tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821809491489434782011-11-28T02:44:50.247+02:00Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.comBlogger181100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-13982599933847026632011-05-17T14:07:00.002+03:002011-05-17T14:42:29.928+03:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ngADQjovV4w/ReaIXog1QAI/AAAAAAAAATM/MlMduvNXz40/s400/gracegoude0.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 386px; height: 301px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ngADQjovV4w/ReaIXog1QAI/AAAAAAAAATM/MlMduvNXz40/s400/gracegoude0.JPG" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Every once in a (long) while I feel trapped and gagged.<br />I don't know why I keep building this future I don't fit in. This future that terrifies me to the point where I can't sleep at night.<br />It usually takes someone from the outside to make me realize how I've been limiting myself to this completely ordinary life.. tasteless, odorless life.<br /><br />Some say the relationship with someone becomes a habit after a while. I suspect that the whole idea of a relationship became a habit to the point where it doesn't matter who you share it with. Kinda like smoking: you're so hooked on it that when you run out of your favorite cigarettes, ANY cigarette would do the trick.<br /><br />I can see clearly the problem from root to peak, yet I have no idea how to decide on a solution.<br />Do I put up the sign "Don't feed the animal" and carry on caged but safe or do I dive into my own wildness and act as I wanna?<br /><br />I do take great care of people's feelings but I became so obsessed about making THEM feel good at all times that I ignored my own soul for so long.<br /><br />I want conversation. similar tastes. compliments. awe.<br />I want to share a day out in the park. a folk song. a truly passionate kiss.<br />I wanna<span style="font-weight: bold;"> see</span> with my own eyes the love one has for me.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />I'm tired of always being in control. </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-1398259993384702663?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-41857983047950724542009-10-31T00:45:00.003+02:002009-10-31T00:53:16.492+02:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SutsywqjJjI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/QxUDZGX4ag0/s1600-h/arno+minkkinen.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 261px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398528197646296626" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SutsywqjJjI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/QxUDZGX4ag0/s320/arno+minkkinen.jpg" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-4185798304795072454?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-15659485534218953302009-07-06T10:51:00.002+03:002009-07-06T11:07:05.739+03:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SlGuNra-MLI/AAAAAAAAAHI/Vm2bTMa39ig/s1600-h/stand-out-in-a-crowd.png"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 210px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355252981937615026" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SlGuNra-MLI/AAAAAAAAAHI/Vm2bTMa39ig/s320/stand-out-in-a-crowd.png" /></a> Inteleg de ce ma plictisesc de lucruri si oameni. Ma lupt cu asta zilnic. Cu mine.<br />Ce nu inteleg e ... ce trebuie sa fac. Ce trebuie sa fac sa-mi reprim dorintele, sa-mi ingrop visele? Cum sa fac asta? Pentru ca incerc, le arunc la gunoi, dar cresc inapoi. Mai mari si mai puternice.<br /><br />Ai sa spui sa fac din vise realitate. Nu e posibil. Uita-te in jur, unde traim. Cum traim. As esua in secunda doi.<br /><br />Deci cum fac sa fiu si eu de aceeasi culoare cu restul?<br />Nu spun ca nu cunosc oameni extraordinari...ar fi o minciuna. Dar nu oamenii imi lipsesc, ci oportunitatea. Secolul potrivit.<br /><br />Nu ma potrivesc cu lumea in care m-am nascut.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-1565948553421895330?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-56698427421572673512009-06-29T13:57:00.006+03:002009-06-29T14:38:18.731+03:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SkimoWgfZQI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Yc7103eA3Mw/s1600-h/michael_jackson_dangerous-f.