What I've been reading lately

In the spirit of the "New year new me" idea, I've decided to return here, as I still believe I have something to say. More than for any other purpose, as I don't quite hope I'll get famous through this site, I am writing for me; like a recording of thoughts and ideas that give me pleasure or puzzle and fascinate me. And yes, because, after all these years, I still haven't given up the idea that someday I will publish a book. Someday.
Until then, this is an exercise, and should be taken as such.
Turning back to the title, and subsequently the subject I chose for my first article in such a long time, I'd like to share some of my latest reads and some of the books I bought or received and still haven't managed to read yet. I would have to mention that I've been buying a lot of books lately, so I have a lot of material.
I received a wonderful gift last Christmas from my boyfriend:

and I have to say I was delighted. While I wanted The Witches for a long time, I coveted a deluxe edition of Sherlock Holmes ever since we were in our holiday in Prague and have seen one there in what was to become our favorite bookshop: Budget Books. This edition however is beyond my dreams, as it's deluxe, and when I say this I really mean it. Look at those gilded pages:

and cover art:

I have to say, I was enchanted by this edition, it is wonderfully made. Even Jackie loved it:

I've read and read and read from it, but as the paper is extremely thin and beautiful, I haven't even reached the middle, so I guess I'll be reading until next Christmas.
In the meantime I've also read Promethean Horrors and I loved it. I guess my literary taste has changed over the years, and as other people after a certain age go for more "mature" books, like self-improvement for example; it seems I started to gravitate in the last 6-7 years from Fantasy towards the Gothic Novel. I still adore Fantasy, it's just that now and then I like it with a twist.
Regarding The Witches, I'm still in the beginning with it, I have to say it's not that thrilling as I expected it to be and that's why I could be sidetracked by other books. Yes, I am that sort of person who starts reading several books, before finishing any, and I'm not afraid to admit it.
I can't say I don't like The Witches, Schiff has a sort of sarcasm that I do enjoy, it's just that the subject is in the beginning just as interesting as the Puritans can be. I will persevere though, and I do hope I'm coming closer to the "juicy" part.

To shortly exemplify my new "penchant" for Gothic literature, here is a recent acquisition, of which I'm really proud:

The only downside for some might be that it's a Romanian edition, but a wonderful one, nonetheless:

It's a hardback deluxe edition published by ART, and the illustrations are by Fernando Vicente, and I would say (pun intended)  he did a terrific job:

The translation into Romanian is exquisite. I have to say I was a little afraid, translation being a  very important aspect for me, and that is why I prefer reading the books in original, because I have stumbled upon translations that are really dissatisfying. This one I think will satisfy even the pickiest readers, I dare say. Just one last beautiful image, although this edition is full of them:

I enjoyed re-reading this book, and there's no denying the illustrations really intensified my pleasure. Reading such books you fully understand the power of images over a mind influenced by the text. It's easy to guess what my dreams were about in those days. This particular edition is for the skeptics, those who say "Oh, not yet another edition of this one!". It is the proof that a wonderful book never ceases to surprise, and with the right amount of care and artistic genius, it definitely lives on as gloriously as in the beginning.

Do you know that feeling when, walking into a library, you see a book related to another cult one that you've already read, by the latter author's nephew, and just walk past it? Neither do I....
So I went into Carturesti last year and saw Dracul by Dacre Stoker, and couldn't help myself.

I have to say this was an interesting read, I could say I liked it very much, as it gives another perspective on Bram Stoker, transferring him into his own tale. If this doesn't convince a Gothic novel enthusiast to read this book, I don't know what will. Maybe only the small detail that Stoker becomes some kind of a Van Helsing in this satisfyingly long tale.

I will conclude my spoilers here, and also my post, since I want to let other books for some other time. Until we meet again.

On doors and...doors...

I've always seen myself as a fighter. Seldom looking back, I keep a steady pace going forward. If you would ask me my destination, I don't think I could give you a straight answer, because I rarely know myself what I intend to do. But who does? Do we really know for sure what we want? Or is really life what's actually happening to us while we struggle for schools, careers, family and fortune?
I keep myself proud of the fact that I'm shaping my own destiny, one mistake at a time. I never stop more than a second to see if I'm doing right or wrong, all I know is that I can't afford to look back too much, or else I am lost. Sometimes I'm exhausted by the sheer struggle of keeping it all as real as possible around me, other times I'm too exhausted to get out of my own head. But I do guess we're all the same up to some point, so I'm not making a big discovery. There's one thing though, I realized right now, and it's the one that makes all the difference. It's my choice of never believing I can't. There's always a way, when you're tough enough to take it. I've never let anyone tell me I couldn't do something. I mean, they said it, but I always felt the need to prove them otherwise. I'm that stubborn!
This attitude works wonders in school, career and life in general. Only when night falls, and I find myself alone with my own thoughts, and I'm not that blinded by my ambition, do I realize this only applies to me and my own will. You cannot make people bend to your will when it comes to their feelings towards you. You have to earn trust, not convince them that you are trustworthy. Earning is way more difficult. You have to charm people into believing what you say, and you cannot do that without a significant amount of charisma. You have to love yourself more if you want to make somebody love you for who you are. Here's where struggling for more comes in. If you think somebody will trust, respect or love you for exactly who you happen to be right now, you might be right....up to a point. It takes more, it takes an effort, it takes a will to grow out of your comfort zone to improve and become even better, so that people can see you are good, going on better.
And still, sometimes, even better is not enough. It might be easier if I said it's not you, it's them, but that would mean I would have to lie. It is you, it is your fault, because first of all, you need to see with your eyes wide open. Sometimes there is no compatibility. Sometimes it's not the question of why not, but of how much.  How much of the pieces fit? Is it truthfully that what you really need? Or is it just a whim? It's not giving up if you finally realize it's not for you. It is a proof of maturity to let go and move on. Move on further away, as far away as possible, and you will find the opportunities you were too engrossed in your own failure to see until then. When one door closes, it only does so so that another will open for you. Life is a set of frightening, colorful doors; sometimes you need to knock to make yourself heard, and at other times you should put in the shoulder and knock the damn thing down! And at other times, you just need to pull it after you, and just make sure it won't hit you on your way out.

