‘…have you ever seen the rain?’

Clima temperat oceanica=ploua.

During the last few days, as there is no info from the client, I’ve brought the CFA books with me to work, meaning I’ve had a lot of time to think about …myself.

It’s relatively easy to spot my driving mistakes and try to address them, try to correct them in a rational manner. It’s the same with every problem around. Why, then, is it much harder when it comes to dealing with my emotional issues?

Why is everything suddenly much more complex and …even painful. Maybe that these fundamental issues are the very things responsible with my ‘way of being in the world’.

A colleague at work has been talking about names today, their significance and importance.
My personal belief is that names do not necessarily define you. One can refine and redefine a name until the name becomes a living entity that the person puts on and wears for the rest of his/her existence. ‘A name? What’s in a name? A rose, by any other name would smell as sweet?’ However, the word rose brings to our nostrils the fragrance, brings out the colors and details that define the rose. A name is a convention. If a person lived within his/her name long enough, the name acquired a substance of its own. Does the name define a person, then?
A name of somebody we know brings to our eyes the image of that person, together with the other details associated, smell, memories, feelings…
So a name is a powerful tool in generating a desired effect in somebody…What about the loved ones? Do we represent their being using the name, or is it something more powerful and more direct and more complex than their name?
Is naming something like calling that thing to life, acknowledging its existence?

bring me that horizon!

Nu stiu de ce, dar mai ales nu stiu cum. Nu am dormit si totusi m-am trezit brusc avand senzatia asta: senzatia asta de limite depasite. De nemarginire. De potential nerealizat. Mi-am amintit ce i-am spus unchiului meu acum 2 saptamani (unchi al meu care e pe cale sa implineasca rotunda si frumoasa varsta de 56 :) )...i-am spus ca are toata viata inainte.

Asa ca, brusc, toate problemele mi-au disparut. Sunt undeva pe un varf inalt, uitandu-ma in jos, fiind atenta sa nu ametesc si sa cad. Sau pregatindu-ma sufleteste sa cad, dar si sa ma bucur de senzatia incredibila din timpul caderii...cu vantul fluturandu-mi prin plete, pe un varf inlat, cu norii la orizont si cu o mare, nemarginita, nemarginita, nemarginita...

Pamantul e rotund? Budapesta e in Ungaria?

Cred ca urmatoarea pe lista trebe sa fie saritura cu coarda elastica...in gol. Sau macar cu parasuta...:)

I feel it in my fingers/I feel it in my toes/Love is all around me

Oh! Don’t worry, it’s not meeee! BUT it’s all around me: all the people around me have it, have had it, lost it, are tackling it, are at least hoping to find it…in a word, they are somehow relating to the feeling of romantic love. Which is great and, at the same time, disturbing. I’ve been wandering lately whether my heart is in the right place. Do I even have it? :) I cannot apparently…love.
Oh! How do I miss those days when conversation with the person I was infatuated with (not in love) literally sent me to the 7th (?) heaven…’I believe I can fly’ and I wasn’t stoned, either.
I think people actually need these endorphins to keep them going. One needs the feeling of anticipation, the crescendo, the climax and the adrenalin rush. They are complex physical reactions that the body and the brain need to be able to go on day after day after day.
So what is it that we are left with if we do not have it (romantic love) anymore? Is it a void? Is it a replacement, another ‘object worth the constancy’? I have to confess that I am confused: I have tried to understand what happened to me in the last several months. I’ve been in denial, in pain, in confusion, and the last state seems to last the longest. Maybe I am actually in love with being in love, and not with an actual person. Well, it must be a definite this one, not a maybe.
Truth be told, I have no idea what romantic love means (practically:) ), which is in itself rather sad.
Coming back to the train of thought developed previously, I am thinking about love as I feel the imminent death approaching fast. Hopefully, I’m not midlife (so not midlife crisis here), but I’ve definitely spent around 30% of my life on utter nonsense, doing things that I HAD to do, always approaching people, situations, and even my own feelings in a MUST DO way. Surprisingly, I find joy in a lot of small things around me. The problem is that sometimes, like these days, I ‘wake up’ and feel very, very confused. Me and Gauguin have the same problem: where do we come from? Who are we? Where are we going? Usually, for me, the emphasis is on now, on the ‘who am I’? And this is because I usually define myself in relation to the road, in relation to a mission, in relation to an action. When I pause to think, when I’ve lost the mission, or when I’m confused about the road to be taken, I have problems defining who I am. So the traveler is defined be the road he/she takes.
This is one of the moments in my life when I realize I have no idea where I want to be, in 10 to 50 years or even at the end, when I’ll be embarking for the final adventure. That is why I need to set milestones, little targets to be achieved. I go from one to the next, sometimes without pausing to think about the bigger picture. I take what I can, and leave the rest? What is the rest and what am I actually taking for me?
My head is too small for all these questions (my brain is also small), so I’ll stop before the headache sets in.