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352711369296667906" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SkimoWgfZQI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Yc7103eA3Mw/s320/michael_jackson_dangerous-f.jpg" /></a><br /><div><div>Pe Michael l-am auzit prima oara pe caseta audio. Tata imi cumparase albumul "Dangerous" prin 1993. Aveam 7 ani si dansam toate dupa amiezile intr-o fusta rosie clos. Dupa '93 i-am cumparat toate albumele, inclusiv Thriller si Bad. Pentru mine Michael a fost o sursa de inspiratie, ma impresiona de fiecare data si a avut un impact destul de puternic atat auditiv cat si vizual asupra mea.</div><br /><div>Apoi au aparut tot felul de zvonuri, cum ca-si albise pielea, isi facuse 44 de operatii estetice, molestase 2 copii...nici acum nu stiu de ce nu am plecat urechea. Poate pentru ca omul timid din interviuri, care avea o voce si un zambet atat de calde si un background atat de greu de carat (si ma refer aici la abuzurile din copilarie ale tatalui sau si bolile cu care a avut de a face: vitiligo, lupus), parea incapabil sa faca rau. Ascultand mesajele melodiilor sale m-am convins ca imaginea lui nu ar trebui sa fie aceea creata de presa de scandal.<br /></div><div>Azi mi-e ciuda si scarba pe lume. Au distrus o legenda. Un om care se naste o data la sute de ani. Jacko nu a murit pe 25 iunie. Moartea sa a fost graduala si chinuita, intinsa pe zeci de ani.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SkijxIR67_I/AAAAAAAAAGo/RO4QFqd1sV8/s1600-h/Michael-Jackson-no-longer-never.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 241px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352708221561401330" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SkijxIR67_I/AAAAAAAAAGo/RO4QFqd1sV8/s320/Michael-Jackson-no-longer-never.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /> </div><div>Deci de ce distrugem tot ce e diferit in sensul MAI BUN? De ce aruncam cu noroi in omul care ne-a facut sa dansam si sa cantam cu pofta zeci de ani la rand, eroul de la care au invatat toti artistii tineri pe care ii apreciem azi?<br /></div><br /><div>De ce vorbim fara sa fim in cunostinta de cauza si credem tot ce spune cineva din afara. Am cunostinte care au preferat sa creada ca MJ isi facea operatii si injectii pentru a-si albi pielea, decat sa asculte ce spunea chiar Michael intr-un interviu luat de Oprah despre boala de care sufera.<br /></div><div>Si de cand a devenit viata personala a unui artist mai importanta decat cea profesionala? Omul a batut recorduri, a facut sute de milioane de oameni sa planga, sa rada, sa danseze, sa cante. Si cine a mai cantat ca el? Nimeni. <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SkimWIjdwbI/AAAAAAAAAGw/Y20Vnf0r2_o/s1600-h/Michael-Jackson-Remember-The-Time-349827.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352711056313401778" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SkimWIjdwbI/AAAAAAAAAGw/Y20Vnf0r2_o/s320/Michael-Jackson-Remember-The-Time-349827.jpg" /></a></div><div><br /> </div><div>A avut 39 de fundatii caritabile, iar Neverland a bucurat mii de copii bolnavi din toata lumea.<br /></div><div>Unde e bunul simt la care facem cu totii apel in diverse situatii?<br /></div><div>Extravagant, mai mult sau mai putin indraznet, extrem de talentat, la 24 de ani lansa albumul Thriller si rupea recordurile, fiind cel mai vandut album DIN TOATE TIMPURILE.<br /></div><div>Noi ce am facut pana la 24 de ani? </div><div>Am aruncat cu mizerii in unul din prea marii oameni ai lumii. </div><div> </div><div>Mai mare decat noi toti.<br /></div></div><br /><div><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-5669842742157267351?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-81864074347763984822009-03-30T14:07:00.003+03:002009-03-30T14:15:52.303+03:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SdCp1jAlcfI/AAAAAAAAAFw/WcNhy8aRFjU/s1600-h/DSCF3810.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318937897320411634" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SdCp1jAlcfI/AAAAAAAAAFw/WcNhy8aRFjU/s320/DSCF3810.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Vine caldura.....pâş pâş. </div><br /><div>Odata cu vremea mă dezmorţesc şi eu.</div><br /><div>Mi-e dor de nopţile fierbinţi în care nu puteam să dorm. De tălpi incinse pe nisip. Păr sărat şi şuviţat de apă şi vânt.</div><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-8186407434776398482?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-75110738974714096572009-03-16T13:36:00.003+02:002009-03-17T10:02:18.302+02:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/Sb46a9CEHBI/AAAAAAAAAFo/0SHkXFiNVVg/s1600-h/liar.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313748845077994514" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/Sb46a9CEHBI/AAAAAAAAAFo/0SHkXFiNVVg/s320/liar.