed his own self and some time spent alone (when he probably was blaming people for all their vices and mistakes), but also needed the crowd, maybe out of an inner demand for belonging - not necessarily to human species, but to the vibrating nature (which gathers together all living creatures) Metaphorically speaking, Diogenes’ idea was a wise one. Why?

Monday, October 10, 2016

Anchored

     One day, my beloved friend confessed to me that she wants to make a tattoo, leaving me perplexed and in the process of revaluating my own identity. The person I grew up with, sharing with me certain moral values ​​and conceptions, now wants to print on her skin the trend of the past few years. With fear stealing little by little the air in the lungs, I asked her what would be the possible future tattoo, and she replied simply, the same kind of response that five years children shall give when they discover the obvious in the most abnormal circumstances "My mother's name", and the only way I could define this situation was "anchored".


     Self-triggered tornadoes and tsunami that grow from our own generator center, combinations of fire whose burning can not be determined in degrees and storms that scattered the order, we sometimes find ourselves motionless in their midst, unable to cling to a specific thought, a known and soothing one. 

Sunday, October 2, 2016

Syllogism on racism

     This syllogism does not comply to the general laws of syllogisms, as people do not respect the values ​​related to the acceptance of others.

     1) Some works of art (depicting the world or which bring to life inanimate or unseen things) are painted using color combinations that intertwine on a palette (combinations either conventional or surprising, but all, without exception, are the result of two tempera colors, no matter whether they are made accidentally or deliberately)


     2) All people who lived (either in the dirt or light), who still exist (either above mediocrity or bogged down in it) and who will be (living peacefully or touching the greatest paroxysm with their feelings) are the result of colors’ combinations which intertwine on the palette.

Saturday, September 17, 2016

Book review #4

     As an an avid reader that I am, I mostly like books which, when I reach their quarter, made me say "It will irrevocably change me”. Simone de Beauvoir's autobiography - "Memoirs of a dutiful daughter" - is an example and the second book in the hierarchy of those which have ravaged me like a hurricane - a brilliant, beautiful, unexpected one and, frankly, for a long time expected.. It's the kind of book you live for, you dream of. I was waiting for it.


     Her style of writing is with absolutely no imperfection: flawless in every sense of the word. How she writes struck me: I knew nothing about it and had no expectations; I expected to recognize myself, hidden by rows, but not to such an extent.

Monday, September 5, 2016

The autopsy of a selfie

     Sometimes I get the feeling that my words are not caustic enough and  I do not name them so out of hatred, not even out of revolt, but out of the desire to satirize certain gestures, a certain verbal tic, conversations or ways to moving, for the simple reason, yet better said, with the candid hope to change something.


     I am unable to move on without saying a thing I am not capable to forget, which is, perhaps, one of the very few references to my personal relationships: this depicts the greatest love of mine (now disaggregated) once photographing me, while saying "you know, a long time ago, people do not take photos of themselves, but of those they love" Let’s get over the moment of tears in the corner of the eye ("so romantic..."): they quickly evaporate.

Saturday, August 27, 2016

Delightfully

     I found myself - not infrequently - in the eagerness to write and the impossibility to find the right words to describe the sensation of euphoria that I have been feeling lately. After analyzing certain things, I have noticed that the inner life of some people „coagulates” not very late, but mine started to flourish at 18. However, I could not be more grateful for reaching the age when many neglected it and I am embraced by an electric eclecticism of thoughts that not only wakes me up, but it makes me want more.

     People, places, gestures. All have acquired a different meaning for me, maybe I led them to paroxysm, but I am not sorry for that. This exacerbation gets more delightful as I discover more things – while living at maximum intensity the present ones.

Friday, August 19, 2016

Love, Bucharest

     How much had I come to detest this town after less than half a year after I moved there (Quick hint: I moved alone to Bucharest in September 2014) Nearly two years after that moment full of hatred, here I am with my eyes weeping, not necessarily because I will leave soon, but for the fact that I’ve never foreknown how much it will mean to me.

     An excessively idealist child who grew up in the province (who is still an immature idealist), believing that the world is a dough waiting to be kneaded by no other than herself, that people are always outspoken and, in a blink of an eye, they will take you in their arms if they catch you smiling at them, that you learn valuable things at school, that each person waits his/her turn in line and so on. Well, Bucharest has destroyed all illusions and for that I will be eternally grateful.



     This capital, where dirt entwines with history, disgust with the absolute and smiles with anger, where masks underneath faces wear... masks, where respect is reduced to the stage of garbage or is raised close to heavenly glory, this capital where all oxymorons spin in a wild dance made me love its charm. 