home is where your heart is

I realized in the last several days that I kept thinking of Luxembourg when I said 'home'. This is a new and disturbing thought. When I was in Bucharest, I always used the term 'home' when I spoke about Sebes.

After being in Sebes for 4 weeks this year, I realiszed I can no longer call it home. It's the feeling that I no longer belong that's bothering me. The sudden realization that life goes on without me (as if I would be dead) in the little town: people get married (my cousin), my 'niece' and 'nephew' grow older (they are actually in the 10th and 7th grade already), my grandmother and my uncles and aunts are growing older as well. I am growing older. I've been reading about the death concept in children lately and about the likely effects that the dealing with the idea of death has in children and in the future adults.

I think that the 'growing old' problem only comes to mind in connection with the idea of death. The ‘ultimate adventure’, as somebody once put it.
At some point, I was convinced that the only reason why the human being has the desire to be in a relationship with another human being is related to this fear, the fear of finitude, the fear that this, this what we have right here, right now, this is ‘as good as it gets’. The desire to feel that one can share this dread with somebody else, that somebody else will be so affected by the end of a being that he or she would eventually want to ‘finish’ themselves. It this great love? I remember my grand-grand mother that died less than 2 years after my grand-grand father simply because she missed him so much she could not bear to ‘go on’. She kept ‘talking’ to him, she kept relating to him. She wanted him back, but this was not possible so she somehow decided to stop fighting.
Julien Green once said that to love somebody is to hide the abyss for the other person.

When we sit back and try to have some perspective upon our lives, we realize that there is little to no meaning to be found, that we must always build, build, build, build bridges to relate to others to gain a sufficient amount of meaning to keep us going for a little while longer.

I have started to talk about home, centrum mundi, the home is where the people that we love are. Sebes was home for me. The problem with me saying that Luxebourg is ‘home’ is that this statement has no real basis. My ‘centrum mundi’ is not in Luxembourg, but if I’ve lost one and did not find another, where am I? If I do not have a center to gravitate towards, who am I?

My home might be where my heart is, however, my heart is nowhere, apparently. Simply suspended, nauseated? Lost, or only asleep?

The understanding that I will have to bear staying here, in Luxembourg, for yet another year (at the least) has dawned on me last night. I am forcing myself to call it ‘home’. The actual physical home is cozy and filled with dear people. Somehow, this might not be enough.

I know why I’m here, and moreover I know why I’m not in Romania. I know why I’ve lost the ‘home’, and I know that at some point in an adult’s life, this is inevitable. However, this new feeling of ‘not belonging’ is quite scary and numbing. Maybe I’ll be able to drift away in one of my ‘non-problematic’ stages and I will not feel this awake for the following year. If I’m lucky, the whole process will not be too painful.

I want to go home.

update 6th of July 2008

I've just came back from Romania.
I managed to scratch my car, in the first 30 seconds after I got in.
Apparently, I am unable to estimate where my car finishes. Luckily for me, the other guy's car (a van) had a protective plastic/rubber (?) back, probably especially created for reckless drivers like myself:).
I almost had an accident as well and my engine died several times (and by several I mean I can't actually remember the number because it happenned a lot:) ).
Plus, the car makes a funny and disturbing noise now, so I really need to take it back to the garage:).
More and more, I begin to realise that I'm hopeless. I wanted a car to boost my self esteem, but my self esteem is soaring when I actually try to drive. I prefer the right front seat anytime:)...I have to think about too many things at once when I'm driving, whereas I prefer to think at nothing at all:).

I should probably get back to finishing my assigned work for today...:). Keep tuned for other car news, or the ultimate news: that the car got the better of me:).