joi, 24 decembrie 2015
sâmbătă, 5 decembrie 2015
Winter wonderland
“Time. One of the most intricate and fascinating things in life. It’s relative to the being affected by it. Put your hand on a stove, and it will seem like an hour. Talk with the love of your life, and it will seem like a minute.”
You can notice so many things during a Math class. The ivory color of the dying clouds, shrouding the dark space. So melancholically beautiful, yet so frightening. The satanic shaking of the willows in the wind, chilling people like me to the core. The burning hay laying lifeless on the hills, it’s fire dancing like a tornado.
And then, in not even a moment, you involuntarily shift your gaze to the furious teacher, realizing that he caught you while meditating. He’s spitting out words of dissapointment, rethorical orders, and accusations which make your colleagues giggle. But after he turns to the black board, and you stare into it’s white symbols with no wish whatsoever, you see nothing. Nothing, but…
“Her. Oh, for God’s sake, you reminded yourself of her! Again! She is a danger to your sanity, I’ll tell you that. You can’t spend five minutes gazing into that void without remembering the nights. Ah, but those nights were so…Ah, so pure, and fun, an-ARE YOU IN LOVE?! Oh, fiddlesticks, you are in love, aren’t you? But you didn’t need me to tell you that, did you? See, you hide so many things from me, your conscience, I cannot even be called guilty for the fact that you want to relive those nights.”
Emy can be so annoying sometimes. Oh, well, Math class is over, I didn’t remember a thing, and I’m walking down a dark corridor because some brat thought “Hey, these cables supplying the lights with electricity don’t look so sturdy. I should destroy them so I won’t have to go to school!”. It’s so typical for someone to say that school is one of the hardest things to go through, that I sound like a hipster when I state my opinion.
And guess what? Nature will help your depression! With devilish wind, soaring and cutting open archaic oaks, while you walk on an invisible path, hidden carefully by the void which is now called “night”. So you think all of this through, looking things over in different points of view, and you come home. Eat, write, sleep. Wake up, do the same thing all over again, and it’s December!
And there’s no winter. Fiddlesticks.
So, here I am, behind my laptop, writing about my sorrow with beautifully-thought series of fancy words. It’s way past midnight, and the gloom of my room is growing bigger with every blink, the darkness devouring the quiet TV’s animations. When I noticed this, I quickly jabbed the button of my lamp with my finger, a corona of holy light flooding the bedroom, the shadows fleeing below my bed.
And then, in the blink of an eye, she revealed herself. And then she went into hiding. I blinked twice, but she didn’t come back. What in the name of Churchill was happening to me? Was I just tired, hallucinating, or was this house built on the land of an ancient Indian cemetery?
I now realize that I love her. No! I don’t! I never could! Ah, fiddlesticks, I’ll just go to bed. The laptop is turned off, the lamp is dark, the TV has grown quiet, but I still hear something. I hear…the darkness. I should go to bed before some headless horse pops into my head.
So I close my eyes, I relax my body, and I slide into the sheets, merging with the petrified bedroom. I dreamt of something, but I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like some sort of ring. Whatever. The hazy sun’s rays of light pet my eyelids, and I slowly wake up from my deep slumber. I raise my arms in the air, stretching as I touch the pale wall with my fingertips.
As I raise from my bed, showering in the light, I turn my head to the window, noticing some white curtain covering the window. It’s so cold outside that it’s snowing in hell if the window’s frozen. So I pick up my glasses, put them on in a tired motion, and I look through the window, again. Surprise, surprise, it’s snowing so hard outside, that all I can see outside is white.
You’ve got to be kidding me. Last night I was talking from the bottom of my heart, seeing double and getting dark visions, and today it’s snowing in a not-so-subtle-but-happy way. This feels like a cliché. Like I’m in some sort of book. Oh, wait.
I slid my hand across the window, revealing the gorgeous landscape. The pale sky was bleeding snowflakes, the frozen air filled with white powder. As the cars crossed the slippery road, their windshields were constantly swiped, to the drivers’ anger. The winds danced and jumped through the trees, their leafs shaking with passion.
And when the sky stopped crying, the land gave birth to a very thick sheet of sugar. Do you know that moment of revelation when you think you can hear a person’s smile? I reveled in my discovery, and grinned when I heard the trees’ laugh of satisfaction. They finally had a suit to wear this winter. An ivory, beautifully-sewed tuxedo. It was marvelous to hear them thank the wonderland now growing.
