Oboseala / Tiresome

Am spus de o mie de ori ca sunt obosita, ma plang de ani de zile si nu ma crede nimeni. “Esti tanara”, mi se zice, “ce o sa faci mai incolo?”. Tu, strainule cititor care ai picat din greseala pe pagina mea, esti plistisit deja sa mai auzi cat de obosita sunt, si nici tu nu intelegi de ce. Si eu m-am plictisit pe mine.

Mi-am dat seama aseara, in mijlocul unui hohot de plans, de ce sunt asa de obosita, de ce la 28 de ani ma simt de parca as fi carat in spate povara intregii lumi fara drept de pauza sau de racorire cu o gura de apa proaspata, din cand in cand. Mi-am dat seama ca niciuna dintre realizarile mele de pana acum, mari, mici, asa cum sunt ele, nu a fost usor de atins, ca pentru fiecare nimic pe care l-am facut in viata a trebuit sa dau muntii la o parte si apoi sa-i pun la loc, sa-mi rup ghearele si dintii luptand cu lumea, cu viata, cu soarta, cu prieteni si inamici, cu familie si falsi prieteni.

Si acum imi cereti sa fiu fresh?

Am sufletul ferferitit de atatea zbateri, am mintea zdrelita de planuri si incercari de a face totul perfect, da la carte. Poate ca unele lucruri nu trebuie sa fie facute ca la carte, poate ca ar fi mai sanatos sa le abordez altfel. Sau poate ar trebui sa ma odihnesc, sa iau o gura de aer in piept, sa pun punct si sa o iau de la capat, cautand cu disperare forte proaspete.

Casc si mai dau o pagina, cautand cu mana cealalta cana de cafea. Sunt atat de obosita…

***

I've said a thousand times that I'm tired, I've been complaining for years and nobody believes me. "You're young," they say, "what will you do later?". You, stranger reader who accidentally stumbled upon my page, are already crying to hear how tired I am, and you don't understand why either. And I'm bored with myself.

I realized last night, in the midst of a sobbing sob, why I'm so tired, why at 28 I feel like I've been carrying the burden of the whole world on my back without the right to take a break or refresh myself with a drink of fresh water now and then. I realized that none of my accomplishments so far, big, small as they are, have been easy to achieve, that for every little thing I've done in life I've had to push mountains aside and then put them back, break my claws and teeth fighting the world, life, fate, friends and enemies, family and false friends.

And now you're asking me to be fresh?

My soul is sore from so much struggle, my mind is racked with plans and attempts to make everything perfect, by the book. Maybe some things don't have to be done by the book, maybe it would be healthier to approach them differently. Or maybe I should rest, take a deep breath, put my foot down and start again, desperately looking for fresh strength.

I yawn and turn another page, reaching for the other coffee mug. I'm so tired...

Aiurez... / Nonesense

Unde ne grabim asa, iubire? Nu vezi ca trece vremea peste noi, ca lasam in urma lucruri importante? Nu mai stim sa privim ploaia, nici curcubeul, iar de cei din jur parca nu ne mai pasa, preocupati sa tinem calea drepta.

Vreau sa cad putin aici, pe iarba rece, sa stau sa respire aerul diminetii si sa miros o floare. Ce daca ne astepata viata? Las-o sa astepte, mai avem timp. E timpul nostru. Stiu, il impartim, dar tot al nostru este.

Mi-e dor de un cer senin pe care sa-l simt cu tot sufletul, de privirea in gol si de fluturii din stomac. Mai stii fluturii din stomac? Unde s-au dus? De ce simt ca prin vene imi trece acum gheata, si nu sange? De ce ma simt mai mult moarta decat vie, si las valul sa ma poarte?

Taraste-ma pana la linia de finish, nu mai am putere, nu vreau sa ma mai grabesc. Si unde alearga toti asa? Ce e asa de minunat acolo, incat se duc toti peste noapte? De ce nu le mai place aici?

***

What's the hurry, love? Can't you see that time is passing us by, that we're leaving important things behind? We no longer know how to watch the rain, nor the rainbow, and we don't seem to care about those around us, preoccupied with keeping the path straight.

I want to fall here for a while, on the cool grass, to sit and breathe the morning air and smell a flower. What if life is waiting for us? Let it wait, we still have time. It's our time. I know, we share it, but it's still ours.

I miss a clear sky that I can feel with all my soul, the blank stare and the butterflies in my stomach. Remember the butterflies in your stomach? Where did they go? Why do my veins feel like ice now, instead of blood? Why do I feel more dead than alive, and let the wave carry me?

Te iubesc, nu-ntelegi? / I love you, don't you understand?

