<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323</id><updated>2012-01-29T22:33:04.270+02:00</updated><category term='o'/><title type='text'>my way</title><subtitle type='html'>blog despre oameni si stari</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>42</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-8968537742312842637</id><published>2012-01-29T22:30:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T22:31:36.527+02:00</updated><title type='text'>17 ani</title><content type='html'>- la 17 ani totul e posibil. ai luna in mana si te uiti spre soare, fara sa te doara ochii. pentru ca soarele tau are un nume si te priveste cu grija si iti sterge o urma de ciocolata de pe buze, cu buzele ei/lui.&lt;br /&gt;- la 17 ani esti ca pisica ce se uita in oglinda si se vede leu &amp;gt; esti un copil, care isi cheama inca mama sa il mangaie pe cap, atunci cand se trezeste. dar te simti puternic si matur si crezi ca gandirea ta - rapida- este mult mai buna decat a "obositilor" mai in varsta; de mult ori, ai dreptate&lt;br /&gt;- la 17 ani ai indoieli.....viitorul e undeva departe si totusi, te grabesti spre el alergand himera independentei. nu stii cine vei deveni, dar optimismul iti e aliat&lt;br /&gt;- la 17 ani ai o inima mare, plina, din care nu a rupt nimeni, metodic, bucati. inca.&lt;br /&gt;- la 17 ani distractia inseamna 5 prieteni in jur si multe rasete. nu costa nimic, nu te impiedici in conventii si in scuze de tipul "nu am timp"/ ce-i drept, acum ai toata vremea din lume&lt;br /&gt;- la 17 ani esti frumos si visezi mult, cu ochi mari si luminosi&lt;br /&gt;- la 17 ani acumulezi multa informatie si multa traire. vei purta cu tine amintirile acestea toata viata. bataia cu apa din curtea liceului; sarutul cu gust de strugurel de cirese, in ploaie; chiulul in masa care s-a lasat cu absente nemotivate in catalog, dar &amp;nbsp;si cu o zi pe care nu o vei uita niciodata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Copilule de 17 ani &amp;gt; traieste intens&lt;br /&gt;Adultule de 17+ ani &amp;gt; traieste intens, dar nu uita sa zambesti oricarui pusti care trece pe langa tine pe strada. el nu e galagios si tampitel. esti tu, idealistul de care te-ai pierdut&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-8968537742312842637?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8968537742312842637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=8968537742312842637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8968537742312842637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8968537742312842637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/17-ani.html' title='17 ani'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-5162044299162088631</id><published>2011-06-05T21:28:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-06-05T21:28:25.998+03:00</updated><title type='text'>inot</title><content type='html'>Un varf de suflet sta sa se inece intr-o mare. De amaraciune. E tot ce a mai ramas, restul este deja de ceva timp in adancurile neguroase, verde-inchis si pline de alge neprietenoase. Dar el sta, cumva. Se incapataneaza. Isi spune ca daca mai exista, chiar si dupa atata timp, trebuie ca are un rost. Asta o fi supapa lui de scapare in calea deznadejdii din jur. Totul, pana cand primeste, si el, un branci din spate. Si in timp ce cadea in ceea ce stia ca ii va fi sfarsitul si-a adus aminte de expresia aceea careia niciodata nu ii vedea, de fapt, sensul "un sut in fund e un pas inainte".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The end, my friend&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-5162044299162088631?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5162044299162088631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=5162044299162088631' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5162044299162088631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5162044299162088631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2011/06/inot.html' title='inot'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-5454700209697093119</id><published>2011-05-25T00:25:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-29T16:10:48.274+03:00</updated><title type='text'>zbor neintrerupt</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoBodyTextIndent"&gt;Ionuţ e îmbrăcat cu o cămaşă albă şi pantaloni bej. Are bretele maro şi o privire superbă, albastră şi serioasă. Se întoarce spre mama lui şi inocenţa celor şase ani întreabă: „Mama, ce e cu scheletul pe cruce?” Maria se gândeşte un moment şi apoi îi răspunde că pe cruce e sculptată Moartea. Şi că e vorba despre Înviere. În curtea bisericii ruse soarele e puternic, iar glasurile copiilor de diverse vârste se amestecă, formând un cor. Ionuţ, adică Jon, aşa cum scrie în certificatul de naştere, ascultă explicaţia şi apoi începe să se plimbe din nou. Îi place să vină la biserică, învăţat fiind încă de mic cu ritualurile ortodoxe. Poate ar fi devenit un bun musulman, dacă Maria ar fi ales altfel. Dar ea a ştiut, la un moment dat, ca relaţia cu tatăl lui, un artist provenit dintr-o familie mixtă greco-albaneză, musulmană, dar trăind în Italia, nu era viabilă. Ben, artistul, îi cerea să renunţe la tot ceea ce ea, Maria, era. Iar acesta era un preţ mult prea mare. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"&gt;Maria îşi descrie viaţa ca fiind „trepidantă”. În liceu era o rebelă, ascultând rock şi dispărând uneori cu nopţile de acasă. Mama, profesoara de muzică şi-ar fi dorit-o altfel, aşa că Maria şi-a găsit modelul matern în mama lui Rareş, prietenul ei de atunci. Apoi a început o altă etapă, care a dus-o departe de Botoşaniul natal, la Timişoara, unde a învăţat despre jurnalism de la profesori şi despre viaţă cu şi de la Nick, iubitul ei. Mai mare cu şapte ani decât ea, era un tip „inteligent, chiar sclipitor”- terminase ca şef de promoţie în anul lui, independent, sigur pe sine şi ţintea, la propriu, spre cer. Doar aşa sunt instruiţi toţi piloţii de MIG-21 că trebuie să facă. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"&gt;Maria e aşezată pe un scaun şi stă cu mâinile împreunate pe masă. Nu îi plac ornamentele inutile şi vorbeşte deschis şi direct, uitându-se în ochii tăi. Când îl aminteşte pe Nick, în ai ei apare o licărire de admiraţie. La momentul acela, el era un model pentru ea. Dar era un tip rigid care dorea stabilitate, iar ea simţea că nu a trăit încă destul. Se temea de plafonare, ca şi acum, şi ştia că nu şi-a întins încă suficient aripile.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"&gt;Aşa că a plecat pentru a urma un master în Paris. Acum era în ţara despre care învăţase atâtea în liceul de limbi străine pe care îl terminase, ţara pe care o simţea ca fiind „a tuturor posibilităţilor”. Şi aşa a şi fost. Acolo a întâlnit oameni deosebiţi, cu destine interesante, acolo a legat prietenii unice, a învăţat mult, l-a întâlnit pe Ben, acolo a trăit mult şi multe. Însă îi oferea un sistem gata format, foarte clar, în care nu a a vrut să trăiască, pentru ca România este de fapt locul unde totul este de facut şi unde vroia să aplice ce învăţase.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"&gt;Mariei îi e frică de înălţime. Când a fost cu fratele ei pe un pod suspendat căruia îi lipsea o lespede, a simţit că nu mai poate face nici un pas. Dar şi-a îngheţat un an în Franţa şi a luat avionul când era în luna a noua ca să vină acasă ca să îl nască pe fiul ei. Şi mai târziu, când a plecat la Bucureşti pentru un timp, ca să urmeze cursurile Academiei Naţionale de Informaţii şi-a lăsat băiatul în grija bunicului, tatăl ei. Căruia spune că îi va fi „veşnic recunoscătoare”.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 35.4pt;"&gt;Acum, Maria urmează facultatea de drept şi lucrează într-un domeniu închistat în nişte principii învechite. Dar a învăţat de la Radu, soţul ei, „că unele lucruri nu pot fi schimbate”. Pe de altă parte, îşi doreşte siguranţă pentru Ionuţ. Şi mai ştie şi că vrea ca el să fie curios, să experimenteze, să cunoască, să interacţioneze.Vrea să îi transmită şi lui toate aceste caracteristici care sunt profund ale ei. Iar pentru ea, vrea sa fugă, din nou, de un banal pe care nu îl recunoaşte ca aparţinându-i şi de o activitate care nu îi oferă ceea ce îşi doreşte.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Şoimii sunt păsări care nu pot fi ţinute în cuşti. Le trebuie spaţii mari, tânjesc după libertate, altfel mor. Sunt cele mai rapide zburătoare şi o iau, invariabil şi incredibil de repede, în sus. Dacă Maria ar fi o pasăre, atunci ar fi cu siguranţă şoim. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-5454700209697093119?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5454700209697093119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=5454700209697093119' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5454700209697093119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5454700209697093119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2011/05/zbor-neintrerupt.html' title='zbor neintrerupt'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-2437939981927236305</id><published>2011-03-29T21:52:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2011-03-29T22:00:34.278+03:00</updated><title type='text'>ratiune si simtire</title><content type='html'>Nu suntem numai ratiune. Oricat mi-ar placea sa cred/imi induc asta. Suntem organisme delicate, usor de ranit. Un ciocan in cap ne poate foarte bine ucide si asta e un adevar general acceptat. Dar ce te faci cand acelasi ciocan este plasat atarnand periculos deasupra unei chestii invizibile dar capabila de a simti durere? Sa ii zicem suflet. Si apoi imagineaza-ti un slow motion....si cade. Dar nu vezi pe ce, ca am stabilit o propozitie mai devreme ca sufletul nu se vede. Care e concluzia? Individul este omorat sau mai traieste? Paradoxul consta in faptul ca, desi muribund, i se cere sa zambeasca si sa "ii treaca". Asa ca se conformeaza. Si uite asa, o carcasa umblatoare prin viata celor vii se naste. Partea buna este ca se intampla uneori si minunea de a invia. Cand? Pai sufletul se poate regenera.&lt;br /&gt;Concluzia finala? Sufletul e ca ficatul  :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. acesta nu se vrea un post inteligent. Is niste ganduri aruncate pe tastatura.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-2437939981927236305?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2437939981927236305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=2437939981927236305' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/2437939981927236305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/2437939981927236305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2011/03/ratiune-si-simtire.html' title='ratiune si simtire'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-1931087069943071983</id><published>2011-03-17T21:55:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2011-03-19T10:42:04.769+02:00</updated><title type='text'>intrebarile vietii</title><content type='html'>Miruna a fost mereu o fata foarte cuminte. La gradinita nu s-a batut cu nicio fata si nici nu fugarea baietii prin curte, la scoala lua numai note de 9 sau 10, apoi a intrat la liceu, unde era mai mereu exemplul clasei. Dar ea nu era tocilara, nu, doar ii placea sa nu se faca de ras ca nu stie. Asa ca prea stia. Numai ca de la o vreme, Miruna observa ceva schimbat in felul in care se comportau adultii cu ea. A inceput o matusa, coana Varvara, din satul bunicilor &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Auzi, fata, da de ce nu ai si tu un baiat bun?"&lt;/span&gt;. La inceput, Miruna s-a amuzat de ce intrebari poate sa puna si tanti asta, pe care nici nu o stia prea bine. Apoi, cand a mai trecut timpul si intrebarea asta se tot itea prin diferite discutii cu diversi, despre diverse, Miruna si-a zis ca poate stiu oamenii astia ceva. Dar tot nu putea pricepe de ce se tin de capul ei, de parca lipsa prietenului era un defect care iti sare in ochi imediat cum o vezi pe ea. Oricum, ea si-a vazut de ale ei, a intrat printre primii la facultate, unde l-a si cunoscut in anul doi pe Mihai. Care era si el baiat bun, desi cam zapacit. Se intelegeau bine, ba chiar in anii mari au inceput sa stea in aceeasi camera la camin, ca au vorbit ei cu portarul si s-a rezolvat, cu ceva spaga. Lucrurile se mai schimbasera, la fel si intrebarile. Acum , predominanta era urmatoarea  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Da voi cand va luati?"&lt;/span&gt;. Si asta o amuza, ca isi imagina de fiecare data cand o auzea cum ca ar trebui sa se ia cu mainile de fund si sa sara in sus. Si iar si-a vazut de ale ei. Numa ca la un moment dat, si familia lui, si a ei, au cam insistat cu intrebarea, incat se simtea sufocata. Dar pana la urma, Mihai era baiat bun, iar ea nu se considera vreo frumusete, ca sa stea altii la coada la usa ei. Si mai ales, ii e era foarte drag. Il iubea? Nu prea stia. Nu era ca in filme, dar oricum gesturile marete si romantice sunt numai acolo, viata e mai complicata de atat, iar Miruna stia prea bine. Si apoi, a mai crezut ea ca il iubeste si pe Dan, in generala, cand el i-a daruit ei stiloul lui cu penita de aur, iar acum intamplarea ii starneste doar o nostalgie slaba dupa timpurile alea fara griji, si nimic mai mult. In concluzie, Miruna s-a logodit cu Mihai. Toti ziceau ca sunt un cuplu frumos si ca se potrivesc de minune, iar Miruna a inceput sa creada si ea asta, prin asociere.&lt;br /&gt;Si apoi, a inceput viata de oameni casatoriti, cu credite, cu certuri, cu zile de nastere uitate si cu mici bucurii zilnice. Uneori, Miruna se intreba daca il mai iubeste sau l-a iubit cu adevarat vreodata pe Mihai. Dar reusea sa alunge gandul asta destul de repede, doar era o fire optimista. Dar ceea ce a observat ea, era ca lumea isi schimbase intrebarea, ca sa tina pasul cu evolutia lor. Asa ca oriunde se ducea (chiar si la mini-market, ca vanzatoarea o stia) auzea, invariabil &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Da nu faceti si voi un copil?"&lt;/span&gt;. Ei nu prea ii statea gandul la asta, ca doar si asa le era greu cu creditul. Si in plus, stia ca in 2 ani putea avansa la serviciu. Cu ceva bani in plus, le-ar fi fost si lor mai usor, iar Mihai nu ar mai fi trebuit sa munceasca in fiecare zi pana la 9 seara pentru nenorocitul ala de credit. Si ea, in bunul obicei, si-a vazut de ale ei. Numai ca de data asta, intrebarea si-a gasit singura raspuns, cand Miruna si-a dat seama ca ramasese insarcinata. Ratase o pilula, de oboseala uitase sa o ia. Dar si-a dat seama ca de fapt parca vroia si ea copii, la un moment dat. Asa ca in 9 luni, la ei in casa a mai aparut cineva. Mihai parea bucuros, uneori, atunci cand nu tipa la ea sa o ia pe aia mica de langa laptopul lui de serviciu, sa nu mai dea din nou apa pe tastatura si sa tipe sef-su la el. Cum-necum, Miruna a gasit o cale sa le impace pe toate si in viata asta noua.  