Clive Baker

  So, after knocking on every possible door, making sure you loose as few occasions as possible, if you find yourself in trouble, just think of all this as a lobby towards another path that will lead you exactly where you need to be, as long as you are not afraid to raise your head up and look life straight in the eye.

Learning...

What do you do when you realize you are a control freak? You either freak out even more; or you push the breaks.
 Well, I'm doing that right now, with all my force.

"Creatio ex nihilo" by Estellium

Let me tell you a short story. When learning to ride my bike, I used to make use of my back tire break mostly, which would often lead to my butt "dancing" when breaking too hard; and the only thing that kept me from falling down really hard was the knowledge that my bike's butt was about to wiggle, and me holding my position for dear life. Finally, after 5 years of driving more and more, starting to go off on my own for longer and longer distances, I started using the emergency break, which is on the front tire. I used to hate it because it would turn all my weight up on the front part of the motorcycle, and as my arms are my weakest point, the whole pressure was on them, which scared the hell out of me. With lots of experience came the moment when, from a pretty high speed, I could finally use both my brakes in such a way that my bike would stop without actually putting me in danger, or freaking me out; which would subsequently lead to even bigger danger.
Drawing a line here, I think that only with lots of practice experience will be gained and a better life experience can be reached. Growing up as I did, mostly alone and trying to make a way for myself in life, I had to set a "few" rigid rules to help me get through. The most important rule was that nobody else will decide in my place what will actually happen to me. I've been struggling to hold that rule up as a shield for ever since I can remember my first decision; so this is pretty much engraved in my personality, willing or not. If that doesn't make me a control freak, then I really don't know what does.
All fine and pink; getting older (and wiser, as I would like to think), I had come upon situations and people who would not bend to my will. Now, I'm only referring to such people and events as are important to me, excluding thus a big chunk of what's happening around me; as I am actually pretty notorious among my friends for being an ace when it comes to not giving a rat's ass about things and people I don't like, or I'm not interested in. In these delicate cases when I do care I use to take initiative, arrange outings, keep everybody in touch, and usually I am the one making the reservations. I guess that being the assistant at my workplace makes me want to be the one organizing things; that just to put it mildly that I am the total control freak.
Of course that, as a measure of self preservation, I would try to control every aspect of my life. It is one thing to organize the way you are going to meet with your friends, and completely another to try and control a special person's life, just so that they will bend to your will and make you feel in control of the situation. Guess what? There comes a time and a person who will not accept that, who will not let you control the action, no matter how much you want and try to break them. And it's not that they don't care about you or your feelings, but because some things are not acceptable, no matter how much you want to interfere in their lives.
And you know what? It is ok! You can't and by all means you shouldn't be able to control everything around you! I know control gives you a sense of security, of a safe heaven, but it's just an illusion. The real, important things in life can not be controlled; just like life and death, or love. Just as I can't control what is about to happen tomorrow in the world, just like that I can't really control if I like a person or I don't. And exactly like that I can't control somebody's feelings for me. And I'm starting to understand and accept this.
Just like everybody, I'm in the full process of learning... learning to live, learning to love, learning to hit the breaks and let go...for the first time in my life not being in control and letting it go makes me feel more powerful than ever. I can bet that the right person, the one that's going to love you no matter what is not the one you can bend to your will, but the one who wants to do everything for you from the bottom of their heart, and without anybody suggesting it.
So yes, I am prepared to let life get to me, show me what it's like to be surprised, and I'm about to live every second of what's coming and enjoy it the best I can. Just learning to be.

Bisous!

on self-sufficiency...

I've read somewhere that life is that which happens to you when you're not paying attention. It might well be so; as I am terribly trying to live my life to the max and have as many experiences as possible, before I find out it is too late. And isn't this what life is made up of? experiences, happy moments and hurtful times; love and hate?
All these are for me the result of interaction with people around me; either the ones I love and would protect with all my being; or of people I come into more ore less of a collision with; depending on the outcome, obviously. I don't include work here, as that is for me a whole different planet; a place I feel isolated and alone; but at the same time able to be in my own world, which is a more than ideal situation, I must admit.
I've been obsessing over the concept of self-sufficiency for some time now: I've already gathered so many thoughts on it that I could actually write a short book; and the more I think about it the more it scares me. At some point, when deciding a new direction in my life, I thought about this as an attribute that could define me; but then I realized that I was fooling myself, I could never be that type of person. I am addicted to my friends and my circle; and only thinking that it might come a day when I will have nobody to call for a drink on the town makes me shiver.

photo: http://alifeofproductivity.com

And then, of course my train of thoughts derails and I dig deeper into the issue. There are people thinking they are self sufficient; and this piece in particular is inspired by such a person I've recently met. Isolated, alone, but kidding oneself with the illusion that computers, movies, games and such can replace the void only deepens the gap. You don't find insight by looking into your misery, you have to find the root of that misery and pull it out. Unless, and I am more and more inclined to believe this, you can only feel alive when you suffer. Everything else is just too superficial, too little for you. Don't tell me that being alone all the time, and even with people you are in your own world; locked up in your own mind, you will pursue happiness, because I won't believe it.
Ok, I might be over-social; a social butterfly if you wish; but the exact opposite of me won't give anyone a full and happy life. And although I know that a happy life is an abstract notion; we're basically and deep inside all just cut out the same way. So, yes, I do believe that we all strive to love someone. Please pay attention to the fact that I said love; and not be loved. Only by loving you can really feel existence; as only then you have the certitude that nothing is certain or lasts forever, and you might get hurt at any time; but you're still doing it.