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Cum poti sa fii atat de senina cand minti? ...am plans cu tine cand ti-a fost rau. </div><div>Cum poti sa crezi ca sangele meu te-ar trada? </div><div>Esti ahtiata dupa tot ce e material. </div><div>Ai uitat cum e sa fii fericita. </div><div>Nu stii sa respecti o prietenie.</div><div></div><div> </div><div>Refuz sa cred ca ai trait 33 de ani degeaba. Ca nu ai invatat ca fericirea sta in lucrurile mici, in ceaiul cu cea mai buna prietena, in copilul pe care nu l-ai nascut niciodata.</div><div>La ce-ti folosesc toate hainele tale Cerruti si pantofii Manolo daca nu are cine sa le observe? </div><div></div><div>Nimic nu se asorteaza cu un suflet gol.</div><div></div><div>Te-am iubit din prima secunda si....tot o secunda ti-a luat sa-mi sari de la inima.</div><div> </div><div>Cum poti trai cu tine?</div><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-7511073897471409657?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-61695891551730429612009-03-12T14:17:00.002+02:002009-03-12T14:24:00.917+02:00Zici ca bucatile-s imprastiate?<br />Privind prin alti ochi, m-as intreba de ce sa bat atata drum pentru un cercel banal.<br />Un om banal.<br />La ce sa-mi tocesc talpile?<br />...ai dreptate.<br />Sau ai avea dreptate, daca ai putea vedea prin ochii mei cat de frumoase sunt bucatile. Una langa alta, cand formeaza din nou un tot.<br />Ochiul ti-ar innebuni de culoare.<br />Si zici ca ai viziunea?<br />Naah..<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/Sbj9Zh2wfRI/AAAAAAAAAFg/YYJYfpZXAZw/s1600-h/2654441833_63cb2a0f56.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312274375510097170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/Sbj9Zh2wfRI/AAAAAAAAAFg/YYJYfpZXAZw/s320/2654441833_63cb2a0f56.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-6169589155173042961?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-49763430117352451222009-03-04T10:07:00.003+02:002009-03-04T10:18:14.927+02:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/Sa43qddf2xI/AAAAAAAAAFY/pUt5gTDyS50/s1600-h/green_eye.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309242213318777618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/Sa43qddf2xI/AAAAAAAAAFY/pUt5gTDyS50/s320/green_eye.jpg" border="0" /></a> M-am trezit cu un ochi verde. Am zis ca sigur vine primavara...altfel nu mi-ar fi crescut fire de iarba printre gene.<br /><div> </div><div>Si chiar simt ca vine. O aud seara cand sting lumina. Parca mai respira cineva in afara de noi. Dar are alt ritm. Ca de nou nascut.</div><div> </div><div>Stii...te spionez cu ochiul verde. Esti un barbat frumos.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-4976343011735245122?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-35502249169008842552009-02-27T16:25:00.004+02:002009-02-27T18:40:31.122+02:00<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/Saf4tnUzkiI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Iogb3od2bVE/s1600-h/8029.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307484148413469218" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 266px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/Saf4tnUzkiI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/Iogb3od2bVE/s320/8029.jpg" border="0" /></a> Te invit din nou, sa impartim viziunea. Gustul...culoarea. Stiu, nu esti marioneta.<br />Si cei dinaintea ta au vrut sa creada acelasi lucru.<br />Suntem pe rand papusa si papusar. Pentru ca ne schimbam cerul unul altuia.<br />Ne miscam dupa cum vrea celalalt.<br />Cum sa stau? Intinsa pe spate? Da....as sta, ca-mi place tavanul dar azi imi place cel mai mult de tine.<br /><br /><br />N-ar fi atat de greu alt drum daca asta nu e drumul bun.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-3550224916900884255?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-78070121520514325232009-02-19T12:11:00.002+02:002009-02-19T12:17:29.611+02:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SZ0wesSnFII/AAAAAAAAAE4/zJRrRCixKnE/s1600-h/happy1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304449239955739778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 193px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SZ0wesSnFII/AAAAAAAAAE4/zJRrRCixKnE/s320/happy1.JPG" border="0" /></a> Ziua a inceput ca naiba, dar nu mi-a stricat buna dispozitie.<br />Ma simt ca dupa o gura de aer curat de munte.<br />Am mintea limpede azi. Si sufletul.<br />Azi sunt destul de fericita sa te suport. <br /><br />Rupe-te in scheme.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-7807012152051432523?