<?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-3363249613780195677</id><updated>2011-11-28T02:18:02.120+02:00</updated><category term='Me'/><category term='article-type'/><category term='Tu'/><category term='Imagini'/><category term='destin'/><category term='oameni'/><category term='fericire'/><category term='vara'/><category term='romania'/><category term='BR'/><category term='bloggerit'/><category term='amintiri din copilarie'/><category term='lmt'/><category term='Amintiri'/><category term='tampenii'/><category term='drog'/><category term='Zambet'/><category term='curente'/><category term='pervers'/><category term='experiente'/><category term='paul'/><category term='nervi'/><category term='codecs'/><category term='maine'/><category term='Eu'/><category term='craciun'/><category term='plictis'/><category term='never'/><category term='atingeri'/><category term='copilarii'/><category term='muzica'/><category term='T'/><category term='femei'/><category term='everest'/><category term='youth'/><category term='twilight'/><category term='spirit'/><category term='vant'/><category term='tamenii'/><category term='theo'/><category term='filme'/><category term='tipic'/><category term='touch'/><category term='Mondene'/><category term='share'/><category term='prize'/><category term='razvan'/><category term='bucuresti'/><category term='euforie'/><category term='patinaj'/><category term='miros'/><category term='ameteala'/><category term='Girls'/><category term='eye contact'/><category term='carti'/><category term='luceafar'/><category term='barbati'/><category term='anul nou'/><category term='Poveste'/><category term='venin'/><category term='diverse'/><category term='extaz'/><category term='coruptie'/><category term='Dragoste'/><category term='addictive'/><category term='leapsa'/><category term='seara'/><category term='noi'/><category term='olimpiade'/><category term='Viata'/><category term='polonia'/><category term='love'/><category term='engleza'/><category term='losing control'/><category term='cursuri'/><category term='abandon'/><category term='mister'/><category term='blower&apos;s daughter'/><category term='Rus'/><title type='text'>The Blower's Daughter</title><subtitle type='html'>And so it is.
Like you said it would be.
Life goes easy on me...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>134</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-317955411387660368</id><published>2009-09-14T17:49:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-14T17:50:42.631+03:00</updated><title type='text'>One Blower's daughter</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://oneblowersdaughter.wordpress.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img143.imageshack.us/img143/4039/mybanner4aae57cfed6c9.jpg" alt='Create your own banner at mybannermaker.com!' border=0 /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;Copy this code to your website to display this banner!&lt;br&gt;&lt;textarea cols="40" rows="2"&gt;&lt;a href="http://oneblowersdaughter.wordpress.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://img143.imageshack.us/img143/4039/mybanner4aae57cfed6c9.jpg" alt='Create your own banner at mybannermaker.com!' border=0 /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mybannermaker.com/"&gt;Make your own banner at MyBannerMaker.com!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/textarea&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-317955411387660368?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/317955411387660368/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=317955411387660368&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/317955411387660368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/317955411387660368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/09/one-blowers-daughter.html' title='One Blower&apos;s daughter'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-6665998760948054583</id><published>2009-07-21T00:33:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T00:35:49.703+03:00</updated><title type='text'>changed.</title><content type='html'>am trecut pe wordpress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma puteti gasi pe:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oneblowersdaughter.wordpress.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mi s-a parut mult mai promitator.:) si chiar e.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See ya there:).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-6665998760948054583?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/6665998760948054583/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=6665998760948054583&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6665998760948054583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6665998760948054583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/07/changed.html' title='changed.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-1065006354528249353</id><published>2009-07-14T19:40:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T21:52:44.031+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nervi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vara'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ameteala'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='plictis'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Revitalizare</title><content type='html'>Tre sa fac ceva cu blogu ista.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu imi place , vreau sa trec pe wordpress , dar mi-e drag conceptul de blogspot , pentru ca aici mi-am inceput "cariera" de blogger. Pfai de capu meu ce da sentimentalisme 8-.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neah , not that myriam lacroche anymore. Sunt prea cinica ca sa mai fiu asa romantica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar sunt conservatoare si daca m-am apucat de un blog pe blogspot apai asa ramane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si cu hi5-ul fac la fel. il am de printr-a 5 a , aveam aproape 500 de poze stranse in 6 ani , m-am indurat acum o saptamana sa sterg ce nu era cu mine , ce nu era relevant , chestii de prin gimnaziu care nu-si aveau rostul si am ramas cu 162 de poze. Nu pot sa-mi sterg contu de hi5. E un fel de album personal , cand am chef sa-mi aduc aminte de vacante , BR2008 , viata mea before highschool , acolo ma duc . Nu mai am poze in calculator , chestie care sucks , deci ma uit la poze pe hi5 . am cont si pe picassa , l-am facut ca sa share-uiesc cu some friends niste poze , dar hi5-ul e mai practic. nu simt nevoia sa primesc commenturi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fix asa e si cu blogu : am un istoric al tuturor lucrurilor pe care le-am debitat si nu am de gand sa trec pe wordpress si sa pierd 150 de postari [ wow!]. Nu scriu sa ajung ca zoso , sau pitzi.org , scriu ca asa imi vine mie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;recent l-am utilizat pentru creatie literara. initial mi s-a parut super chestia scrisa. Acum ca orice chestie scrisa de mine : it sucks. ma consolez cu garcia marquez care zicea ca el nu si-a recitit cartile decat poate una sau doua la batranete pentru ca la putin timp dupa publicare i se pareau foarte proaste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deci pastrez blogu si incerc sa aduc un suflu nou. make it more readable ;;).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In rest? Vacanta , passion &amp;amp; stuff. Der buch. lots of buchs:)). Trop buchs , ca sa le combin pe toate 3. Mai ich spreche deutsch , pe ici pe colo , mai un film , mai un nerv pe baza de plictis , mai un edit de poze pentru dev , mai o iesire in oras...&lt;br /&gt;nimic nou sub soare...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si totusi , cred ca trec pe wordpress. Sau nu.&lt;br /&gt;ma mai gandesc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-1065006354528249353?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/1065006354528249353/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=1065006354528249353&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1065006354528249353'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1065006354528249353'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/07/revitalizare.html' title='Revitalizare'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5512012901026065458</id><published>2009-07-09T19:16:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T19:43:20.135+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vara'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='addictive'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Vara la Seattle.</title><content type='html'>Vara e un sentiment . Vara te cuprinde pe nesimtite si apoi te lasi pierdut in inertia ei asteptand ceva surprinzator , ceva care sa te uimeasca , care sa te loveasca drept in fata si apoi sa-ti dai seama uimit de sensul vietii sau de nu stiu ce alta chestie uriasa.&lt;br /&gt;  Eu si vara suntem bune prietene. In sensul ca eu stau , iar ea ma lasa sa stau cat vreau eu , sa legumizez in pat cu mark sloan sau derek shepherd , si apoi sa legumizez din nou gandindu-ma la cariera mea de viitor medic intern la seattle grace. Mda , comunic cu un  serial . In pat toata ziua. Si apoi cand reusesc sa ma ridic din pat , ma gandesc ca ar trebui sa mai deschid cartea cu variante la mate , sau sa fac ceva la engleza , sau sa mai invat putina germana , sau sa-mi fac curaj sa pun unul din cd-urile alea de ecoute la franceza pentru ca mai am putin si dau bacu' , dar de fiecare freakin time , ma razgandesc si mai dau play la inca un episod. Sunt chiar curioasa , cand o sa termin seria asta ce fac? Seria urmatoare inca se mai filmeaza.&lt;br /&gt; I'm a TV series addict. Si e mai rau decat daca eram a sleep addict sau sweets addict. Nici macar nu mananc decat daca e suspansul foarte mare in episod.&lt;br /&gt; Tocmai am realizat ce fac dupa ce termin sezonul asta. Imi iau prison break. evident. si apoi o sa vreau sa vad OTH. Si Gossip Girl. Lost. Heroes. The 4400.Si ce mai e acum pe val? Scrubs. Private Practice. Si nici nu cred ca am timp sa ma uit la toate pentru ca intre timp trebuie sa am grija sa nu fiu declarata in coma sau mai stiu eu ce pentru ca viata mea sociala o sa devina inexistenta.