The Winter of Our Discontent

In the recent months, I have become pretty much interested in the elections from Belarus. In the last couple of days, I watched furiously how the recently born opposition pays the price for its own naivety and how, from the margins, people encourage an already dead action to continue and praise reckless actions, deeming them as brave. "Go, Belarus!" (meaning go on with the protests) and "Go away, Lukashenka" were slogans used by a handful of protesters and by other few enthusiasts. Sadly, Belarus is going in the same direction while Lukashenka is not going anywhere. 

In the last year, the relations with Russia went from bad to worse for comrade Lukashenka and the internal prices for oil offered to Belarus by Russia time ago were increased. For a country heavily dependent on the Russian resources of oil, Belarus cannot really support its current economy; the regime is based on a mutually beneficial contract signed with the voters - we do not restructure/privatize the economy, helping you, the voters, preserve a stable job and a stable income. From your side, we expect little - keep your vote and don't protest. Of course, this is hardly achievable with a young urban population which keeps an eye on the Western democracies and cares about 'vague' notions such as democracy, human right, freedom of speech and so on. However, fortunately for Lukashenka, this type of population is rather a minority in Belarus, a country with more than two thirds of the economy still under state control (and hence employing most of the active population).

Getting to the bottom of the sack and probably lacking the charm to be liked by Putin (who, unlike his predecessor, has no particular weakness for Lukashenka), the president of Belarus decided to try his luck with Europe. The gullible attitude of the European leaders is hard to be understood (and it should make the object of a different debate), but what is clear is that they jumped to support Lukashenka and hastily declared him as the last bastion holding Russia back and openly stated their support for the wolf wearing a sheep's skin. Well, in Sikorski's words it sounded a bit better - helping Belarus come back to Europe instead of applying sanctions for its dictatorial regime and pushing the country back to Russia's arms.

It was almost a summer of love between Belarus and the EU. While talking to Chavez about the oil discounts for Belarus, Lukashenka was also negotiating with the EU leaders about how to allocate extra funds for the nascent democracy of the last bastion against Russia. Publicly calling the Russian president and prime minister 'crooks' and 'thieves', the president decided to hold free and fair elections at the end of the year... and since Milinkevich has already worn out his popularity and a new set of presidential elections with Lukashenka and Milinkevich wouldn't have convinced anyone, the former decided to open the market for opposition.

In a country with virtually no practice of democracy, the opposition candidates are doomed to dilettantism; under conditions of limited freedom, their influence could not overgrow the already set position and, in the end of the day, Lukashenka still has the ideological and intelligence apparatuses at his disposal, if anything happens.  Hence, he decided to be generous and imitate democracy in a relatively convincing manner (at least convincing for the West, which promised the suddenly democratic leader to grant a EUR4bil aid if the elections are fair, as they promised to be at first glance anyway), allowing 9 other candidates to become the opposition for the presidential elections.

This is the key word - opposition. Carried away by the wave of democratic spring, the 9 candidates somehow forgot they are supposed to be just the opposition and not a real runner-up and they started to dream of replacing Lukashenka. Beginners in the politics, they still attracted an important number of voters and decided to actually put up a fight with the regime. Nekliaev suggested not to participate in the voting, Sannikov insisted that everything is a masquerade, the other candidates accused that the elections will be rigged and called the supporters on the street in the election evening. What happened from here on, is history still being written. To understand it, we need to take a closer look at Russia.

2010 began with Russia cutting the oil flow into the Belarus pipes, following a dispute over the prices/custom duties. A couple of days later, the oil supplies were resumed but the prices for Belarus grew. In May, Putin was announcing that the negotiations for signing the custom union between Russia, Belarus and Kazakhstan could not be finalized. However, in July, the treaty was signed but not yet ratified and the instruments to make it applicable not yet created; in December 2010, a few days before the elections, peace settled in the Russia – Belarus relations, all the documents for the Common Economic Space were created and a new oil treaty was signed, setting not the happiest but still good conditions for Belarus and providing Lukashenka enough funding for the future not to depend so much on the EU/IMF negotiations and money.

The election days came pretty soon and Lukashenka decided to shed the sheep skin off and to be himself one more time. In the evening meeting, the app. 10 thousand participant were led straight into the KGB trap and staged a so-called ‘hooliganism momentum’ which translated into a fast and merciless intervention of the riot police and into more than 600 people arrested. Europe met this with shock and awe and reacted a bit slow and uncertain. Postponing the discussions about what to do with Belarus for January shows that the European countries can still not believe they were fooled. If not more than a couple of months ago Mrs. Grybauskaite, the Lithuanian president, was openly praising the progress in democracy and stating the need for a closer relation between Belarus and the EU countries, on 21^st of December Mrs. Degutiene, the Head of the Lithuanian Parliament declared shortly: “Lithuania and Europe were too naïve”

One can only wonder if this is not Russia’s maneuver to make Lukashenka easier to be removed. Losing all the credit in the eyes of the Western states, which so eagerly welcomed his return to democracy, Lukashenka cannot turn other direction but East. Another game like the one that he recently played will not find a supporting audience in the West and Putin can easily make a move to remove the thorn from his Western rib. Another argument for the fact that what has recently happened is on Russia’s like is Medvedev public statement that the election from Belarus are the internal affairs of the country, while the CIS observers announced the voting process was done in accordance with the laws of the country.