However, what was once a small, red garden, is now merged with the highway, small drops of black and red piercing the snow. The far, green hills were cut in half by a white valley, the landscape now resembling a futuristic building.
A spear of cold air stabbed my feet, and I quickly felt a surge of happiness flowing through my blood. I knew that the landscape wasn’t the only thing changing. I scanned my mental calendar and realised that Christmas was coming very quickly. Only 21 more days to go.
I came to school, acomppanied by the muffled sound of my boots stomping the snow. The hours passed quickly, as I traded thoughts with my colleagues about the fresh winter. But, when the night came, every object burst to life.
The walls of my classroom were painted with dark spaceships and violet UFO’s, travelling the galaxy through green, phosphorescent stars. As everybody left the school, we noticed that the dark alleyways now called highways were surrounded by Christmas-themed lights, hanged around wooden columns. A collection of red, yellow and indigo lights bathed the city in a mysterious way. We felt a heavy dose of deja-vu, but carried on with our innocent, childish pleasures.
We were, and are, young, always happy to embrace change. Especially if it involves the winter wonderland. As we walked on the ‘dance floor’, each child running to his house when he saw it, I eventually saw myself alone. Somebody grabbed my hand.
She was there. Her white, snow-dress blinded me with moonlight, and I turned to look into her eyes. She was pale, blood now flowing to her cheeks, turning her head to the ground in attempt to hide from me. I gently lifted her chin, and touched her golden hair while shaking. She raised her left foot, and our lips met.
‘My winter-fairy.’
She whispered an invitation in my ear, and I nodded in agreement. I quickly took off my coat, and she put it on while thanking me. She then slipped into the shadows, and I gazed onto the fence where she once was. The winter wonderland commenced in a blaze of glory, it’s allegory toying with my heart.
“I can’t argue with that.”, a voice echoed in my head.
No, you can’t, Emy.
You can notice so many things during a Math class. The ivory color of the dying clouds, shrouding the dark space. So melancholically beautiful, yet so frightening. The satanic shaking of the willows in the wind, chilling people like me to the core. The burning hay laying lifeless on the hills, it’s fire dancing like a tornado.
And then, in not even a moment, you involuntarily shift your gaze to the furious teacher, realizing that he caught you while meditating. He’s spitting out words of dissapointment, rethorical orders, and accusations which make your colleagues giggle. But after he turns to the black board, and you stare into it’s white symbols with no wish whatsoever, you see nothing. Nothing, but…
“Her. Oh, for God’s sake, you reminded yourself of her! Again! She is a danger to your sanity, I’ll tell you that. You can’t spend five minutes gazing into that void without remembering the nights. Ah, but those nights were so…Ah, so pure, and fun, an-ARE YOU IN LOVE?! Oh, fiddlesticks, you are in love, aren’t you? But you didn’t need me to tell you that, did you? See, you hide so many things from me, your conscience, I cannot even be called guilty for the fact that you want to relive those nights.”
Emy can be so annoying sometimes. Oh, well, Math class is over, I didn’t remember a thing, and I’m walking down a dark corridor because some brat thought “Hey, these cables supplying the lights with electricity don’t look so sturdy. I should destroy them so I won’t have to go to school!”. It’s so typical for someone to say that school is one of the hardest things to go through, that I sound like a hipster when I state my opinion.
And guess what? Nature will help your depression! With devilish wind, soaring and cutting open archaic oaks, while you walk on an invisible path, hidden carefully by the void which is now called “night”. So you think all of this through, looking things over in different points of view, and you come home. Eat, write, sleep. Wake up, do the same thing all over again, and it’s December!
And there’s no winter. Fiddlesticks.
So, here I am, behind my laptop, writing about my sorrow with beautifully-thought series of fancy words. It’s way past midnight, and the gloom of my room is growing bigger with every blink, the darkness devouring the quiet TV’s animations. When I noticed this, I quickly jabbed the button of my lamp with my finger, a corona of holy light flooding the bedroom, the shadows fleeing below my bed.
And then, in the blink of an eye, she revealed herself. And then she went into hiding. I blinked twice, but she didn’t come back. What in the name of Churchill was happening to me? Was I just tired, hallucinating, or was this house built on the land of an ancient Indian cemetery?