"Eu te iubesc, nu-ntelegi?" i-a spus ea, cu vocea tremurand, sugrumandu-si suspinul iminent. Nu m-am intors sa-i vad fata, a ramas o voce care mi-a miscat, in seara aia de mai, universul, care m-a facut sa filosofez tacuta pentru cateva momente, cu gandul aiurea, si cu vocea ei rasunandu-mi in minte. Cine era, nu conteaza, si nici povestea din spatele declaratiei disperate.

Oare de cate ori in viata ne e dat sa realizam cat de usor e sa iubesti, si totusi cat de greu este sa gasesti iubirea? E uman sa ne permitem sa nu intelegem iubirea cuiva, sau, mai rau, sa o tratam cu indiferenta? Daca nu s-ar fi inventat banii, iubirea ar fi jucat probabil cu succes rolul de moneda de schimb.

I-am strans mana, s-a intors usor si i-am zambit. Habar n-avea ce-mi trece mie prin minte...

***

"I love you, don't you understand?" she told him, her voice trembling, stifling her impending sigh. I didn't turn to see her face, there remained a voice that moved, that May evening, my universe, that made me philosophize quietly for a few moments, my mind wandering, her voice ringing in my head. Who she was doesn't matter, nor does the story behind the desperate declaration.

How many times in life do we get to realize how easy it is to love, yet how hard it is to find love? Is it human to allow ourselves not to understand someone's love, or worse, to treat it with indifference? If money had not been invented, love would probably have successfully played the role of currency.

I squeezed his hand, he turned slightly and I smiled. He had no idea what was going through my mind...

Bomba fara ceas / Bomb with no timer

Le strang treptat in mine, motiv dupa motiv, frustrare dupa frustrare, nerv dupa nerv, devin treptat o bomba ambulanta. Nu mai pot sa injur, nici macar la volan, nu mai pot sa plang, asa cum faceam odata, nu mai pot sa rad prosteste, pentru a varsa cumva tensiunea. In schimb, privirea mi-a devenit pe alocuri taioasa, deciziile imi vin rapid si dureros, chiar daca ma afecteaza si pe mine, si pe cei din jur.

Unii zic ca e de bine, altii zic ca e de rau, practic toata lumea din jurul meu are cate o pozitie referitor la schimbarea asta. Numai eu am ezitari.

Si ma schimb, si nu-mi dau seama, si ma inraiesc pe zi ce trece, ma maturizez, cica… Adica incep sa invat sa infig cutitul fara remuscari, sa il sterg frumos de sangele vinovatului, si apoi sa il pregatesc pentru urmatoarea lovitura.

Dumnezeule, ce mi-ati facut?

***

I am gradually gathering them into myself, reason after reason, frustration after frustration, nerve after nerve, gradually becoming a walking bomb. I can't swear anymore, not even while driving, I can't cry, as I used to, I can't laugh stupidly, to somehow release the tension. Instead, my eyes have become sometimes sharp, my decisions come quickly and painfully, even if they affect me and those around me.

Some say it's good, others say it's bad, practically everyone around me has a position on the change. Only I have hesitations.

And I'm changing, and I don't realize it, and I'm getting worse every day, I'm growing up, I guess... I mean I'm starting to learn to stick the knife in without remorse, to wipe it clean of the culprit's blood, and then to prepare it for the next blow.

My God, what have you all done to me?

Criza...de nervi! / Nervous breakdown

Am luat-o cu totii razna cu criza asta! 

Sunt 5 luni de cand aud acelasi refren: criza, criza, criza... Criza in presa, criza in companii, criza de inspiratie, criza de subiecte, criza de oameni, sau nu, ca aici e subiect discutabil, s-ar putea sa fie prea multi, asa se dau mari companiile care fac disponibilizari, de "crizati" ce sunt.

Nu stiu altii cum sunt, dar mie mi s-a luat definitiv de criza asta. Mi-e dor de vremile de alta data, cand interviurile in presa nu contineau invariabil raspunsuri la intrebarile "Veti face disponibilizari?" sau "Ati modificat estimarile privind evolutia companiei, in contextul crizei?".

Un subiect de presa are de regula o durata de viata limitata, insa de criza asta nu s-a mai saturat nimeni? Chiar si o veste buna e imbracata in haine de doliu, ca sa fie in trend...

Suntem pe marginea unei crize de nervi, oameni buni. O luam cu capul, unul cate unul. Incepem sa ne pierdem mintile, si pentru noi, astia care am apucat sa ne dam cu capul de criza asta, sau de hiperbolizarea ei, cuvantul CRIZA nu va mai fi niciodata la fel. 

N-ati vrea sa fim ai optimisti, sa ne axam putin pe ce merge bine, in ciuda crizei, babaul mare si urat care ne-a zapacit pe toti? 