&lt;br /&gt;  M-am vopsit roscat . Sunt roscata . si apoi mi-am indreptat parul ca sa seman cu o persoana fictiva. I'm a weirdo ain't I? Dar cel putin arat al naibii de bine , macar ca m-am dus si sa ma pensez si tanti de-acolo m-a pensat exact ca personajul fictiv. O sa devin si eu un personaj fictiv.&lt;br /&gt;Dar cel putin nu-s moarta dupa un tip gay [ asta e cu directie. &gt;:)totusi deocamdata mai am o viata sociala]&lt;br /&gt;  Being an addict sucks. But still , it's a wonderful ,  wonderful feeling. It's such a beautiful world in there. I'm an addict. Damn it. Can't help it.&lt;br /&gt;  Ma duc sa-mi cumpar o inghetata pana nu o iau razna.&lt;br /&gt;  Neaparat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TTYL.&lt;br /&gt;[ pe asta am invatat-o tot dintr-un TV series.]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5512012901026065458?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5512012901026065458/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5512012901026065458&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5512012901026065458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5512012901026065458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/07/vara-la-seattle.html' title='Vara la Seattle.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-6059384132176361850</id><published>2009-06-21T21:18:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T00:24:22.851+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='youth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poveste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='luceafar'/><title type='text'>Vant.</title><content type='html'>Isi simtea buzele arse de soare si pielea ii mirosea placut a sare.&lt;br /&gt; Adulmeca vantul cu ochii inchisi , privind in memorie sfarsitul unei alte zile. Se intreba, sau poate ca nu. Poate ca era o certitudine. Nu mai astepta nimic , poate era mai bine sa faca acel pas. Poate ca se va simti eliberata.&lt;br /&gt;  Isi trecu limba peste buzele aramii , cu gandul departe. Deschise ochii si privi marea. Era la fel ca data trecuta : nelinistita , tulburata. Dar mai presus de toate albastra si vie. Ii amintea de... Dar facu un efort sa nu-si mai aminteasca. Nu avea rost , pentru ce ? Memoria pastreaza mereu exact ce ai vrea sa uiti , tocmai pentru ca te straduiesti prea tare sa nu-ti mai amintesti.&lt;br /&gt; Briza era inca placuta , calda , pastra vie amintirea verii , refuza intocmai ei sa se gandeasca la ziua de maine , la toamna . Toamna nu e doar un pastel e despartirea de mare , de viata colorata , de ... nu are rost. Mai bine ca vine toamna.&lt;br /&gt;  Pasii ei pe ponton la lumina lunii rasunau parca , in ecou surd cu valurile. Era locul in care putea sa gandeasca . Uneori murmura , cu voce ragusita , soapte neintelese decat de mare si de luna. Acolo era libera , inteleasa. Si acolo intr-o seara... Dar nu. Nu. Nu mai avea rost. Acum venea toamna , de ce sa mai...?&lt;br /&gt;  Razele de soare ii rasfirau parul roscat . Ochii ii scaparau de furie , apoi se imblanzira , clocoteau  nehotarati. Cazu in genunchi secatuita. Dar de ce sa nu se gandeasca ? Poate ca era cel mai bun lucru care i se intamplase vreodata.&lt;br /&gt;  In una din serile acelea cu luna plina , cand izbutea cu greu sa se desparta de toti ceilalti care o voiau tot mai aproape , sa o sufoce cu vulgaritati , cu replici ieftine o cautau , o invitau la dans , o&lt;br /&gt;haituiau , in zadar , atunci , crezand ca era singura , vorbea delirant marii. Tot atunci decisese ca e prea mult , ca nu suporta lumea in care trebuia sa traiasca parand vesela si mereu dispusa sa accepte invitatii peste invitatii , fiind o parte a lumii bune .&lt;br /&gt; " Da am sa mi te dau tie... Tu stii ce-i cel mai bine , nu -i asa? Dar ia-ma , du-ma departe , arunca-ma , fa ce vrei cu mine , sunt numai a ta..."Intinse mainile , le ridica catre cer , privi oglindirea lunii in apa si vru sa faca un pas catre abis.&lt;br /&gt;   Dar ce avea sa faca maman? " Ah , Maman , Maman , tu nu te ai putea descurca fara mine..." Incepu sa planga si dorinta ei de a se darui marii i se paru prosteasca acum , cand stia cata nevoie avea Maman de ea  si cat de mult o iubea Lidia , chiar si Lucian tinea la ea . Da , Maman nu avea cum sa reziste intrebarilor lui Lucian , iar Lidia ... Lidia voia sa fie ca ea. Nu putea sa o dezamageasca pe Lidia.&lt;br /&gt;   Lacrimi? Atunci sau acum? Nu. Niciodata , lacrimile erau prea patetice. Nu era dramatica , i se pareau goale , fara orgoliu , chiar dezgustatoare cele care plangeau in fata cuiva .Era poate vina tatalui ei , care intotdeauna cand era mica , o lasa sa planga numai daca primea o lovitura foarte puternica fizic , nu credea in lacrimi pe motive de moralitate. Jignirile erau pentru a intari , iar cei care plangeau cand se simteau jigniti erau niste lasi , sau mai degraba niste prefacuti. Ultima oara plansese in public la 4 ani , cand a fost prima si ultima oara cand tatal ei ii prezentase aceasta conceptie. Plangea rar si numai atunci cand se simtea disperata si fara cale de iesire dintr-o situatie , cand se simtea sufocata , captiva intr-o cusca in care se invartea de prea mult timp.&lt;br /&gt;    Nu , nu plansese in seara aceea. Avea poate ochii sticlosi , dar stralucitori , demni si plini de o hotarare infricosatoare .&lt;br /&gt;    "Mai tarziu , mai tarziu... Nu am sa-mi uit promisiunea".&lt;br /&gt;     Briza era parca mai rece atunci , in seara aceea , decat acum la apus. Se auzeau glasuri. Cativa turisti veneau galagiosi de la plaja. Ce ciudati ii pareau , asa , bine dispusi , alergand fara noima , strigandu-se incontinuu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    "Mircea ! Mircea ! Unde fugi?"&lt;br /&gt;     " Departe de tine , Cristina , unde as putea sa fug?"&lt;br /&gt;   Mircea vazu silueta alba impietrita si rochia fluturandu-i usor in vant si se opri brusc , asteptand-o pe Cristina.&lt;br /&gt;     " Ai vazut ?" sopti ea , discret , sa nu fie auzita de silueta , pierzandu-se in bratele lui Mircea , parca de frica de a nu fi la fel de singura ca ea.&lt;br /&gt;      " Da." zise el , grabind pasul si intelegandu-i dorul Cristinei , o saruta incet pe frunte cu gandul ca fantomatica aparitie isi va lua zborul , dar el nu avea nici timp , nici chef sa se implice.O avea pe Cristina.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       Umbra nu se misca. Da , Mircea si Cristina.  Ei nu intelegeau. Si ce daca? Nu era conceputa pentru a trai in deplina intelegere , sau pentru a fi inteleasa. De ce ar fi fost?&lt;br /&gt;        In aceea seara cu luna plina il cunoscuse. Facuse pasii de retragere , pentru a rupe juramantul facut marii si se lovise de el.&lt;br /&gt;       Era la fel de gol ca ea si avea aceeasi privire de piatra , neinduiosata si hotarata ca a ei. Tresarise usor , dar in prezenta unui strain se acoperi de puterea care o salva mereu din mainile urmaritorilor . Dar el nu parea ... Dar cine parea? Toti erau la fel. Uimiti , intorceau mereu capul , desi nu stiau de ce. Ii admirau ochii negri , prea intunecati pentru o fata asa dragalasa , spuneau cei curtenitori , femeile , atotstiutoare spuneau ca nu-i deloc dragalasa , ca se vede ca i o scorpie dupa cat de intunecata ii e privirea si ca tenul ii era prea matur. Dar cine era lumea? El , strainul din noapte ce voia , se credea special de indraznea sa o urmareasca?&lt;br /&gt;        " Nu te-am urmarit." raspunse el unei intrebari nerostite. " Nu te-ai fi aruncat."&lt;br /&gt;         "Cine esti tu?" intreba ea nerecunoscand in acel om acea privire si acea maniera de a fi.&lt;br /&gt;          " Nu sunt poate nimic din ceea ce stii. O puslama. Asta cred toti." spuse el ridicand usor din umeri cu un zambet aspru in colturile gurii. " Lucian te iubeste mai mult decat crezi. Mie imi spune mai multe decat voua . " Zambi din nou.&lt;br /&gt;           Obosi. Se aseza jos. Baiatul asta era bizar , straniu de atragator prin nedelicatetea lui . Cand se mutasera in casa de la mare , carase tuturor bagajele , cu exceptia ei , ca sa-i demonstreze ca o crede rasfatata si nedemna de tot ceea ce are. Se chinuise singura cu acel cufar urias pe scari , trezind-o pe mama ei si spunandu-i ca nu a vrut ea sa-i fie carat cufarul , din orgoliu si pentru a-i intoarce injosirea lui. Il vazuse suprins a doua zi cand aflase circumstantele in care aflase familie de intamplare. Dar el nu se lasase. Cu atat mai putin ea. Se injoseau si se suportau reciproc fara sa isi vorbeasca . Intr-una din zile mama ei ii propusese sa mearga insotita de el la piata , pentru ca el sa care , iar ea sa aleaga. L-ar fi putut umili , dar intorcandu-se si vazandu-i privirea ironica intelese ca ar fi fost castigul lui , ar fi demonstrat cat de slaba e , asa ca s-a uitat hotarata la mama ei si a spus "Pentru ce?Nu am nevoie de nimic."&lt;br /&gt;           Iar acum el era la doi pasi de ea , pe ponton. Pentru ce o urmarise?&lt;br /&gt;           " De ce nu vrei sa ceri ajutor , niciodata?"&lt;br /&gt;            "Pentru ca nu am nevoie , cu atat mai putin..."&lt;br /&gt;            " De la mine."&lt;br /&gt;       Lasara sa se scurga clipe lungi , apoi el cobori cu grija si se aseza langa ea . " Vezi luminile de acolo?"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       Ii povestise intreaga lui viata. Ea tacea , ascultand , fascinata. Deci existau si oameni care nu se complaceau in mizerie , vulgaritati , ascunsi in invelisuri neasteptate. A doua zi s-au intalnit din nou acolo , fara sa planuiasca . Si-a spus si ea povestea , poate chiar mai putin vesela ca a lui .&lt;br /&gt;       Zilele erau insa la fel. Nu isi schimbase insa felul in care il trata , desi uneori ii zambea de la fereastra la care picta . Avea ochi cenusii , patrunzatori , poate prea patrunzatori , zambea aspru si ironic si era atat de bronzat , incat isi pierdea nationalitatea , parea pur si simplu venit din desert.&lt;br /&gt;        Intr-o seara i se facu frig . El ii povestea despre tatal lui care pierise in razboi, privind furios, disperat marea. Se zgribuli si el intinse o mana protector. In el gasea un prieten , primul ei prieten , pe care il putea asculta fara sa fie plictisita de vorbe ieftine. Era o poveste , el insusi era o carte deschisa , cu file albe , neatinse ...&lt;br /&gt;        -...&lt;br /&gt;        - Ce-i? Te deranjeaza?&lt;br /&gt;        - Nu. Dar... Voiam sa stii ...Iti multumesc.&lt;br /&gt;        -... Vrei sa mergem?...&lt;br /&gt;        - Nu... Hai sa ne pierdem o data cu rasaritul...&lt;br /&gt;      Din departare se auzeau strigate... Se auzea o  voce pe al caror buze era numele  ei.