Si aproape ca rasulfa usurata. Cand, o noua intrebare aparu &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"Da voi nu ii faceti un fratior?"&lt;/span&gt;. Na, ca tot nu ai scapare, se gandea ea. Asta mi-ar mai lipsi. Asa ca au mai trecut ceva ani, pana cand, intr-o zi, Mihai a venit de la serviciu si i-a zis ca, daca intre ei tot nu merg lucrurile asa bine, poate ar fi bine sa faca un copil. Ca a vazut el la serviciu cateva cazuri in care toate problemele se rezolvasera ca prin minune dupa nasterea unui copilas. Mirunei i se parea cam absurd, dar a zis ca macar sa il vada pe el fericit. Si asa l-au avut pe Ionut, un copil bucalat si blondaliu, ca el. Si i-au crescut pe amandoi, cu cata iubire au putut si cu cate resurse de energie le ramaneau de la serviciile lor. Iar ei s-au dovedit a fi copii cuminti, tot asa cum fusesera si parintii lor, la varsta lor.&lt;br /&gt;Miruna era de acum batrana, sau cel putin asa se simtea, desi ii mai spuneau prietenele ca se tine bine, pentru cei 68 de ani ai sai. Doar ca uneori, cand vorbea cu oamenii, simtea in ochii lor urmatoarea intrebare. Doar ca pe asta nu mai indraznea sa o puna nimeni. Insa ii stia si raspunsul. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"In curand"&lt;/span&gt;. O simtea.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-1931087069943071983?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1931087069943071983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=1931087069943071983' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/1931087069943071983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/1931087069943071983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2011/03/intrebarile-vietii.html' title='intrebarile vietii'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-8530815185898616692</id><published>2011-02-06T19:59:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2011-02-06T20:18:44.262+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='o'/><title type='text'>NO limits</title><content type='html'>"Omul este un animal biped, fara pene si cu unghii late" . Platon dixit.&lt;br /&gt;Si fiecare dintre noi s-a simtit jignit undeva in strafundul sufletului lui/ei de "fiinta superioara" cand a auzit prima data aceasta minunata definitie.&lt;br /&gt;Dar de ce? de ce ne-am simti jigniti? in fond, e perfect corect. concis si real.&lt;br /&gt;In plus, prin natura noastra intrinseca de fiinte umane, suntem limitati&gt; fiziologic, psihic, mental, dialectic si in multiple alte feluri. Peste toate acestea, rigorile societatii (in acceptiunea larga a cuvantului) actuale ne-au invatat si obligat sa ne impunem si alte limitari&gt; ceea ce se cuvine, ceea ce trebuie, normalitatea ca norma manipulatoare, etc.&lt;br /&gt;Insa toate cele de mai sus nu ne dau absolut deloc scuza sa nu rupem cateva dintre barierele, chiar si auto-impuse. Desigur, acest post nu este despre inductia starii de nihilism. Nicidecum.&lt;br /&gt;Este despre a-ti rupe niste lanturi, a-ti depasi niste cutume interne, astfel incat sa te cunosti mai bine. In fond, daca este sa ne intoarcem la tonul crud-realist-obiectiv al definitiei de mai sus, persoana noastra este singura care ne va insoti cu siguranta pe tot parcursul vietii noastre. Si este singura care va stii intotdeauna cum ne simtim (excludem aici diferite stari patologice in care individul pierde contactul cu sine insusi; si mai excludem si ipotezele dulcege tip "dar, persoana iubita stie intotdeauna ceea ce simti").&lt;br /&gt;Acestea fiind zise, din cand in cand luati-va distanta, priviti-va intr-o oglinda mentala si faceti ceva nou, redefiniti-va, dansati in ploaie si in general, incercati ceva ce nu ati fi crezut vreodata ca vi se potriveste.&lt;br /&gt;S-ar putea sa va surprinda ca va place, ca va (re)descoperiti si ca sunteti mult mai interesanti si/sau imprevizibili decat credeati.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. se aplica la orice varsta&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-8530815185898616692?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8530815185898616692/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=8530815185898616692' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8530815185898616692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8530815185898616692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2011/02/no-limits.html' title='NO limits'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-3930646586029854782</id><published>2011-01-30T23:23:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T23:48:59.906+02:00</updated><title type='text'>confesiunile celei ce nu intelege nimic</title><content type='html'>....stii, cand stai, pur si simplu si incerci sa iti creezi un vid in minte. e rau sa ai o memorie buna. iar atunci cand e vorba despre memoria sentimentelor e si mai rau. simt ca nu mai pot sa respir. poate e mai bine asa, in fond la ce bun atata respiratie. nu facem decat sa evacuam dioxid de carbon in atmosfera. exista franturi de evenimente, e ceea ce mi-a scapat de la auto- provocarea unei "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind". uneori vin in bucati usor de digerat, alteori insa sunt mai mari, pline de semnificatii, insotite de mirosuri si atingeri si cuvinte care dor, inca, si dupa atata timp.&lt;br /&gt;de ce esti acolo si eu sunt aici? de ce nu m-ai ales, desi ochii si gura si inima si mangaierea ta spuneau ca ma vrei, pentru totdeauna? de ce ai impresia ca ne vom putea minti fiecare, in viata lui? si mai ales, de ce crezi ca "I'm there too" va mai suna la fel, vreodata?&lt;br /&gt;imagini alterate, cuvinte plate si pareri "politically correct" nu inseamna comunicare, la fel cum "prietenie" se potriveste in alte cazuri.&lt;br /&gt;azi am deschis playlist-ul si prima melodie a fost "let it be". nu cred in coincidente. si nici tu. sau cel putin nu credeai. dar acum mananci pizza si nu mai esti curios.&lt;br /&gt;timpul e furios si uita repede. prea repede. iar eu am fost, sunt si voi fi fragila....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-3930646586029854782?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3930646586029854782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=3930646586029854782' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3930646586029854782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3930646586029854782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2011/01/confesiunile-celei-ce-nu-intelege-nimic.html' title='confesiunile celei ce nu intelege nimic'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-6685201187372559016</id><published>2010-12-05T20:33:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2010-12-05T20:57:27.952+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Anuta</title><content type='html'>nu ma simt chiar bine. Eh, nu are ce sa fie, cine stie ce. Daca m-ar lasa durerea aia ar fi si mai bine. dar de la o varsta nu mai ai cum sa ai pretentii. Ei, lasa ca ma duc acum la ea si o vad, ce dor mi-a fost de ea. Oare am luat metroul in directia corecta? cum mi-a zis "de la Gara cobori si iei metroul din partea dreapta. vezi sa nu fie spre Victoriei" parca asa....ma bucur ca i-am adus ceva mancare, niciodata nu mananca cat trebuie. a slabit de nu se poate. uite un scaun, poate ma asez un pic si imi va fi mai bine. aaaa, l-a luat el. ei, lasa ca o fi si el obosit, uite ce palid e. ca Anuta mea, in sesiune.&lt;br /&gt;uite, ma ia si o durere de cap. dar imi da ea ceva, precis are un antinevralgic, acolo. unde am ajuns? Crangasi? mai am putin, ia sa ma uit pe harta asta a metroului. da, da, uite, Crangasi, Semanatoarea si apoi cobor. imi e si cald, mi-am pus tocmai acum haina asta de iarna, ce mi-o fi venit? e abia octombrie. parca ma ia o ameteala, ufff, cand eram tanara si munceam in schimburi, veneam acasa, faceam treaba si seara tot nu imi era somn. parca mi se inmoaie picioarele. Buf! eu sunt, am cazut? nu vad, e intuneric...."Doamna, va e bine? vreti niste apa?VA E RAU?" de ce or tipa la mine? parca alunec, imi aduc aminte cand eram mica si ma dadeam pe tobogan. asa ma simt. dar e tot intuneric. "trageti semnalul de alarma, doamnei ii e rau. unde sunt paznicii aia cand ai nevoie de ei? nu, ca vine acum Grozavesti si oricum opreste in statie. Bine, dar macar ca sa anuntam conductorul ca unei doamne ii e rau, sa trimita o ambulanta la statia de metrou"....."da, conductorul aici, de ce ati tras semnalul? ii e rau? pai si eu ce sa fac? sa opresc intre statii? personalul insotitor e rugat sa se deplaseze la ultimul vagon, cuiva ii e rau"....s-a oprit ceva brusc, cred ca metroul. dar nu vroiam sa ii deranjez, sau poate suntem in statie? auleo, sa nu ratez statia Anutei. trebuie sa ma mobilizez un pic, ce, parca sunt de plastilina, femeie in toata firea ce sunt.....numai ca nu mi s-a mai intamplat niciodata asa ceva. multumesc, sunteti draguta. da, vreau un pic de apa, mi-e mai bine acum, haideti ca ma ridic. ma ajutati , va rog? vad ca mi s-a rasturnat sacosa, sper ca ciorba nu s-a varsat, e de vacuta, cum ii place ei. "va rog sa grabiti coborarea pasagerului. nu putem sta sa asteptam la nesfarsit" , "domne, da a chemat cineva ambulanta? tot nu ii e bine, e palida tare", "nu e niciun medic pe aici?" dar mi-e bine, multumesc ca ma ajutati, da, aici si trebuia sa cobor.  puneti-mi sacosa pe scaunele astea, da. ma adun un pic si pornesc spre ea. numai sa nu isi dea seama ca mi-a fost rau, ca ma cearta. da, la revedere, multumesc. sunetul usilor parca mi-a provocat o bufnitura in creier. doar nu ma ia din nou. auleo, nu ma tin picioarele, mi-e un pic frica, iar sunt pe jos...oare cat timp a trecut? aaa, nu mult, aud trenul cum de-abia acum pleaca din statie. imi bubuie inima, ce o fi cu mine. si e rece si murdar, nu imi place pe jos. si nici nu e nimeni in statia asta. pai, da, statie de studenti, e in mijlocul zilei, alearga si ei saracii, pe la facultati si pe la serviciu. hai ca se linisteste inima, inca un pic si ma ridic. dar parca nu o mai aud deloc. si iar mi s-a intunecat privirea, nu mai pot sa respir...sau nu mai stiu? dar chiar nu imi mai simt inima. numai sa nu afle Anuta mea despre chestia asta....ce liniste e, si iar ma dau pe tobogan si am din nou 5 ani. e bine si acum nici nu imi mai e asa de  cald...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-6685201187372559016?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6685201187372559016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=6685201187372559016' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/6685201187372559016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/6685201187372559016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2010/12/anuta.html' title='Anuta'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-8692098953982097929</id><published>2009-08-13T21:55:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2011-09-07T21:46:27.850+03:00</updated><title type='text'>un pic de viata</title><content type='html'>So, until now I’ve….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;00) Bolded the things I’ve done in the following list&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;01) Bought everyone in the pub a drink&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;02) Swam with wild dolphins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;03) Climbed a mountain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;04) Taken a Ferrari for a test drive&lt;br /&gt;05) Been inside the Great Pyramid&lt;br /&gt;06) Held a tarantula.&lt;br /&gt;07) Taken a candlelit bath with someone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;08) Said ‘I love you’ and meant it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;09) Hugged a tree&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;10) Done a striptease&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11) Bungee jumped&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;12) Visited Paris&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;13) Watched a lightning storm at sea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;14) Stayed up all night long, and watch the sun ris&lt;/span&gt;e&lt;br /&gt;15) Seen the Northern Lights&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;16) Gone to a huge sports game&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17) Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;18) Grown and eaten your own vegetables&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19) Touched an iceberg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;20) Slept under the stars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;21) Changed a baby’s diaper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22) Taken a trip in a hot air balloon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;23) Watched a meteor shower&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24) Gotten drunk on champagne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;25) Given more than you can afford to charity&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;26) Looked up at the night sky through a telescope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;27) Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;28) Had a food fight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;29) Bet on a winning horse&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;30) Taken a sick day when you’re not ill&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;31) Asked out a stranger&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;32) Had a snowball fight&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;33) Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;34) Screamed as loudly as you possibly can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;35) Held a lamb&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;36) Enacted a favorite fantasy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;37) Taken a midnight skinny dip&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;38) Taken an ice cold bath&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;39) Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;40) Seen a total eclipse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;41) Ridden a roller coaster&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;42) Hit