So, you might say that happiness is somewhat tangent to self-sacrifice. Just as you feel very warm and fuzzy inside when you're doing a good deed.
When you condemn yourself to self-sufficiency you absolutely lose that warm feeling; but there is still a sort of self sacrifice and a good dose of resignation; which kind of gives you the same taste; and so you live off those truly intense emotions. At some point; they may replace loving someone; but they also leave you  utterly alone. Inside and out.

Self condemning; and self-flagellation, like I like to call it; through self-sufficiency; may hurt people around you whom would like to get closer; but you are the one hurting the most in the end. And yes, it is a bitter and attractive taste; I know; but even that is not something you'll taste forever.

The sadness of it all strikes me when I think of how we all get old and die. Only we can choose if we live our lives or not. The problem is that nobody can make us; and time(that same notion that's been obsessing me for a while) just slips away.
This self-sufficiency deal is so slippery that at times even I wonder if I'm getting it right. It's not about the others at the end of the day; it's deeply about you, the one condemned by a mere notion that sometimes in the past rooted in a vulnerable mid. And don't tell me now that it has no roots, or motive; or it doesn't keep residence in your mind; because I dare say that every shrink out there would raise a brow.
Well, reaching the turning point, where you will probably hate me; I have to state that most of us got hurt sometimes, maybe once, maybe several times; but what can I say? some are bolder and try again; and some...just quit.
I dare say this self-sufficiency idea comes from the hidden fear of not being sufficient enough. Any shrink out there to applaud me? Have you any idea how much it took me to realize this? And do you think it helped?
But, hey, I get it. It is much safer to hurt yourself by isolation and loneliness, than to be hurt by others! I really get it!
Even I am afraid to ask why I understand all these. I am not like this at all; I hate being isolated; I love noise around me at all times; everybody knows me as an extroverted type of gal'.
Last but not least so to speak; I get why the need for it; all the isolation and the necessity to hurt; but I don't understand the weakness; that is something I was not equipped to accept. And even the resignation, the giving up part, that is something alien to me, and I pray to all gods out there that I won't be forced to accept resignation as a way of life; for that would truly be the only time when I would be ashamed of myself.

Derailed, but still in love with the world,
Me.

on the passing of placid Time...

Has it ever happened to you, that when you hear a song you can only think of one person during the time it is sung?
This is the song I'm obsessed with currently:

I find that Italian is one of the most romantic languages on this Earth...as if it has been given to make love to it; as if all persons in love should sing in it to each other; as if you needn't know what it says; the love message is more than obvious. Top that with an excessive romantic mood, a writer's imagination, a little bit of hurt feelings...and you're in my boat altogether.
Looking around me I can see people rushing by, towards actually nothing. They struggle to get a good job, get a house and a car, and top it all up with a beautiful family. Is anybody really happy? can anybody say "Stop! I have everything I want right now!" ? And you know what scares me the most? The fact that time doesn't give a rat's ass about us; little ants that we find ourselves in a hurry towards some imaginary important goal.
Time, this placid Chronos, just dances his slow but steady pace by us; leaving us behind; giving us the illusion that we're actually alive. Do you know when I think we really feel like we're alive? I believe the only moments when we actually feel alive are the ones when we hurt; the ones that would make us scream inside.
Can't we see that this life is only worth living if we are happy? But instead, all we do is anything but being happy. Struggle doesn't mean happy; and it might look like we're getting there; but we're not.
Happy is like when I'm listening to this song and it hurts; it makes me want to be near someone I like very much, someone that makes Chronos look like a fool; someone who can hold me tight until it hurts; but I'm laughing with tears of happiness in my eyes. That someone passes his fingers through my long hair and caresses my face in such a way that my hearts stops for just a second; the same person whom, when he laughs, my breath catches in my throat, for the wonder of seeing the fine wrinkles circling his eyes.  That same person with smooth hair and seductive silver at his temples; the only person dancing always to my rhythm. What better image to evoke the passing of time than the silver in our hair?
 But instead of having his arms around me, and my head resting on his shoulder; dancing to our own song; made up of our own two identical and scary compatible minds; we are struggling each in his own universe; and the magic of our two beings brought together for a short while is mercilessly cut down by the distance we alone have managed to put between us. Still, I feel like I'm alive; and although our time might have passed us by; I am grateful for the feelings that proved I am very much alive, very much able to be cut and bleed out until I can come to understand a small part of the real meaning of life.
So, Master Chronos, spread your wings over us, put us to your test; hurt us and leave us breathless, bleeding and aching all over; but don't you ever dare to pretend that you can take from us that which is so deeply ours: our need to love and be hurt; no matter the challenges you and your friends, the Moirae think of throwing our way.

Bisous,
A mere mortal...