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Book review #3

     Maybe it is irrelevant to say that the title - "All the light we cannot see" - can only urge you to take time for at least one sleepless night in honor of this book. Or well, at least from a viewpoint of a person who believes in the power of words and check for each one’s eurhythmy, and I tell you, this title is a ballroom lit by huge chandeliers and with freshly polished marble (The described ballroom is pretty simplistic, there are sentences which outline castles, abysses and upside down Heavens... simply because I am obsessed with words)


     After reading the first chapters, I was surprised, but I quickly grabbed the Doerr roller coaster: emotions, images and metaphors, streets, smells and shells. All my admiration, Mr. Doerr. So.,. One of the greatest atrocities of all times: the Second World War. Two extremely profound stories: a blind girl and an orphan boy from belligerent countries. Their passions come to life between the lines and you realize you are chained. The book seemed to be (beside astonishingly well written and tremendously moving) about „those little things”, about who people are and about their desire to keep living, which, amid the horrors, fears, chaos, is the only light they see.

Thursday, August 11, 2016

Once upon a time

     There are certain times when you get the feeling you are Aladdin and the minutes are the magic carpet: you just fly, reveling in the inflections of time, which you scarcely perceive and you just take all the sensations in, turning into abiding pillars of your soul each one of them. No matter how many would tell stories, fairy tales about "always", this "always" just sounds like a deceitful absolute truth, and reality will eventually force it to abdicate, thus the throne remains vacant and will be inevitably occupied by "sometimes".

     The resonance of this word is bitter, you perceive it like a lemon squeezed into your mouth, the taste suddenly spreads and your tongue explodes - pain seems vibrant in every muscle, bitterbitterbitter, the brain shrinks. Gums erupt; lava is the goddamned lemon’s lifeblood. Damn.

Saturday, August 6, 2016

Book review #2

     This review is quite „delicate” for me to write because.. well, let's say that Nietzsche himself is a touchy subject. More about that another time. So Yalom's "When Nietzsche Wept" caught my attention from the beginning and I was not expecting that. To be honest, I did not foresee anything that happened in this book so ingeniously writing, thing that comes as no surprise since the author is a well-known psychiatrist with early ambition of being a writer. The perfect combination, I might say.


     Venice, XIXth century. Josef Brauer, Freud’s master, and Lou Salome, Nietzsche's hell. The two meet and Lou asks the doctor to heal her friend, convincing him with her seductive personality that Nietzsche will become the greatest philosopher of the XXth century. You cannot refuse such an offer.

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Modus vivendi

     Finding myself too often in the circumstances of an argue with my own conscience, of endlessly lectures of two different people (one and the same?) dwelling in me, I tried to find – laborious process - a golden mean. While reading "Memoirs of a dutiful daughter", I had the revelation of discovery: a modus vivendi, a nicely childish one. No other than curiosity – portrayed, brightly and proudly - at my feet. I can not help but smile; so far, I have not found any other way to make existence bearable.
Source
     I talk from my own perspective: the only comfort – now and forever – shall remain the awareness that I know nothing or, in any case, I know far too little. It could not be more obvious what ensues: curiosity to learn more, to be ceaselessly searching for more rational meanings than the old ones. Only this shall be my guide, my purpose and, ultimately, my executioner. None but this idea haunts me: to wake up feeling like there is nothing to find, as everything is so profoundly limited so it is diminished to an atomic level, and not to sense any muscles vibration or desire to get down from the white sheets. Ghost of a dystopian future.

Monday, August 1, 2016

Book review #1

     Usually, when the levels of neurons’ development is low and the connections between them is rather deficient, the appreciation for certain things is not considerable either and, to give a concrete example, I shall depict myself two years ago: a child without patience, always on the run, unable to appreciate the true value of things. I have always been the kind of person who thinks that people can change because we are in constant motion, in a never-ending bustle. Introspection revealed to me that some aspects have changed so now I am truly capable of choosing a book from the library shelves, fully read and immeasurably appreciate it.


     To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee's novel, adapted to movie and with numerous awards, made me question my mental integrity from two years ago when I got bored while reading it. Second time is always lucky when it comes to books and, more importantly, if a book is as good as the mentioned one, your perception on life, on the world, on literature is changed, and in many cases even improved.

On chaos

     I often think about it and this question troubles me deeply: "Is everything chaos or order?” I said it would not hurt a debate with a sharp mind so the left side of my brain was the apologist of the chaos and the right side claimed that the final answer would be order. Below, some of the arguments.