a home run&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;43) Fit three weeks miraculously into three days&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;44) Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;45) Adopted an accent for an entire day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;46) Visited the birthplace of your ancestors&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;47) Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;48) Had two hard drives for your computer&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;49) Visited all 50 states of USA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;50) Loved your job for all accounts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;51) Taken care of someone who was shit faced&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;52) Had enough money to be truly satisfied&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;53) Had amazing friends&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;54) Danced with a stranger in a foreign country&lt;br /&gt;55) Watched wild whales&lt;br /&gt;56) Stolen a sign&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;57) Backpacked in Europe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;58) Taken a road-trip&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;59) Rock climbing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;60) Lied to foreign government’s official in that country to avoid notice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;61) Midnight walk on the beach&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;62) Sky diving&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;63) Visited Ireland&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;64) Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;65) In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them&lt;br /&gt;66) Visited Japan&lt;br /&gt;67) Benchpressed your own weight&lt;br /&gt;68) Milked a cow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;69) Alphabetized your records&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;70) Pretended to be a superhero&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;71) Sung karaoke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;72) Lounged around in bed all day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;73) Posed nude in front of strangers&lt;br /&gt;74) Scuba diving&lt;br /&gt;75) Got it on to “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;76) Kissed in the rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;77) Played in the mud&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;78) Played in the rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;79) Gone to a drive-in theater&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;80) Done something you should regret, but don’t regret it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;81) Visited the Great Wall of China&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;82) Discovered that someone who’s not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;83) Dropped Windows in favor of something better&lt;br /&gt;84) Started a business&lt;br /&gt;85) Fallen in love and not had your heart broken&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;86) Toured ancient sites&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;87) Taken a martial arts class&lt;br /&gt;88) Sword fought for the honor of a woman&lt;br /&gt;89) Played D&amp;amp;D for more than 6 hours straight&lt;br /&gt;90) Gotten engaged&lt;br /&gt;91) Been in a movie&lt;br /&gt;92) Crashed a party&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;93) Loved someone you shouldn’t have&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;94) Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;95) Gotten married&lt;br /&gt;96) Had sex at the office&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;97) Gone without food for 5 days&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;98) Made cookies from scratch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;99) Won first prize in a costume contest&lt;br /&gt;100) Ridden a gondola in Venice&lt;br /&gt;101) Gotten a tattoo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;102) Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;103) Gotten divorced&lt;br /&gt;104) Been on television news programs as an “expert”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;105) Got flowers for no reason&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;106) Masturbated in a public place&lt;br /&gt;107) Got so drunk you don’t remember anything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;108) Taken illegal drugs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;109) Performed on stage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;110) Been to Las Vegas&lt;br /&gt;111) Recorded music&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;112) Eaten shark&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;113) Had a one-night stand&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;114) Gone to Thailand&lt;br /&gt;115) Seen Siouxsie live&lt;br /&gt;116) Bought a house&lt;br /&gt;117) Been in a combat zone&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;118) Buried one/both of your parents&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;119) Shaved or waxed your pubic hair off&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;120) Been on a cruise ship&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;121) Spoken more than one language fluently&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;122) Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;123) Bounced a check&lt;br /&gt;124) Performed in Rocky Horror&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;125) Read – and understood – your credit report&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;126) Raised children&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;127) Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;128) Followed your favorite band/singer on tour&lt;br /&gt;129) Created and named your own constellation of stars&lt;br /&gt;130) Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;131) Found out something significant that your ancestors did&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;132) Called or written your Congress person&lt;br /&gt;133) Picked up and moved to another city to just start over&lt;br /&gt;134) …more than once? – More than twice?&lt;br /&gt;135) Walked the Golden Gate Bridge&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;136) Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;137) Had an abortion or your female partner did&lt;br /&gt;138) Had plastic surgery&lt;br /&gt;139) Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived&lt;br /&gt;140) Wrote articles for a large publication&lt;br /&gt;141) Lost over 100 pounds&lt;br /&gt;142) Held someone while they were having a flashback&lt;br /&gt;143) Piloted an airplane&lt;br /&gt;144) Petted a stingray&lt;br /&gt;145) Broken someone’s heart&lt;br /&gt;146) Helped an animal give birth&lt;br /&gt;147) Been fired or laid off from a job&lt;br /&gt;148) Won money on a T.V. game show&lt;br /&gt;149) Broken a bone&lt;br /&gt;150) Killed a human being&lt;br /&gt;151) Gone on an African photo safari&lt;br /&gt;152) Ridden a motorcycle&lt;br /&gt;153) Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100 mph&lt;br /&gt;154) Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced&lt;br /&gt;155) Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;156) Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;157) Ridden a horse&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;158) Had major surgery&lt;br /&gt;159) Had sex on a moving train&lt;br /&gt;160) Had a snake as a pet&lt;br /&gt;161) Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon&lt;br /&gt;162) Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing&lt;br /&gt;163) Slept for more than 30 hours&lt;br /&gt;164) Visited lots of foreign countries&lt;br /&gt;165) Visited all 7 continents&lt;br /&gt;166) Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days&lt;br /&gt;167) Eaten kangaroo meat&lt;br /&gt;168) Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground&lt;br /&gt;169) Been a sperm or egg donor&lt;br /&gt;170) Eaten sushi&lt;br /&gt;171) Had your picture in the newspaper&lt;br /&gt;172) Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;173) Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;174) Gotten someone fired for their actions&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;175) Gone back to school&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;176) Parasailed&lt;br /&gt;177) Changed your name&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;178) Petted a cockroach&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;179) Eaten fried green tomatoes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;180) Read The Iliad&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;181) Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;182) Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them&lt;br /&gt;183) …and gotten 86?ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you&lt;br /&gt;184) Taught yourself an art from scratch&lt;br /&gt;185) Killed and prepared an animal for eating&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;186) Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;187) Skipped all your school reunions&lt;br /&gt;188) Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language&lt;br /&gt;189) Been elected to public office&lt;br /&gt;190) Written your own computer language&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;191) Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;192) Had to put someone you love into hospice care&lt;br /&gt;193) Built your own PC from parts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;194) Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;195) Had a booth at a street fair&lt;br /&gt;196) Dyed your hair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;197) Been a DJ&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;198) Found out someone was going to dump you via blog&lt;br /&gt;199) Written your own role playing game&lt;br /&gt;200) Been arrested&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;idee preluata de la &lt;a href="http://senseofdisorder.wordpress.com/"&gt;Adinuta Popandau&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-8692098953982097929?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8692098953982097929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=8692098953982097929' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8692098953982097929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8692098953982097929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2009/08/un-pic-de-viata.html' title='un pic de viata'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-2755018424559824696</id><published>2009-06-14T23:51:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-15T17:14:28.234+03:00</updated><title type='text'>de ce as pleca din Romania.part one.</title><content type='html'>Loc: Piranha&lt;br /&gt;Ora: aprox. 20 (duminica)&lt;br /&gt;Subiect: stiam ca va fi aglomerat si ne pregatisem sufleteste;inarmati cu rabdare,ne asezam la terasa,afara, si asteptam sa ni se aduca un meniu; conversatia curge,se deapana amintiri,se povestesc intamplari din prezentul recent;apare un meniu,plasat de o picolita;ne hotaram: eu vreau inghetata,un tip vrea salata;dupa vreun sfert de ora apare chelnerul (cam 20 ani,slab,inalt,cu o privire obosit-crizata); cu zambetul pe buze comandam&lt;br /&gt;Eu:"o inghetata ,va rog"&lt;br /&gt;Chelnerul: "nu avem inghetata" si da sa plece.....&lt;br /&gt;Tipul care vroia salata apuca sa zica "eu vreau o salata,te rog"&lt;br /&gt;C.:"nu avem frunze de salata"&lt;br /&gt;Tipul cu salata: "bine,atunci salata nush-de-care" (era fara frunze de salata)&lt;br /&gt;C. : "nici din aia, NU AM DECAT MICI,va las sa va mai ganditi"&lt;br /&gt;Toate astea se petreceau pe fast-forward.nici nu am mai avut timp sa ii spunem ca exista si un plan B.&lt;br /&gt;Nah,am zis ca omu' e stresat,grabit,etc.&lt;br /&gt;Vine din nou.&lt;br /&gt;Eu: "deci nu aveti nimic dulce?"&lt;br /&gt;C.: "NU.bine,doar snickers"&lt;br /&gt;Eu : "bine,atunci,as vrea frigarui"&lt;br /&gt;C.(0chi mari,bulbucati,catre mine): "nu puteati sa vreti si Dvs. mici,ca toata lumea?"&lt;br /&gt;Eu: socata,in coltul meu de asa replica,nici macar nu mai am puterea sa ma supar si ingaim un "nu, nu imi plac micii"&lt;br /&gt;In timpul acesta,in jurul nostru curgeau platouri cu mancare aduse de alti chleneri si nu aratau a  mici!Mai sa fie....ni s-a pus pata cand am vazut si inghetata. Intrebam o tipa,parea chelnerita : "Nu va suparati,aveti mancare?si inghetata?"&lt;br /&gt;Ea: "avem de toate"&lt;br /&gt;O vede gingirelul nostru si se uita urat la ea,ea se fastaceste si zice :"adicaaaa,nu stiu exaaact,eu sunt doar picolitza"&lt;br /&gt;Ala trece din nou pe langa noi.&lt;br /&gt;Ca oameni de actiune ce suntem,mergem noi catre bucatarie; si minune,pe tejgheaua de unde iau chelnerii comenzile pentru a le duce pe la mese ,ziceai ca s-a varsat cornul abundentei; ni se coloreaza peisajul in negru cand vedem 2 inghetate ce ranjesc sfidator catre noi.Intrebam la bar: "putem comanda si de aici?"&lt;br /&gt;Ei : "nu,comandati chelnerului"&lt;br /&gt;Noi: "nu vrea sa ne aduca,ne-a spus ca nu aveti inghetata,iar de mancare sunt numai mici"&lt;br /&gt;Ei: "cine e chelnerul Dvs.?"&lt;br /&gt;Noi: "nu vrem sa ii facem probleme,vrem doar inghetata si nu intelegem de ce nu vrea sa ne aduca"&lt;br /&gt;Se intoarce gingirelul la masa noastra,dupa ce noi ii spusesem tipului de la bar cum il cheama,conform ecusonului."DECI, am inteles ca vreti inghetata"plicitisit si enervat ca trebuie sa ne suporte, "de ce nu intelegeti ca nu mai am decat 2?dar daca vreti,bine,vi le aduc "&lt;br /&gt;O tipa care era cu noi,prietena tipului cu salata : "cum te cheama pe tine?sa stim si noi de cine sa ne plangem"&lt;br /&gt;C.: "stefan"&lt;br /&gt;Tipa: "stefan si mai cum?"&lt;br /&gt;C.:"stefan- chelner" gandindu-se probabil (!) ca fix de glumite nesarate aveam noi chef&lt;br /&gt;Ea:"bine,atunci,poti pleca si anulam si comanda.&lt;br /&gt;Se intoarce dupa 1 minut!cu 2 inghetate si spunand "ei ,bine ca va grabiti cu reclamatiile".&lt;br /&gt;I-am lasat banii numarati fix,am plecat si nici nu cred ca mai mergem in Piranha prea curand,sau daca mergem,plecam imediat cum apare Stefan-Chelnerul.Poate stam daca vrem si noi mici,ca toata lumea........