The arrogance with which Lukashenka met the complaints of OSCE observers and the summons of the Western governments to release the hostages makes this hypothesis a not-so-incredible one. Moreover, it is not hard to imagine that the 17 political detainees threatened to be convicted under the Criminal Code of Belarus (carrying sentences from 3 to 15 yrs in prison) are used as a negotiation tool with the EU. Such a hypothesis is supported by the hesitations in the EU statements – if one day some voices condemn the violence used to end the protests, the next day the EU Commissioner for Expansion argues that the EU needs to continue the negotiations with the Belarus authorities, for the general development of the affairs.

Making a long story short, one might say that cards have been played well by Lukashenka, but the game is not over yet. However, what to expect now? It can be said that the unfolding of the events depends very much on the position of the players. Lukashenka’s determined and very aggressive action against the political opponents still has an irrational element. All these could have been done without the final statement, namely the arrest of the other candidates and the threat to long term detention for any political opponent.

From a counterfactual angle of analysis, however, Lukashenka’s actions make sense. On long term, his regime would have weaken if allowing an increased participation of other political forces and the EU funding is, unlike the rents extracted from the crude oil cheaply bought from Russia, conditional. Taking this direction would have led, eventually, to the change of the regime and Lukashenka does not want this. If there were any doubts about the character of his regime, now they should all disappear. His most recent choice, to defy the US/EU and to stress a rapprochement with Russia, is designed to preserve his position and his regime on at least medium term, regardless of the ways chosen to do this.

A few evenings before the elections I was talking about Lukashenka’s choices with a friend. We all knew the elections would be won by him (there was no doubt about this), but we felt that there are more ways to do this. Rationally, he could have simply allow the counter candidates to protest, disperse the action without the use of violence and present Europe with ‘free and fair elections’ in form, to which everybody would have agreed despite knowing that the voting was rigged. From the same perspective, he could have maintained the friendly relations with the EU and use Lithuania as a transshipping point for the crude oil coming from Venezuela, as well as benefit of the US aid to raise a nuclear power station, as it has been previously announced.

However, this would have been not only a reason of continued tension with Russia, but also detrimental on long term for his regime. The political opposition would have grown and eventually become strong enough to put pressure on the regime and, in the end, to replace the ‘batka’. Moreover, Lukashenka seems to be a true Slavic political figure and it is hard to believe he can accept criticism without holding grudge against his critics. Therefore, he decided to ‘make an example’ of those who opposed him; the KGB used its old ‘tried and true’ tactics and its agents from the crowd led the people straight into the Government building. Nekliaev, probably pretty much realizing that there will be provocations in the crowd, was beaten and prevented to participate to the meeting. Sannikov made some bold statements and announced the fall of the regime, probably following some ‘well-intended’ advices or information and the KGB agents started to break the windows.

Meant to look to the eyes of the Western state as a simple action designed to maintain the order, the intervention of the riot police and the reprisals following the evening of December 19^th were still too transparent to be interpreted as desired. However, nothing happens…

And what can happen? Lukashenka has as of now 19 persons kept in the KGB arrest, perfect tools for ‘strong-handed’ negotiations with the EU. Most probably, the scenario will unfold as following – after a couple of weeks of threats and continuous hunt (the KGB troops are still looking for those who escaped arrest in the evening of 19 and are hiding in various locations), Lukashenka will mercifully allow the detainees to be sentenced for a few months – one year (let’s not forget Kozulin), during which time he will tighten the grip. According to his plans, they should stop being a threat and his kindness to shorten their sentences will be appreciated by the West.

However, he forgets a couple of important things and he doesn’t seem to realize that his time is slowly but surely ending. The anger of the people from Belarus will last longer than the memory of some Western Foreign Offices. In a world of increasing interdependencies, he cannot last forever, against everyone. His credibility is dropping and he has too few friends – it is true that they are called Chavez (oil) or Ahmedinajad (perfect blackmail tool against the Americans), but they cannot help him if his own people get angry. And eventually, they will.

November rain

It's pretty windy outside and I can smell winter. While ago, you could smell it also... and funny, I just realized I never knew your favourite season. Of course I didn't, since I never asked... I owe you what I am today and yet, there are so many things I didn't ask, I didn't say. I mostly remember you old and I wish I knew more about you. But hell... you were for granted and you were supposed to be forever there. I had all the time in the world to talk to you, but not then - then I was young and exploring the world... there was never a time to talk, a time to listen. Looking back, I know so little about you as a person. I only now you as Matty, as my grandfather... I remember very few instances from the times I was a little girl, most of my memories are those of a teenager - rebellious, all-knowing and as assertive as possible... and in those moments I remember you the most: calm, supportive and never preventing me to explore - the world, myself, my limits.

