Time lag

Ma gandeam sa copiez aici articolul de ieri:


In timp ce eu am mers linistita in vacanta, baietii de la IT or taiat accesul la blogspot, deci articolele de birou…nu mai pot ajuge pe site.

Aventuri la pescuit
Am terminat de citit urmatoarea chestie:
http://ilie.blog.cotidianul.ro/2008/09/03/scoala-de-corectie-pentru-soferi/
asa ca m-am gandit ca sunt norocoasa, ca nu am avut chiar atatea aventuri pe drum in vacanta.
Dar una din ele tot merita povestita:
Duminica dimineata (inca in Geneva), in jurul orei 9 reusesc sa ma trezesc, sa beau niste cola si sa mananc (nu mai stiu ce) sa nu ma doara stomacul si sa pornesc in sfarsit spre casa (Luxembourg city).
Imi pun destinatia in GPS: home. Drumul Luxembourg-Geneva (granita) l-am facut in exact 5 ore (nu 5 ore 18 minute cum spunea google maps). Am mers intins. Ma gandeam eu ca la intoarcere ar trebui sa fie la fel.
Ies din Geneva pe stradutele cunoscute, directia aeroport. Ratez iesirea pe autostrada, merg putin in fata gandindu-ma ca trebe sa ma intoarca GPS-u intr-o directie sau alta ca sa reiau acelasi drum. Uitasem intre timp, si mi-am amintit tarziu de tot, dupa vreo 2 ore, ca de fapt cantonul Geneva are 106 km de granita cu Franta din cei 109 in total, de unde rezulta ca spre Franta GPS-u ma putea scoate absolut pe oriunde. Dar inca nu eram deloc ingrijorata, drept pentru care m-am gandit eu sa fac pipi la benzinarie, dupa care am intors masina si aveam o jumatate de idee sa urmaresc indicatoarele in loc de GPS. Dar pentru ca foarte rar GPS-ul meu o luase razna (la granita, tot cu Franta, cand o trebuit sa ma milogesc de graniceri sa ma lase sa trec pe la bariera de camioane, unde nimerisem eu cu GPS-u cand nu ma uitasem la indicatoare J ), m-am decis sa urmez totusi instructiunile sistemului. Si ma duc dupa cum imi spune copilotu’ automat. Dupa ce ies pe autostrada, la un moment dat, observ ca eu mergeam spre Lausanne. Hopa ! nu e bine, ce naiba se intampla, ca Lausanne e chiar in directia opusa. Poate ma scoate pe la alt punct de frontiera, imi spun, lasa ca e ok, ce poate fi asa rau ??...Merg mai departe, cand ma scoate si de pe autostrada. Ei, fir’ar, asta o sa ma cam intarzie, ma gandesc. De la 5 ore jumate cat imi arata la inceput (pornit pe la 10 din Geneva, ajungeam cam pe la unu jumate in Luxembourg…) incepe sa urce vertiginos timpul pana la sosirea acasa. Merg inainte ca ce sa fac, doar nu era sa ma intorc inapoi (poate ar fi fost mai bine sa o fi facut). Merg ce merg si ajung undeva spre munte. Imi pica fisa ca o sa ma scoata undeva prin munti, alta distractie, imi spusese un coleg ca o patise si el. Dar speranta moare ultima: info de la GPS imi spune ‚keep on this road for the next 7 km’...in speranta mea idioata ma gandeam ca ma va scoate in cele din urma din nou pe autostrada (unde, in creierii muntilor!!). Ajung dupa 7 km la un sens giratoriu, info spune: ‚keep on this road for the next 12 km’, hopa! Se-ngroasa gluma, imi spun, asta o sa ma ameteasca in halu' asta pana ma