Randomization....on cowardice

We all have a penchant for suffering, for stress, for making our lives more complicated than they should really be. When we're feeling o.k., secure, loved;  we're wondering why is that, or how is it possible; when we're not....just the same.
I understand everybody's need to feel a little suffering, it is absolutely normal; it makes us feel alive; I'm no exception to that rule; but when that melancholia starts to get the best of me I start kicking and screaming and run like hell.
I'm really not the one to preach, as I tend to hover over things, and it takes me a period equal to forever to take a decision; but once I decide on something, there's no turning back.
I admire people who see what they want, or whom they want, and just put themselves out there, vulnerable at times, and grab for the object or person of their desire. There's no place for cowards in my philosophy of life; and cowardice often actually means a weakness of character. Any woman will tell you that she prefers a straightforward man to a coward. It is flattering to show a woman that you want her; but your indecisiveness will drive her away, away to another man's arms. And quickly; because we're not known as the most patient of our species...
On the other hand, it is the duty of a woman (I sounded just so Austen-like; didn't I? :) ) to encourage, up to an extent, the intentions of a man she admires. I find it inadmissible to encourage a man just for sport; just how I find it disgusting to hold on to a man whom has had enough of you. Yes, we're not all lucky in our choices of men; but holding on to him for dear life doesn't make us any more lovable. At best, we achieve his pity; at worst, he will end up despising us. Although, I kind of feel that there's a certain amount of despise in pity as well....
Furthermore, when the object of interest is hesitating; I see two choices: either try or give up. It is not a shame to try; but it is a shame to try over and over again, until you exhaust all hope. In love and war everything is allowed, up to a point; after which there's no return from the path of shame. I don't know about you, but I have no intention of going that way; as experience has taught me that if it's not going the second or third time; it wont. It will absolutely and undeniably not work! So it's better to save yourself some heartache and shame and all together give up in due time.
To be a second option is no option at all. And to humiliate yourself won't get you anywhere, except in the land of utter disappointment and regret. Of course I'm speaking from experience, and I'm curious if there's any woman out there who hasn't been through this same experience as I did.
Actually, it is very simple; we only like to complicate our lives as much as possible. I know that what I'm about to say may sound pragmatic to the bone; but there is plenty of fish in the sea. And if the first one doesn't hook, there's always the next. As most women in my situation, I am very romantic; so excuse me if I believe in a match...not necessarily a perfect one; but as perfect as possible; with a guy respecting and caring for your well being and safety. Because that's what we, women, are all about.
Life can be beautiful, and it is our own choice and our willpower that will do the rest. And time. Time can heal any wound. Just wait and see...

Bisous!

what to read this month?

Sometimes, just to remember where I'm coming from, I like to look over my old articles...and then it hits me: what is today wasn't yesterday, but maybe it will be tomorrow. One thing though  remains constant: I love books. Be it romance, fantasy, science, history or science-fiction, I love them all; and read all kind of crazy stuff.
However, there is a constant love out there, transparent all the time: the love for children books. I loved them since my infancy, I will worship them until the day I'll close my eyes forever. These books were the gates that opened my eyes to the world, made me understand that reading could take me places I couldn't even dream otherwise.
There was nothing quite like a new storybook, received as a gift from my parents, I would stare at it for hours, gently touch it, read it over and over again. When I'll have my own kinds I will gift them books, and secretly watch their reaction... if they will react as I once did, then it's true, children are addictive to the same things as their parents; and I will be truly proud of my inheritance.
A book is an item of worship, a small universe among so much uninteresting reality, a piece of blue heaven on a stormy cold day; the door to a parallel universe; available only for those ready to open their inner eye.
But, returning to my first book love: storybooks, I still have to admit that, as long as I can hold a silly- drawing, enchanting-named and crazy-colored book, life will never be dull, uninteresting or sad for that matter. This small piece of paper can be a time machine every time I open one, taking me back to my silly carefree childhood, and I love every minute of wonder; as I still open them with feverish eyes, trembling hands and wonderous curiosity.

So yes, although I'm already a grown-up, when it comes to books, my heart is still that of a child, finding great joy in beautifully colored books, with short texts, which might seem easy to understand, even boring at times, but having a whole different meaning when your heart is pure and not yet corrupted.
I do believe this helps me never loose my sense of direction, I will thus always know where I'm coming from, and what kind of adult I will want to become.
So yes, October is the perfect month to read stories, either for adults, or for kids, just nourish the small kid inside you, shake off the dust of the years, widely open your eyes and breath in the beautiful colors of autumn, as great books are, just like us, made of stardust....
Bisous,
Ana

Fall is coming.......

And you will see that I'm back, more inspired than ever! I can feel the chilled air moving my brain, resurrecting it to life from the drowsy stupor it lingered in during the hot summer...melancholia once again starts to stretch her arms over me, protecting me from the world outside...while my outside shell is mechanically going through its daily human and petty tasks; my inner conscience is slowly awoken by all the beauty laying on the world once fall is drawing near...

source: google images

Ah! Fall...glorious Fall! My soul has been waiting for you! my eyes have been waiting to feast on all your luxurious colors!

source: google images

Books tempt me daily, weigh on my soul; I would curl up in a dark place, with only but a flicker of a candle, and read...read....read! Mists and shadows, that is what I'm yearning for...cold and damp outside my window...so that I can chase the cold feeling away with a cat on my lap...sipping on some red dry wine or green  tea....

Ah, if only.....


Bisous!

Never too far...

Somewhere, out there, you know...I exist...
Sometimes....very often...I think of you....
Something....is always on my mind... you....
Somewhere...is the place we could be together....just us...
Sometimes ...I could even believe we are real...us...
Something ...is never gonna change though....you...me....
Somewhere...we'll still try to get close...to each other...
Sometimes...we will get very close...and burn...
Something...our lives....will always be so different...
Somewhere...out there..our lives met...in another time...
Sometimes...I believe in you and me...
Something...whispers to me " It's just a dream..."
Somebody....will always stay....between us....

Bisous!

lazyness...

I have this quote glued to my office monitor:

which should remind me that I need to work hard and long in order to make some of my dreams come true. At least some of them, as many will never come true probably. Not due to their impossibility, but due to my laziness, I guess. For example, two dreams are dear to me, but will probably never come true: I would love to be a writer, but I'm too lazy and like my life too much in order to isolate myself and really write. Although I know down inside that I can. I just lack the determination. And second, I would love to be a librarian, but I know that that job has a lousy pay, so I cannot afford to do it; as I need my money in order to enjoy all my other hobbies...
I love staying up late, but then the next day I'm too exhausted to do my job, let alone write something creative; and the little energy I've got I spend at this desk, earning my bread by solving all kind of problems that at the end of the day leave me dry as bone and about just as creative as a rock. I know I might be suffering from a Faustian illusion, but I truly feel that I am driven by my ambition to sell my soul to the devil for money, rather than be happy.
But one must ride, must eat and drink, right? Wondering why I put them in this order? Because there are just two things that I love better than riding (either a steel or a flesh and blood horse!), and those are reading and writing, but these two I have to shove back in line.
It's also strange how easy words come to my fingers, so to say, as I haven't been writing a single line (except boring office stuff) for a few months now, and this is my true ice breaker. I've been opening a new page on this blog for at least 10 times until now, but each and every time, I would close it without actually writing something. And I used to be good, I used to be inspired by anything. I could just open my folder of "lovely things", with beautiful photos of all sorts and I would start writing like a shotgun.
I've read somewhere toady that writing everyday makes you a writer, not necessarily writing good stuff. I agree and don't agree with this at the same time. I don't agree because I've seen so many awfull emails in my life that I whish at times to kill people for the single fact that they are murdering languages; either Romanian or English, or French, or German, it doesn't matter.
And I've seen materials written by people whom pour their entire soul into the text, but I don't quite get to touch that soul, and although I know I should be moved, I have to say I cannot resonate to their tune.  That is a real problem for me, as I am a firm believer that you do not write only with your head, but most of all with your soul. And it is simple, if the person who reads what I've been writing doesn't get a small feeling of my soul from it; then I haven't done my job right. Then again, I must be the problem for not feeling the soul behind somebody's writing.....
Returning to my idea of laziness, I must be some kind of perfectionist, if I don't want to write if I have nothing to write with my soul, as well as with my mind. The mind is needed in order to write correctly, respect all the rules of good and correct writing, while the soul is the one that gives the spark to the text. I'll write about shoes with just as much passion as about a good book, just as long as I feel the passion for the shoes. Ok, even I've got a limit, and that would be writing about purses....I find them annoyingly non-important, and people give them so much attention! I would prefer a linen tote at absolutely any time, but that doesn't mean I don't have my own share of bags, they are just a little bit on the crazy side and rarely used...(see? I can write about them too!).
One subject I love, but am too lazy to write even about it is food. However lazy, I have gathered  a pretty amount of photos to post on my food blog (my raw path) , and I intend to do that too. I just hope my brain is rested enough to write there too, provided that this ice-breaker works...
And there's one more thing I love to do: walk in the forest, under beautiful old trees, watch up often, see the sun streaks, listen to the birds chirp...but of course, you can read in the forest, eat, or just as well stay and relax...so I usually combine them; and if I can pick flowers of herbs, or even berries along the way, it's even dreamier.
And I love music...I love it so much that at times it hurts, and it always depends on my mood what I'm about to listen. However, there's one genre that will never make me wrinkle my nose, and that is classical music. I was listening to an aria  in the morning in my office, and a colleague said I was special because I could listen to it at such an early hour. But then I just realized I could listen to such music at any hour of the day or night, without feeling that I don't like it. Does that make me a snob or just a weird person? I don't know, but I am a reading, writing, eating, drinking and hiking biker...so why not a classical music -listening one too?And if I started this post with a photo from my office, I will end it the same way:

with the flowers received from my colleague this morning. They smell heavenly, and have brightened my cage a little....

With the promise to write more, soon:

Bisous!

The return of the Dandy

It's been a few weeks now since I saw Beau Brummel, a really really interesting movie:

and I finally understood how the English and any other nation for that matter got rid of the powdered wig and excessive make-up; especially when speaking about men. We know all, however, that with women there's entirely another story.

Well, if you do not find the inclination, or if you just don't have the time to watch the whole movie; I will say that it is basically the story of the main character, an influential friend of the King George of Britain, who has a flawless style in fashion and is the first one to brake the ice and let go of the awful (I must say) fashion of those days. Complete with a delightful nude portrait of one of my favorite actors - James Purefoy- the British gentlemen take style lessons from Beau and thus learn how to impeccably groom themselves and wear wonderful white shirts and black suits.

Recent not so exotic events in my humble experience have made me look around at our modern man, and I just couldn't stop and wonder if maybe the Dandy has returned, but in a manner characteristic to our own age and time.
If you'll pay just a little attention to most of our young men, let's say between 16 and 25, we will find out that recently they have their hair very well groomed, with elaborate coiffures:

so if you ladies out there thought that you're the only ones losing your precious time on the hair stylist's chair, think again. Don't fret, though, since it looks like their coiffures are more elaborate then our own, but they are also fewer than us; so we might still have a chance.

I think I don't have to accentuate very much the fact that the number of men who wax and have their eyebrows plucked is increasing as we speak....

Speaking purely of their aspect; and while I am completely going to avoid the behavioral issues; I am last talking about clothing. Here the age range is way larger; and men have always been preoccupied with their looks; but it seems to me that there are more and more, and even teenagers and young men fall now in that same category.

borrowed picture of Mr. Jamie Campbell Bower from mortalinstruments.org

Forgotten are the days of the long t-shirts and baggy trousers, now we get to see more derriere than we would really care to. However, I'm not going to be hypocrite and say that it displeases me entirely. When well put together, a pair of tight jeans will look awesome, even though I might watch them with a pang of jealousy. Because yes, many guys will look better than we do, my dear girls, sorry to burst your bubble...

 So, am I wrong? isn't this the return of the Dandy? Just to make a point, I've even looked it up in the dictionary:

dandy

ˈdandi/

noun

1. 1.

   a man unduly concerned with looking stylish and fashionable.

   So, I guess I'm not really that far off; and of course I can't stop wondering how women like their men nowadays. I, for one, believe that a little bit of polish ( :D ) never did anyone any harm.    

   
   

   Bisous!