&lt;br /&gt;        - E Luci... Lasa-l sa vina.&lt;br /&gt;        - Bine...&lt;br /&gt;   Se supuse si cand fratele ei veni gasindu si un loc cald in bratele ei , simti ca facuse ceva bine in seara aia. Desi stia ca el ar fi oprit-o.&lt;br /&gt;         - Mamica zice sa vii acasa. S-au certat , ea si taticu'  , ziceau ca tu si el , ca nu te-a adus aici sa legi ... nu stiu ce sa legi. Ilinco? Tu ai sa te mariti cu omul ala?&lt;br /&gt;          Ea impietri.&lt;br /&gt;          - Ce om Luci?&lt;br /&gt;          - Mamica asa a zis . Ca nu da zes... zes... aia a ta pe orice zef..zefle.... Ah! Stii tu cum zice mamica... Ca te mariti cu nea Mavrodin. Nenea care mi-a adus jucarii si bomboane.&lt;br /&gt;        Deci voiau sa o marite cu omul ala pentru avere. Nu conta varsta sau ce isi dorea ea.&lt;br /&gt;           - Hai sa fugim...vino cu mine! il implora disperata.&lt;br /&gt;     Stia ca mama ei era hotarata sa ii gaseasca o "partida" buna si acum intelegea de ce mama ei o forta mereu sa fie asa politicoasa cand venea el la ceai si ii cumpara mereu rochii noi , de matase , cand ea le purta tot pe cele de in si de bumbac imediat ce pleca Mavrodin.&lt;br /&gt;            - Ilinco , nu pot. Mama e bolnava , unde o las? Daca o dau si pe ea afara?&lt;br /&gt;            - Nu mi esti prieten ....&lt;br /&gt;            - Dar Ilinco , tu nu intelegi? As vrea cu disperare sa nu te las... Iti promit Ilinco, iti promit , mai tarziu ,  mai tarziu...&lt;br /&gt;            - Promisiuni desarte marii...&lt;br /&gt;           Il lua pe Luci in brate , parca ii era mai drag ca oricand si fugi , fugi , fugi , fara sa priveasca in urma.&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;br /&gt;        Azi , se implinea o luna. Nu se mai ducea la mare seara desi suferea in absenta valurilor care sa o tulbure si sa o impace. Privea pe fereastra catre ponton si el era mereu acolo , mereu asteptand-o.&lt;br /&gt;         Era un apus sangeriu. Mircea si Cristina isi pierdusera pasii in zare. Ei nu ii fusesera niciodata prieteni , erau doar dansatorii de la bal...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;          Cand ajunsese acasa mama ei era obosita de fericire.&lt;br /&gt;         - Ilinco , pe unde ai umblat? Vezi sa nu racesti , nu de alta dar... zambi ea.&lt;br /&gt;         - Ce maman , vrei sa ma mariti curand? replica ea taios. Ei bine , afla ca nu il iau pe Mavrodin oricat de mult l-ai iubi tu , daca il socotesti potrivit , marita-te dumneata cu el!&lt;br /&gt;          -Ilinco! Ce vorbe's astea?&lt;br /&gt;        Nu ii raspunse , urca in camera ei grabita , incuie usa si se lungi in pat prada unei tulburari vecine cu isteria. Tremura din toate incheieturile. Nu , nu se va marita cu Mavrodin . Nu era o idealista , stia ca nu se va marita neaparat din dragoste , dar Mavrodin era un mos bogat , burtos, care o voia pentru tineretea sa , dar si pentru zestre ,  stia cat era de zgarcit si ca nu ar fi luat-o doar pentru tinerete...Nu spera la un Luceafar venit din adancurile marii , se multumea ca orice Catalina , cu un Catalin , dar nu acesta era Catalin al ei. Poate ca era timpul sa implineasca promisiunea facuta marii.&lt;br /&gt;         Dar o obligara. In ziua cand ii spuse da , ca se va marita cu Mavdrodin, el nu mai astepta la ponton , iar in ziua urmatoare pleca impreuna cu mama lui , la niste rude de la tara spuneau ei. Isi luara la revedere cordial , iar el ii strecura un bilet in mana , in timp ce i-o saruta la fel de ceremonios.&lt;br /&gt;       - Sarut mainile , duduita , casa de piatra!&lt;br /&gt;       Deci asta ii dorea. Casa de piatra... Rupse biletul . Nu voia sa stie , nu ii era prieten . Si ea care crezuse ca il iubeste. Copila natanga... La urma urmei , el era baiatul bucataresei si nimic mai mult. Va avea un sot bogat care ii va face toate poftele , iar cand se va satura de el , isi va plati tributul marii. Nu-l iubise pe el . Nu avusese timp.&lt;br /&gt;      &lt;br /&gt;         Acum , in zarea violet-portocalie ii vedea ochii aspri , stia ca se inselase. Ii era singurul prieten pierdut , poate Catalin , poate Luceafar. A doua zi era nunta . Isi va plati tributul acum. nu va astepta sa fie atinsa de acel om , caruia ii sticleau ochii , ca dupa un pahar in plus de vin mereu cand o vedea , nu va astepta. Ridica mainile , ca in acea seara , si gandindu-se la maman isi dadu seama ca era numai vina lui maman , iar Lidia stia si intelegea , iar  Lucian  , ii va explica Lidia , dar poate ca si el va intelege.&lt;br /&gt;         - Iata-ma iti platesc tributul promis!&lt;br /&gt;      Intinse mainile si voi sa plonjeze in valurile inspumate. Dar se impiedica de ceva. Deschise ochii.&lt;br /&gt;        - Ilinco , ti-am spus sa astepti , ce voiai sa faci? Ilinco , Ilinco , sopti el pierdut , realizand ca daca ar mai fi intarziat o singura secunda ar fi putut sa o  piarda. Ilinco , sunt o puslama , dar fugi cu mine. Iti voi fi acelasi prieten , poate...&lt;br /&gt;         - Tu esti Luceafarul , tu nu esti Catalin. Tu nu esti Catalin ... se pierdu ea simtindu-i mirosul sarat de bronz .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;         O lua pe brate si goni in zare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-6059384132176361850?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/6059384132176361850/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=6059384132176361850&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6059384132176361850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6059384132176361850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/06/vant.html' title='Vant.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-1333935582650009619</id><published>2009-05-17T23:03:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-17T23:35:18.865+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='T'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='abandon'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='losing control'/><title type='text'>conflict.</title><content type='html'>Am revenit. Aceeasi. Sau nu? Mai zbuciumata  , mai constienta , mai alerta , dar aceeasi. Traiesc cu o noua intensitate aproape tulburatoare , ma sperie , imi place , nu stiu .&lt;br /&gt; Nu as fi scris. Dar e prea intens sa nu scriu. Viata mea e aceeasi , monotona , acelasi Styx vesnic curgator , aceeasi negura , acelasi Hades. Dar ce se intampla cu mine? Nu inteleg unde e punctul de pornire , unde intriga pentru conflictele interioare de acum. Am ajuns deja la punctul culminant , il traiesc , nu stiu daca razbesc sa ajung la deznodamant , dar desfasurarea actiunii nu exista , exista doar o expozitiune si intriga , dar care? Fac anumite conexiuni , subconstient , un impuls Freudian imi spune ce e de vina , dar refuz sa l urmez pe firul logic al actiunii.&lt;br /&gt; Sentimentul e prea nebunesc. Gnothi se auton. Pe firul asta merg acum , asta vreau ,  asta urmaresc , dar nu stiu daca o sa reusesc sa patrund acolo unde imi doresc. E usor sa ii cunosti pe ceilalti,  e greu sa te cunosti pe tine.&lt;br /&gt; Cel mai putin din lumea asta ma cunosc pe mine. Mi-e mai usor sa patrund sa vad ce vor ceilalti oameni sa para , ce-si doresc , desi ei nu-si dau seama de propriile dorinte , dar si eu ca si ei , nu-mi dau seama ce vreau eu. cine sunt eu. de ce eu. unde , cum si cand.&lt;br /&gt;   Parca tot ceea ce caut e sa devin supra-omul lui nietzsche , fara sa-mi dau seama ca nu voi reusi niciodata. Citeam in marquez ca omul atunci cand isi da seama ca e mic , atunci incearca sa creasca si cu cat creste , cu atat isi pare , lui insusi mai mic. Sat sapienti. Cu cat citesc , ma apropii de idealurile , de utopiile ce ma framanta zi de zi cu atat imi par mai departe eu de mine , ele de mine , lumea de mine.&lt;br /&gt;   Parca era usor sa explic asta. Parea simplu , credeam ca toti suntem la fel , ca avem aceleasi teluri , idealuri , stereotipii: ah , tinerii , sunt toti la fel  energici , intensi si neintelesi. Depinde ce nu intelegi.&lt;br /&gt;  Eu vreau sa traiesc. Sa traiesc asa cum vreau , desi nu stiu cum vreau. Nu vreau sa regret nimic atunci cand imi voi aminti si stiu ca oricum nu o sa regret nimic , dar totusi incerc. Fantezista mi se pare incercarea unora de a savura timpul prea putin , de parca nu s-ar topi la fel de repede, orice am face.&lt;br /&gt;   A sosit momentul cand nu mai astept "sa ma fac mare" . Si cand te faci mare ce faci? Cand ai o cariera intunecata  in fata , cand nu vezi decat ziua de maine , saptamana viitoare , vara , poate niste examene si apoi nimic? a fost nimic , mai erau multi ani , dar acum e nimic. nimic. orizonturi inguste , amurguri violete.&lt;br /&gt;   It's getting late my time is running out&lt;br /&gt;   No one special nothing lasting within sight&lt;br /&gt;  How should I stay calm when panic lies just ahead,&lt;br /&gt;   Everyone can see my youth hanging by a thread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am descoperit melodia intamplator. Dar ma defineste. Poate ca nu e prea tarziu , dar ce era mai bun a trecut. nu mai e. a zburat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mi-aduc aminte de o carte pe care am citit-o prin clasa a 7a : unde se duce copilaria cand oamenii cresc mari?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unde sa ma duc? Ce sa fac? nimeni nu-mi impune un termen, poate doar eu , timpul si eu din nou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ce caut? De ce?&lt;br /&gt;Ma vreau  pe mine inapoi , vreau olimpul , nu infernul. Dar cobor treptele lui Dante.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lasciate ogne speranza voi ch'intrate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-1333935582650009619?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/1333935582650009619/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=1333935582650009619&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1333935582650009619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1333935582650009619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/05/conflict.html' title='conflict.