Longing for peace...

I've been longing for peace in a while now... at first I was extremely happy - hyper happy... it was a good feeling... some sort of overdose of serotonin that made me very jumpy. Then it came a very bad time when I was damn sad... and after this pissed off at life and myself... totally energy depleting... Luckily, the first period was way longer than the second one! It was all like a really good extended trip followed by a really bad one... to make use of some newly acquired terminology.

But now I just want peace... like in the Requiem by Faure that I'm doing with the choir. Requiem aeterna et lux perpetua... it's just that I want it while I'm still living. I hope I don't really have to die to find peace... that would be really sad.

But I want peace... I want peace with the people around me... and I want peace with my life and this world... and I want peace with myself! TRUCE! deep breath... a sigh... another deep breath... wipe all the tears - Ive exceeded the limit lately... throw away all the fears... (ups, I didn't mean to do rhyming)... all the insecurities... another sigh... it's kind of hard... not that easy at all... and another deep breath - it's gonna be alright! I trust myself: every time I say this it is so... it's not even hard to understand: I work to make it be so... so yeah: I'm going to make everything be alright... and another deep breath... it feels good - I have a certainty... put on a smile... not to wide... I don't need that... I just need peace. Don't want to exceed any level of excitation, be it in plus or minus... So I'm practicing with a smile... it feels nice... I'm going to keep it on... another deep breath... some people ask me if everything is alright... oh yes... now it is... I know - I'm not up anymore... I'm settled... and it feels good... it feels very good... deep breaths... a walk... some sun... music... flowers... peaceful people... here, some peace...

I'm almost there... I think I've found it... this empty campus and some people around here helped me... they don't even know... If I thank them, Basu will probably ask why and smile delighted and Farhan will probably ask, his usual tone what's wrong with you? seriously! and I probably won't bother to answer... I should keep explanations to the minimum... trying too hard to make people understand me... it's peace consuming... another deep breath... smile... forget explanations and reasons... and if it is really important for anyone, they need to give me time... time... I now have time... what's with all this rush? we have time... I thought I learned that way back... I have time for everything... to live every moment - that's right! carpe diem... and I won't let anyone rush me... rush without me... I'm not racing through life... he he... I even find it funny... trying to explain all this to Nafis I forgot it myself... I wonder how this happened?! anyways... I kind of lost myself in this agitation... some sort of close system that became over-pressurized... my mom... oh, my mom! it wouldn't have been that hard if she was here... she always took care of me when I had got carried away... Now I had to do it now I need some time to all by myself... and I did it... good for me! ... another deep breath... i found peace... assimilate it... time... maybe another walk... definitely some music... 'insignificant' activities... and some people... some sun and some colours... and there shall be my peace...
now, I feel like I need to put this poem here:

I was so tired
and suffering.
I think I was suffering from too much soul.

Across the hills the dawns were opening their eyelids
with eyes red with sleeplessness. 

Lost - I asked myself:
Sun,
how can you still feel the crazy joy
of rising?

And in that sleepless morning
as I strolled with leaden steps,
in a hidden corner I came across a cradle.
Spiders wove their tiny worlds in it
and woodworms milled its silence.

I watched it with thoughts opened wide.
It was the cradle
in which a hand, today aged by my fate,
had rocked
my first sleep and perhaps my first dream.

With the fingers of memory
I groped 
gently, 
gently,
my past like a blind man
and without knowing why
I crumbled
and with great sobs
began to cry over
my cradle.

I was so tired
of spring,
of roses,
of youth,
and of laughing.
Fumbling, my hands searched in the old cradle
hoping to find myself there
- as a child. 
Lucian Blaga, The Cradle (Leaganul)

'Mother! a big misfortune has happened to me... bear me again!'

'and if I cant make it then either, bear me again... and again... and again...' That's a quote from 'Iona', a play by Marin Sorescu - a really crazy and amazing Romanian dramatist.

How cool would it be? If we could just be born again every time we screw sth? or we get hurt? or we don't know what to do? or when we have an exam the next day and can't study? how cool would that be? Or maybe we could have a brainwash, like in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Just have all memories erased and start a brand new life...

I guess sometimes we all wish for such stuff... I do to... today I even wished for anti-freaking pills! I think if they made that I would become the greatest addict (thanks god they haven't - I hate addictions... I would probably hate myself). I'm really bad when I start freaking out... I can't deal with myself, no wonder other people can't. However much I sometimes wish for this though, and however much I screw stuff at times... it doesn't last long... I wouldn't really like to always take it from the ground every time...

I actually think everything happens for a reason... be it just to learn, just to feel sth new and know how that feels... Just imagine every time you would have to learn over and over again... I mean, we live a life, we have all our memories plus other people's experiences to learn from and we still screw it over and over again... there are things we never learn... there are thing we learn late... sometimes too late... but forget that... the point is... I would never give my experiences away just for every time I screw it...

True, I wish I didn't screw it that often... but I can't seem to help it... I am stubborn... headstrong (well here's a problem! Mr. Collins wouldn't marry me anymore). My mom always told me that... my teachers always told me that... they always tried to make me more flexible... but I couldn't help...I'm headstrong... some people say I have a strong personality... well I guess... or maybe I'm sometimes just too weak... I'm just too weak... I freak out... but I'm headstrong... and I really want to solve stuff... so I become somehow really keen on what I'm doing... which may seem like a strong personality... The truth is... I'm just headstrong... and stubborn... my mom could never get me out of that... and oh! I tell you she tried. I tried myself. I still am!!! very perseverent. I think it comes from stubbornness as well. My teacher of English, when she had to describe me, she said I'm stubborn and affectionate, but that stubbornness is nicely put as determination...
So here I am... very determined!