Greek Mythology reinvented....or "The Goddess Test" Series by Aimee Carter

      During the course of our lives, we come to meet hundreds of people, sometimes we like them and sometimes we don't. Sometimes we remain friends forever, sometimes we argue and go on our way, and at times they pass us by unnoticed...
      Partly through our families, through school, through our jobs and last through our interests or hobbies like we use to call them, we come to understand people, and see how they change, evolve or devolve throughout their lives; all we have to do is be attentive. People change throughout their lives, what used to impress and interest them during childhood or young adult days might no longer be interesting on the long run. This is the natural course of our lives, and we go with the flow, even if we do not want it; often not even realizing we have changed substantially over the years.
      I haven't been modest about my "hunger" for reading anytime and with every chance I got. This space is not much different from my real life, what you see here is exactly how I am in real life; as I have one priority, and that is to live as intensively as I can, and reading gives me that something extra that's always keeping me on edge, making me want more. (how geek-ish that sounds, right? ) And I have not changed much along the years when it comes to this. As I used to read books that were too difficult to me when I was little, now I tend towards easier ones, sometimes alternating with material of insight, requiring more thought and understanding than usual. However, my taste in subjects hasn't changed that much along the way, we could say it only broadened, still encompassing what I used to like, but adding more to it with every new exploration in the world of the written word.
One of my first loves as a child, when it comes to books of course, was a book named The Legends and the Heroes of Ancient Greece, and this love will surely not fade away with time; as I still enjoy every new interpretation of these themes. I used to read and re-read all the books that I could get my hands on, and once I've discovered the wonderful world of internet movies, I couldn't stop watching every movie and every new or old variation on the theme.
By simple chance I stumbled upon a new series of books last summer, The Goddess Test Series, and the first book really caught me in the action:



It is such a nice experience to see that old stories come back to life, under the skilled pen of a modern author, who not only brings a breath of fresh air to this old subject, but by doing so she attracts the young public, making their acquaintance with the old myths, whom they would otherwise maybe never be attracted to.
A young girl (best possible heroine - to- be, right?)comes back to her native town with her sick mother, wanting to dedicate herself to the last few months her mother still has to live; but meets a strange and dark boy (who other than her lover-to-be, right?). She is surprised, to say the least, that he has "special powers" and bit by bit falls in love with him. It turns out that these powers come from him being a Greek God, but I'm not going to spoil it for the ones who want to read the books, they just have to find out for themselves; or read about the books on another site. I like my stories to be fresh, surprising, and the worst you can do is spoil the action for me.
Anyway, the second book in the series is :



and it brings Castor and Pollux on the front stage. Packed with action, this book gives you the thrills just by the dynamism of the story, our heroine, Kate Winters is already finding herself married with the powerful god in the first book, but she helps the twins above get away from her mysterious, sad and beautiful husband..... and I will say no more!

Next book,

 

brings the Titans into the limelight! Like I said before, these books are all about the action, dynamism makes you want to devour as many pages as possible, and even though the subject has been filmed and written on for so many times; Aimee Carter still manages somehow to give it such vitality that I was really surprised and impressed at the same time.
The beautiful and mysterious hubby is kidnapped by the only one who can do it: the King of the Titans (how well are you doing in Mythology? who was he...?? should I tell you...??) ...well... Cronus of course (the one who ate his and his wife Rhea's children, remember?); but yet again, I will only divulge that more and more gods get involved in the action, while Kate has to prove again and again how devoted she is to her hubby.



Risking to sound to corny, I have to yet again praise the choices Aimee Carter made when writing these books. If she had put this action in the first book, surely she would have lost a great deal of the suspense and intrigues, but bringing up the action that had happened before the action of the first book in this one, right before the last books of the series, was really a wonderful twist of action.
Managing to link the action from the first books to the characters of the gods as we know them from the initial Legends; like Aphrodite's unfaithfulness to her husband, Zeus' cheating on Hera with every chance he got, Hermes being the real god of lies that we have come to know from the legends of our childhood, and so many other details that give these books extra points from me, makes me just want to recommend the series as a fresh take on a very often reinterpreted subject.

Last of the series:



 Inheritance takes us a nudge further into the new-created story, as Carter raises the stakes in the action of her books, gets Kate pregnant and so much more, but this is also to be read by those who liked the previous books, not wanting to be the one that spoils all the fun for them.

With a love story in the  foreground, and the Greek mythology as a background, these books are surely recommendable to teenagers; but I really don't see why an adult person could not enjoy a little bit of easy action, and let himself or herself be surprised by the creativity of the author in the nice plot of the series. After all, reading is meant to be fun, right?

Wishing to all those that I've managed to convince a great reading, and fulfilling my duty as a correct blogger, I would only like to add that all the photos above belong to Amazon.com, they are even linked to that site, one click away. 

Bisous!

of new beginnings...

It's been a while...

Only I know how many times I've opened this page..starting with a few words, then hit the Delete button...
Not because I didn't have anything to say (because I always have something to say!), but because I needed a change. That's why I changed the aspect of this blog, because I needed a change; it didn't inspire me anymore. Not being inspired by something means, in my vision, having to change to something else, something fresh, and new and inviting...and throwing out the old things that didn't stimulate anymore. Kind of selfish, I know, but that's the only way to move forward for me.
And what better time to start afresh, then in January?  I can think of no better, or more inspiring setting.
So, let's start again on this journey, with renewed forces and fresh ideas, brushing aside all that's dull and uninteresting, annoying and unpleasant. Let's remember what we truly love and whom we truly want to be, and work in that direction, looking back just in order to see further more clearly and to know which path to take.
So, let's put a step in front of the other....

source: www.rideasia.net

and step on the bridge....we have no idea where it will lead us, or how the journey will end...but we'll be taking on life...one step at a time.

Bisous!

Fragment...