I am what I am today because of you... because of how you raised me, because of what you taught me without words, but with love and tenderness. It's sad, however, that I never told you how much I love you... because I never realized it. It was there, but it never found the words and the moments to be said - and this is what I regret the most. I know you knew, but it still had to be told... so I am telling it now, hoping that somehow, somewhere, you are able to hear:

Happy birthday, Matty. I love you :)

Looking Back With Anger

Every time I come back home, I want to see my grandmother. Maybe there are not so many things we tell each other, but it's that feeling of 'being home' when I am near her. I know, things have changed and the places reversed... and now I am her shoulder... and it's sometimes heartbreaking to see this role-switch. But near her I have the same feeling (although in a different note) that I have when I am with my dogs - being with somebody who knows you for what you are and who loves you for what you are. No expectations to live up to... you are just loved for being yourself.

In the recent months, or maybe in the last year or so, I noticed her changing. She became grumpier, she whines all the time about everything and oh well... in a way she is too self centered to notice the world around, or sometimes even some common sense facts (such as the fact that nobody actually steals a pair of socks from you). The feeling of comfort was replaced with one of uneasiness... and powerlessness ... I look at her slowly decaying and it's nothing I can do to stop it. Time is mercilessly taking its toll and I am made to watch the massacre.

Her dog also got older and sicker, so I have to watch them both getting slowly closer to disappearing from my life. Together with my grandma, however, goes the only person that knows me and loves me since I was born... and my loneliness just increases. I look at her hands, with the fingers now twisted by age and I remember her stroking my hair, as a child... just as I remember my grandfather's hands petting my shoulders and telling me not to worry, because after a storm only good weather can come. Their hands made me what I am today, or at least what's good in me, and without their touch the world is an emptier place.

One can say that I have my parents, so I should not be that affected... old people die and this is the law of nature. It's true, but they WERE my parents... and I don't have a family of my own to compensate their loss. I will be left with my mother and ... oh well, this would be it. I can only smirk at this idea... if I am asked how is my mother, I generally shrug. I do not know what to say... and when it comes to her, I try not to blame her too hard. However, I was thinking lately that it's not fair... I save her image against my own sanity. How fair can this be?

I look back to my childhood and I see no love coming from her. Just weakness and irresponsibility to her own (undesired, in all honesty) offspring. And to her life, if we are at it, but this is not my problem. She stayed in a marriage of constant arguing and abuse... and fine, if she didn't care about herself I cannot blame her. But she seemed too blind to figure out that their marriage messed me up completely... and that once you have a child, this becomes your main responsibility. Both of my parents were actually too busy caring for themselves to notice they have some duties... and too preoccupied with their own dramas to be able to love anything  or anyone other than themselves.

For a long while I looked at this ironically and I talked about it with bitter cynicism. But lately... looking at myself, I can't do that anymore. I see my own insecurity, my lack of points of reference when it comes to defining what I want to do with my life... all those things that I needed to figure out by myself because they failed to provide me with... and I can only look back in anger.

Sometimes, being angry is what helps you move on. And as they say... what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. Who cares about the scars anyway?

Welcome to my jungle

They never told me this.. and I never believed it, but it is just a jungle. It is never about all those crap so nicely sold and packed as being 'characteristically human' - love, affection, respect. Fuck them, they are just raw material for selling cheap novels. In fact, it is a simple reality - a jungle of egos, caring for nothing but about themselves, never willing to stop just because you can't go on anymore. Die or get killed, kill or get eaten. In this big world of shit, nobody cares about anyone else. No mercy, no compassion, no second thoughts for the other. Stand up or fade away quickly and without trace. Do not bleed, do not run, growl louder than the other and do not hesitate to cut raw flesh and open wounds with your teeth and claws. And if anyone cares to join you, just break him apart piece by piece and eat him up, to feed your insatiable ego. Du bist was du isst... und ihr wisst was es ist.

The World is not Enough

I like to listen to people, I like to get to know their stories. I like to see new places and feel their pulse, meet their people, listen to their voices. I like music and the act of listening is the supreme way of understanding the universe. I hear the sounds, the words uttered or just the running water of the fountain and the world starts having a shape. I understand life through ideas, in a way that has very little to do with emotions - but I like to hear about them, I like to know them better at least through empathy... and I am able to sense them when they are explained to me, like a colour blind can be told about red. I know my own red, but I'm afraid sometimes I choose my world to be black and white, because it is simpler like this.

My favourite stories are the life stories and the history of one's relationships. Sometimes I am put in the position to have my own stories, and together with what I am told by others, I try to understand the world and the humans better ... and lately, I confess I feel a complete moron at this. Despite the fact that I reached 35, I still had, till recently at least, a sort of a naive perception of the world. I've always suspected biggest cynics to be idealists, who are just aware of their own fragility and of the fact that the world is not exactly as they feel, deep down inside their hearts, that it should be.

In this teenager-ish and yet cynical world of mine, I know there are lies and ugly truths, but I always thought they come out of accident rather than out of bad will, and that what we do is guided by both personal interest/desire and an underlying system of values and Weltanschauung. I found myself to be an optimist and to have high hopes for the people - regardless how and where they were in this life, I've always believed that there is a layer of good things in everyone and it just gets hidden sometimes. 

I never knew too well what to expect or ask from a relationship and, guided by this perception of fundamental goodness of the people, I've always thought that one way or another, things would settle down in a beneficial way for both of the partners involved. The cynical side suspected there might be, however, that people don't care much about the other but mostly about themselves, while the idealist side hoped that at least they consider the other important one when they take a decision or perform an action which affects them both. Well, given my last life experiences, I think we can bury the idealist, sparing her the humiliation of dying a slow, painful death, called 'facing the reality'. RIP, young Irina.