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-49829084004339514112009-02-18T10:05:00.002+02:002009-02-18T10:20:46.988+02:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SZvBbHfXZzI/AAAAAAAAAEw/k2EfUvVxi3A/s1600-h/souless.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304045657770125106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SZvBbHfXZzI/AAAAAAAAAEw/k2EfUvVxi3A/s320/souless.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Sa dai tot ce poti. </div><div>Nu erai nici la jumatatea drumului spre mine cand ai cazut.</div><div>Si plangi fara sunet, de parca ai fi o statuie in ploaie. Care nu spune nimic.</div><div>Da. Durerea ta o simt si eu.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-4982908400433951411?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-68744736966329979312009-02-13T13:30:00.004+02:002009-02-13T14:11:28.160+02:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SZVh3rAfr1I/AAAAAAAAAEo/d552QBeZwJQ/s1600-h/227002387-L.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302251745364127570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SZVh3rAfr1I/AAAAAAAAAEo/d552QBeZwJQ/s320/227002387-L.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SZVaOW5TpgI/AAAAAAAAAEg/h59mkzA00us/s1600-h/Freedom.jpg"></a>E atat de vie ca-ti crapa pielea...sa inunde si in jurul tau. Iti iese prin pori. Ca un abur intepator.</div><br /><div>Mi-am petrecut ultimele nopti gandindu-ma la asta. Si-am aburit tavanul din dormitor cu fel si fel de ganduri libere. Si-au crapat peretii de la atata iedera si tot n-am gasit o solutie..</div><br />Habar n-am daca ar trebui sa merg mai departe sau sa ma intorc.<br /><div> </div><div>Circul pe contrasens tot asteptand sa vina ceva, sa ma izbeasca inapoi la realitate.<br /></div><div></div><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-6874473696632997931?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-8235753554188195962009-02-11T14:04:00.002+02:002009-02-11T14:13:22.044+02:00<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SZK-5bJ8GYI/AAAAAAAAAEY/7UTDNTh3rqA/s1600-h/cheiroshand.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301509605119760770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 274px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SZK-5bJ8GYI/AAAAAAAAAEY/7UTDNTh3rqA/s320/cheiroshand.jpg" border="0" /></a>Sunt ca un CD plin de urme digitale. Nu ma mai citesc bine, nu functionez azi...din nici un punct de vedere. N-as putea spune ca schimbarile sunt mereu bune sau ca ma adaptez usor. Am un nod in piept pe care nu-l pot desface. Ma tot impiedic de el de ceva timp si ma simt....neputincioasa. Asta era!<br />Deci....impletesc peste?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-823575355418819596?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-62900058649446289372009-02-05T10:51:00.002+02:002009-02-05T11:08:01.800+02:00<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SYqsaRsPNhI/AAAAAAAAAEI/IBLJRCrKU84/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299237478980335122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SYqsaRsPNhI/AAAAAAAAAEI/IBLJRCrKU84/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><div>In mintea s-a starnit un vant. Ca atunci cand lasi usa si geamul deschise iar hartiile de pe birou ti se imprastie prin casa. </div><br /><div>M-am ascuns mult timp, fara sa stiu ca el exista ca sa pot eu fi. Nu mai reusesc sa par ce-as fi vrut sa fiu si am mereu starea dintre ras si plans, gustul amar, insatisfactia.</div><br /><div>Nu ma mai pot distrage lucrurile limitate...eu nu sunt limitata. Nu pot fi prizoniera acestui corp, nu depind de o culoare sau un tipar.</div><br /><div>Am simtit absenta mea atat de tare incat acum ma simt coplesita de cine sunt de fapt.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-6290005864944628937?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-78592034122801609482009-01-27T13:08:00.003+02:002009-01-27T13:31:56.483+02:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SX7rLG2LNDI/AAAAAAAAAEA/OH10Th3ICH8/s1600-h/birthday-cake.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295928787883209778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 308px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SX7rLG2LNDI/AAAAAAAAAEA/OH10Th3ICH8/s320/birthday-cake.gif" border="0" /></a> Oh nu 23 de ani. In speranta ca ma ridic la asteptarile varstei pe care o am, imi urez la multi ani :)<br /><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-7859203412280160948?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-7579342634066974152009-01-26T10:19:00.006+02:002009-01-27T11:52:47.892+02:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SX7ZYck6PUI/AAAAAAAAAD4/ITSNv-OkV00/s1600-h/rvh_someone_else.