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-2755018424559824696?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2755018424559824696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=2755018424559824696' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/2755018424559824696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/2755018424559824696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/de-ce-as-pleca-din-romaniapart-one.html' title='de ce as pleca din Romania.part one.'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-6364626818005018802</id><published>2009-06-02T22:40:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-02T23:04:45.725+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>unii dintre noi isi contruiesc viata pe sistemul "pasilor marunti": scoala-logodnic(a)-casatorie-casa-masina-copii-bani pentru copii-bani pt. inmormantare; precizare: oricare etapa poate fi sarita sau inversata; exista insa unii,putini,care vor sa lasa o urma a trecerii lor pe aici;acestia sunt nebunii ,visatorii sau cum vreti sa ii numiti,sunt cei ce uita ca stiu sa doarma, uita ca stiu sa stea (fizic sau mental) si uneori uita ca stiu sa iubeasca,fiindca iubirea le-ar rapi din timpul pe care ei in aloca marelui SCOP;unii sunt artisti aspirand catre statutul de maestru,unii sunt afaceristi si vor sa le fie studiat traseul in business la ceva cursuri de MBA,peste ani; mai sunt si medici care vor sa fie cei mai buni si sa ii salveze si pe cei far'de sansa,mai sunt si oamenii care vor sa ne invete ca razboiul nu e o solutie,in ciuda conflictelor crescande.....&lt;br /&gt;unora li se intampla sa le iasa; si le iese atat de bine,incat celorlalti li se naste intrebarea 'cat la suta din reusita lui/ei e hazard si cat e munca si daruirea personajului in cauza?'&lt;br /&gt;evident,ca in multe cazuri,raspunsul e 'depinde',caci frumusetea umanului e ca e atat de diferit,fiind atat de similar.&lt;br /&gt;si in unele cazuri nici nu mai conteaza care e raspunsul,daca SCOPUL  a fost atins,daca respectivul/a realizat ceva care sa miste si macar un spirit,pana undeva sub coaja lui,catre profunzime......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;acest post a plecat de &lt;a href="http://www.lamy.com/the_company/product_innovation/design/history/2005_lamy_studio/index_eng.html"&gt;aici&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;......cand cineva se refera la tine ca la un icon-aici compania LAMY,mare creatoare de instrumente de scris destepte si de-a dreptul frumoase si contemporane,chiar si cele din anii 70, face referire la sculpturile lui Brancusi- stii  ca ti-ai atins scopul.....stii ca arta ta (in acest caz) a influentat nu numai un om,ci chiar niste concepte.si asta e mare lucru&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-6364626818005018802?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6364626818005018802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=6364626818005018802' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/6364626818005018802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/6364626818005018802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2009/06/unii-dintre-noi-isi-contruiesc-viata-pe.html' title=''/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-5330656362651992096</id><published>2009-04-02T22:27:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T22:49:46.154+03:00</updated><title type='text'>toparlanie</title><content type='html'>"am cerut la Brioni sa imi scurteze manecile sacoului,ca sa mi se vada ceasul"&lt;br /&gt;                                                                  Gigi Becali&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;traim intr-o lume in care a fi toparlan este "THE fashion statement"; daca nu esti,nu existi...doar fiintele din aceasta categorie sociala au expunere mediatica,se bucura de un succes mare in cercul lor de cunostinte si in general,se impun  in cartier drept modele demne de urmat.&lt;br /&gt;toparlania iti aduce prieteni,relatii,e intrucatva fundamentul sistemului personal PCR  (Pile-Conexiuni-Relatii).&lt;br /&gt;mai grav e ca tipii de 4-5 ani,nascuti din parinti amorf-budincoshi se uita la Tv in timpul lor liber (cam tot timpul cat sunt treji,adica)...si nu vad ce indemn mai bun la toparlanie ar putea fi sadit intr-o constiinta in dezvoltare......se baga mare scandal,apoi un alt scandal ca sa il acopere pe primul.....se da cu fum si cu clontzul "ca astia poate sunt ei multi,da sigur sunt prosti".&lt;br /&gt;cu mijloace puerile se invarte marea masa de manevra catre modelul toparlanesc...e un tip de control,caci un toparlan va avea mereu creierul ocupat sa fie "cel mai tare"; neavand numarul de sinapse suficient de mare ca sa isi indeplineasca acest deziderat, va incerca sa aibe posesiuni (de diferite tipuri).....si intram asa in consumerism, marea metoda de control si manipulare moderna.&lt;br /&gt;concluzia trista ar fi ca ei ne vor toparlani,iar noi acceptam cu un zambet tamp pe moaca dotata obligatoriu cu ochelari de soare D&amp;G ......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-5330656362651992096?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5330656362651992096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=5330656362651992096' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5330656362651992096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5330656362651992096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2009/04/toparlanie.html' title='toparlanie'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-3010775289983209996</id><published>2009-03-31T23:15:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2009-03-31T23:16:10.797+03:00</updated><title type='text'>momente si stari</title><content type='html'>Love&lt;br /&gt;by Pablo Neruda&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the&lt;br /&gt;perfumes of spring.&lt;br /&gt;   I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;&lt;br /&gt;how did your lips feel on mine?&lt;br /&gt;   Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,&lt;br /&gt;the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.&lt;br /&gt;   I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten&lt;br /&gt;your eyes.&lt;br /&gt;   Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of&lt;br /&gt;you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will&lt;br /&gt;do me irreparable harm.&lt;br /&gt;   Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.&lt;br /&gt;   I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every&lt;br /&gt;window.&lt;br /&gt;   Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because&lt;br /&gt;of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting&lt;br /&gt;stars, falling objects.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-3010775289983209996?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3010775289983209996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=3010775289983209996' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3010775289983209996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3010775289983209996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2009/03/momente-si-stari.html' title='momente si stari'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-8293322527236464121</id><published>2009-03-17T23:21:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T23:36:43.796+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>exista o filosofie cum ca fericirea e doar chestiune de alegere...pot fi de acord,dar asta presupune un grad de intelepciune ce depaseste media; inseamna ca te-ai impacat cu tine si cu ceilalti,inseamna ca a vedea o floare iti asigura "portia" de bucurie zilnica, chiar la parametri ce iti ofera un regim de lucru mai mult decat functional; dar ,recunosc,mai am muuuult pana la acea intelepciune....acum sunt o fiinta intortocheata si mica si nostalgica; stau in coltul meu existential intunecat, de unde arunc cu intrebari catre tinte vagi si indepartate....si cum sunt cam chioara,evident ca nu le nimeresc.pe ele,tintele.&lt;br /&gt;de ce? e o intrebare caraghioasa in sine,dar f valabila in  multe cazuri. tot la fel,raspunsul vine repede "de aia"; chiar asa,aceasta replica a copilariei,replica ce imi aminteste de o intamplare a unui prieten  "eram intr-a 3-a si unu mai mare ne fura sandwich-ul in curtea scolii,facandu-ne sa plangem cu amaraciune ca suntem mai fraieri". sigur ca totul e in noi,sigur ca ne modelam lumea prin alegerile pe care le facem,dar zau ca nu imi amintesc cand am ales sa fiu asa dureros de golita de sentimente...&lt;br /&gt;deci "pierdut sentimente (dragoste,grija,veselie,nerabdare)-gasitorului recompensa"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-8293322527236464121?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8293322527236464121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=8293322527236464121' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8293322527236464121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8293322527236464121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2009/03/exista-o-filosofie-cum-ca-fericirea-e.html' title=''/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-7407869771894152632</id><published>2009-02-09T23:24:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-12T15:44:42.204+02:00</updated><title type='text'>azi sunt mica</title><content type='html'>azi aleg sa imi fie bine...mi-e asa de bine ,incat torc.....si  stau pe plaja,in vama.....si's cu prietenii si vorbim prostii cat caru a.k.a "ce vom face cand vom fi mari"? ....si bem o surubelnita sau o tequila,depinde cat de lene ne-a fost sa mergem pana la magazinul ala unde e tequila.....si e bine si noapte si mi-am luat pe mine haina verzulie...si alex mi-a dat esarfa ei.....pe pantalonii mei maro e vin de ieri si nisip de .....cateva zile....adidasii negri sunt,cum altfel,gri...si nu imi pasa...si mi-e bine.....nu am facturi de platit,nu's in sesiune si nu ma ameninta depresia deziluziei......sunt mica si sunt si mare,dar nu m-am hotarat inca si imi place asa.....am parul cret si inca nu am participat la o Adunare Generala unde toata lumea se balacareste....nu m-am gandit ca ar putea exista moarte in jurul meu si nici iubire absurd de puternica si cliseistic-nefericita...nu ma doare un sold din cand in cand......nu am carte de munca....pentru ca sunt o pierde-vara si pierde toamna...si iarna...si primavara.....nu am o varsta care sa inceapa cu "2"....&lt;br /&gt;dar ca sa nu fim negativisti....am urmatoarele: bucurie in suflet,o bomboana in buzunar (stangul),o speranta ca voi apuca sa vad rasaritul si nu mai adorm si azi,un tricou nou de care's foarte mandra,miros de sarat si umed de la mare,chef de alergat pe plaja, in bezna,dorinta de dansat pe "soul storm"....&lt;br /&gt;azi am 17 ani..voi cat aveti?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-7407869771894152632?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7407869771894152632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=7407869771894152632' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/7407869771894152632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/7407869771894152632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2009/02/mi-e-dor.html' title='azi sunt mica'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-695440832299834465</id><published>2009-01-29T00:25:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-29T00:26:14.131+02:00</updated><title type='text'>viscerele zilei de azi</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/jY8-YzW2pUo&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/jY8-YzW2pUo&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-695440832299834465?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/695440832299834465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=695440832299834465' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/695440832299834465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/695440832299834465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2009/01/viscerele-zilei-de-azi.html' title='viscerele zilei de azi'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-3630106125468257297</id><published>2009-01-25T00:15:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T00:17:13.625+02:00</updated><title type='text'>oare?</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ac_87o0UWUg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ac_87o0UWUg&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cand ti se incolaceste in suflet un sentiment de nu ti se mai duce nici cu shpaclul......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-3630106125468257297?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3630106125468257297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=3630106125468257297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3630106125468257297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3630106125468257297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2009/01/oare.html' title='oare?'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-1906026624057203550</id><published>2009-01-03T18:04:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T18:55:20.392+02:00</updated><title type='text'>sa iti pese   ! / ?</title><content type='html'>marturisesc ca exista pe lumea asta mare foarte putini oameni care imi sunt dragi; stiu, e o deficienta a mea incapacitatea de a ma imprieteni cu multa lume, dar e o alegere pe care am facut-o in urma cu ceva timp si de la  care nu abdic..... pentru mine a-mi fi drag cineva e mult mai mult decat se intelege in general prin "a-ti pasa de X"....ei sunt oamenii pe care nu ii abandonez, oamenii pentru care m-as duce pana la capatul pamantului,literalmente,daca m-ar vrea acolo si daca situatia s-ar impune...sunt cei cu care am trecut prin  experiente felurite,bune si rele, sunt cei pe care imi place sa cred ca m-as putea baza, la randul meu....sunt cei pe care-i iubesc (in acceptiunea larga a cuvantului) si vor avea mereu un loc in sufletul meu....acestia beneficiaza de un capital maret de incredere din partea mea, si de o investitie suculenta de sentiment.le-am suportat multe, constienta fiind ca nici eu nu's perfecta,ba chiar ma abat "sanatos" de la media perfectiunii.....le-am suportat si le suport pentru ca imi pasa,mult/ mult prea mult,ar zice unii..... si fiindca orice tirada contine de obicei un mare DAR acum vine al meu....dar ,zic, exista momente cand ma ranesc. si doare tocmai fiindca o fac ei,cu aerul cuiva care ma stie doar la modul superficial... nu conteaza ca am impartit acelasi sandwich in frig si inghesuindu-ne pe aceeasi banca din parc, discutand filosofie,dar conteaza in primul rand ca impartim aceleasi amintiri...remember?