The more I listen to people and their loves and relations, the more I see even the cynical inside me left speechless sometimes. There seems to be something fundamentally wrong in the universe, wrong in a very moral and yet simple sense. All I see lately is lying, cheating, carelessness about everyone else but yourself (including about your own kids), reckless action, stupid covers and so on. And all these realities bring a moral self in me which I never expected to be there. The older I get, the more I believe in the idea of responsibility - well, I've always thought it's a very complicated and hard thing, so I did the best I could to avoid any form of becoming responsible for someone or too involved into something. However, when I ended up in this position, I tried to fulfill my duties as well as I could.

What did I run into lately - woman in her early 40s killing herself and leaving a one yr old son behind, because... guess what... because she doesn't feel pretty enough (weren't plastic surgeons a better idea, still?). Or woman in her 30s, with a 2 yo son who gets madly in love and decides it's more fun to get a lover than spend time with her son, who happens to be sick for a while (rent a porn and watch some soap opera?). Or man in his late 20s living a double life, spiced by some other zillions of random fucks, just because he needs to prove to himself that he is a man (check your pants?). Or man in his early 40s cheating on his girlfriend with the dentist and explaining that he wanted to get free dental work (in this case, I really have no comment since this is below the line of my known universe, but it leaves me in awe). Or man in his early 20s being moody and cruel to his a bit older, fragile and insecure girlfriend for the simple reason that 'he can' (how about finding a stronger opponent to prove your macho-ism?). Or... should I continue? Neah... it's already too sad even for the screen to be able to bear it without a scratch (self immolation, I believe)

The further life goes, the more I understand the importance of valuing the people who preserve some shade of humanity in them and to keep them when I run into one like this. And it's harder and harder to find them ... again, I feel like the last unicorn, more of a misfit than of a survivor. In a strange way, my curiosity vanishes and I am less and less interested in meeting new people... I've seen enough, I'd keep my eyes open maybe I see another unicorn but not run into the world to find them. Now I start making sense of how we become older and more cynical, bitter and tired... for how long can you keep a flame burning without oxygen? 

I almost never proofread and edit my posts and I'm not gonna start with this one... I know it's a bit unclear and incoherent, but this is because I simply do not know what to do but notice the fact and try to think something (anything) about it. I cannot, as of now, identify the problems and the causalities or suggest a possible answer. But I can say wholeheartedly that, in terms of quality, the world is NOT enough...

The Winner Takes It All

In the last year, I have changed a lot. Or at least that's what I feel... in a way, I feel I've grown up. I am still not much of an adult and I kept wondering, lately, what does adulthood mean? We all have definitions for this, mine is like 'finding answers'. There are many questions we all ask ourselves, some of them rather trivial and some of them deeply existential.

I like simple things and I hate big statements. I get goose bumps whenever I hear sentences which try to be existential statements... beginnings such as 'it is normal', 'it is good', 'it is bad' awaken the punk inside me and make me wanna grin and ask - 'says WHO?'. In this sense, I strongly believe in subjective values and individual definitions. Well... apparently my time has come to ask the existential questions and, when trying to provide them with simple (but personal) answers, I realized I am utterly lost, at least for half of the answer.... When we wonder about life, we answer based on our family model and on our personal experience. And if the latter I have plenty... I almost completely lack the former.

A couple of nights ago, I dreamt of my father... we were in a room and he wouldn't talk to me. I don't remember what was it all about, but I was right and he wouldn't want to acknowledge this. The room suddenly turned into Hell (yep, THAT Hell) and blood started to infiltrate into the room from all the corners of the walls. It was dark and I was calm, almost happy - finally, my father was in the place he belong to. In Hell.

For a long time I rejected the idea that our family of origin determines who we are and what we become... and I still do, but with one notice - our family of origin gives us a lot of indirect knowledge. We do not know directly, before we experience it in our own families which we later on build, what does it mean to have a family; all we know is what we had home. And from this point of view... I wish I was an orphan. There are not enough words and not enough good thoughts in this world to appreciate what my grandparents did for me, namely extracted me from that wasp nest which my family was.... but this is not my main point now. 

I learnt very little to nothing from my father. Our relation, if we can call it as such, was a troubled one and the main influence it had over me was to teach me to compete. He has a bad mouth and whenever he was  giving me some blurry discourse, I would look at him and think - one day, you will get it all back. From me, with interest.

Now, I changed my mind. I don't want to return him any of the favours. I actually hope that I will never see him again in this life and, if I am very lucky or I get myself a good karma (note to self - save some orphans from drowning if you get the chance) in none of my future lives. After one bad argument I decided it'd be a good time to stop pretending that he exists. Well... so far it worked wonders. Once his existence ceased (for me, he might still be alive), my own existence improved drastically. My inner peace was never again troubled by his existential dilemmas and dramas, I didn't have to pretend I like him or his new wife, I didn't have to listen to dumb life lessons or to smell the wine (after a life time of stuffing himself with alcohol, his smell changed and turned into a wine-like smell. I still hate wine).