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295909225845374274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 306px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SX7ZYck6PUI/AAAAAAAAAD4/ITSNv-OkV00/s320/rvh_someone_else.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;">Weekend-ul trece prea repede. Mai ales daca am vreo cumatrie, aniversare sau mai stiu eu ce programat. Ma trezesc lunea mai obosita ca oricand, indiferent la ce ora ma culc. Dar pana marti imi revin, cu ajutor din partea micii comunitati din biroul IT.<br />Am intrat deja intr-o rutina, fac aceleasi lucruri si cand termin o iau de la capat. Nu era asta visul meu…din acelasi motiv obosesc repede, imi pierd cheful, uneori nu dau randament.<br />Grea e viata de artist incatusat. :)<br /><br />P.S. Trebuie sa ma asez, sa reflectez la faptul ca un blog nu e un loc unde sa te plangi…neincetat. Maine scriu despre ceva vesel !</span></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-757934263406697415?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-89167830141491833762009-01-24T09:13:00.001+02:002009-01-26T13:54:16.254+02:00<p><span style="font-family:verdana;">Am inceput anul plina de frustrare, certareata si deseori indispusa. Coplesita de schimbarile din viata mea, mai mult sau mai putin binevenite, am fost egoista concentrandu-mi atentia asupra acomodarii personale, facandu-i pe altii sa simta o incomoditate in prezenta mea. Ce-i drept, mi-a luat cam mult sa realizez asta.<br />Drept urmare, insotita de pareri de rau la adresa oamenilor pe care i-am ranit cu vorbe simple dar greu digerabile, este o lista cu unele din lucrurile mele preferate (pentru ca cei lezati sa se regaseasca in ele si pentru mine, sa o citesc cand m-or coplesi din nou frustrarile):<br /><br />- Marin Sorescu pentru ca “ma cunosc cu el” de mica si m-a fascinat<br />- Lauryn Hill pentru ca plange cand canta si ma face si pe mine sa plang<br />- Lacramioarele pentru ca miros frumos si sunt atat de gingase<br />- Culoarea verde si mirosul de iarba<br />- Parul moale si lung si brunet<br />- Plaja, marea/oceanul si inotul<br />- Copiii<br />- Caii<br />- Rochiile de vara lungi pana in pamant si din materiale vaporoase<br />- Skittles si Toblerone alb<br />- Sa ascult muzica la maxim in masina/acasa/la altcineva acasa/pe mp3 player<br />- Muzica clasica<br />- Candelabrele in baie<br />- Covoarele pufoase<br />- Măcrişul si nucile verzi<br />- Pantofii<br />- Tommy Girl pentru ca miroase a lacramioare si il folosesc de cand aveam 16 ani<br />- Iasul pentru ca este ‘acasa’<br />- Baletul<br />- Cosmopolitan cu Irina, Monica si Liana<br />- Sa rad cu pofta<br />- Pozele alb negru<br />- Buzele carnoase<br />- Masinile americane vechi<br />- Gradina de salcami a bunicilor mei din Asău<br />- Amestecul de mirosuri din curtea de la tara: grajd, flori, lapte proaspat muls, aer curat, sarmale<br />- Sunetul zurgalailor si datinile<br />-Sa fac cadouri<br />- Sa joc rummy sau table cu bunicul<br />- Apusul/rasaritul la releu<br />- Sa dansez<br />- Sa beau Pepsi Twist dupa o seara in club<br />- Sa iubesc neconditionat<br />- Sa cante vara-mea la pian Balada pentru Adelinne</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-8916783014149183376?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-582180949148943478.post-11950281749522283072009-01-23T10:29:00.002+02:002009-01-27T11:48:18.411+02:00<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SX7YVgu9OQI/AAAAAAAAADg/Tn4VLCCuuRY/s1600-h/hourglass.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295908075910019330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 158px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 199px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3duqMeCSd04/SX7YVgu9OQI/AAAAAAAAADg/Tn4VLCCuuRY/s320/hourglass.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;">Pentru mine. Sa am un sac de timp...fara fund.<br />Vreau timp sa stau pe burta cu o carte in fata ore in sir. Timp sa acord mai multa atentie luminii, vantului.<br />Parca m-am trezit ieri si aveam deodata 22 de ani, un job, o facultate terminata si o mana de oameni care asteapta mult de la mine.<br />Nu-mi amintesc cand am ramas fara timp. A fost brusc sau gradual?</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/582180949148943478-1195028174952228307?l=lelucsbag.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Ioanahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03854969275457398186noreply@blogger.com2