" [...] How this is possible, I do not know, but I'm trying a foreboding feeling, like something isn't right, and something has ended, as well as something else has begun. As the Sun and the Moon face each other on the same autumn sky, there can be no mistake in the omen, something will go bad, or some powers in this world are already at work, not understood or known. Wasn't there an old saying...When the Sun and the Moon meet?...used only for impossible situations. Well, if the impossible has become possible in this case, who knows what else can be done? What will the influence of these two gods be for the poor ants crawling on the face of the Earth? But wait, these poor ants as I've just called them have rose above their humble status, they change everything in their path; so maybe the reason why today I'm witnessing this miracle is of their doing. Maybe this sign is meant as a warning, as to dangerous time to come...
A strange thing...to see the moon while basking in the golden light of the last warm sun of the year....autumn is almost spent, winter is coming....
I'll take this as a sign, more as a warning, from the gods, and will humble myself and start looking for an answer. Some ancient scroll must hold this secret...[...]"

Sad impressions on women versus society

Due to some uninteresting events of this past weekend, I've come to think of the sad role we, women, have come to play in this strange society. I may not be the first, not the last to speak about the de-personification of women nowadays, but I really felt the need to put in writing some of the thoughts I've been having for some time now.
The truth is that, although we have emancipated ourselves from the fearful and weak persons we used to be, we have also lost some of our charms due to this struggle. I read somewhere and I can't remember where that we are learned even as small girls to wait for prince charming, our childhood stories are full of beautiful princesses, so that, unconsciously, we are prepared even from our childhood, for a life of aspiring to absolute beauty and the perfect love. Now these are not terrible things, but once the girl who read this stories grows, and she becomes a woman, she will still aspire to be beautiful for this prince charming of hers, and such is her need of recognition, that she came to be this over-labeled, over expectant, over demanding woman that we all come to see one day. Everywhere you look, you can see restrictions into which the modern woman must fit: her overall aspect, her weight, her wits, her career, etc.
Of course you will say that not all women need to fit into this pattern, that there are so many independent women out there who do not feel the need to justify themselves, but I ask myself why must we come to the need to impress even with this rebellion against all the restrictions society throws in our faces, when have we become so twisted and unnatural that we need to prove something that we already are?

source: Google images

 I must admit I am scared to see our young women (not that I am very old, sic!) but I mean the young girls today whom will become the wives and mothers of tomorrow, trying so hard to fit into the pattern. When you feel that society will give you less attention, and subsequently you will have less success if you don't look the part; it is only normal to want to play the part and be the best. I am only saddened by this urge to try and look best for men, because they are the main reason, our " charming princes", which we feel the need to impress.
The nasty part is that young girls are easily seduced, easily impressed and influenced. It is practically impossible, now that women are "free", to pose restrictions on them, and normally, they won't know that to do with their freedom and will surely make a poor job of using their youth to their best advantage, hurrying down a path towards unhappy lives and unfulfilled dreams.
Though I am a convinced feminist, just like my boyfriend and close friends always tell me, I am realistic when it comes to watching women all around me; and no matter how much it hurts me to admit it, this is a man's world. They dictate everything, from the way we dress to please them to the jobs we take, even if just to impress and prove that we are equal.
I felt the need to try to explain that I don't see me better than others, then I renounced the idea, that is not the scope of this post; but I merely wanted to express my thoughts on the sad feeling that I'm having about women being treated like objects, and the even sadder thing that they not only silently agree to it, but they also contribute to this process. I know many will raise eyebrows when reading this, and even more will say that I am not only writing clichees, but that this subject has been so long debated that it lost its shine.
I have to disagree with all of them, because disrespect towards women is not an old issue, but a never ending, never-getting-old one, it happens every day, right under our noses. You will say that nobody forces them to be like puppets, but I say that once you know no other possibility to exist out there, you will do as you see around you, especially if the social pressure demands it.
We have fought to wear pants, and we have fought to wear short skirts, now I see wonderful women, with good jobs and money, wearing almost nothing and reducing themselves to a mere doll, just to please their partners and hold them by their side with fear of another one, more seductive, coming and whisking them away. We think ourselves elegant and original, when in fact we often do not even realize we are passing the thin line between sexy and obscene. I hate the word "sexy", because it is a really really sexist and denigrating word. When have we stopped being attractive and became sex slaves? Because we are slaves to this society and slaves to our own insecurities, and this word expresses all these terrible things in just four letters, to which we aspire so much, without even thinking.
I wonder if our women forefathers, the ones who fought for us to have the right  to wear anything we want, to have children or not, to have a different status in our marriages, to have the jobs we dream of, to be able to speak our minds freely without the fear of being shunt by society would cry over our lost right, over our self-imposed slavery and over our pig-headed insistence to deny the truth... 

I would try in vain to draw a conclusion to this  idea, because this is a never-ending cycle,  I unfortunately have no solution to this dilemma, I have absolutely no idea what we should make, besides demand more respect, and treat everyone else around us like we wanted to be treated ourselves. It is, however difficult to demand respect with our skimpy clothes, short skirts and high heels; if we want to be treated differently, we must shake down the shackles of fashion and society; we must no longer rebel against good-taste and elegance, but try and make people appreciate us for who we are and not for what we look like. Otherwise, we will never be taken serious, no matter how big our paycheck is.

on great expectations and greater dissapointments...

I've read somewhere, and not a long time ago, that "The primary reason for underachievement and failure is that the great majority of people don't decide to be successful"; a phrase attributed to Mr. Brian Tracy. I don't know who that is, I didn't have the time to look it up and see, maybe he's a writer with excellent ideas; and although I don't agree with the use of grammar in this phrase, I do agree with the core-idea of it. And I agree with it because I often see myself in it. I attribute my so little progress in life and career to my indecision, and I feel this phrase to express all my frustrations and fears.