Recently, I heard of him from some remote relative (first degree cousin but again... it doesn't look like you can cut the connections with only one member of the clan, so his entire branch of the family was erased as well from my present and future) and I realized he finally gave me a very important life lesson - one he never planned or intended to give, but he paradoxically succeeded to provide. That common relative said that he sold all his assets and entirely moved to his wife, where he decided to invest everything he gathered in 60 something years of life in her property. 

To somehow have it clear - I never expected anything from him. Once I got out of his door and closed it behind me, I knew there would be no future for me and him and I should not expect anything, not even a final succession act. I don't need his money and I am doing perfectly fine without him. So when I heard the news, I simply shrugged. It was to be expected. Later on, as I was caught in a traffic jam, I started to think about it, wondering what the hell was he thinking of but that it is his choice. The thought of 'you'll get it back from me, with interest' crossed my mind for like 3 seconds but then again I wiped it off. I'd rather have my peace than his money.

The next thought was - it's his choice, to erase his own life. And then, the idea hit me... There are people who are losers for ever. I've always believed that being a loser is a punctual matter, that one becomes a loser only under certain circumstances and that it is, basically, a reversible situation. One can always prove himself to be otherwise. And then again, I thought of my father, and I realized I am wrong - there are people who would end up as losers, by voluntary choice and there is such a moment when it is too late to change this. 

The thought of our own mortality becomes pretty clear after a certain age. You realize that life flies away too fast and that you have that inner need to submit your own candidacy for immortality. The older you get, the more you want to look behind and say - I achieved this or that, I am proud of myself for this or for that thing, I performed well, followed my dreams or plans, reached them and kept being active and strong. WRONG! Some people live never understanding yesterday and never really thinking about tomorrow. They play the victim and blame the circumstances for whatever they failed to do and they simply are too weak to try again. They are happy with losing but being able to complain about it and sometimes receiving some pity or some shallow petting on their shoulders - oh, poor you, what a victim you've been.

I look back at me and my father and think how hard I wanted to beat him down... but there was nothing there to be put down on its knees. He lost in every minute of his life, by not being able to build anything - a family, a child, a career. He is now retired and none of his former colleagues care whether he lives or he died some time ago. He is now old and the family where he spent almost 30 years of his life doesn't even make a phone call to ask him whether he is alive. He is now too old to have a child and the only one he had became too estranged to even think of him as a shadow of a parent. He didn't place a bet and he never played... just got carried away by life and didn't have the strength to play any of the rounds. He lost by presence, not by absence.

Now, in this last act of the drama, I find it amusing how he decided to voluntarily wipe off his own life and withdraw his candidacy to immortality. And by this, he finally taught me one thing... Cancelling his own life because of too much ego, wrongly directed, and because of too little will power to stand and even decide what he wants or not, he showed me that there is a time when it is too late, when you cannot revert. There is a moment in which you lost it all, if you ever had anything.

So... thank you, daddy. I won our long term match, so I mercifully give you what is yours - pity. Sorry, old man. You lost.

Jonathan Livingston Seagull - The Odyssey

Somebody told me this is who I am... so here is the story

Just Take a Look at Me Now

When I saw her I knew it wouldn't last for long. She looked too used to being on her own to stick around for too much... and I wasn't sure what to do about her also. Somebody called me to show her to me and we looked at each other for a short while. She was young and common and she looked like she was waiting for someone. Which she wasn't, it was just a search for food and somebody from inside got out to bring her a cookie. She ate it and she looked ahead, like thinking where to go - straight ahead, or turn back. I gave her a pack of food and she ate it in a hurry. She was not that thin, but neither too well fed - it was an unexpected good meal and she took advantage of it, hurrying up before the offer ends. 

I tried to put my belt as a collar and take her upstairs. I had no plans for her, but didn't think I could leave her down there, all alone. She got scared and she pulled off her head from the improvised collar and ran a few meters away. She stopped and she looked back straight at me.

It was not hate, neither it was fear. It was just mistrust, in its purest form. I saw her eyes and I knew I looked like she was, now, at other people and then just went away. She didn't need me and she didn't want me. Life for her is hard, but she can't trust and she doesn't want to. Probably she can't even dream of a soft pillow and of a warm home, which she never had and never will. I can...

Some wonder why I love stray dogs. It's simple - I am one of them. I do not make them humans neither I see myself as a dog - I just see that we are so much alike that it's hard to think of. Just like her, the anonymous stray dog I fed today, I walk in the world and I am all on my own. I sometimes look at the clouds and there is this desperate hope that there is somebody bigger than me who cares. And I just need a sign that somebody is looking at me now ... which never comes, and I just know that I am all alone.

This is sometimes a very overwhelming feeling... It's pointless to try to describe it, but it's the blank feeling of being totally and utterly alone. I know... generations have been preoccupied with this and they came up with gods and then with God and blablabla. But I am not religious - I lack the ability to have faith without reasoning and to trust someone who doesn't seem to be there... so I look at the world like that dog looked at me today. Me and her are the same, two unknown shadows passing on the streets of a city, whichever city might that be... sometimes having the luck of a good meal just to keep on walking. 

Footsteps don't get imprinted in the asphalt. Nobody will ever know I was there, she was there ... and we just kept walking.