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-1906026624057203550?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1906026624057203550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=1906026624057203550' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/1906026624057203550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/1906026624057203550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2009/01/sa-iti-pese.html' title='sa iti pese   ! / ?'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-2058492896125698814</id><published>2008-12-26T16:59:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T17:01:10.111+02:00</updated><title type='text'>umbrei din sufletul meu</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kDdpKCqsZV8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kDdpKCqsZV8&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-2058492896125698814?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2058492896125698814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=2058492896125698814' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/2058492896125698814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/2058492896125698814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2008/12/umbrei-din-sufletul-meu.html' title='umbrei din sufletul meu'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-4579457921916273460</id><published>2008-12-24T18:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-24T18:52:21.532+02:00</updated><title type='text'>fix bamboocha</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yhxFb0HoA8o&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yhxFb0HoA8o&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;asa e Bucurestiul nostru iubit:fix bamboocha;o fauna umblatoare de aurolaci, caini maidanezi si porci bipezi /vaci incaltate;se vorbesc macarii,se fura masini,ne enerveaza la culme si in final il numim-nu fara drag- "acasa"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-4579457921916273460?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4579457921916273460/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=4579457921916273460' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/4579457921916273460'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/4579457921916273460'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2008/12/fix-bamboocha.html' title='fix bamboocha'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-3643294837846283154</id><published>2008-12-07T20:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-07T20:34:45.177+02:00</updated><title type='text'>viata fara floricele</title><content type='html'>&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/G4PgaX3cNpU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/G4PgaX3cNpU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-3643294837846283154?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3643294837846283154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=3643294837846283154' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3643294837846283154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3643294837846283154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2008/12/httpwww.html' title='viata fara floricele'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-8332137251287905645</id><published>2008-11-24T23:55:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-04-23T22:04:06.745+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Mi-e foarte dor de aripile mele…..mi-e greu fara ele, poate tocmai pentru ca m-am prabusit de cam sus…mi-au ramas ceva cicatrici, pe care le resimt ca si cum ar fi carne vie, desi doctorul zice ca „s-au vindecat frumos”….ba nu, nu a fost nimic frumos…..am, mai mult ca oricand , nevoie de negare……nu te doare ceva ce nu ai avut niciodata…poate daca ma straduiesc mai mult sa uit ca le-am avut, reusesc….daca ele nu au existat, atunci nici eu nu sunt aici, ghemuita in coltul meu existential intunecat…..am, din cand in cand flash-back-uri…cu bucuria zborului; nu aveam destinatie precisa, zburam pentru senzatie si pentru ca puteam si pentru ca aveam toate conditiile…si ce bine imi era….aveam parul zburlit de vant si invaluit in miros de cirese salbatice….dedesubtul meu era abis, tot asa de bine precum eu ma simteam in cer….cu iluzia eternului inclusa ,bineinteles….&lt;br /&gt;Mai rau e ca acum resimt o nevoie organica de a-mi simti aripile la loc..dar la fel de bine stiu ca daca printr-o minune, mi-ar fi reatasate, in momente de cruda sinceritate cu mine insami, as avea cosmarul ca totul e fals, si ele au disparut chiar pentru totdeauna…..&lt;br /&gt;Viva la vida (chiar si) fara aripi!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-8332137251287905645?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8332137251287905645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=8332137251287905645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8332137251287905645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8332137251287905645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/mi-e-foarte-dor-de-aripile-mele.html' title=''/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-6870220623344246747</id><published>2008-11-07T23:01:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-07T23:08:32.174+02:00</updated><title type='text'>balada de dragoste catre orasul luminii</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt;&lt;span style="margin-top: 0px;font-size:0;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/62085066@N00/"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;N-am scris nimic despre EL inca; nu puteam, era prea devreme…..trebuia sa mai treaca un timp, sa mi se invartosheasca bine amintirile, si senzatiile si parfumurile si bucuria;&lt;br /&gt;mi-a fost atat de bine, cum nu credeam ca imi va fi…a fost oricum un vis implinit mai devreme decat credeam ca e posibil si am incercat sa ma tin tare tocmai de aceea…..eram acolo si simteam ca nu’s inca suficient de prezenta, de „aware” (vorba chinezului):&lt;br /&gt;a fost doar o experienta, a avut si mici dezamagiri si mici regrete, asa cum ii sta bine oricarei experiente….a fost nou si a fost mult, a fost deosebit si totusi bizar de familiar; m-as putea obisnui cu EL asa cum m-am obisnuit cu cana mea de ceai de dimineata…in fond a fost tot atat de suav-dulce, cu un gust amarui pe fundal…mi-e dor de EL si ma gandesc ca am stat impreuna doar 6 zile; dar imi ajunsese asa comod sa ma uit la EL, sa ma simt bine cu EL si sa vietuim impreuna….ajunsesem sa avem ritmul nostru si mi-am dat seama ca ii puteam apartine tot asa de bine precum mi-a apartinut si EL mie, fara urma de posesivitate compulsiv-obsesiva….&lt;br /&gt;Speram ca simte cum il mangai cu privirea si ca pentru o secunda momentul LUI a fost si clipa mea, ca am trait aceeasi amintire, in doi.&lt;br /&gt;Mi-am dat seama ca a reveni la EL nu e o chestiune de „daca” ci de „cand”.&lt;br /&gt;M-a cucerit pentru ca stiam ca o va face, pentru ca m-am lasat si pentru ca a putut….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRStQTNCYUI/AAAAAAAAAFk/vK3K9WCqeDQ/s1600-h/IMG_3766.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRStQTNCYUI/AAAAAAAAAFk/vK3K9WCqeDQ/s320/IMG_3766.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266024359847420226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRStunmMENI/AAAAAAAAAF0/aE0Dm_lBT58/s1600-h/IMG_3849.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRStunmMENI/AAAAAAAAAF0/aE0Dm_lBT58/s320/IMG_3849.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266024880717697234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRSt_vNC8wI/AAAAAAAAAF8/QDAEBpRfjpA/s1600-h/IMG_3802.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRSt_vNC8wI/AAAAAAAAAF8/QDAEBpRfjpA/s320/IMG_3802.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266025174817501954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRStialWGZI/AAAAAAAAAFs/L3IUbcP7DG0/s1600-h/IMG_3761.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRStialWGZI/AAAAAAAAAFs/L3IUbcP7DG0/s320/IMG_3761.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266024671066069394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-6870220623344246747?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6870220623344246747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=6870220623344246747' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/6870220623344246747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/6870220623344246747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2008/11/balada-de-dragoste-catre-orasul-luminii.html' title='balada de dragoste catre orasul luminii'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRStQTNCYUI/AAAAAAAAAFk/vK3K9WCqeDQ/s72-c/IMG_3766.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-1528982269753397522</id><published>2008-09-21T22:49:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-21T23:02:05.369+03:00</updated><title type='text'>cand mi-e bine</title><content type='html'>e foarte greu sa faci o trecere brusca de la cinic la optimist, e foarte greu sa stergi cu buretele 23 de ani de ratiune pentru a-ti aminti ca ai si inima....e si mai greu sa accepti ca te-ai indragostit, stiindu-te condamnat la blazare....dar e atat de frumos sa te uiti in ochii lui si sa ii spui :"I'm there too"....sa te intrebi daca ii e bine, daca a mancat, daca e foarte stresat sau doar stresat....sa iti indrepti gandurile catre cel ce iti sopteste :"esti fiecare moment pe care il traiesc"...si ce daca e departe, ca doar am invatat ce toate's relative....si ce daca iti apar indoieli....esti a lui si e al tau intr-un mod atat de organic incat nu se poate impotrivi firii.....si ai certitudinea ca a avea un camin cu el nu e decat o chestiune de timp, ca vei avea cu el un tip si o tipa, carora le veti spune amandoi povesti la culcare, ca vei merge cu el la supermarket si veti stii ce vrea celalalt fara a fi nevoie sa intrebi, ca il vei certa daca nu a dat de mancare la caine, dar va veti certa cu drag...apoi, cand tu vei dormi deja, el va veni langa tine sa se culce, si tu il vei simti si vei mormai un "cat e ceasul?" si el va replica "culca-te la loc, draga mea"....iar tu vei adormi protejata, cu tonalitatea lui blanda imprimata de "draga mea"......si veti imbatrani impreuna, si veti merge la nuntile copiilor impreuna...si va veti uita la un moment dat impreuna la rasaritul soarelui, exact asa cum ati facut-o si acum 50 de ani, cand a inceput totul...I'm there too....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-1528982269753397522?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1528982269753397522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=1528982269753397522' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/1528982269753397522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/1528982269753397522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2008/09/cand-mi-e-bine.html' title='cand mi-e bine'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-5116150205846779371</id><published>2008-07-18T21:40:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T22:03:30.322+03:00</updated><title type='text'>free at last....</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;gata cu inca un an de invatat/tocit neuronu' singur si vesel......s'o mai dus din tineretea mea si cu ea inca niste naivitate.....am inteles o gramada de lucruri: ca "prieten" e o notiune la fel de abstracta ca si "scaun" sa zicem (care e treaba cu scaun? repetati cuvantul fara pauza de vreo 20 de ori si vedeti daca ii mai intelegeti semnificatia); ca a invata e mereu numai pentru cei prosti si ca altu' poa sa ia aceeasi nota ca si tine, desi isi plateste examenul; ca iubirea e ceva mai mult conjunctural; ca ce e frumos se sfarseste mereu mai repede decat ceva urat (asta suna un pic ca iarna nu-i ca vara, dar acest blog nu are pretentii elitiste); ca de multe ori e suficienta   ambitie in cantitati masive ca sa reusesti si mai mult, e tot ce iti trebuie; ca s-a sfarsit cu vremea dolce far niente; ca responsabilitatile vin si fara sa le ceri; ca singuratatea e foarte relativa; ca rahatul nu se va ineca niciodata fiindca pluteste si se salveaza ;ca mi-e dor de tine nu inseamna uneori decat "sterg prafu' pe aici, hai sa zic ceva ce da bine”; ca un concert in seara de dinaintea unui examen iti da o stare de bine care te scoate din mica ta depresie amarata (mai ales daca e raggae); ca ce faci cu creierul tau te va ajuta mereu sa&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;devii un pic mai mult decat ai fost; ca galbenul si movul nu’s combinatie, mai ales cand sunt culori electrice, in cantitati uriase, pe o persoana diforma; ca exista melodie pentru orice stare sufleteasca (asta mi s-a reconfirmat); ca sa ai tzatze e un mare avantaj pentru posesoare; ca eu sunt eu si tu esti tu inseamna uneori eu sunt noi, total contrar logicii; si nu in ultimul rand, ca mai batran nu inseamna mai destept .&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Aveti-va ca fratii, bateti-va /iubiti-va ca dracii!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-5116150205846779371?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5116150205846779371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=5116150205846779371' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5116150205846779371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5116150205846779371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2008/07/free-at-last.html' title='free at last....'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-8480280407454837733</id><published>2008-01-26T17:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-01-26T17:27:02.912+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>suntem frumoshi pana la greatza......suntem asortati si cand nu trebuie.....suntem competenti si serviabili......suntem disponibili, atenti si receptivi......suntem proactivi si avizi de a avansa......suntem buni soferi, buni cunoscatori de limba engleza, cu bune abilitati in ale calculatorului......suntem parinti perfecti si copii  cool.....suntem skateri si  doamne,  afaceristi si  politicieni......suntem  bucatari desavarasiti  si amante experte.....suntem profesionisti si comunicativi.......suntem prietenosi si cinstiti.....&lt;br /&gt;si la sfarsitul zilei nu mai stim cate din toate astea suntem noi&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-8480280407454837733?