I now realize that I love her. No! I don’t! I never could! Ah, fiddlesticks, I’ll just go to bed. The laptop is turned off, the lamp is dark, the TV has grown quiet, but I still hear something. I hear…the darkness. I should go to bed before some headless horse pops into my head.
So I close my eyes, I relax my body, and I slide into the sheets, merging with the petrified bedroom. I dreamt of something, but I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like some sort of ring. Whatever. The hazy sun’s rays of light pet my eyelids, and I slowly wake up from my deep slumber. I raise my arms in the air, stretching as I touch the pale wall with my fingertips.
As I raise from my bed, showering in the light, I turn my head to the window, noticing some white curtain covering the window. It’s so cold outside that it’s snowing in hell if the window’s frozen. So I pick up my glasses, put them on in a tired motion, and I look through the window, again. Surprise, surprise, it’s snowing so hard outside, that all I can see outside is white.
You’ve got to be kidding me. Last night I was talking from the bottom of my heart, seeing double and getting dark visions, and today it’s snowing in a not-so-subtle-but-happy way. This feels like a cliché. Like I’m in some sort of book. Oh, wait.
I slid my hand across the window, revealing the gorgeous landscape. The pale sky was bleeding snowflakes, the frozen air filled with white powder. As the cars crossed the slippery road, their windshields were constantly swiped, to the drivers’ anger. The winds danced and jumped through the trees, their leafs shaking with passion.
And when the sky stopped crying, the land gave birth to a very thick sheet of sugar. Do you know that moment of revelation when you think you can hear a person’s smile? I reveled in my discovery, and grinned when I heard the trees’ laugh of satisfaction. They finally had a suit to wear this winter. An ivory, beautifully-sewed tuxedo. It was marvelous to hear them thank the wonderland now growing.
However, what was once a small, red garden, is now merged with the highway, small drops of black and red piercing the snow. The far, green hills were cut in half by a white valley, the landscape now resembling a futuristic building.
A spear of cold air stabbed my feet, and I quickly felt a surge of happiness flowing through my blood. I knew that the landscape wasn’t the only thing changing. I scanned my mental calendar and realised that Christmas was coming very quickly. Only 21 more days to go.
I came to school, acomppanied by the muffled sound of my boots stomping the snow. The hours passed quickly, as I traded thoughts with my colleagues about the fresh winter. But, when the night came, every object burst to life.
The walls of my classroom were painted with dark spaceships and violet UFO’s, travelling the galaxy through green, phosphorescent stars. As everybody left the school, we noticed that the dark alleyways now called highways were surrounded by Christmas-themed lights, hanged around wooden columns. A collection of red, yellow and indigo lights bathed the city in a mysterious way. We felt a heavy dose of deja-vu, but carried on with our innocent, childish pleasures.
We were, and are, young, always happy to embrace change. Especially if it involves the winter wonderland. As we walked on the ‘dance floor’, each child running to his house when he saw it, I eventually saw myself alone. Somebody grabbed my hand.
She was there. Her white, snow-dress blinded me with moonlight, and I turned to look into her eyes. She was pale, blood now flowing to her cheeks, turning her head to the ground in attempt to hide from me. I gently lifted her chin, and touched her golden hair while shaking. She raised her left foot, and our lips met.
‘My winter-fairy.’
She whispered an invitation in my ear, and I nodded in agreement. I quickly took off my coat, and she put it on while thanking me. She then slipped into the shadows, and I gazed onto the fence where she once was. The winter wonderland commenced in a blaze of glory, it’s allegory toying with my heart.
“I can’t argue with that.”, a voice echoed in my head.
No, you can’t, Emy.
sâmbătă, 10 octombrie 2015
“O lecție de istorie care nu trebuia predată”
Europa
era un loc zbuciumat după Primul Război Mondial.
Oamenii își plângeau familiile pierdute
în adrenalina bătăliilor, mirosul șobolanilor, al gazului și al leșurilor din
tranșee încă mai putrezea aerul, iar ‘rețeaua monarhică’, odată un amalgam de
idile și dramă, era acum înlocuită de conducători ce făceau parte din simplul
popor, țărani buni ce nu știau ce să facă.