In meinem Leben

Sea of Sin

I'm home for quite some time... Like a shored sailor, I enjoy the peace and the lack of storms and giant waves. I like to look outside from my balcony and to see the city, to hear the words I can understand while walking on the street, to be able to chat with the cashier at the supermarket, when I pay my bill ... I like that my phone rings and that I can chat for 10 minutes about nothing and that I can interact with people and with my friends.

However, after about one month of staying I realized that I've been too much away to come back here untouched and to act like I used to, when I was young. I've been alone for too long, I guess, and this loneliness calls me back. I start to feel overwhelmed by interactions and the peacefulness starts to be heavy on my heart. When I think of going away, I know I'll be missing the shore but when I am here I miss my ship, my sea, my nomad being.

I've met quite a few sailors in my life and I've always wanted to be one. I saw them leaving and coming back to their families, welcomed guest but so unadapted to the family life. Their visits home were a source of joy and happiness, but in he same time an earthquake for the routine. And after a while, when they were leaving back to the sea, everybody was sad but in peace - life was coming back to normal.

When does a sailor come ashore and stay there? Why some settle, after a time of sailing, and some just keep on going back to the sea? I've noticed that the family was the main reason used for settling, but I've always wondered how do they feel inside... how does one feel to be home, after being homeless for a while? Am I over-romanticizing and naively building some adventurer's characters, or are they for real? Is it immaturity and an eternal adolescence to keep on running back to your sea of freedom, while pretending you have responsibilities ashore? Or is it something stronger than you, which keeps calling you back to the sea, to the storms and to your ship? What is stronger, the love for your family or the comradeship you feel towards your fellow sailors, with whom you face the danger and the fun of a life of nomad?

Last night I dreamt Sh. I've loved him since my 6th grade and I don't think I've ever stopped. I never fucked him and I've always known this is for another life time and not for this one. Somewhere in my early twenties I met him again, just to find out how much he loves me too. Of course he was by that time married, and I was (just like now) sailing. I forget about him most of the time but there are nights when I dream of him and I wake up lounging ... I somehow know that if I had ever been with him, I would have never gone sailing.. and I would have been unhappy, without knowing why.

Maybe I am born like this, or maybe we all secretly like unhappiness. Or maybe missing something, missing the shore while sailing and missing the sea while ashore is what keeps us going further. I do not know.... and I do not know what to choose and what to do... I try to keep on sailing and to keep on coming back home, but I know it's a frail balance and I will have to make up my mind. Or maybe it takes one Sh. to make me decide... or then again, it's too late now to change and not even a Sh. would make me stay on shore. I do not know, but I will soon go back to my ship and hope it won't sink this time either.

Out of Africa

I would like to impose a visa regime for my soul. I sometimes allow people to enter, take a tour or even make a little place of their own inside. Such a bad idea... it seems expansion is the dominating natural tendency. Everybody wants to take over and it's useless to place signs - 'private property, do not trespass'. Every sign becomes more of a challenge for expansion.

- Hey, my soul is not the Easter Island, we are not trying to prove the Darwinist theory here...
- that's what you think?
- well... it was my garden ... there used to be flowers and exotic birds here and I used to enjoy seeding thoughts inside. When they were growing, I never allowed them to become weeds... it was shiny and peaceful here... what are you trying to do?
- civilize you... civilize you because I love you. Let me make order in your garden and tell you what to plant. And let me show you how to clip the wings of the birds, so that they don't fly too far. I like to watch them in OUR garden.

They give you no option and they force you to choose. Offended, they threaten to leave if you don't let them fix your garden. Or, cunningly, they stay and try to make the hawks lay eggs daily while you don't notice. They think the phoenix burns their wooden cottage and they try to make a steak out of it.... since the bird enjoys the fire that much... why not?

What choice do you have but to force them out? And if you are to condition their entrance from the beginning, what will be the selection criteria?

Maybe that's what wedding rings are... visas given to somebody willing to fertilize your crops, when you are too blind to see the phoenixes anymore. Welcome to the civilized world, good bye my Africa...

Sense and Sensibility

I rarely write about animals, I find it hard to. Not because they occupy too little space in my life, but quite on the contrary - because their stories fill up my life on a daily basis. I don't write about them, because I feel humbled by their strength and by their ability to endure life with humans and, some of them, to love us, humans, more than we deserve. I feel I lack the words and the ability to transcribe this.

I owned myself quite a few dogs so far, I met and tried to help a few others. Each of them had a clearly defined personality and, if they were all to look alike, they would still be so easily distinguishable. Tofa: delicate, picky and cheerful... Ugly: meticulous, devoted and humble... Raptor: an old criminal, joyful and willing not to bother... Gica: a leader, an epitome of dignity, and still a puppy deep in his heart... Aldo: neurotic to the bone, innocent and joyful when he trusts... Cara: serious and independent (but still able to love so much that she would give up her independence to follow me wherever), strong and yet playful... Toby: a dog like a smile, a bit cunning and always happy ... and the list can go on - Aldo (II), Bijou, Kitty-Cat, Dunguska, Fido, Bruno and then again another Bruno, Molda... Sosetuta, the stray dog who was protecting his girl-dog till the last day of his life... and his girl, Griuta, who died soon after Sosetuta because she was too weak to survive without him... The unnamed stray male who was raising generations of abandoned puppies ... they all marked a place in my heart and their memory is still with me long after they have left my life.