scoate in Franta!!...Si incep urcusu' (de cele mai multe ori posibil doar in viteza a2), serpentinele (tot a 2a), drum ingust ingust, in mod normal suficient pentru 2 masini care vin din sensuri diferite, nu si atunci cand eu sofez totusi...Ma dureau toti muschii. Durerea cea mai mare era ca, o data ce pornisem pe drumu ala, era prea complicat sa ma intorc, n-avea sens si sensu ...se volatiliza pe masura ce inaintam. Si ma gandeam cu groaza ca dupa ce o sa urc, o sa si cobor. La fel. Tot timpul inainte sa se intample ceva rau speranta ca o sa fie totusi bine nu reusea sa ma paraseasca. Urc ce urc (poate chiar 2 ore), ajung la punctul de frontiera, unde ma asteptam sa fiu controlata si rascontrolata, si eu si masina, ca eram o romanca in masina de luxembourg trecand muntii pe la cea mai improbabila granita posibila. Baietii o patisera. Imi zic: gata, ma opresc si astia, ma controleaza, apoi trec in Franta si reintru pe autostrada. Asta ar fi fost raul cel mai mic.
La granita, o doamna de varsta a 3a imi zambeste si imi face semn sa trec (minunile numarului de Luxembourg, s-au intamplat de fiecare data cand am trecut granita, inclusiv pe la bariera de camioane). Trec linistita mai departe, spunandu-mi ca ce o fost mai rau o trecut.
Merg putin prin Franta, incerc sa intru pe pun drum national. Era blocat, erau lucrari. GPS-u o ia razna, evident, incercand sa ma readuca pe drumul respectiv. Acuma chiar intru in panica, realizand ca is deja undeva in Franta, cu GPS-u’ absolut inutil si neavand idee pe unde e ‚Deviation’ respectiv. Opresc la un nene, il intreb, imi arata hotelu’ si imi spune sa ma uit acolo cum e semnalizat, n-am cum gresi...Ei, nu! Merg acolo, mi se pare mie ca vad directia, urc cu masina (inca urcam!!!), apoi realizez ca e un drum prea mic, prea stramt, prea abrupt. Nu se putea sa fie ala. Intorc (destul de greu!), merg la hotel, deja imi venea sa plang. Opresc a 2a oara, intru in hotel, intreb. Mi se confirma ca ala ii drumu. Ma intorc la masina, iarasi imi vine sa plang, ma enervez, ma urc in ea si plec in viteza, pe drumu ala mic si stramt. In 3 minute eram iara in viteza a 2a, chinuindu-ma. Si o tin tot asa...Si merg si merg, apoi incepe coborarea. La fel de groaznic. In cele din urma, rasuflu usurata: deviatia se incheie, intru pe drumul national, apoi pe cel mai fain drum posibil, drept cu diferente de nivel mici, cu 2 benzi. Incep sa prind viteza, si ajung undeva in apropiere de Dijon in juru orei 13.00. Dupa ce trag linie, la final, am facut cu o ora in plus. Am invatat ca nu poti urca o panta in viteza a 3a ca pur si simplu scade viteza prea mult si ca nu poti risca viteza mare in curbe stranse, ca sunt sanse sa nimeresti pe banda masinii care vine din sens invers (cel putin euJ ).
Acuma zic si eu ca cei de la catavencu: o fi destinu’ cel care l-o dus pe micutul si dragalasul pars de alun impreuna cu cipul de monitorizare in burta pisicii?
De buna voie nu as alege un astfel de drum niciodata, dar daca ii musai, cu placere! J

