Handicap in democratie

Am realizat de curand ca datorita felului in care societatea noastra postdecembrista a evoluat ne gasim astazi de cele mai multe ori fata in fata cu niste "handicapati" din punct de vedere social. Si asta se intampla si cand ne uitam in oglinda la propria figura. Nu stim sa interactionam cu oamenii din jurul nostru si, in ciuda numeroaselor modalitati de comunicare, ne trezim in imposibilitatea de a comunica eficient si coerent. Suntem irascibili si nerabdatori cu cei din jurul nostru. Vrem sa ajungem cat mai repede la tinta noastra. Interactiunea cu cei din jurul nostru este bazata doar pe indeplinirea scopului de moment. Si asta ne face sa fim usor alienati. Suntem handicapati pentru ca nu stim inca sa invingem teama de ridicol si ne gandim inca la judecata de valoare aplicata de societate. Poate ca am inteles ceva gresit cand ni s-a vandut democratia. Acum ne-am cam dat seama, unii dintre noi, ca nu e chiar ce pare si ca o data inlaturat invelisul, continutul e cam stricat, si am vrea sa o ducem inapoi de unde a venit, dar nu se poate. Caci cele 30 de zile au cam trecut de mult. 

The Weakness of Being Weak

I was kindly asked today what is my purpose in writing. For the right answer I had to take some time to think about it, though I've known it all my life: there is nothing making me feel better than the writing. This is what helps me say things as truthful as I can. With irony and deep analysis I see the world as a better place. All the sad truths most people get angry about, I am now facing with a smile and an ironic thought that it shouldn't be changed or else we wouldn't have anything to laugh about. I turn the disturbing dysfunctional into the strange matter to laugh about and move on, the buffoon of the court. 

And with all your judgemental writings, you don't want to change anything?

said the man with the voice. No, I don't want to change anything. I want to make a point and those who will be willing to listen may change something in time or laugh with me at the moment. 

But this means you are weak and you are not a weak person, continued the man with the voice. 

I am weak, that's why I write about it. I am weak, that's why I never change things, but I rather stand back, as a decent and quiet observer to the useless panic, the crazy yells, the unfair thefts, the disturbing sounds, the indecent approach to the normal life and the rest of our everyday encounters. 

From dusk till dawn, walk your feet in a crazy pace or in a slow move and you will notice a funny story, you will see someone who raises emotion in you. And that someone has a story to tell, has done something wrong and while counting up deeds, you will have to laugh about it, about life, about the world we live in. 

And this I call weak, not strong. And proud to be standing up here on the mountain and chase the stories down the piece of paper, the blank webpage, the empty text message. 

From time to time I get my head in the clouds and forget I am still down here, with the feet deep in the earth. But it helps. It helps a great deal to be the urban anthropologist. 

A good day for thoughts, for chatting, for getting back to writing. 

A good day for a walk down Calea Victoriei, Bucuresti.

Orasul meu, Bucuresti

Iubesc lumea asta intoarsa pe dos in care traim. 

Trec in fiecare zi pe langa noi cratere aparute in ciment, dar langa ele, de cele mai multe ori, se ridica noi cladiri de birouri sau de locuit tot mai inalte. Si nimanui nu pare sa ii treaca prin minte ca de fapt problema se pune altfel: cert e ca ne scufundam, paradoxal este ca prin cladirile inalte ajutam la procesul de scufundare.

Si mai sunt bordurile, constant schimbate, spatiile verzi netunse, buruienile care cresc din fiecare cladire lasate de izbeliste. Si parcurile care sunt mereu neingrijite sau proaspat lansate.  Si mersul pe jos este o provocare caci, desi avem borduri, nu avem trotuare. 

Dar mie imi place acest oras, imi place ca pot sa fac oricati pasi vreau fara sa ma ingrijorez ca nu ma priveste cineva. Imi place ca atunci cand ajung acasa, am ochi care ma privesc de la etaj. Ma bucur chiar ca exista o fiinta care priveste de sus la mine, altfel m-as simti usor prea aproape de cer. 

Acesta este orasul meu si il iubesc asa cum este. Ma bucur ca m-am nascut in aceasta aglomeratie de nisip si praf. Ma bucur ca am invatat sa il infrumusetez cu ceva ironie si sarcasm. Altfel m-ar fi imbolnavit clar... De nervi...