And then again, the unnamed dog... deserving a monument like the unnamed soldier, unknown martyr or humble survivor, so rarely having a good faith from birth till death... how can one write about this and not feel humbled? How can you look at a cat, so far untouched by humans and a bit wild, who surrenders into your lap and starts purring, for as little as a can of food and some petting, otherwise than with respect? Is it innocence, is it trust, is it ... what is it?

Humbleness is what moves me and touches me the most in animals. The humbleness with which they accept their place and they live their life. The humbleness with which they face the good and the bad, they live the today and survive till tomorrow. No complaining, no whining, no self pity and no dramas - just patiently facing life. Humbleness is not a virtue we are used to, and it's not a culturally transmitted value. I find it hard to understand how one can watch a moon eclipse and still over-evaluate his place in the universe.... almost just as hard as understanding how can one kick an animal just because he passes by next to it.

Why am I writing this? Because during my long drive home, I encountered again the Romanian village and the dogs wandering on the edge of the roads. Thin, humble and scared, hungry and always searching for a piece of food, for a piece of life, they made me feel again powerless against the suffering of the livings and reminded me that the best way to perpetuate injustice is to pass by and do nothing. If we were all, once per year let's say, to take attitude and do something about the things that we care for, the world would be a better place. And no... I am not participating in a beauty contest and I do not want rice for the African kids or forests for the tigers... I just want a decent world. There where compassion and common sense prevail, nothing can turn bad.

Dungeons and Dragons

For quite a while, I am addicted to the internet; and, with all honesty, to online games. I managed to spend a couple of years playing Utopia, a game of medieval fantasy (experience which I hope will turn into a nice research soon) and I generally get hooked to all types of games as long as they entertain me.

They have a lot of interesting features but their best one is, I guess, how the game style reflects one's personality (this and the fact that they create unexpected social ties and bonds). I am not a psychologist and, with my talent in people, I guess I shouldn't even consider this as a hobby. But I find it fascinating to think about the person behind the screen and how he/she must be like, given the visible results of the game. Utopia was a very mathematical game, but you could see a lot of other personality features - and, interesting enough, I met a lot of nice people and I made quite a few friends in that universe (read 'on that server'). For a few years, I was every day logging into my game and talking to people; with my good math skills and obsessive compulsive behaviour, I ended up running a kingdom. Besides the excellent practice for leadership and for team management (which I found extremely useful since then, tho' my gaming tyrannic policies are a bit harder to practice in the real life than in an online game), the game gave me the huge opportunity to befriend people from all corners of the world.

I spent a lot of time chatting with them, about the game at the beginning and then about me and themselves. The in-game forum was very often alive, and although the main part of it was dedicated to the strategy, there were threads with jokes, pics or with music. I flirted with a few of them, I found out when some were getting married and I was a shoulder for some of them, when they were being sad, or cheated, or were having I don't know what sort of problems.

The youngest member of the team was an Australian teenager of 15 or 16 when we got together in the same kingdom, and he was a college student when I left the game. The oldest one was a 45 yrs old Dutch squatter, having a lots of cats and a few ex-wives. There were the Canadians and then the Asian tigers, from all over (Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore). When somebody new was coming to the kingdom, you could not know who hid behind the name... and the process of getting to know each other was then starting.

During all these months and even years (if I think about it, I spent definitely more than 'a couple' of years in the game... but this is not so relevant) we never met. But I don't think I had closer friends than my kingdom mates. And I spent a lot of time caring for them and for their provinces as well; from a certain point on, I started to notice the resemblance between the province and the person. Some were nice and caring, and they were always sending aid to others; some were just so eager to war and attack other kingdoms that they barely had any defense in their province; it was not hard to notice, for example, that the attitude towards risk was very well reflected in the construction of a province - the more the player disliked taking risks, the more defended his/her province was.

As life was taking us further, we were leaving the game one by one. Some were changing places, others were having newborns and no more time for online games, some others had to start to work for their living and so on. At a certain point, I myself left and the kingdom disbanded. I still talk to a few of my former kingdom mates and I know how and where they are and what are they currently doing. Of course, the relations are getting colder because we don contact each other on a daily basis, but they haven't stopped completely.

With my limited time, I now play a few flash games, mainly those which are so easily accessible on FaceBook. One of them is Farmville - not so relevant what the game is all about, because it is quite obvious from the name itself; it is a simple thing, where you build a farm, harvest your crops and enhance the appearance of a 22x22 squared surface. Not so complicated, but gives enough space for a personal mark.

For somebody who is both homeless and deeply in love with nature, building a farm is a fun hobby (even if you do it virtually); so I paid attention to my farm and then I started to notice others'. Apparently, in a small surface of 22x22 squares, there are infinite possibilities to arrange all sorts of items - from housing to animal cottages, while keeping enough land to plow and maintain your farm productive. Since you can watch the farms of your friends (if they play... and some of them do), you can also try to make some correlations between the persons (whom you know) and their farms. Again, a striking resemblance...

Am I trying to make a point here? I don't know, maybe I am. But for the time being, it's just an overview of a pretty interesting phenomenon. You cannot hide what you are even in the virtual world.