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8480280407454837733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=8480280407454837733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8480280407454837733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8480280407454837733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2008/01/suntem-frumoshi-pana-la-greatza.html' title=''/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-8608130538524713118</id><published>2007-12-27T14:14:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T14:16:21.644+02:00</updated><title type='text'>uneori  nu ne ajung cuvintele</title><content type='html'>Exista cazuri cand nu poti exprima in cuvinte ceea ce simti;te chinui sa spui ceea ce vrei si nu iese nimic, esti inteles gresit si in final ajungi sa nici nu iti mai pese....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-8608130538524713118?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8608130538524713118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=8608130538524713118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8608130538524713118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8608130538524713118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/12/uneori-nu-ne-ajung-cuvintele.html' title='uneori  nu ne ajung cuvintele'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-4394273922161946407</id><published>2007-11-21T20:08:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-21T20:08:42.425+02:00</updated><title type='text'>obosita</title><content type='html'>am obosit  sa imi pese.....de tine, de ei  si chiar de mine......te uiti la mine si nu ma intelegi ....pleci si nu te mai intorci niciodata.......zambesti politicos si nu te gandesti cat rau imi faci de fiecare data.....nu vreau mult, sa ma tii in brate asa cum stii ca poti , asa cum stiu ca sunt momente cand si vrei....ce te retine? ce ma retine si pe mine....ei, privirea lor, toata convenienta lor de 2 bani..... vorbim ca 2 copii fara sa spunem nimic, incercand sa ne ascundem dupa cuvinte....si atunci cum se face ca gandim aceleasi lucruri in acelasi fel, ca ne imaginam lumea noastra in aceleasi culori... stii ca eu cred ca totul are un scop....dar zau ca nu pricep scopul chestiei asteia.....sun trista si sunt trista si pentru ca ma faci tu trista...in fiecare zi......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-4394273922161946407?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4394273922161946407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=4394273922161946407' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/4394273922161946407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/4394273922161946407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/11/obosita.html' title='obosita'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-5126329673507349200</id><published>2007-11-07T19:54:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T20:35:58.527+02:00</updated><title type='text'>atitudine corporatista</title><content type='html'>in Romania se castiga foarte multi bani in marile companii......e o axioma......tot romanul isi doreste un job bine platit in cadrul unei firme....daca ii da posibilitatea de a se lauda la prieteni cu o carte de vizita pompoasa pe care sa fie trecut un titlu total  inexpresiv in engleza, cu atat mai bine.......&lt;br /&gt;dar studentul ce tanjeste dupa asta ar fi bine sa fie pregatit pentru ce il asteapta...niciodata o lume numai lapte si miere nu va apartine concretului, ci se  va plasa in abstract, niciodata nu poti separa binele de rau.....astazi am asistat la un training,foarte bine sustinut de altfel.....aici ni se explicau printre alte lucruri si cateva tehnici de vanzare....printre ele empatizarea, sau atitudinea de tipul "inteleg despre ce vorbiti/am mai intalnit astfel de cazuri", cu urmarea imediata "cu ce va putem ajuta?"......intr-o lume normala e exact ceea ce avem cu totii nevoie.....intelegere+ajutor......dar noi nu traim in lumea normala....cel ce iti ofera ajutorul ti-l va oferi intotdeauna pe bani, cat mai multi bani (se poate discuta aici si de alte foloase, dar le vom numi generic bani)......&lt;br /&gt;alta smecherie ar fi sa utilizezi mijloacele non-verbale, gestica fiind iar importanta.....se pare ca e bine sa te misti in oglinda cu celalalt,adik sa ii imiti postura....in felul acesta interlocutorul va relationa mult mai bine cu tine, cu alte cuvinte se recunoaste in tine iar asta pune bazele unei comunicari ulterioare mai fructoase = bani&lt;br /&gt;el tzipa si are un comportament de dispret fata de tine? nu-i nimic, tu ii vorbesti calm.....apoi ii iei banii.....&lt;br /&gt;si un ultim truc, ce se pare ca e imprumutat din sistemul hotelier este tehnica 10-5-1: un potential client se indreapta in directia ta.....la 10 metri il urmaresti cu privirea (eye contact), la 5 metri ii zambesti, la 1 metru intri in contact verbal " cu ce va putem ajuta?".....apoi iti oferi serviciile si ii ceri banii......&lt;br /&gt;ce sa mai vprbim despre relationarea in cadrul companiei propriu-zise? exista de multe ori numeroase clauze stipulate cu litere mici, foarte mici, cat mai mici......ce duc implicit la multe zambete fortate, dar atat de cerute....de aceea pe langa munca epuizanta acesti angajati ajung sa fie complet vidatzi de sentimente la sfarsitul unei zile...au zambit atat de mult, incat au uitat sa se bucure.....asha e o doamna pe care o cunosc si care a lucrat multi ani pe la ministerul afacerilor externe...ei bine acum cand te intalnesti (in orice imprejurare) cu ea, prezinta regulamentar zambetul pe fata......e clar ca nu mai crede in el, a devenit " defect profesional".......ca un  stomatolog care inevitabil in timpul unei discutii non-formale cu cineva se va gandi subconstient ce probleme dentare ai si cam cum s-ar rezolva......&lt;br /&gt;o corporatie nu iti da numai un salariu atractiv, ci iti impune un stil de viata, un stil care e bine stabillit si face uneori parte din strategia de marketing a firmei.....adik ti se da masina de serviciu cu numele firmei pe ea....tu te plimbi cu ea si automat creezi o expunere suplimentara a brandului = bani mai multi dintr-o investitie minima......ti se dau bonusuri cu care tu te vei lauda la prieteni..........de  foarte multe ori, oamenii au prieteni din aceleasi domeniu in care activeaza si ei ........astia ori te injura, ori pot hotari sa se angajeze si ei la firma la care esti tu.....rezulta forta de munca si bani pt companie.....&lt;br /&gt;daca esti cuminte si iti faci treaba, shefu t poate trimite la sfarsit intr-o satiune turistica frumoasa....ce bun e shefu? well......un angajat fericit e un angajat "pozitiv", influentandu-i si pe ceilalti in directia asta; si mai important  e ca e si eficient....ce inseamna asta ? bani si mai multi......&lt;br /&gt;sa t imbraci office si sa fii ingrijit, sa zambesti cat mai mult, sa prezinti inteligenta emotionala.......iti trebuie toate astea......in plus si foarte multa rabdare caci de multe ori in timpul liber participi la actiuni de " bonding" adica se vor organiza cu o parte din angajati/cu toti angajatii acitivitati de distractie si recreere.....un exemplu banal: se merge la picnic intr-o sambata......daca esti obosit si stai acasa pierzi puncte in ochii superiorului tau ierarhic imediat, ce fii sigur ca ti-a notat absenta si a a concluzionat ca nu esti " team player"......&lt;br /&gt;aceasta nu a fost o neaparat o critica... a lucra pentru o companie este unul dintre lucrurile oarecum civilizate in romania.....de altfel si eu imi indrept ambitiile carieriste tot catre directia aceasta.....e foarte adevarat ca totul se invarte in ziua de azi in jurul banilor si nu poti fii un visator, caci norishorii nu te vor hrani niciodata, ei sunt mult prea amorfi.....dar in acelasi timp naivitatea nu mai are ce cauta pe aici , nu numai ca nu se mai poarta, ci dauneaza grav sanatatii.........&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-5126329673507349200?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5126329673507349200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=5126329673507349200' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5126329673507349200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5126329673507349200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/11/atitudine-corporatista.html' title='atitudine corporatista'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-8843392834164677340</id><published>2007-11-01T21:19:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T21:36:04.728+02:00</updated><title type='text'>despre viata asha cum e</title><content type='html'>pai cum sa fie?&lt;br /&gt;mai buna sau mai proasta....depinde de zi......&lt;br /&gt;depinde insa si de oameni.......&lt;br /&gt;ce descopar de ceva timp incoace este ca imbatranim, parca acuma mai rapid decat in alte     perioade ale vietii noastre.....o tipa e maritata de un an si are si copil.... o colega de grupa s-a maritat in toamna......o colega de facultate se marita in curand.....o alta prietena s-ar marita chiar acuma, numai ca prietenul ei i-a spus ca vrea ca ea sa termine facultatea....&lt;br /&gt;oamenii (daca nu se casatoresc) incep sa se mute cu prietenul/prietena si sa devina asha casnici.....&lt;br /&gt;cand merg in locurile unde mergeam de obicei intalnesc numa pusti de 16 ani, ce se dau mari si tari si de-abia asteapta sa creasca......asa mi se intampla de fiecare data in Expirat.....&lt;br /&gt;majoritatea amicilor mei au serviciu si termina anul asta si facultatea....vorbesc intre ei despre shefi si proiecte....despre ce fac ei cand vin seara obositi de la serviciu......&lt;br /&gt;ne apar riduri si fire albe si mai ales ne apar diverse ganduri...despre cand e bine sa faci copii, despre ce serviciu iti doresti....despre ce tara e mai buna in vederea emigrarii.....despre modalitatile de a aplica pentru un credit in vederea cumpararii unei case/unei masini/unui implant :D&lt;br /&gt;fetele isi cumpara  cizme cu toc si pardesie care sa merga cu taiorul cel nou, baietii se gandesc ca ar trebui sa aibe cel putin 2 costume in garderoba just in case.....&lt;br /&gt;e pueril sa ne mai bucuram de un rasarit, cred unii .....altii afirma ca a sari un sotron desenat pe asfalt de vreun copil e cum altfel decat copilaresc....&lt;br /&gt;isi iau fetze obosite/preocupate/doar ocupate.....se dau de negasit......isi planifica intalnirile cu prietenii candva in concediu.....&lt;br /&gt;ce e important e cum sa iti sapi prietenii daca asta te avantajeaza...sau cum sa creezi prietenii care te pun intr-o lumina buna.....&lt;br /&gt;imi pare rau, nu vreau toate astea......nu inca......mai copilaresc un pic (sper ca vreo 40 de ani de acum incolo)&lt;br /&gt;sfat: mai si zambiti...maine va fi mai rau......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-8843392834164677340?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8843392834164677340/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=8843392834164677340' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8843392834164677340'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8843392834164677340'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/11/despre-viata-asha-cum-e.html' title='despre viata asha cum e'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-365709633588173059</id><published>2007-10-25T18:52:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T19:07:34.633+03:00</updated><title type='text'>mai multi, mai bine?</title><content type='html'>traiesc cu impresia ca in Bucuresti sunt din ce in ce mai multi oameni. de mijloacele de transport in comun de la suprafata nu mai zic nimic, dar s-a ajuns ca si la metrou sa fie insuportabil; merg cu metroul de 15 ani (scoala generala, liceu , apoi facultate) and still counting , dar asha ceva nu am mai vazut .......azi am trait shocul vietii mele de calator cu metroul: evident, in pasaj la Unirii...cunoscatorii inteleg.....acolo oricum era buluc la orice ora....dar ca sa fie totul complet s-au stricat scarile rulante.....acum sa te tii..... coordonata temporala= ora 18.00 ....... coordonata "geografica" de la ultima reclama la vinul 7pacate incolo....... aer irespirabil..... si te tarashti in ritm de melc pana la scarile alea..... pe prima scara rulanta era sens doar de urcat...pe a 2-a  un sens urcat, unul coborat....pe scara  normala la fel.... grea decizie.... c sa aleg? in mod obisnuit pe scara normala se merge mai rpd decat pe scara rulanta deci in virtutea inertiei am ales aceasta varianta.... mare greseala....... lucrurile redeveneau umane de-abia dupa ce terminai cu urcatul scarilor si mai alunecai inca vreo 30 metri pe "pasarela" ce te duce catre scarile unde cobori in sfarsit la unirii 2 (daca mai poti)..... ce sa mai zic de faptul ca psihologii spun ca oricine se apropie la mai mult de 30 cm de tine intra in zona ta de confort? confortul era undeva in vise.... problema e ca nu mai poti sa respiri la cati oameni sunt acolo..... si deci c ne ramane? cu masina e exclus..... faci in bucuresti intre 2 puncte nu foarte departate mai mult ca pana la Brasov (cu DN 1 liber :)  )  am regretat amarnic ca nu aveam digitalu' la mine....era de poze imaginea cu oamenii-vite (nu e peiorativ, de altfel si eu eram printre ei, doar ca de asta imi aducea aminte imaginea.....mai precis de filmele cu cowboy ce se chinuie sa faca cireada sa traverseze o apa.....)&lt;br /&gt;mamiii, mamiii vreau elicopter! ba nu, ca nu ai unde sa aterizezi....k atunci cu totii la magazinu' de cumparat jet-pack-uri.....era SF incepe..... :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-365709633588173059?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/365709633588173059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=365709633588173059' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/365709633588173059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/365709633588173059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/10/mai-multi-mai-bine.html' title='mai multi, mai bine?'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-1318214169420390553</id><published>2007-10-17T19:44:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T19:53:42.540+03:00</updated><title type='text'>niste oameni</title><content type='html'>exista oameni pe care ii "simti " si oameni pe care nu ii simti; din prima categorie fac parte aceia ce nu te pot minti decat daca alegi sa te minti singur, cei de care stii ca se apropie de tine dinainte de a-i vedea venind.....te uiti in ochii lor si stii ce ar vrea sa spuna, chiar si cand cuvintele lor exprima altceva......ii imbratisezi si simti o caldura aparte, chiar daca ei o disimuleaza intr-o imbratisare spontana, colegiala......uneori ganditi aceleasi lucruri in acelasi timp, si tot uneori va exprimati cu aceleasi cuvinte....cei din  jurul vostru spun ca " a mai crapat un drac", pt ca ati rostit aceleasi cuvinte/expresii......dar voi stiti.....depinde si ce alegeti dupa aceea.....sa fiti prieteni sau  nu.....