Cand tot ce ai in mana este un ciocan, toate lucrurile din jur iti par cuie

(Murphy's laws)

Citat Buni azi:

'Hai aici ca te bat cu furculitza!'

:))

Regardless!!

I have met yesterday one of my Romanian colleagues. She told me a little story:
‘Do you know that boulevard that comes from the train station to the centre of the town? Avenue de la Garre, you know…that place where you turn right from Petrusse to go to the office (smiles)’ ‘Yes, sure, what about it?’ ‘Well, you almost bumped into me with the car a couple of days ago’ ‘Oh! Did I? Are you sure it was me?’ ‘Well…in fact my husband was driving. And when you had to turn right, you did not keep your lane, so you came to our lane and my husband said: ‘Bad driver, woman, grey Volkswagen! Isn’t that Maria?’…so I looked and there you were…(smiles)’ ‘Oh, my God! So I really did that, didn’t I?’ ‘Oh! But don’t worry, you looked sooo cool at the wheel!’

I went home, and the story was too good not to be told to Cris :). And she seemed to have known it already: ‘Oh, but I know about this! Benoit told me!’ ‘What? How does Benoit know about this, he’s in Asia!’ ‘Err! Well, apparently Crina told him about this and asked him not to tell you, so he told me instead!’ …

Hm…so apparently Benoit missed one amazing opportunity to ‘bust my balls’ (revenge for the ‘casse-couille’ :) ) and left to Asia without telling me how bad a driver I am…and that I only got my driving licence because I had a sexi blouse. The fact that he held his tongue is in itself impressive:).

This story reminds me about reading in the FT few days ago about J. Kerviel. Well, ‘reading’ is not what actually happened:). I’ve spotted a cute guy on the front page and realized it’s the in/famous JK. And thinking out loud, comme d’habitude:), I told the boyzzz (who were all there), that I’ve seen a cute guy. All day I’ve heard only: ‘So what if he’s involved in a 5 billion scandal, he’s actually very cute, isn’t he?, etc’ They went on and on all day.

The conclusion is that it doesn’t matter if you’re a bad driver or get away with a 5 billion scandal (although I’m not exactly sure about what was going on at SG, nor about the thing on the bridge for that matter:) ), the important thing is that you are cute :). Regardless! :)
This is just a confirmation of something the boyzz always say:
‘Bai, de nu-i de proasta aiaaa!!! Da’i buuuna !!! :)’ (cum recunostea Rares!:) )

Grandma!

I realised today that there are some people that do not yet know that my Grandma is coming over on Saturday...
I just want to make sure that everybody aknowledges how excited I am and will be next week when she will be here:)

I hope she does not bring a pillow or God knows what else, as she used to when I was in Bucharest! :)

Prioritate de tabla (groasa)

Tocmai am intrat in panica.

Un coleg de-ai mei si de-ai nostri (fost pevecist, sibian, etc, adica suficient de calm ca sa imi permit sa il iau in dreapta) o avut curajul sa se suie in masina la mine (cand eu conduceam).
El: ‚Stalpu! Stalpu! Opreste, opreste!’
Eu: ‚Da’ am looc!’...PAC! direct in stalp m-am oprit. Evident, nu aveam loc.
El, afara din masina: ‚Lasa ca numa’ ai zgariat-o’
Eu, uitandu-ma meditativ la zgariatura, a doua: ‚Asta n-o sa fie ultima data...’

Asa ca am iesit ieri pe autostrada, sa merg la gradina zoologica in Franta, desi inca nu cred ca am 40 de ore de conducere, incluzand orele cu instructorul.

Drept urmare, am decis azi dimineata sa merg in Elvetia, la Geneva, ca is numa’ 6 ore pana acolo. Si asta in mai putin de 2 saptamani.
Sper sa am ocazia sa va mai tin la curent despre mine si dupa vacanta:) si sper sa va pot arata poze misto...pentru ca acelasi coleg o venit sa faca un fel de lista luunga despre ce am si ce nu am in masina, afland ca o sa merg singura in Elvetia:
1. roata de rezerva (asta in mod normal unde ii?)
2. triunghi de avertizare (idem? Si cum arata?)
3. trusa de nu stiu ce si cric (unde si cum arata?)
4. daca stiu sa schimba roata(nici pomeneala de asa ceva, dar poate imi iau o bluza decoltata:) )
5. daca stiu sa iau benzina daca raman in pana de benzina (habar n-am sa iau benzina altfel decat de la pompa, de unde am luat benzina o singura data, asistata de 3 experti :) )
6. ceva cu curent electric (pe asta nu stiu de unde o mai scos-o).
In apararea mea, am citit azi pe net, de la Roxanica, niste discutii pe un forum:
http://www.incepator.ro/forum/forum_posts.asp?TID=27&PN=7
si cum functioneaza ambreiaju’:
http://www.incepator.ro/cum_functioneaza/cum_functioneaza_ambreiajul.asp

PS: explicatie pentru titlu :), ca uitasem: acelasi coleg imi explica de ce un autobuz are prioritate chiar atunci cand nu are prioritate- asa ca nu trebuie sa mai sar in aer de nervi pe motivul 'cum is permite?'

‘…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:).