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-3976667795692255244</id><published>2009-04-28T21:51:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T23:06:06.932+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='romania'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tampenii'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tipic'/><title type='text'>Rahaturi cotidiene bloggeresti</title><content type='html'>Am citit pe site ul Cotidianul un &lt;a href="http://http//cotidianul.ro/obsesiile_liceenilor_romani_pe_blog_copiatul_high_tech_chiulul_amorul_si_ecologia-81909.html"&gt;articol &lt;/a&gt;foarte interesant despre blogurile din ziua de azi. Mai ales blogurile de liceu , din a caror categorie fac parte si eu , in mod evident. Articolul , destul de bine scris spunea niste chestii foarte adevarate.&lt;br /&gt;  din curiozitate , am citit niste articole de pe blogurile ale caror linkuri apareau pe site.&lt;br /&gt; si am ramas profund scarbita. La dracu cu blogurile , eu il mai tin p-asta asa pentru cand ma apuca si n-am ce sa fac , dar sa te mai dai si mare destept cu el , hai lasa-ne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;iata : &lt;a href="http://http//dyxy.haipa.ro/2009/04/09/lumea-e-in-continua-schimbare/"&gt;aici&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DIN ACEASTA DESCRIERE NU FAC BAIETII DE TREABA. SA NU SE INTELEAGA GRESIT.EU AICI DUC O DISCUTIE CU UN PITIPONC IMAGINAR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ia lumineaza-ne tu fata , cum faci tu diferenta? Ca poate pitiponcii se cred de treaba si ei , ce le zici , faci selectie ca la auschwitz? Tu , hm , mergi , tu ai adidasi de la puma , eu nu , esti coco-puff-daddy pitziponc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In concluzie, dragi pitiponci (am auzit si de termenul cocalar da mie imi place pitiponc) si pitipoance, ma bucur sa va stiu asa cum sunteti, macar am de ce sa rad si eu,right? Va urez o viata buna in continuare!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;! ! ! NU AM ABSOLUT NIMIC CU BAIETII SI FETELE DE TREABA. AICI M`AM LUAT DE RATATII ROMANIEI. NU VREAU SA SE INTELEAGA GRESIT.SI DACA ESTE VREUN PITIPONC/PITIPOANCA CARE SA COMENTEZE, SA`I DEA DRUMU`. VA ASTEPT. GATA. LUCRURILE SUNT LAMURITE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Complet lamurite fatha , wow , m-ai luminat complet. Ma simt asa , shtii tu , de park ash fi in dorobantzi la o cafea fatha sa vorbim shi noi despre shtii prostii aia , care nu s veritabili fatha , ne strica valoarea , dupa cum shtii fatha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aa. Bai , daca eu am un blog , macar recunosc ca e aproape de tot cacatu , da il tin , asa cum pastrez toate biletele pe care le gasesc ziua in ghiozdan cu gandul la revederea de douj'da ani. Plus ca am si ceva avantaje, n-are rost sa vorbim despre asta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok , dar cand catalogam asa categoriile astea de pit"z"i , ne-am gandit oare vreodata ca fiecare dintre noi e mai mult sau mai put"z"in  pit"z"i? Nu prea cred , but let's face it my dears:&lt;br /&gt;Generatia noastra , generatia cu pit"z"iponci sau cocalari si pit"z"ipoance sau paras"h"ute , este o generatie formata in 99% din ratati. Ma  refer mai ales la cei fix din generatia mea si cei un pic mai jos . Ii admir pe-aia care-s acum a 12 a aia sunt normali in procent de 60%.&lt;br /&gt;Dar noi , oh , vai , dragii mei , suntem de cacat si in cacat.&lt;br /&gt;Noi vom proteja mediul si vom schimba lumea? cum ? Chiulind sau copiind la teste?&lt;br /&gt;Noi suntem aparatorii patriei si viitorul acestei tari , noi promovam valori si traditii cu tz .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noi nu stie sa vorbeste bine romaneste , noi foloseste bloagele sa se dea mari ca noi stie cine e bucurenci si ca noi comunica cu mircea badea , noi are messenger si vorbeste codificat sa nu intelege boii de la conducere cand vorbeste noi la telefon: Cf , ba ? Bn, u? k, tre s'plec , ma grb. k, bye. Adevarul e ca noi estem o rasa inteligenta , viitorul acestei tari.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hai mai da-o dracu cu prefacutul asta , ne intereseaza doar gloria personala , sa zica colegii vai ce tare e tipa/ tipu asta cu blog , scrie fain , are sanse mari sa ajunga undeva , ca sa ne felicite : vai fatha ce fain ai scris , mi-au dat lacrimile" si e valabil nu numai pentru liceeni , toti o facem pentru faima , nu stiu ce naiba ne mai dam ingeri acuma , cand suntem demoni din nastere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cacat , pitzipoance , cocalari , bloggeri , mult cacat din nou , cam asta e lumea de azi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S ACEASTA POSTARE ESTE CA SA VEDETI CAT DE EGOISTA SI EGOCENTRICA SUNT SI CA SUNT MAI PITZIPOANCA CA ORICE PITZIPOANCA SI CA MA VREAU VEDETA TUTUROR BLOGURILOR ROMANESTI.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bai ma lasi?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hai pa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iulia.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-3976667795692255244?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/3976667795692255244/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=3976667795692255244&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3976667795692255244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3976667795692255244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/04/rahaturi-cotidiene-bloggeresti.html' title='Rahaturi cotidiene bloggeresti'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-3309754200685164458</id><published>2009-04-22T20:59:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T21:15:27.013+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Panica.</title><content type='html'>Nu stiu daca ati constientizat vreodata cat de tare va sperie ceva. Pe unii ne sperie furnicile , paienjenii si alte insectute din astea mai paroase si cu multe picioare. Pe altii ii sperie vorbitul in public , pe altii ii sperie moartea.&lt;br /&gt; Pe mine nu ma sperie vorbitul in public - prea rau. Ave &lt;a href="http://paulolteanu.ro/"&gt;Paul&lt;/a&gt; si LMT probabil.&lt;br /&gt; Nu ma sperie moartea.&lt;br /&gt; Nu ma mai sperie asa de rau nici insectele.&lt;br /&gt;Dar mi-e frica sa nu o dau in bara. Ocaziile unice in viata au o chestie unica si anume ca sunt unice.:).&lt;br /&gt;Am o astfel de ocazie in fata. Si sunt atat de panicata ca nu o sa reusesc , ca nu o sa mi se implineasca visul incat ma sufoc.&lt;br /&gt;Dar , cand ma gandesc la posibilitatea implinirii visului meu ma sufoc pentru mai mult timp. Mi-e atat de frica , sperantele sunt atat de ciudate , nu stiu ce vreau si de ce nu stiu ce vreau .&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-3309754200685164458?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/3309754200685164458/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=3309754200685164458&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3309754200685164458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3309754200685164458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/04/panica.html' title='Panica.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-337903518774644987</id><published>2009-04-15T21:20:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T23:27:53.333+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blower&apos;s daughter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oameni'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='miros'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='atingeri'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='losing control'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='extaz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='experiente'/><title type='text'>Pur si simplu.</title><content type='html'>Afara miroase a fum. Dar in casa mea miroase altfel. In casa mea miroase a prieteni , si-au lasat aroma in casa. E inca la fel de calda de ei, e inca proaspat. Doar eu am ramas in urma in propriul meu camin , dar nu ma deranjeaza atata timp cat stiu ca vor reveni , atata timp cat inca le mai simt prezenta in fiecare lucru care nu-i la locul lui prin casa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M-am intors la Suskind, iar. M-am intors la Parfumul iar. Poate nu ati citit cartea , poate ati vazut doar filmul , poate nu ati vazut / citit , poate ar trebui sa faceti chestia asta. De ce? Pentru ca merita , pentru ca vezi anumite chestii intr o alta perspectiva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am realizat inca o data cat de dependenta sunt de mirosuri. Nu parfumuri , mirosuri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mirosul de piatra. Rece , rigid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mirosul aerului cand vine primavara.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miros de toamna mucegaita.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mirosul incins al tramvaielor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mirosul meu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mirosul tau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mirosul cafelei in diminetile de dupa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mirosul pamantului secetos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mirosul caietelor noi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mirosul mobilei de nuc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mirosul vietii.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evident , obiectele , chestiile neinsufletite detin o putere mai mica de acaparare a simturilor noastre , chiar si petrolul si mobila noua nu miros la fel ca un om. Oamenii sunt mult mai palpabili, iar mirosurile nasc dorinte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ne simtim confortabil in patul nostru , tocmai pentru ca e imbibat de mirosul nostru uman. Cand intram in casa noastra detectam imediat orice miros strain , tocmai pentru ca nu e al nostru.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar , dat fiind ca nu rar impartim patul cu alte persoane , acel miros totodata familiar , este si scanteia care conduce spre mai mult. Ca o incheietura dezvelita in Orient. Ca un val desprins. Mirosurile se imbina si se dezbina energic. Capacitatea de a da de urma celei mai mici farame dintr-un tot unitar mirositor e unica. Cei ce diseca au atat avantaje cat si dezavantaje: poti da de urma celui mai ademenitor miros din lume... si ce faci atunci?