But yeah... I guess I just try to compensate my stubbornness with being affectionate... I'm always trying to... and to be kind.... and nice... NICE... smile... make people smile... make people happy... I care... I really do... some may say I'm selfish... I care because it makes me feel good... bullshit... I sometimes think I care because I'm the greatest fool on this planet... it doesn't really bring me much benefit... actually, it sometimes doesn't seem to bring other people much benefit either... So why should I care?! well, I can't really help it... I tried not to - oh, yes I did... it never worked out... other people tried to teach me... it never worked out... but I am determined!

See, I'm trying so hard... sometimes I wonder why... I sometimes wonder why I can't really seem to fit among people... I always want more... I want intensity... meaning... I want feelings... I don't want to pass through this life like a duck on water... without getting wet... I want to get wet... I'll dry myself afterwards... but it sometimes is incredibly hard... sometimes I just wish I was normal... special just like everyone else... but no! guess what?!... I'm stubborn and I care... and I can't seem to help it...

I don't really know what I mean by what I wrote... I just felt like this... I think the way I am sometimes doesn't really help me at all... sometimes it helps a lot... I don't want to judge which is more... after all, I can't help it. I've been trying for 19 years... I can't help... whoever is around me... I guess I just have to learn to deal with me... I'm sorry I'm not perfect... I am stubborn... I am affectionate... but I am much more than that... pluses and minuses to me... and I sometimes think that if people learned to accept and deal with my minuses, they just had a lot to gain from the pluses...

I guess I'll just end here... and no, I wouldn't really like to be born again... not at all...

My Vagina Monologue

Well, there are two things that determined the writing of this post: 1. somehow I created this blog (actually Nafis created it for me, but that's not the point) and 2. since I'm doing this Vagina Monologues play and I've been hearing a lot about other women's vagina, I think it is fair to my vagina to talk about her.
See, it is a 'she' first of all. I couldn't call a vagina a 'it'. It's something entirely feminine, very well gender-determined. Actually, now that I'm thinking of it, I can't believe 'vagina' is a masculine noun in Romanian. But yes, it has to be feminine. I mean, you call a ship a 'she' and you would call a vagina a 'it'. Impossible!

So now that I've established this, let's move on. I should warn you that this is a totally random thing and does not respect any writing composition norms (let alone college writing ones). It just respects my mind's and you can rest assured that they are the most random ones ever.

Anyways, my vagina! Well, I think my vagina is a really cool thing... place... body part - I believe that this is the fairest. And I mean cool in the sense of great or awesome or other synonyms, not chilly. Because literally speaking, my vagina is a pretty hot place... very cosy... it's like... the place to be on a cold day of winter. Not even winter. But you know when it's raining outside and it's cold and you really want to stay in your bed under the blanket and just enjoy the comfort and think... I think my vagina is such a place... And you should not have second thoughts about the 'thinking' part. I guess the vagina leads to wonderful thinking, meditation, or imagination sessions - at least mine does. Just think of how many things cross your mind only when you say the word 'vagina'. You can think of the anatomy... the exterior - so well protected, so well hidden... and when she opens up... ... ... I think it's just special... it would be lovely to hear a guy's perspective, but I feel that when a woman (I would say any woman, but I'm not really sure how this works with sex workers - I'd love to know) opens up her legs and lets her vagina exposed, it's like she exposes her very essence as a woman, all her femininity: so vulnerable and so strong at the same time... and then the interior - it's like a mystery cave... and I could go on and on...

But this is just anatomy... you can take it to a superior level: for instance, think philosophically - how is it possible that a vagina can cause so much happiness so easily, when people struggle to find the secret of happiness in life and can't seem to find it... something like this...
I tell you, my vagina made me ask myself a lot of questions... she created so many images in my head... so many colors... and this is not bullshit. I don't really care for who believes me or not (actually, I don't really care if whoever reads this blog), but I think I've lived with my vagina for long enough to know her strengths and weaknesses. Actually, maybe I should mention her weaknesses as well. Her greatest weakness is that she is really sensitive... she is so easy to be bruised or hurt... which is why she's so well protected... but I think this sensitivity is really beautiful... this sensitivity... it's like a poppy. This is actually how I see my vagina... like a poppy. At first I thought it would be a red carnation... red carnations are just... so full, so sensual, so voluptuous... But actually, voluptuousness is not a fundamental property of my vagina... maybe of my body, but I'm unsure... I'd say my vagina is just essentially sensual - she just creates such a complex sensory experience... just like a poppy... she's red - no doubts, she's so soft and fragile - if your too harsh you hurt it, she can't stay exposed too much - she needs her intimacy and protection... and then the seeds of the poppy...

I'm gonna stop here with the poppy... Actually, I'm gonna stop here with the whole vagina monologue. However, I should just answer two more questions - tough questions:
1. What would she say?
hmm... Love me, please me, never leave me.
2. What would she wear?
just perfume... Channel Chance or J'adore - alternatively every 3 days...

And with this, I did justice to my vagina...