&lt;br /&gt;sau poate sunt eu nebuna......mai vedem&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-1318214169420390553?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/1318214169420390553/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=1318214169420390553' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/1318214169420390553'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/1318214169420390553'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/10/niste-oameni.html' title='niste oameni'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-2672950702926643922</id><published>2007-10-13T20:29:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-13T20:35:42.552+03:00</updated><title type='text'>teste de plictiseala</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align="center" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="350"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg="" style="color: rgb(238, 233, 233);" align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Monster Profile&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#fffafa"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/monsternamegenerator/monster6.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Creepy Lunatic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You Feast On: Coffee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You Lurk Around In: Olive Gardens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You Especially Like to Torment: Hipsters&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/monsternamegenerator/"&gt;What's Your Monster Name?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#EEE9E9;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Your Vampire Name Is...&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#FFFAFA"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/vampirenamegenerator/girl.gif" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Antionette of the Mountain Ash&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/vampirenamegenerator/"&gt;What's Your Vampire Name?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table width="350" align="center" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="2"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bg align="center" style="color:#DDDDDD;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="'color:black;font-family:Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;You Are Bart Simpson&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td bgcolor="#EEEEEE"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;center&gt;&lt;img src="http://images.blogthings.com/thesimpsonspersonalitytest/bart-simpson.jpg" height="100" width="100" /&gt;&lt;/center&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very misunderstood, most people just dismiss you as "trouble."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Little do they know that you're wise and well accomplished beyond your years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will be remembered for: starring in your own TV show and saving the town from a comet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your life philosophy: "I don't know why I did it, I don't know why I enjoyed it, and I don't know why I'll do it again!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogthings.com/thesimpsonspersonalitytest/"&gt;The Simpsons Personality Test&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-2672950702926643922?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2672950702926643922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=2672950702926643922' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/2672950702926643922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/2672950702926643922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/10/teste-de-plictiseala.html' title='teste de plictiseala'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-8822174114735190082</id><published>2007-10-11T22:55:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T15:18:45.577+03:00</updated><title type='text'>dictionar on-line- termenul de " gingirel"</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Pentru cei ce nu inteleg la ce ma refer cand calific un personaj de sex masculin ca fiind gingirel, voi incerca sa fac o descriere cat mai la obiect; astfel, se impune trasarea unor conditii minime si suficiente ce trebuie indeplinite pentru ca acel ins sa primeasca apelativul mai sus mentionat;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;omul nostru se imbraca in blugi cu aplicatii si croiala de tip „burlan” si cu tricou negru, mulat evident, cu model auriu/argintiu; pentru sezonul rece sunt preferate gecile cu inscriptia „ De puta madre” pe spinare; daca merge la intalnire si vrea sa para spilcuit, isi alege unul dintre tricourile roz din garderoba; de incaltat se incalta cu pantofi negri cu botul un pic ascutit sau daca e mai tinerel si trendy, cu adidasi nike (Predator sau F10); varianta parfumata vine cu mirosuri grele, de macho sau parfumuri foarte dulci&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;bun…..in privinta hair-styling-ului: muuuult gel, cu parul lins spre spate sau cu varianta tzepi in partea anterioara, adica doar vreo 5 cm de ciuf din fata; se mai poate si modelul Baggio (fotbalistul): tuns scurt si cu o prelungire ciudata pe spate, un fel de blana mai lunga pe ceafa…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Sa nu credeti ca totul se termina aici…ar fi inca bine, caci orice om are dreptul la derapajele lui in ceea ce priveste aspectul exterior; dar ceea ce deosebeshte un gingirel dintr-o multime de oameni este atitudinea…sa vorbim un pic despre ea;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;in primul rand pe individul asta intai il auzi, abia dupa aceea il vezi; veti spune ca asta este posibil doar daca este insotit si de alti oameni, mai precis daca are cu cine interactiona; ei bine dragii mei aici va inselati;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;daca e singur are sigur difuzorul de la mobil deschis si urla manelele: Gutza- Maimutza, Johnny Pajishte, Adi- de Vita-Minune si toti prietenii lui; aici e foarte important sa nu faceti confuzii; el asculta manele cu placere dar nu apartine neaparat acelei etnii la care va ganditi, poate avea chiar un ten foarte alb; un alt tip de muzica preferat este house-ul, gen de un mare talent si angajament, trebuie sa recunoashtem chiar si noi carcotashii….&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;pentru ca aminteam de interactionare, specimenul in cauza se deosebeshte prin realele talente de angajare a unei discutii cu sexul opus; se incepe inevitabil cu „ ce faci papushe?”/ „ ce tatze/cur/craci marfa ai (dupa caz)”-asta e de bine; daca nu te place, se simte dator sa te si anunte , atunci replica lui e „ mamaaa, ce najpa ejti”….apoi se mai remarca si deosebita creativitate….un exemplu…2 tipe dragute, una dintre ele pe tocuri se chinuie sa treaca printre 2 masini parcate aiurea…el :” fetele, vreti sa va construiesc un pod? Ma pricep, sunt Apolodor…”- deci sunt de remarcat vastele cunostinte istorice (Apolodor din Damasc)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;omul nostru e si foarte sociabil , se simte bine in grupuri destul de mari, dar care totusi sa ii asigure faptul ca va ascultat de ceilalti; daca tot e sa ragusheasca, mai bine o pateste cd merge la meci sau cd rage niste manele la o petrecere…..&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;este omul extremelor; cd e suparat o vezi pe fata lui, cd e fericit stie tot cartierul, ca doar e petrecere, sa moara dushmanii de ciuda ca ii merge bine…….&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;e un tip cu parere de sine buna, considera cu drumurile la sala si batoanele proteice iti asigura necesarul pentru a deveni irezistibil…..dimineata in&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;fata oglinzii isi incordeaza muschiii si isi zice: „Ya baby”&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;Sa vorbim si despre accesorii; acestea sunt cu adevarat importante,&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;pentru ca el considera ca il definesc ….de aceea trebuie sa fie cel mai tare, cel mai barosan….sa aibe cu ce se mandri cu alte cuvinte &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;femeia: de obicei cu cateva kile in plus decat ar trebui si cu bluze suficient de scurte ca&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;sa o si poata dovedi de altfel….fusta scurta vara cu expunere la celulita, pantaloni mulati cand e mai frig, geaca scurta…..dar sa patrundem in esenta, cum este femeia gingirelului= gingirik…pai e guraliva, ii place sa injure, sa poarte aur si curele sclipicioase, ii place sa mearga la mare si sa se plimbe pe faleza in masina lui decapotabila….ii place viata si omul ei care e evident cel mai mare- cel mai tare- o iubeshte cel mai mult…deci e de baza superlativul&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;masina : daca nu are bani prea multi e Dacia 1310 evident tunata (adik praguri late prost puse plus spoiler spate, ca doar ii trebuie omului forta deportanta ca la ce&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;putere dezvolta Dacia si la ce viteza prinde, altfel ar zbura…anyway… ) ; si mai marfa e sa aibă si abtibilduri lipite pe masina, de preferinta reprezentand flacari….cand da gingirelu de bani isi ia BMWu’ –seria 5 sau 6 iarasi tunat, ca doar el e special, sa nu se confunde cu prostimea……&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLists]--&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;gadget-urile…pai in primu rand mobilu……frate de la ecran color plus sonerii polifonice in sus……daca esti cat de cat ai 3G, da’ sa fie Nokia…..; altceva…pai antiradaru pentru cei cu BMW ca doar el baga viteza, ca cu (cacofonie intentionata) Garcea se descurca el, ca doar e baieat….si gata ca prea multa tehnik strica si e oricum complicata&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;Casa lui e paradisul oricarui arhitect…ar putea omu sa isi faca linistit lucrarea de diploma despre "Istoria curentului kitsch in Romania”, ca material se iegzista…….&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;In final gingirelul in cateva cuvinte….&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"&gt;Gingirelul politic: tine cu Gigi Becali, „ ca el are tupeu si le zice el alora de se cred mari si tari, ca el e mai tare…”&lt;br /&gt;Gingirelul publicitar: Nike, Dacia, Nokia, Intesa unisex + no-name-urile din piatza…….&lt;br /&gt;Gingirelul in viata de zi cu zi (in ordine aleatorie): supe&lt;span style="font-family:Arial;"&gt;r&lt;/span&gt;market, butic personal, uitat la tv, intalnit cu „prietenari”, petrecere, vorbit la telefon, mancat la McDonald’s sau la mama acasa…..&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;In speranta ca v-am lamurit cat de cat , in final doar o recomandare „ Beware of the gingirel- &lt;u&gt;it&lt;/u&gt;’s out and dangerous!”&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-8822174114735190082?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8822174114735190082/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=8822174114735190082' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8822174114735190082'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8822174114735190082'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/10/dictionar-on-line-termenul-de-gingirel.html' title='dictionar on-line- termenul de &quot; gingirel&quot;'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-7451733007040591944</id><published>2007-10-06T19:46:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T19:58:30.319+03:00</updated><title type='text'>apel la omenie</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/Rwe-pfBE5UI/AAAAAAAAADk/AOcVITQR4t0/s1600-h/sad_puppy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/Rwe-pfBE5UI/AAAAAAAAADk/AOcVITQR4t0/s320/sad_puppy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5118269121439786306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pe 15 octombrie, in Piata Constitutiei cei care se considera Oameni sunt rugati sa iasa in strada pentru a-i face pe cei din Guvern sa adopte o lege care sa pedepseasca aspru abuzurile asupra animalelor! Iubitorii de animale sunt rugati sa transmita mesajul mai departe. Va multumim .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-7451733007040591944?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7451733007040591944/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=7451733007040591944' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/7451733007040591944'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/7451733007040591944'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/10/apel-la-omenie.html' title='apel la omenie'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/Rwe-pfBE5UI/AAAAAAAAADk/AOcVITQR4t0/s72-c/sad_puppy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-3154960453533230549</id><published>2007-09-17T11:35:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T11:37:28.301+03:00</updated><title type='text'>huge brother...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Ce face omu cand e stresat si simte ca pur si simplu nu mai poate? Isi spune „acum plec&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;cateva zile si ma ascund de lume, nu ma gaseste nimeni, fug un pic de viata reala, etc”.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Ei bine, nu se mai poate si asta pentru ca tehnica evolueaza. Ca sa nu par alarmista degeaba asha iata cateva fapte:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;camerele de filmat sunt in din ce in ce mai multe locuri; exista orase ca Londra sau Paris care au un numar impresionant de camere de filmat pe strazi, pentru monitorizarea traficului rutier si identificarea cetatenilor suspecti; pana aici e bine…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;telefoanele mobile sunt un „must”, cel putin in societatea noastra; astfel numarul utilizatorilor de mobile creste continuu in fiecare zi; acestea sunt evident conectate la sateliti; cei ce au acces la acesti sateliti pot afla cu usurinta unde se afla o persoana la un moment dat&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;telefoanele „fixe” nu sunt nici ele chiar asha benigne; e suficient sa fii in vizorul unei agentii de securitate si gata cu intimitatea convorbirilor tale: doar SUA au 30.000 de posturi de ascultare pe tot globul, in diferite tari.