&lt;br /&gt;As putea spune ca stiu. Stiu ce am facut. am inspirat adanc , pentru totdeauna. Dar se uita o data cu amintirea propriu zisa a momentului. Nu suntem durabili , tocmai de aia unii isi doresc sa pastreze anumite mirosuri pentru eternitate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ca sa dau o definitie placerii pur si simplu de a fi : pat , lenjerie satinata , camasa de bumbac cu un miros masculin [ ales pe spranceana evident ] sau pur si simplu o camasa barbateasca. [ P.S valabil numai pentru fete sau ... gay? ].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Simturile si instinctele , nu ratiunea ar trebui sa ne ghideze de multe ori.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bumbac , cafea , alintaroma , miros de zori , amiaza incinsa , apusuri insorite , praf in vant , costinesti , zapada inghetata , becuri stinse , maini impletite si piele fina , indragostitii din curtea scolii , frunza din dudul bunicii , zgomotul motocicletelelor pe autostrada , intalniri in fum , prima seara de revelion fara parinti ,&lt;br /&gt;zmeura dintre buzele tale , ploaia marunta de la malul marii , primul nostru sarut , scoica din valuri gasita de tine la 6 ani , tipa care ti-a zambit dubios in tramvai , bucuresti , cortul de pe propriul nostru munte .&lt;br /&gt;Miros toate , au o amprenta olfactiva.&lt;br /&gt;Am pierdut deja ce voiam sa pastrez in seara asta viu. Se pierd mai usor decat as fi crezut , dar exista si posibilitatea de a ramane eu in urma.  Sa denaturez orice obiect prin parfumul meu. Si ah , Suskind , daca as avea ocazia lui Jean Baptiste , probabil ca as exploata-o fara sa ucid , pentru ca imi place palpabilul , sunt mediocra , evident parte a umanului , nu as putea sa ucid fara regretul ca as fi putut sa ating acea piele , sa ma imbat cu viata din spatele parfumului. Si daca parfumul nu  imi mai place? N-ar fi pur si simplu incorect sa ucid? Nu urmaresc obtinerea parfumului care sa-mi ofere atotputernicia asupra rasei din care fac parte , asa cum nu dispun de un nas suficient de bun pentru asa ceva.&lt;br /&gt; Pf. Fantezii. 16 , infinit. Sa ma bucur si sa traiesc . Tactilul e urmarea olfactivului. Nu ma pot abtine . E ca o ciocolata cu prea mult cacao.&lt;br /&gt;Noapte buna.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;M.L.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventual Paste Fericit !&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-337903518774644987?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/337903518774644987/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=337903518774644987&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/337903518774644987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/337903518774644987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/04/pur-si-simplu.html' title='Pur si simplu.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-3233971887361841805</id><published>2009-04-07T23:59:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-08T00:32:51.505+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='polonia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='oameni'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='curente'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='experiente'/><title type='text'>Fuse , fuse si se duse.</title><content type='html'>Mda. A trecut si asta. Adica a fost , a trecut , finito , gata. Done.&lt;br /&gt;Dobje , cum ar zice polonezul.&lt;br /&gt;Schimb de experienta pe limba franceza in Polonia s-a numit ce am facut eu saptamana trecuta.&lt;br /&gt;de fapt , a fost un fel de excursie in Budapesta [ podul cu lanturi o sa ramana pe vecie in vocabularul nostru ] , Polonia [ unde as putea sa mentionez mandria orasului in care am stat , un parc imens , mai mare ca central park-ul din new york , auschwitz - birkenau - without any other comments  - si cracovia si castelul wawel - cu ocazia asta am aflat de unde si de ce se numesc dulciurile de la wawel asa - ]si  in cele din urma Viena unde am vazut cele mai importante monumente - turnul dunarii de la departare , pagoda sichouan , restaurant chinezesc si cladirea onu [ numa de ghizi tampiti am avut parte] .&lt;br /&gt;In ceea ce priveste franceza ... Sigur :-@ . Decat daca engleza nu se numeste mai nou franceza , atunci noi cu siguranta nu am avut un schimb de experienta in care sa vorbim in franceza.&lt;br /&gt;Concluzia : o sa i nenorocim pe ei cand vin la noi doar pentru ca ne-au tarat in fiecare zi cate 5-6 kilometri pe jos , ca sa vedem cine stie ce chestie partial interesanta , acum stim mai multe despre istoria orasului chorzow [ care nu , nu se citeste asa , ci hojuv , n am habar de ce ] , decat stiau chiar si ei.&lt;br /&gt;Cuvintele de la baza experientei au fost " on y va " , aproape singurele in franceza , daca nu punem la socoteala ghida din auschwitz si din castelul wawel .&lt;br /&gt;All in all , fuse fain di tat. am avut o partenera de schimb foarte draguta , cam nebuna , un fel de copie poloneza a mea , am avut ocazia sa vad locuri care nici prin gand nu mi ar fi dat ca le voi vizita vreodata .&lt;br /&gt;more info here : &lt;a href="http://en.auschwitz.org.pl/m/"&gt;http://en.auschwitz.org.pl/m/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nu vreau sa dau detalii , desi asta a fost partea pe care am apreciat-o cel mai mult. Sentimentele de acolo nu pot fi comparate cu nimic in lume. Constiinta ca acolo a fost cel mai mare lagar de concetrare , ca a insemnat moartea a milioane de oameni nevinovati si doar vederea fotografiilor a o parte din oamenii de acolo si a chinurilor la care au fost supusi a fost... Va ramane mereu ca&lt;br /&gt;ceva  de nedescris.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma duc sa dorm , abia ce am recuperat drumul de intoarcere in tara [ valorificat in ore de nesomn ].&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noapte buna.&lt;br /&gt;Iulia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-3233971887361841805?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/3233971887361841805/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=3233971887361841805&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3233971887361841805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3233971887361841805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/04/fuse-fuse-si-se-duse.html' title='Fuse , fuse si se duse.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5489153338656830447</id><published>2009-03-22T23:55:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T00:41:21.102+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prize'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='touch'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='everest'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='seara'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eye contact'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='losing control'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='extaz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ameteala'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='engleza'/><title type='text'>Losing control.</title><content type='html'>It's unbelievable and it feels all over my skin.&lt;br /&gt;It's almost like a touch. Like an image on a VCR that you keep playing over and over again and again . Just that it's a feeling. A look . There are so many memories , so many things we shared with others , so many things we would love to repeat , just that it's not possible in real world , but there are so many things that you can do inside your mind that it becomes painful, playing that VCR over and over again. It would be better to let it go , but when you discover that thing that suits your needs and you are perfectly conscious that it cannot be yours just because it's only one and it's already taken , you cannot act rationally.&lt;br /&gt; And it's even harder to be aware of it. I mean , if I were sort of insane , not realising in which kind of shit I am getting in , it would be teoretically Ok. But , as I am not sort of insane , or at least that's what I like to think , I am realising perfectly what kind of shit I am getting in , iI am totally aware of what a big mistake I am doing. And still , I am not stopping , thing which is probably due to some kind of insanity in an incipient phase.&lt;br /&gt; So repeating the VCR , being aware of it being wrong it's all upside down and I just can't help it.&lt;br /&gt; I felt some sort of change in myself long ago and I have to be grateful for it to some people but I can't get to the point to understand the perception of others  of my own change.Well , it's nice , I was surprised myself how fine it is to be popular and quite famous and knowing people that others would die to know , doing things for which others consider you special , but it's not enough. Never enough.&lt;br /&gt; I am never satisfied. I am also aware that I am an exception for my generation , at least in my highschool , but still I am not ... what I want from myself. Being part of the stream is wrong but being against is also wrong. I feel I have no connection with school , there is no bond , I see no point in attending all those classes. Knowing better is depressing. Knowing that I am not the peak , but the bottom of the hill it feels wrong. Ashin Sopaka , a budhist monk , told me the other day that you should never quit you trial to conquer mount everest. But mount Everest seems to be growing and I seem to never achieve any check point in its climbing. Should I give up ? What if I can't? What if I am so into this I just can't give up right now? What if I know that the thing  , that prize which is taken,  is up there?  I want it , I yearn to have it and still know I can't achieve it in some ways but I possibly can in others .&lt;br /&gt; I need to find myself. And I can only find myself in unimportant , irrelevant actions which bring me closer to some check point on Everest , but the check point seems to be far away.&lt;br /&gt; And the prize , oh the prize . It's helping me. The prize is helping me to reach it. It's an electric bound and sometimes when I look up and I can distinguish it and i can almost feel its gaze upon me , I feel as if I am shattered into 1000 pieces and then reborn . But still , the prize does not know it's going up , it's just something like the lottery , week after week growing and growing. Growing and slipping away.&lt;br /&gt; I feel the need to escape all this , to leave it all behind and rediscover myself. Forget about the prize , the world, to reinvent myself. But still , I permanently have its sight in my view and I can't forget it. It's constantly fresh and constantly renewing.