Asta-s eu, mai optimista si mai increzatoare de fel. Poate se ia si la altii...

***

We've all gone crazy with this crisis! 

I've been hearing the same refrain for 5 months: crisis, crisis, crisis... Crisis in the press, crisis in companies, crisis of inspiration, crisis of subjects, crisis of people, or not, as this is a debatable subject, there may be too many, so companies are showing off by making redundancies, becausenwe are all in "crisis".

I don't know about others, but I am definitely fed up with this crisis. I miss the old days, when interviews in the press invariably didn't contain answers to the question "Will you be making redundancies?" or "Have you changed your estimates of the company's performance in the context of the crisis?".

A press story usually has a limited shelf life, but hasn't anyone had enough of the crisis? Even good news is dressed in mourning clothes, to keep it on trend...

We're on the verge of a nervous breakdown, people. We're taking it one head at a time. We're starting to lose our minds, and for those of us who've got our heads around this crisis, or the hyperbolization of it, the word CRISIS will never be the same. 

Wouldn't you like us to be the optimists, to focus a little on what's going well, despite the crisis, the big ugly bugger that has zapped us all? 

That's me, more optimistic and hopeful that way. Maybe it'll rub off on others...

De primavara / Spring

M-am reintors sa sterg panzele de paianjen asternute peste gandurile mele, atunci cand ele zburdau vesele intr-o parte si-n alta. 

M-am reintors sa scriu, doar pentru ca dimineata, prin nebunia orasului, cu claxoane, macarale, strigate, nebunii, am auzit, energica intr-un copac, o ciocanitoare... Si m-am trezit brusc in realitatea primaverii care ne inconjoara, si care a venit peste noi, chiar daca noi nu mai avem timp sau energie sa remarcam lucrul asta.

Si era asa de frumos altadata... Veneam fericita acasa cu ghiozdanul plin de martisoare de la scoala, si asteptam cu inflacarare sfarsitul saptamanii, sa merg cu tata sa culegem toporasi, si viorele, si lalele salbatice....de fapt nu, lalele salbatice nu mai culegeam, de cand vazusem posterul ala pe un copac in Crang, care spunea ca sunt protejate de lege...

Avem un loc unde mergeam in fiecare an, la capatul orasului, care imi parea asa departe atunci. Era liniste si pustiu, se mai auzeau in departare cateva masini trecand pe strada...

Trec des pe-acolo, si de fiecare data ma loveste in suflet sentimentul asta de fatalism si necazul ca n-o sa se mai intample niciodata. Am incercat sa vanez un alt colt de oras, al noului oras care ma gazduieste, dar nimic nu mai e la fel. E urat, trist si rece, si atat de putin ospitalier... 

A venit primavara, o alta primavara, niciodata aceeasi...

***

I returned to wipe away the spidery feathers that lay over my thoughts as they fluttered merrily to and fro. 

I came back to write, only because in the morning, through the madness of the city, with its horns, cranes, shouts, madness, I heard, energetically in a tree, a woodpacker... And I was suddenly awakened to the reality of the spring that surrounds us, and that has come upon us, even if we no longer have the time or energy to notice it.

And it was so beautiful once... I was happily coming home with my backpack full of martisoare from school, and I was looking forward to the end of the week, to go with my father to pick up some wild violets and wild tulips... Actually no, I wasn't picking wild tulips anymore, since I had seen that poster on a tree in thenparc, saying that they were protected by law...

We have a place where we used to go every year, at the margin of town, which seemed so far away to me then. It was quiet and deserted, you could still hear a few cars passing in the distance...

I pass by there often, and every time I get this feeling of fatalism and the grief that it will never happen again. I've tried to hunt for another corner of the city, the new city that hosts me, but nothing is the same. It's ugly, sad and cold, and so unwelcoming... 

Spring has come, another spring, never the same...

Vis / Dream

Lasa timpul sa mai stea in loc, asculta linistea, priveste-ma din umbra nepasarii si taci. Aduna saruturile inghetate pe buze si fa din ele nopti eterne de ganduri si vise. Asculta cum se strang firele de nisip in clepsidra, fiecare sapandu-si drumul pe fruntea mea. Si taci... Nu e nimic de spus, de amintit, de memorat. Se apropie timpul sa stam in loc cu totii, sa inghete vremea si sa umplem lumea de statui.

***

Let time stand still, listen to the stillness, watch me from the shadow of uncaring and be silent. Gather the frozen kisses on my lips and make them eternal nights of thoughts and dreams. Listen to the grains of sand squeeze into the hourglass, each one digging its way onto my forehead. And be silent... There's nothing to say, nothing to remember, nothing to memorize. The time is coming for us all to sit still, freeze the weather and fill the world with statues.