Words

As strange as it might sound, I deeply dislike academia. Strangely, because that's what I do for a living; not strangely, because it was not my first career choice, but something I ended up doing, for a number of reasons - decent (not great but decent) payment, relaxed schedule, sometimes fun environment.

A few years ago, it looked pretty well - nice people (we were graduate students then), a lot of alcohol (needed sometimes), smart talks (and smart asses), good quality humour. Well... that was just the surface, the visible part of the iceberg. The deeper I got into the academic waters, the more I hated them. And it's not only a matter of people... I have nothing particular against people. I mean... I don't dislike academics as a separate species among the humankind, but on an equal foot with everybody else. And, to be very specific, I don't dislike all academia - I fully understand why exact sciences or medicine should exist. But humanities?

Never until now in the history of humankind people were paid to produce nothing - and this is my main problem with Humanities: what they deal with and live out of is the production of words. OK, there were the king's fool and the king's poet... but they had a role. What role do all the graduates of some beautiful sciences (no, it's a very wrong word, this is anything but science... but how else to call them) have for the society?

Some time ago, I was having a rash when hearing the words 'French post-structuralism'. They all looked to me like people with a lot of time to waste and a lot of pens & papers at hand. Sadly, the disease seems to be spreading. I hear about new academic specialties and I can't stop wondering... WHY do they have to make a discipline out of everything? WTF is a specialist in Culture, huh? Why do you need to graduate 4 yrs of college to be able to have an opinion about a movie (and call yourself a film studies specialist)? OK, you can write about females and discrimination, but WHY start a gender department and create a school of thought called 'feminist studies'?

Don't take me the wrong way - I can understand all this as a... let's say... sect. Such as a group of people sharing the same beliefs. And I can also understand the students paying for getting a degree in one of those fields... in the end, we are all so deeply imbued with the idea that 'believing is paying' that we owe a big thumb up to the Church... but let's not divagate. Why does the society pay for this?

I know, academia is actually a business. We managed to convince everybody that the main asset of today is real time information and real time communication, so the poor students are buying the crap and pay their tuition, imagining they will end up being smarter. My fear is, however, that they will end up being just indoctrinated. We never teach them to doubt or to wonder... we teach them what the gurus said. But this is not a religion, a spiritual way... it's just somebody's opinion about how things are. All the respect for Foucault, but Jesus worked more to be quoted so often. And dying on a cross should give you more credibility than wondering whether a pipe is a pipe or just the representation of it.

Moreover, we don't teach them anything about work. Again, maybe the 20th and 21st century are a step closer to the Apocalypse (the one that my grandma is waiting for since the beginning of 2000), but all along history people were paid to WORK. What do the 'humanists' do, be them teacher or students? They produce words on papers. Are they inventing at least a sharpener for a ball point pen? Nope, they are INTERPRETING - because this is what they are taught to do. To interpret the interpretations of others.

In the world of interpretation, nothing seems to be real anymore. There are levels and meta-levels and a lot of psychoanalytical jargon trying to convince you that nothing from what you see is real, but it is a product of your subconsciousness, or of the collective subconsciousness, or of some Oedipus/Elektra complex or God knows what else. If it's not psychoanalytical, it's Marxist and it's about class and oppression. And if it's not Marx, then it's the Panoptikon and the ubiquitous relations of power. C'mon, people... WAKE UP. Even princesses take a crap, once in a while...

Liebe ist fur Alle da

A New Year spent in Lithuania, at home, gave me very little choices but to watch the Russian TV shows (having a Russian speaker with me, while I speak neither of the languages, it seemed like a decent compromise to make). I'm not gonna write a long plead about the inherent patriarchy, coz I don't feel like an European bel hooks for now. But a short one... yeah, for sure.

So... what could I see on the Russian TV channel I watched? Well, in a random order: Medvedev giving the New Year speech, old Russian stars with various amounts of money spent at the plastic surgeon doing whatever they were trained to do (like... singing, dancing, acting or something else) and half naked girls. This last part is what caught my eye. Why? No, it's not because I started to develop a certain interest in the weaker sex, but because I had the feeling that I am watching a men's club show and not a New Year TV program.

For like 4 hours, some guys came on and off the stage and pretended to sing, while he girls kept dancing - OK, we can count in here pole dancing, belly dancing, strip-tease (half) and sensual rubbings against few half naked boys. The first thought was that the few representatives of the stronger sex dancing there in their underwear, were for the delight of the few gay viewers among the Russian audience. But then I realized it's not this - it was too much macho breeze there to even consider introducing the idea of 'gay' - but it's actually adding to the voyeur pleasure of the straight males, by mildly suggesting sexual intercourse. OK, lesbians are fun, but how much of it could they take? So a few male counterparts had to be carefully inserted (pun intended) into the show.

I am by no means a puritan. I couldn't care less about the square cm of naked skin I see on the screen. In the same manner, I'm not a feminist - it's hard to belong to any other '-isms' when you are already a misanthropist; I confess I dislike men and women almost equally. However, I am a big fan of equality - if we are to use some of us for our sexual arouse, it's perfectly fine, as long as everybody is satisfied. But I can't stop wondering how much the women in the audience enjoyed that particular show? Or maybe... and I only say maybe... who cares about what women have to say, anyway?