&lt;br /&gt; it's firstly blank , then surprised , then electric , then constant. Neverevending.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you know , I'm being stereotypical right now , but&lt;br /&gt;it's just so typically me , that i shouldn't have a doubt that it's gonna go , gonna vanish into thin air.&lt;br /&gt;But still , there's that what if. Wondering what it would have been like or even how it would be like. And I'm curious if just reaching the prize for one day would satisfy me. And would the prize be satisfied with its new , one-day owner?&lt;br /&gt;So many questions. But , hell , we're only human , there's no time to answer it.&lt;br /&gt;At least it keeps my head busy from all sorts of other crap.&lt;br /&gt;Uh, I'm being messy about writing again but so what? It's already some sort of personal diary right here so there's no need in hiding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and uh , i need some coffee , or some tea or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good night ,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iulia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5489153338656830447?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5489153338656830447/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5489153338656830447&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5489153338656830447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5489153338656830447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/03/losing-control.html' title='Losing control.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-4274664245467398792</id><published>2009-03-21T16:18:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T17:00:16.170+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bucuresti'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>bucuresti.</title><content type='html'>bucuresti. bucuresti . bucuresti.&lt;br /&gt;Mi se pare genial orasul asta , asa aglomerat cum e. mi se pare ca e incredibil ca la cat de mare e te poti intalni din greseala cu oameni pe care nu i ai mai vazut de foarte mult timp. mi se pare genial ca sunt atatea evenimente la care poti participa , atatea chestii de facut , tot timpul e ceva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunt foarte fericita . Ma simt asa de fiecare data cand ma duc la bucuresti.cu atat mai mult cand plec singura , petrec  si o noapte acolo si reusesc sa si revad prieteni pe care nu i am mai vazut de mult. Mi se pare genial , chiar vorbind cu un prieten despre bucuresti , am sesizat , ca asa mare cum e , imens , aglomerat , ai cele mai mari sanse sa te intalnesti cu cineva decat oriunde altundeva. Asta mi aduce aminte cum m-am intalnit la mare cu o prietena , fara sa stiu ca va fi acolo.  Trecem peste.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carturesti. Doamne. Este unul din locurile de pe aceasta planeta unde as putea sa traiesc. am zis eu ceva mai demult ca as putea sa traiesc pe o banca in starometska din praga , pe o banca din gara din budapesta , acum am decretat ca as putea sa traiesc la carturesti. Ah si am decis ca daca as putea sa am ceva pe lumea asta , daca as gasi pestisorul de aur , i-as cere sa mi dea toate cartile din lume si inca ceva , dar nu-mi aduc aminte.:D E pentru prima oara cand ma abtin de la cumparatul unei carti si regret , dar o sa merg acolo intentionat , doar pentru a gasi ceva . E genial , pur si simplu genial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ma atrage orasul , mai ales centrul vechi , totul este superb. Desi am dormit undeva in giulesti , langa calea ferata , tot sunt fascinata de oras. Gara de nord iti da un chef din asta urias de a pleca cu trenul undeva departe. Magheru e ... foarte interesant mai ales pentru cei interesati de sex shopuri. Magheru e organizat astfel:&lt;br /&gt;Sex shop&lt;br /&gt;mc donald's&lt;br /&gt;kfc&lt;br /&gt;sex shop&lt;br /&gt;carturesti&lt;br /&gt;mihai albu&lt;br /&gt;sex shop&lt;br /&gt;chanel/louis vuitton/ceva de genu&lt;br /&gt;sex shop.&lt;br /&gt;Nu inteleg organizarea asta , dar probabil ca are ea un rost. oamenii probabil au nevoie.Ma depaseste.&lt;br /&gt;Centrul ceh e foarte dragut , one world ul de anul asta are niste filme extraordinare , din care eu nu am vazut si nu cred ca o sa am ocazia sa vad prea multe.&lt;br /&gt;TNB si futu-i scurtii , aka future shorts , e un vis implinit. A fost foarte tare , desi m-am intors imbibata in fum acasa ,sunt asa poleita , trasa in fum de tigara si cu vederea cam slaba si auzul cam la fel de slab dupa sesiunea de filme romanesti facute la unatc in 70-80.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Va sugerez sa va abonati la futureshorts pe youtube. au niste filmulete comice si in acelasi timp geniale.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eu am avut o zi si o noaptea magnifica , glorioasa , dar voi?&lt;br /&gt;Plec pe traseul budapesta - katowice-viena saptamana viitoare si abia astept.&lt;br /&gt;Ma incarc cu energie pozitiva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E primavara , e frumos, e viata.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-4274664245467398792?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/4274664245467398792/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=4274664245467398792&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4274664245467398792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4274664245467398792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/03/bucuresti.html' title='bucuresti.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-1438763912875788435</id><published>2009-03-19T01:01:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T01:19:37.636+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mister'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Ma gandesc.1.01.</title><content type='html'>E pur si simplu 1 si un minut.&lt;br /&gt;Iar eu ma gandesc.&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc la toate pozele in care arati oribil , dar care tie iti plac. Ma gandesc la toate pozele in care esti pur si simplu un semizeu dar nu iti dai seama.&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc la toate fetele care mor dupa tine , asa cum am fost si eu , inocenta , plina de speranta si apoi ma gandesc la tine , cum am ajuns sa te cunosc , cum am ajuns sa nu stiu nimic despre tine si totodata totul. Ma gandesc la timiditatea ta pe care incerci sa o invingi fara sa reusesti.&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc la stangacia cu care ne salutam mereu pentru ca nu stim cum sa ne comportam unul cu celalalt pentru ca nu stim ce se intampla de fapt.&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc la faptul ca poate ar trebui sa am eu curaj , dar n-ar fi prima oara , n-ai fi tu primul si n-ar fi primul meu esec.&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc la toate privirile pe care le arunc pe geam in speranta ca te voi zari , ca voi descifra ceva , dar e nimic , caci nu apari , iar daca apari esti la fel de indescifrabil.&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc la toate privirile pe care stiu ca le arunci atunci cand nu ma uit eu. Ma gandesc la motivele tale.&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc la faptul ca nu e tocmai un inceput si totusi ar fi fost mai bine sa fie un inceput. Ma gandesc daca numarul 3 are intr-adevar o simbolistica si in viata reala.&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc ca de data asta nu mai e la fel. Ma gandesc la faptul ca nu mai cred in tine , nu te mai vreau , nu vreau decat sa te fac sa suferi , dar totusi te vreau pentru mine.&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc la ce vreau de fapt. Sa iti ofer pe o tava aurita exact ce mi-ai dat si tu mie: sperante si iluzii desarte ,  sfaramate ? Sau sa te iert? Sau sa uit pur si simplu?&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc la ce vrei tu de fapt. Vrei sa ma amagesti din nou? Am sarit peste stadii deja. Nu mai cred , nu ezit sa nu cred , doar ca exista speranta ca o sa ma surprinzi. Numai ca deja vine ora la care e prea tarziu , tu inca eziti , iar eu inca astept sa ma surprinzi desi stiu ca e in zadar.&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc la faptul ca nu am mentionat nici unul nimic despre ce s-a intamplat de fapt. Poate ca nici unul nu vrea sa recunoasca , dar poate ca ar trebui sa te disculpi si sa nu lasi lucrurile sa para banale , pentru ca oricat de banale ar fi , oricum sunt complicate si accidentele nu isi au rostul aici , intre noi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc ca e tarziu , ca e noapte si ca eu astept lumina zorilor. Dar soarele rasare la ora 7 pentru mine si e de-abia 1.01. Si daca ar fi 1.02 timpul ar sari apoi mai repede pana la 1.14 , apoi 2.53 si s-ar face 7. Si atunci , mi-as da ultima suflare cu implinirea ca lumina zorilor m-a atins .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma gandesc ca poate si pentru tine e noapte. Dar poate ca tu mai ai de asteptat. Poate ca tu nu astepti lumina zorilor. Poate ca tu nu vrei sa sari de la 1.01. Poate tu astepti amurgul ca sa traiesti. Poate ca atunci cand eu dispar , tu incepi sa existi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate ca nu e menit sa fie . Dar daca.... Si cum aflam? Cum aflam?Cum aflam?&lt;br /&gt;We have to  let it out. Let it out , get rid of the hell inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poate ca ar trebui sa tipam. Sa ne eliberam.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dar poate ca e doar 1.01 si timpul sta in loc in asteptarea zorilor sau a amurgului.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iulia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-1438763912875788435?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/1438763912875788435/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=1438763912875788435&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1438763912875788435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1438763912875788435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/03/ma-gandesc101.html' title='Ma gandesc.1.01.