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;cartile de credit lasa peste tot semnaturi electronice, la fel cum face si orice calculator al carui posesor nu se chinuie sa-si ascunda IP-ul&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;- in tari cu buget respectabil s-au introdus pe aeroporturi diverse sisteme hi-tech de verificare; in Emiratele Arabe Unite exista un sistem de identificare a tuturor cetatenilor cu viza straina bazat pe scanarea irisului, metoda fiind de 10 ori mai eficienta decat analiza amprentelor; sistemul e functional si&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;/span&gt; a stopat intrarea in tara a 35.000 de oameni certati cu legea; pentru scurt timp, pe un aeroport din SUA a fost introdusa o metoda radiometica de scanare a indivizilor, aceasta putand permite gasirea diverselor substante organice suspecte, ca drogurile sau explozibilii plastici; imaginile rezultate in urma scanarii aratau insa prea fidel trasaturile anatomice ale indivizilor, deci s-a ridicat problema moralitatii ei si s-a considerat ca&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;dreptul la intimitate este incalcat; scanarea de acest tip a fost insa introdusa la diverse puncte vamale, pentru ca ea ofera o poza realista a continutului adevarat al camioanelor sau masinilor- astfel la un control realizat de vamesi nu s-a constatat nimic suspect in cazul unui camion cu banane, dar in urma vizualizarii datelor de la dispozitiv au aparut pe ecran niste imigranti ilegali ascunsi printre fructe &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;in New York exista un elicopter Bell foarte special, dotat cu camere cu vizualizare nocturna, bazate pe radiatii in infrarosu; el poate capta imagini clare de la o departare de 6 km si permite focalizarea precisa a suspectilor de sub&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;aria de survolare; elicopterul este folosit pentru supravegherea demonstratiilor de protest ce se intind pe parcursul noptii si in general a oricarei adunari mari de oameni ce se crede la adapostul intunericului; bun sistem as zice….dar nu e chiar asha…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-left: 0.5in;"&gt;la un moment dat la stiri au aparut&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;niste imagini luate cu ajutorul aparatului-minune: timp de 4 minute operatorul camerelor a crezut ca e amuzant sa vada ce fac un el si o ea , intr-o terasa si cum se mai giugulesc ei…cum v-ati fi simtit daca erati in locul lor si va vedeti a doua zi intalnirea romantica in 2 la tv?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p style="margin-left: 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"&gt;-&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;si in final cireasa de pe coliva….pentru amatorii de SF faza cu cip-urile implantate subcutan e ceva deja fumat…ei bine chestia asta a devenit realitate in Olanda, acolo unde exista niste oameni care si le implanteaza benevol pentru a avea acces in zona de VIP-uri a unor baruri: citindu-li-se cip-ul ei sunt recunoscuti de la intrare, apoi nu au nevoie de bani ca sa plateasca (se duc pur si simplu la bar, comanda, iar barmanul in loc de bani le cere bratul ca sa le citeasca codul personal cu un aparat, sistemul functionand pe baza undelor radio; plata se va face apoi din contul respectivului); de aici mai e doar un pas: cip-uri prevazute cu GPS si implantate la nastere…Asimov si gashk lui? Neh, viitorul…..&lt;/p&gt;      &lt;p&gt; ….toata expunerea asta are la baza un documentar de pe National Geographic ce mi-a dat un pic fiori, tocmai pentru ca toate cele de sus sunt sisteme functionale astazi , nu proiecte fanteziste… sa traiti bine&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;(supravegheati)!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-3154960453533230549?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3154960453533230549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=3154960453533230549' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3154960453533230549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3154960453533230549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/09/huge-brother.html' title='huge brother...'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-5247206073186514395</id><published>2007-09-01T14:25:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2007-09-01T14:39:39.445+03:00</updated><title type='text'>directii</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1378/1064193080_322b9ba57e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1378/1064193080_322b9ba57e.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Sa o iei mereu in directia in care lumea se asteapta sa o iei.....sa ii multumesti pe ceilalti pentru a trai la nivelul asteptarilor lor despre tine....un pic patologic, neh?&lt;br /&gt;   Nu si daca o iei ca pe un exercitiu de "tu impotriva ta", sa iti afli inca o data limitele, de data aceasta referitoare la capacitatea de dedublare, pana unde te poti mula pe un rol care este chiar viata ta. Merge, cu conditia sa nu faci asta foarte mult timp....&lt;br /&gt;  Si oricum cel mai important lucru este ca vantul isi schimba mereu directia si cu el ti-o schimbi si tu.&lt;br /&gt;   Dar poti deveni si omul cu o mie de fetze care uita cine e de fapt....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   P.S. aceasta nu e o marturisire, ci doar o constatare&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-5247206073186514395?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5247206073186514395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=5247206073186514395' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5247206073186514395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5247206073186514395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/09/directii.html' title='directii'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1378/1064193080_322b9ba57e_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-8034684867738686890</id><published>2007-08-01T22:24:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-08-01T22:38:06.968+03:00</updated><title type='text'>just pictures.....</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RrDfgnzFieI/AAAAAAAAADQ/-ZY0bLjDp0Y/s1600-h/IMG_2000.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RrDfgnzFieI/AAAAAAAAADQ/-ZY0bLjDp0Y/s320/IMG_2000.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093816930088094178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RrDfhHzFifI/AAAAAAAAADY/meVQ8iffmWk/s1600-h/IMG_2111.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RrDfhHzFifI/AAAAAAAAADY/meVQ8iffmWk/s320/IMG_2111.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093816938678028786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RrDe23zFiZI/AAAAAAAAACo/lviQXDu8T4U/s1600-h/IMG_1904.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RrDe23zFiZI/AAAAAAAAACo/lviQXDu8T4U/s320/IMG_1904.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093816212828555666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RrDe3nzFibI/AAAAAAAAAC4/gzU8hAAAoj8/s1600-h/IMG_1917.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RrDe3nzFibI/AAAAAAAAAC4/gzU8hAAAoj8/s320/IMG_1917.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093816225713457586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RrDe4XzFidI/AAAAAAAAADI/TkLlWnaQBSk/s1600-h/IMG_2095.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RrDe4XzFidI/AAAAAAAAADI/TkLlWnaQBSk/s320/IMG_2095.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093816238598359506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;nu am o explicatie.....imi plac ferestrele pur si simplu.....si tot ce reprezinta ele: spatiul implicit in care te afli, protectia ce ti-o ofera acel spatiu.....fantezia veche de cand lumea a voyeurilor....libertatea ce se afla de partea cealalta.....posibilitatea unei lumi largi, infinite ce din motive pur si simplu abstractioniste este limitata de cadrul ferestrei....lucirea ferestrei luminate si ascunzisul ce-l ofera ....protectia transparenta a celui pitit dupa ea.....probabil ca ar mai fi motive.....momentan ma multumesc sa afirm ca un copil ca imi plac " de aia!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-8034684867738686890?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8034684867738686890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=8034684867738686890' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8034684867738686890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/8034684867738686890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/08/just-pictures.html' title='just pictures.....'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RrDfgnzFieI/AAAAAAAAADQ/-ZY0bLjDp0Y/s72-c/IMG_2000.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-5785639625481637308</id><published>2007-07-23T20:55:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T20:57:13.771+03:00</updated><title type='text'>we are the animals</title><content type='html'>please watch this:  http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-1282796533661048967&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and do not ever forget that "what comes around comes around"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-5785639625481637308?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5785639625481637308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=5785639625481637308' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5785639625481637308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/5785639625481637308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/07/we-are-animals.html' title='we are the animals'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-3531006999591042114</id><published>2007-06-28T12:45:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2007-06-28T12:45:32.155+03:00</updated><title type='text'>not warm enough</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="float: right; margin-left: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px;"&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/62085066@N00/536145223/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1067/536145223_bdeb3e565d_m.jpg" alt="" style="border: solid 2px #000000;" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 0.9em; margin-top: 0px;"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/62085066@N00/536145223/"&gt;not warm enough&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;  Originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/62085066@N00/"&gt;bluephantom&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;exista zile cand te simti rece desi tot in jurul tau e cald....exista zile cand simti cum ai mai murit cate putin......cand esti pustiu si parasit de toti si mai ales cand te parasesti singur....&lt;br /&gt;zile cand pentru tine culoarea moare..........&lt;br clear="all" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-3531006999591042114?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3531006999591042114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=3531006999591042114' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3531006999591042114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3531006999591042114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/06/not-warm-enough.html' title='not warm enough'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1067/536145223_bdeb3e565d_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-529742322330849413</id><published>2007-04-29T22:08:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T22:10:59.848+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RjTthgCW3SI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VarvQ4EO6dg/s1600-h/IMG_1089.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RjTthgCW3SI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VarvQ4EO6dg/s400/IMG_1089.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058929441235197218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cati oameni au in ochi atata sinceritate?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-529742322330849413?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/529742322330849413/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=529742322330849413' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/529742322330849413'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/529742322330849413'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/04/cati-oameni-au-in-ochi-atata.html' title=''/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/RjTthgCW3SI/AAAAAAAAAAM/VarvQ4EO6dg/s72-c/IMG_1089.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5186384689549331323.post-3445948247597290350</id><published>2007-04-29T22:02:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-04-29T22:05:46.005+03:00</updated><title type='text'>i just called to say  hello</title><content type='html'>se intampla uneori sa suni un prieten si sa uiti de  ce l-ai sunat; se intampla uneori ca o conversatie banala sa  se transforme in cearta; se intampla sa nu il asculti sau sa nu vrei sa-l asculti; se mai intampla si sa te enerveze pentru ca atunci ai ceva important de facut. imagineaza-ti atunci ca nu ai mai putea vorbi cu el niciodata. cum te-ai simti? apoi spune-i cat de important e pentru tine caci u never know.......&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5186384689549331323-3445948247597290350?l=fucsiagirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3445948247597290350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5186384689549331323&amp;postID=3445948247597290350' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3445948247597290350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5186384689549331323/posts/default/3445948247597290350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fucsiagirl.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-just-called-to-say-hello.html' title='i just called to say  hello'/><author><name>lina</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11736990969514242474</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Q2mV3ZaUtsc/SRShaKFfr_I/AAAAAAAAAFE/U3jOW1Qezxs/S220/IMG_1071.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