Apoi, din negura nemțească, bântuit de
Tratatul de la Versailles, s-a ivit un fost curier de război, înnebunit de
“criminalii din noiembrie”, pe numele lui, Adolf Hitler. Un bărbat pricăjit, cu
părul unsuros și mustața copiată de la Charlie Chaplin, acum membru al
Partidului Muncitoresc German, de extremă dreapta. Inspirat de religiile
antichității, acesta dorește să schimbe cursul istoriei. Așa că, înzestrat cu o
energie și un talent oratoric inedit, folosind popularul anti-semitism și
slogane aparent-socialiste pentru a câștiga popularitate, acesta a urcat repede
treptele puterii, ajungând la rangul de fuhrer, conducătorul suprem.
Aici, lecția de istorie începe. Nu ca
ar fi fost impusă de vreun minister al educației, ci doar faptul ca profesorul
suplinitor, Hitler, a vrut s-o țină.
·
RASA ARIANA:
Ideologia nazista se bazează foarte mult pe convingeri
religioase indiene. Etimologia termenului “arian” înseamnă “nobil” în limba
sanscrita. Partidul nazist a adoptat
acest termen pentru a descrie “rasa pură”, inspirata din imaginile zeilor
scandinavi: alb, înalt, blond, ochi albaștri sau verzi. Aceasta descriere arata
singura dorință a naziștilor: Unicitate.
Nazismul se bate cap în cap cu comunismul, care dorește
ca fiecare sa fie egal. De altfel, asta nu l-a împiedicat pe Hitler sa facă sa
folosească aparentele comunismului pentru a-și îndoctrina poporul într-o masa
de oameni ce credeau ca proveneau din Atlantis.
Evreii erau considerați prigoana societății chiar și în
Primul Război Mondial, fuhrer-ul cu ușurință ordonând capturarea și exterminare
evreilor în orice mod posibil. Aceștia erau executați folosind arme de foc, spânzurați,
dar cea mai eficienta metoda fiind camerele de gazare. Lagărul de concentrare cel
mai malefic, unde se întâmplau unele din cele mai mari si multe atrocități se
afla al Auschwitz. Mai multe despre asta, mai târziu.
·
“LEBENSRAUM”:
În limba germană, “spațiu vital”, acest concept declarând că Al
Treilea Reich (Imperiu), trebuia să fie întins din Franța în vest, pana la Munții
Ural în est, și din Scandinavia la nord, până la Turcia în sud. În 1941, la
apogeul armatei germane, acest “Lebensraum” era chiar alungit, controlând jumătate
din Europa.
În “Mein Kampf”, autorul declara că, și citez:
“organizarea formației statului rus nu era rezultatul abilităților politice ale
slavilor, ci doar un minunat exemplu al eficienței în formarea unui stat al
elementului german dintr-o rasă inferioară”. Invaziile lui Hitler în
Cehoslovacia, Polonia și în U.R.S.S dovedeau dorința arzătoare de “spațiu
vital” în Rusia.
·
NEO-PĂGÂNISM:
Dacă Al Doilea Război Mondial ar fi fost câștigat de Al
Treilea Reich, atunci toate religiile ar fi fost interzise, doar una singura
ridicându-se: neo-păgânismul. Aceasta religie politeistă ar fi fost bazata pe
vechia mitologie nordică, folosind zei precum Thor pentru a crea imaginea rasei
ariene.
Totuși, această religie era foarte întunecată. Crucială îi
este onoarea și violența, oamenii fiind încurajați să lupte pentru dorințele
lor. Apocalipsa era descrisă ca fiind o luptă între zei și giganți, priveliști
macabre precum nave făcute din unghiile morților și vrăjitori malefici care
ridicau morții din pământ pentru a-i omori pe cei vii.
·
PURITATEA RASIALA:
Multe legi au fost create pentru a bate în cui aceste
convingeri, printre care cele referitoare la “igiena rasială”. Aceste legi
interziceau relații inter-conjugale între membri ai rasei ariane și “Rassenschande”, rușine rasială sau simplu-spus, oameni care nu făceau parte din rasa
ariană. Aceste legi erau cele care puneau bazele Holocaustului.
Colac peste pupăză, în 1925,
Hitler a scris cartea “Mein Kampf”, în traducere “Lupta mea”, carte ce înlocuia
Biblia ca importanță în Germania după ascensiunea lui Hitler la putere. Această
auto-biografie aducea de multe ori în prim-plan “pericolul evreu”, idee ce
pozează o conspirație evreiască pentru a prelua controlul asupra lumii, fiind
descris modul în care Hitler a devenit anti-semit și militarist.