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-8481469282206864106</id><published>2009-03-17T23:28:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T23:37:51.027+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><title type='text'>Rootless tree</title><content type='html'>So fuck you, fuck you, fuck you&lt;br /&gt;And all we've been through&lt;br /&gt;I said leave it, leave it, leave it&lt;br /&gt;It's nothing to you&lt;br /&gt;And if you hate me, hate me, hate me&lt;br /&gt;Then hate me so good that you can let me out&lt;br /&gt;Let me out of this hell when you're around&lt;br /&gt;Let me out, let me out,&lt;br /&gt;Let me out of this hell when you're around&lt;br /&gt;Let me out, let me out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Damien  Rice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When  you simply don't know.&lt;br /&gt;When you simply can't feel.&lt;br /&gt;When  you simply don't know what to do .&lt;br /&gt;When you're barely awake but you can feel your heart beating.&lt;br /&gt;When you don't know nothing about your feelings and pretend to know&lt;br /&gt;it all.&lt;br /&gt;When you ask shyness to learn you all about courage.&lt;br /&gt;When you are laced in doubts and you wish you weren't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you just regret you aren't able to be the superhero she needs.&lt;br /&gt;When you just know you're just too late.&lt;br /&gt;When you wish it weren't so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you decide to do something.&lt;br /&gt;Turn to Damien Rice.&lt;br /&gt;Ask him to do your work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Night,&lt;br /&gt;Julia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-8481469282206864106?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/8481469282206864106/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=8481469282206864106&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8481469282206864106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8481469282206864106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/03/so-fuck-you-fuck-you-fuck-you-and-all.html' title='Rootless tree'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5500979235706788610</id><published>2009-03-10T23:10:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-10T23:26:54.711+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><title type='text'>Fara timp si fara chef.</title><content type='html'>timpul nu mai are nici o valoare.&lt;br /&gt;Timpul inseamna nimic. Se pare ca fac prea multe in prea putin timp si prea putine in prea mult timp.  Am o mie de ganduri , de idei , de initiative si prea putin timp si prea putin sprijin ca sa reusesc sa fac ceva.&lt;br /&gt; E enervant.&lt;br /&gt; As putea sa fac atat de mult. Mi se pare ca traiesc intr-o permanenta vacanta obositoare care nu ma ajuta la absolut nimic. Mereu dupa week enduri imi vine sa intreb pe cineva cum a fost in vacanta , dar imi dau seama ca decat eu nu fac mai nimic in week end. Ca restul lumii face macar o tema , macar ceva.&lt;br /&gt;Eu. Eu citesc. Prea mult. Prea tot. Nu conteaza la ce ora ma culc [ de obicei la 3-4 si ma trezesc obligatoriu la 8 in zilele saptamanii. ] . Devorez. Recent am citit Eliade , Shakespeare , o serie foarte celebra zilele astea - Twilight- evident , some Garcia Marquez , a little bit of Lawrence si cate o poezie mai faina , pe care o recitesc din cand in cand , pur si simplu.&lt;br /&gt; Si acum realizez ca de fapt , timpul nu-mi permite sa stau si sa scriu pe blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O noapte buna,&lt;br /&gt;Si spor in lupta cu timpul&lt;br /&gt;Va urez&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iulia&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5500979235706788610?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5500979235706788610/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5500979235706788610&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5500979235706788610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5500979235706788610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/03/fara-timp-si-fara-chef.html' title='Fara timp si fara chef.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-8252375363790127352</id><published>2009-02-28T22:09:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T00:02:32.391+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Zambete in asfintit.</title><content type='html'>Zilele astea. Ah da , zilele astea au fost frumoase. Calde si primitoare si simpatice.&lt;br /&gt;Mie imi plac zilele astea cand nu e nici iarna nici primavara , e undeva la mijloc , e marcat oarecum sfarsitul unei perioade si inceputul unei alteia , asa cum e si asfintitul .&lt;br /&gt;Am avut ieri ceva ce imi doream de multa vreme , o victorie , care m-a facut sa ma simt foarte bine , atat de bine incat , in comparatie cu cei care nu avusesera rezultate atat de bune eu aratam zici ca luasem viagra , sau varianta feminina pentru viagra , or let's just say i was kind of high... Ah , gustul victoriei e fain. Fain de tot. Bucuria de ieri era un fel de euforie a oboselii acumulate peste zi. Acum e un fel de triumf malitios pe care multa lume il dorea  , pe care multi nu il credeau posibil.&lt;br /&gt; Lumea in jurul meu imbatraneste. O buna prietena a implinit azi 17 ani [ doamne ce tanara , frumoasa , sexi si modesta sunt ] , a fost fain la petrecerea ei... Interesant de asemenea. Am realizat ca imi cunosc o alta prietena atat de bine incat ne intelegem din priviri. It was kinda nice. Dar nu pot sa nu ma gandesc ca o sa am ajung si eu la varsta asta , desi mai e pana atunci. E scary in some way or another. Inseamna clasa a-11-a , inseamna chh un an pana la majorat , chestii din astea. In 2 words: it sucks.&lt;br /&gt; Dar imi place ca am din nou o stare euforica. Sunt asa pasiva  la toate rautatile [ cel putin asa las impresia] , zambesc [ malitios , provocator si misterios ] , ma ascund in umbra lasata de asfintit,&lt;br /&gt;merg si observ , privesc , inteleg. Exist. Dar existenta mea a devenit mai intensa. Invat sa traiesc si invat sa traiesc asa cum trebuie, mai intens decat am trait pana acum. Nu vreau sa las timpul sa treaca pe langa mine , desi mi-as dori sa-l pot opri in loc. Macar din punctul de vedere al fizicului [ nu vreau sa am riduri si sa ma mai maturizez.].  E super. 17 e ceva , hmm . Interesant. Dar eu am 16 ani , uneori ma intreb cati ani am , am ramas cu senzatia aia puternica de la 15 si nu cred ca o sa pot trece peste. Imbatraesc , simpatic , frumos , dar imbatranesc. si zambesc trecatorilor ca sa-i fac sa inteleaga ca nu conteaza varsta , conteaza cum am ajuns acolo.&lt;br /&gt;To quote myself: We have to smile. To smile with all our hearts. To smile with our souls not only with our lips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well , life is simply surprising and impossible is actually nothing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-8252375363790127352?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/8252375363790127352/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=8252375363790127352&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8252375363790127352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8252375363790127352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/02/zambete-in-asfintit.html' title='Zambete in asfintit.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5323978106713640799</id><published>2009-02-24T22:28:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T22:43:54.127+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='twilight'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blower&apos;s daughter'/><title type='text'>Cand.</title><content type='html'>Cand tramvaiul e aproape gol si oamenii privesc nepasatori pe drum.&lt;br /&gt;Cand soselele isi opresc mersul pentru ca nu mai e nimeni acolo .&lt;br /&gt;Cand amurgul e rosu si iti goleste si umple gandul in acelasi timp.&lt;br /&gt;Cand nu e nimeni sa priveasca rasaritul pe plaja in afara de tine.&lt;br /&gt;Cand acordurile unei melodii sunt goale.&lt;br /&gt;Cand pustiul e plin de tacere .&lt;br /&gt;Cand un gol poate umple si sa acapareze o inima.&lt;br /&gt;Cand nimeni nu e nicaieri , niciunde , deloc.&lt;br /&gt;Cand zarile sunt goale.&lt;br /&gt;Cand nimic nu e aievea.&lt;br /&gt;Cand toate granitele si timpul , dispar impreuna.&lt;br /&gt;Cand din lume nu ramane o pulbere de vant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Atunci , doar atunci , o sa apara cineva , o sa te ia prin surprindere si o sa te duca acolo unde zarile sunt vesnic rosii , pe plaja unde e vesnic rasarit , in locul unde timpul dispare si nu mai ramane decat umbra unui vis trait de amandoi.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5323978106713640799?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5323978106713640799/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5323978106713640799&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5323978106713640799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5323978106713640799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/02/cand.html' title='Cand.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-9045642841728233149</id><published>2009-02-24T21:36:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T22:24:35.363+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='carti'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poveste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ameteala'/><title type='text'>Droguri si alte lumi.</title><content type='html'>Am regasit analogia mea cu iubirea si drogurile intamplator , intr-o carte pe care o citesc acum. Am sa ma feresc sa ofer detalii despre carte pentru ca o sa ma credeti nebuna obsedata ceea ce&lt;br /&gt;probabil ca sunt dar nu vreau sa recunosc. Din cauza cartii care contine oaresce povesti si elemente fantastice , m-am intrebat cum e mai frumoasa lumea noastra , asa simpla , fara magie si fara farmec , sau ar fi mai bine sa avem creaturi mitice inconjurandu-ne intr-un mod cel putin periculos la fiecare pas pe care il facem?