Sisyphys (1548–49) by Titian, thanks to Wikipedia

There must really be a decision for an achievement; you must strongly and vividly want to achieve something, and only after you work hard for it, give it your energy and make it happen with all your resources; only then can you reach your desired outcome. I know that, and you know that, and everybody around us acknowledges it; but there's only a small majority that will really do something in this respect. The rest, just like me and any other ordinary person, will bow their heads and accept their fate and that which it brings to our plates.
I mean all this in every little aspect of our life, from choosing the right outfit, to choosing the right person to live with and to going on the right career path.
We're so caught up in our daily lives, comfy and sure, that we forget that, if we want more than just a simple dull life, we need to step out of our comfortable zone and do some uncomfortable things. Of course there are exceptions, of course there are those who receive it all on a silver platter, but those are just the lucky few, and we're more than likely never to be like that.
I've recently entered an argument with a person I care very much about, who asked me what I've accomplished so far, and why am I content with what I've got, rather than fighting for some more. I usually like to listen to what people have to say rather than give my own arguments, and afterwords think about what was said. And he's right, pinpointing exactly what the above phrase says to me every day, from the corner of my computer screen, where I've put it. I haven't decided yet to be successful; I haven't decided yet on finishing my book, maybe because I don't want it to end yet, I haven't decided to change my job which leaves me little to no time to write exactly the way I would want to write; I haven't decided to loose myself in my writing, because then everything else would disappear, and most of all I haven't decided to take the risk of being disappointed. Yes, I haven't decided to be successful at any cost, even that of my own happiness, because even though I am not completely happy with what I've got, at least I'm not hurting, not yet anyway...
But somewhere, in a dark corner of my mind, a small voice won't shut up, and it sometimes whispers that the hurt and regrets are just around the corner, and then all of this can no longer be completely ignored; and it gets harder day by day, just like the truth that my friend said to me has hurt more than I would like to admit.
We each have a different idea about accomplishment and what it will bring us, but I don't think I'm very far off when I say that it mostly includes material satisfaction in the first place, and the mental appease coming after that.

How strange is it that, in order to reach material satisfaction, sometimes you have to give up your current comfy material state and sacrifice your peace of mind?  It's the period that's in between that scares me the most...and I bet I'm not the only one.

The nastiest of it all is that for some, the more we try the less we get, just because we block ourselves with hard feelings and regrets along the way; just like me for example, the more I force myself to write, the harder it is; but when I go through some happy or sad period, all I want to do is be left alone to write, and it all comes so easily then that I am mad that it's so hard at times, and so easy at others.
Of course nobody wants to be the kind of person who looks back on his or her life and regrets not doing this or that thing which could have brought him this or that thing...but where do we stop thinking about what could have been or what could be, and when do we start making choices?
Does that time ever come?
Is it bad to settle for less than complete satisfaction? and when do we know that we've reached that level? do we ever reach satisfaction?

gypsy at heart...

Have you ever wondered how you would have turned up if you were born in another family? Is not our current self a sum of all happenings and persons found around us up until this very moment? Every new person is like a crack in the wall, like a pebble that changes just slightly the corse of your life's water...
We probably all like meeting new people, we are curious about new places and new customs, especially if their lives are relatively better then ours; or so we like to think. Nobody has it all, but we tend to forget that, and we always want something which is not meant for us; something that probably would change us beyond measure and need.
I for one long to have no worry in the world, roam the world without a certain purpose, be able to give up every little thing I own and be able to say that I don't give a damn about anything. Blessed are those without mundane cares, for they know the feeling of true freedom!

Tiganca {Gypsy girl} by Theodor Aman- National Gallery Bucharest

 And let's not let ourselves be fooled by what we see here everyday, all around us and in every other person's life: there still are people who do not own one little thing, not even the cloth on their back, and are still happier then we will ever be!
I long to swirl my long flowery skirts by a camp fire, dance wildly beneath the moonlight, sing my lung out and cry without reserve...
When was the last time you laughed your heart out? I forgot....

Bisous!

how's your summer?

So far, how's your summer? Mine is well, with lots of rides, lots of friends keeping me company, lots of music, especially classical (because that's what I feel like listening to!) and lots of books. And I mean I haven't read this much in a long period of time, not even during wintertime. I feel like my time is passing me by and there's still so much I have to know, so many stories to unravel...
It's my despair of not being able to read it all that makes me start 3 or four books at once, and then read some more in between. And I'm dreaming...wide awake!
 I dream of flowery meadows, of high chilly mountains, of sunflowers and beautiful English gardens, heavy dew on their roses...I dream of walking barefoot on fat grass,

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...picking wild flowers for my dinner table, and berries for my breakfast...

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 letting my hair down and spinning around until nausea makes me lay on the tall grass and watch the puffy clouds go by.

Each morning when I wake up I wish I was somewhere in the woods, high up in the mountains, in a lodge cabin....

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...with mist crawling through green moss trees,

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 the sun rays piercing the thick canopy and shedding gold flakes on the moss and ferns below...

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 Each afternoon I wish I was on a tartan picnic blanket, a basket full of goodies nearby...

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 iced tea and bumble bees around me, chasing butterflies down the hill side while not feeling anything but the relaxing warmth of the sun, because I'm all wrapped up in white fluffy and breezy cotton with beautiful French lace....

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then I'm lazily drowsing in my hammock

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...or...

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...or reading beautiful old books, finding out about all species of flowers, butterflies, trees and yummy fruits...

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What would my perfect summer be without galloping on the hills, barefoot and without saddle, my horse flying swiftly over miles and miles of grassy meadows, my hair blowing in the wind and my long dress flying all around me....

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free soul...free spirit...free mind?

Then, in the evening, I would sit by the fire in a stone cabin, sip yummy tea,

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 after a copious dinner with baked potatoes, salad with perfumed tomatoes and fried corn,

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 listening to some relaxing classical piece in the background and maybe talking to a friend or two over a warming glass of berry- flavored red wine.

And the stroke of midnight would find me hunting fireflies

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...chasing fairies.....

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riding unicorns and dancing in the moonlight...

And there would be no computers...no TV...no radio..no cell phones..just a record player...

 a warm fire in the fireplace and lots and lots of candles...

sweet rose water and lavender soap....

What's your idea of a perfect summer day?

* all photos from my tumblr.com page, I do not own copyright to any of them!
Bisous!