     If you were to seek and to point out one thing that emanates order under any circumstances, you would certainly fail.

     That's just because the human mind is far too limited to see the perfection of the universe and we always stop at our inner struggles, rising them to heights way too high for us to solve them. Often, we become acrophobic.

Sunday, July 31, 2016

Playlist #1

     I am among those who are tired of club music, the songs whose chorus is continuously repeated and are only two other district lyrics; insubstantial songs, with just one beat. There is only one radio frequency in my country that is pleasant for my ears, the others keep replaying the same songs with trivial words whose videos have, with no doubt, something with sexual flavor.


     Yet I do not believe that all good music has already been produced, as I have heard. Maybe only 80%, but we a 20% hope. Since this blog was designed as an invitation to something deeper than society’s vulgarity and crowd’s superficiality, as a manifesto for culture and good taste, I made this playlist (first of more to come) with few contemporary songs to get you out of the vertigo of ordinary music. Ears, be delighted.

Saturday, July 30, 2016

Another journey: Zero Waste

     Two months ago, YouTube had some kindness and inspiration to suggest me an extraordinary TED Talk that, without any exaggeration, changed my life. Curious? You can find it here. If you watched the video, it has already told you much about what one could say: we pollute outrageously, we do not care about the planet, we take everything for granted. Nevertheless, we have the power to change something And it does not even no matter how many times before you have heard this phrase, but it is the truth.


     I was struck by how much we pollute - although I walk a lot and I use the public transport, I eat healthy, I still throw the trash away. This last one is clearly the problem and I was not thinking about the fact that things could be differently. Otherwise? Sustainably. Thus it was seeded in my soul a boundless affection for the planet, this wonderful Terra we keep destroying.

Self-aware ignorance

     While reading „When Nietzsche wept”, my Infatuation hid itself in a dark corner, and Ignorance, revealing her face after wearing a mask wisely designed to avoid features recognition, came and sat nonchalantly cross-legged. I looked her straight in the eyes and she did likewise.

Source
     Usually this is how things happen:  we defiantly stare at each other until she begins to roll her eyes, scratching the shortcomings on her arms and at one point, almost when I expect less, she stands up and fades away.

Friday, July 29, 2016

Endless

     I could not even tell if it is true that most people think that the end of youth comes with the end of high school or that youth really has an epilogue. And, frankly, I don’t even care. As I have seen so far many quotes claiming that "Happiness is a state of mind" - or perfection or beauty - so I can say that youth, as well, is a state of mind. 
Source
     When our consciousness slips through fingers and the mind keeps running, and running, and running in all directions dictated by "what-is-right" and "what-is-wrong”, minutes that it could transcend disappear, evaporate. This seems like all you’ve got: a direction already imposed, a set of instructions with each step you must take and your mind, constrained to walk an apparently predetermined road.  Holocaust of creativity, individuality, life. These are the gas chambers disguised in fairytales, guards with masks of concerned advisers and daily labors displayed as "10 simple steps".

Thursday, July 28, 2016

Documentary #1

     Instead of watching movies like the Fifty Shades of Grey screening or reading John Green’s books (not that I am against them or something), watch some documentaries whose main purpose is to change the people’s perspective regarding some important contemporary issues. An example which hit me in all my vital senses and left me with a burdened conscience and with an immeasurable desire to make at least a micro-change is The True Cost.

     Skipping the technical specifications, like how well the film was made and what audiovisual effects were used which, however, I can say (at least from the viewpoint of an amateur) that are flawless, the idea behind the documentary is the one that counts.

     Although there are many problems today's society has to face, perhaps one of the biggest concerns the fashion industry and what is really behind it. An article may not be so strongly impressive compared to the power that images have, that is why I firmly encourage you to watch this movie, words may lose their power when it comes to such cases.

On pride

     Pride? Sin damned to lie on the bottom of Hell incinerators. Pride? Thorn in the consciousness of sunny days. Pride? Avoid it, keep your head down, ignoring the sky above and, most important, neglect the fact that you deserve to be here.

     I am totally in favor of it, of pride, and of arrogance as well. Let’s be clear, I do not advocate walking the street in Adam’s suit, shouting like a indomitable Tarzan in the jungle „I am the best”. But I defend the belief that says you shall be proud of what you do, even if you do not do much. Be proud that after a night knelt in front of the temple of despair, you are able to keep your body vertically after getting out of bed.
© THE LUNATOUR
Maira Gall