În acest mod, fuhrer-ul urma să
controleze mințile populației pentru propriul său plan.
CONCLUZIE
Și așa, lecția de istorie s-a sfârșit.
Germania a devenit un stat-păpușă, controlat de Aliați până
în anii 90, când Războiul Rece ia sfârșit, Zidul Berlinului e demolat, iar
Germania e reunită. Aceasta renaște într-o putere economico-politică și țară
care a influențat și încă influențează Uniunea Europeană.
Evreii au devenit subiect de copertă, primind o țară a
lor în Palestina, drepturi extinse și rambursări de milioane de dolari pentru
populațiile lor exterminate. Chiar dacă aceste măsuri par extreme, nu puteau
aduce înapoi pe cei decedați în genocid.
Cât despre celelalte popoare…Au supraviețuit cum au putut
prin Războiul Rece, prin revoluții, armate sau politice, războaie civile,
spionaj și rezistența prin literatură împotriva comunismului.
Totuși, chiar dacă această lecție nu era în programa școlară…
nu va fi dat un test, sau chiar o teză, care o va incorpora?
Oamenii nu se vor întoarce către eficiența totalitaristă,
tarile nu se vor război, iar “rețelele politice” nu se vor destrăma, din nou?
Nu știm. Nu avem cum să știm. Putem doar sa analizam
istoria și să ghicim viitorul lumii.
Și, cu puțin noroc, poate nu va mai fi chiar atât de rău,
ci doar decisiv și rapid.
miercuri, 9 septembrie 2015
miercuri, 2 septembrie 2015
sâmbătă, 11 iulie 2015
Mihai Eminescu – Templierul literaturii romane
Mihai Eminescu… Ce poti spune despre
Eminescu? “Mihai Eminescu a fost un poet, prozator și jurnalist român, socotit de cititorii români…”. Sigur, as putea continua asa
pentru restul articolului, dar care ar fi farmecul unui document scris fara
pasiune?
Asadar,
revin…Ce poti spune despre Eminescu? In primul si in primul rand, Eminescu a
scapat de singura farama de cultura rusa din el dupa ce si-a schimbat numele
din Mihai Eminovici in Mihai Eminescu. Pentru cel ce-si plimba ochii, relaxat,
pe aceste randuri, nu pare a fi un fapt important, dar pentru celor carora le
place a gandi si medita asupra fiecarui cuvintel scris, atunci acestia vor
observa ca Domnu’ Mihai s-a daruit intru-totul culturii, societatii si patriei
romane, studiind alte culturi pentru a gasi asemanari cu cea romana (Mitologia
egipteana, Cultura clasica, Budism), aruncand patura ce ascundea adevarata
societate romana si, influentand majoritatea poporului romanesc de la debutul
sau, pana acum (Nu mentionez nervii si fiorii elevilor de la B.A.C, atunci cand
il vad sau aud pe Eminescu).
As putea ontinua cu faptul
ca… Mihai Eminescu a avut o personalitate unica, si aici trebuie sa-l las pe
idolul meu, Caragiale, sa va explice: “…vesel și trist; comunicativ și ursuz; blând
și aspru; mulțumindu-se cu nimica și nemulțumit totdeauna de toate; aci de o
abstinență de pustnic, aci apoi lacom de plăcerile vieții; fugind de oameni și
căutându-i; nepăsător ca un bătrân stoic și iritabil ca o fată nervoasă.”
Totusi,
aceasta personalitate nu l-a impiedicat sa incerce, de multe ori, sa
gaseasca dragostea pana in cele mai mici fapte, si de atatea ori a incercat sa
creasca acea dragoste in san, fie ea pentru profesorul sau Aron Pumnul, caruia
i-a dedicat o intreaga opera, fie pentru muza sa, Veronica, careia tind sa cred
ca i-a dedicat toate operele de dragoste, inclusiv “Luceafarul”.
Trebuie mentionat si
faptul ca, si cred ca o sa inchei cu asta, Mihai Eminescu este, in sine, Mihai
Eminescu, si nimic din lume nu poate sa schimbe asta. Numele sau aduce fericire
majoritatii cititorilor de poezie, mandrie celor cu nume de “e”, porecliti
Eminescu, si, cred ca am mai spus, asta, un amestec de sentimente pentru elevii
de la B.A.C.
Abonați-vă la:
Postări (Atom)