&lt;br /&gt; As vrea sa traiesc intr-o lume cu Sf. Duminica daca e sa o luam cu inceputul inceputurilor , intr-o lume ca cele din povesti. Ma gandeam , in mod realist , zic eu , la J.K.R si Harry Potter . Femeia aia ori a avut o viziune puternica , ori a fost frustrata ca si mine de absenta magiei , ori si-a dat seama ce strategie de marketing perfecta ar fi : sa le oferi oamenilor o lume pe care nu o pot avea decat prin intermediul cartilor. Tin minte din anii trecuti ca eram oarecum socata de parintii colegelor mele care citeau Harry Potter [ probabil pentru ca ai mei abia citesc ziarele pe care le cumpara pentru cartile mele de la Adevarul ] , dar acum am inteles ca si ei cautau aceeasi lume fantastica in care noi , cei mai mici , tot ne mai puneam sperante ca ar exista. Ar fi extraordinar , ar fi superb , ar fi grozav sa putem sa traim in astfel de lumi , poate si de asta ne plac atat de tare filmele si cartile cu ceea ce nu putem avea. Este si asta o explicatie posibila pentru succesul Harry Potter , Dracula [ de Bram Stoker ] , Superman , Spiderman si alti eroi de astia gen Hulk&amp;amp;co , recentul Twilight si lista poate continua , binenteles.&lt;br /&gt; Eu asta vreau. Vreau sa ma transform . Vreau sa am niste capacitati din astea care s-au mai pomenit pe la noi [ gen clarviziuni &amp;amp; co ] , dar in care niciodata nu am crezut , probabil pentru&lt;br /&gt;ca nu au fost la comanda mea. Vreau sa ma opresc din speranta ca undeva , exista creaturi mitice si chestii de genul asta , dar nu pot. Pur si simplu.&lt;br /&gt; Ma socheaza gandul ca sunt atat de patrunsa in cartile astea incat o sa fie o atat de brusca revenire la realitate, asa cum e mereu cand ma opresc din citit. Am senzatia aia pe care o aveam cand aveam vreo... habar nu am , cand citeam harry potter si mi-era frica de momentul ultimului rand din ultima carte. Dar am supravietuit. Acum e altfel , e un alt fel de carte , e un alt fel de noutate , e altceva. Ma doare capul si privesc in jurul meu fara sa vad si totul cred ca se trage dintr-o oarecare abstinenta si frustrare , nu am de gand sa neg chestii de genul asta , intrucat am remarcat ca persoanele care au pe cineva au mai putine sanse sa fie atat de grav mental afectate ca mine.&lt;br /&gt; nu mai pot sa rezist scriind fara sa citesc , asa ca ma retrag in lumea mea.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Juju&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-9045642841728233149?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/9045642841728233149/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=9045642841728233149&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/9045642841728233149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/9045642841728233149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/02/droguri-si-alte-lumi.html' title='Droguri si alte lumi.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5415064629987272883</id><published>2009-02-18T23:37:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-18T23:53:29.801+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='leapsa'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bloggerit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Leapsa de la Ralu</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/SZx_9KTI_FI/AAAAAAAAAFc/9l6nP12_GPg/s1600-h/SANY0004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/SZx_9KTI_FI/AAAAAAAAAFc/9l6nP12_GPg/s200/SANY0004.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304255149848984658" /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Deci , cum sta treaba :&lt;br/&gt;Go to the 4th folder in your computer where you&lt;br/&gt; store your pictures. Pick the 4th picture in that folder.&lt;br/&gt; Explain the picture. Tag 4 people to do the same.&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;Poza este : &lt;br/&gt;D:\coliva de sf andrei\SANY0004&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;  Ce reprezinta?&lt;br/&gt;Pai , draga noastra profa de religie a facut coliva de &lt;br/&gt; Sf Andrei , iar aici sunt cateva din colegele mele [ care&lt;br/&gt;nu prea au ce manca asa , acasa , de obicei ] , care se&lt;br/&gt;bateau pe coliva , fix pe banca mea. Tin sa precizez&lt;br/&gt;ca doar in clasa a9a se intamplau astfel de chestii ,&lt;br/&gt;acum au inceput sa mai manance si acasa :)). Persoanele&lt;br/&gt;din poza sunt de la dreapta la stanga : Biscu , Cristiana ,&lt;br/&gt;Ana , Iuliana . Cristiana era cea mai nesatula din cate&lt;br/&gt;se poate vedea :)). &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eram si eu candva boboaca. Acum sunt tare batrana...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Leapsa o sa o dau la 4 persoane imediat ce gasesc cele 4&lt;br/&gt;persoane potrivite [ sau persoane care sa aiba blog si sa nu&lt;br/&gt;fie oameni care nu ma cunosc gen Bucurenci :)) ]&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Noapte buna!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5415064629987272883?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5415064629987272883/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5415064629987272883&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5415064629987272883'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5415064629987272883'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/02/leapsa-de-la-ralu.html' title='Leapsa de la Ralu'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/SZx_9KTI_FI/AAAAAAAAAFc/9l6nP12_GPg/s72-c/SANY0004.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5676576604067338310</id><published>2009-02-13T22:45:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-15T20:03:48.600+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentin. Sf Valentin.</title><content type='html'> Mda , sarbatoare tipic americaneasca if you ask me,&lt;br/&gt;sarbatoare cu ocazie de deprimare si de cheltuit bani&lt;br/&gt; pe tot felul de prostii.&lt;br/&gt; Mda , anii trecuti eram oarecum afectata , acum am&lt;br/&gt;devenit nationalista. Dragobetele sunt mult mai faine,&lt;br/&gt;ca traditie si idee.&lt;br/&gt;  Exista multe subcategorii de oameni , care de obicei&lt;br/&gt;se incadreaza in  3 mari categorii:&lt;br/&gt;  1. siroposii care si vand casa sa cumpere ceva iubirii&lt;br/&gt;vietii lor &lt;br/&gt;  2. pragmaticii carora fie nu le place idea de sf valentin ,&lt;br/&gt;fie cumpara ceva simbolic , fie considera fiecare zi&lt;br/&gt;un potential sf valentin .&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;Eu sunt pragmatica si ma incadrez in subcategoria celor&lt;br/&gt; carora nu le place sf valentin , considera fiecare zi un sf&lt;br/&gt;valentin in care se poate cumpara ceva simbolic si nu&lt;br/&gt;inteleg rostul tampeniilor de genu.&lt;br/&gt;Da , mi s-ar putea reprosa ca nu stiu farmecul si toate&lt;br/&gt;chestiile astea siropoase , ca n am fost cu cineva si bla&lt;br/&gt;bla bla-uri de genu , dar de ce sa ne sufocam cu tampenii&lt;br/&gt;de astea? Am auzit recent de un cuplu care se potriveste&lt;br/&gt;asa cum se potriveste mama cu cif ul [ e alergica si face un&lt;br/&gt;fel de iritatie la el ] , iar ea nu stie ce sa-i cumpere de &lt;br/&gt;ziua de 14 , iar el nu stie cum sa o mai evite , ca dovada ca&lt;br/&gt;iubeste o sticla de cif mai tare decat o iubeste pe ea .Cel&lt;br/&gt;putin cif-ul ii spala vasele si nu-l da colegul/a de apartament&lt;br/&gt;afara.&lt;br/&gt; Mi-am adus aminte de o poveste de acum 2-3 luni cand&lt;br/&gt;zambeam pe una din bancile scolii si visam cu ochii deschisi&lt;br/&gt;la luna februarie in care urmau sa se intample anumite&lt;br/&gt;chestii , niste plecari la munte , niste zile de pomina , dar&lt;br/&gt;din pacate nu s-au mai intamplat.&lt;br/&gt;  Nimic nu e special pentru ca totul e la fel de special.&lt;br/&gt;Am ajuns sa iubesc liceul atat de tare incat mi-e frica de&lt;br/&gt;ziua in care o sa vina rezultatele de la bac si o sa trebuiasca&lt;br/&gt;sa l parasesc asa pentru totdeauna si sa nu ma mai intorc&lt;br/&gt;niciodata ca eleva acolo. Ma simt batrana , dar fericita.&lt;br/&gt;  E fain , fain , fain. Abia astept vara , abia astept totul ,&lt;br/&gt;abia-mi astept viata.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Cat despre sfantul valentin , eu prefer dragobetele.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5676576604067338310?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5676576604067338310/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5676576604067338310&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5676576604067338310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5676576604067338310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/02/valentin-sf-valentin.html' title='Valentin. Sf Valentin.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-6233098199837670871</id><published>2009-02-04T20:12:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T21:12:27.188+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='amintiri din copilarie'/><title type='text'>Cum a inceput.</title><content type='html'> Ieri m-am intalnit cu Doamna Raducanu in drum spre&lt;br/&gt;Ancuta . M-a intrebat cum imi place cu ea si i-am zis ca&lt;br/&gt;e ca pe vremuri. Venise pana la liceu ca sa-si o autorizatie&lt;br/&gt;pentru gradinita.&lt;br/&gt; Pe masura ce vorbeam cu ea am realizat ca redeveneam&lt;br/&gt;acelasi om de acum 12 ani cand am vazut-o prima oara.&lt;br/&gt;Planul mamei era sa merg in grupa de la ora 12 pentru ca&lt;br/&gt;acolo era si Octav si aveam sa fim impreuna , plus ca ma&lt;br/&gt;trezeam si mai tarziu. Dar eu nu am vrut. Am vrut-o pe&lt;br/&gt;doamna Raducanu pentru ca imi era frica de doamna &lt;br/&gt;Corneanu chiar daca ei ii placea de mine si ma intreba mereu&lt;br/&gt;ce fac dupa ce am apucat sa ne cunoastem un pic si a&lt;br/&gt;inteles ca Octav era varul meu. &lt;br/&gt;  Am inceput sa ma trezesc in fiecare dimineata la 7 , 7  si&lt;br/&gt;ceva si la 8 si 10 maxim eram asezata la masa aia lunga cu&lt;br/&gt;scaunele cu spatar pe masura unor pici ca noi , care aveau&lt;br/&gt;niste huse verzi sau crem pe care le spalau vara in curte.&lt;br/&gt;   In spatele mesei erau mai multe dulapuri cu niste &lt;br/&gt;masinute mici de calcat care nu ni le dadeau decat la ocazii&lt;br/&gt; speciale , cum ar fi de 1 martie. Mai erau si niste panouri &lt;br/&gt;cu personaje din povesti , am si o poza facuta vara cu &lt;br/&gt;Alba-ca-Zapada in spatele meu. M am bucurat atunci&lt;br/&gt; ca nu mi au pozat genunchii pentru ca alergasem in curte&lt;br/&gt; si cazusem si-mi rupsesem dress-urile si a trebuit sa tin&lt;br/&gt; o papiota in gura cat mama mi-a cusut cu atentie si &lt;br/&gt;mustrandu ma incontinuu profitand de papiota din&lt;br/&gt;gura mea ciorapeii care mai erau si noi , pe deasupra.&lt;br/&gt;    Intr-un an de 1 martie , Ionut mi-a dat un martisor ,&lt;br/&gt; iar eu i-am multumit. Luminita , care era un fel de&lt;br/&gt; asistenta a doamnei Raducanu mi-a zis sa-l pup. &lt;br/&gt;Oarecum voiam sa vad care e reactia lui [ de pe atunci &lt;br/&gt;studiam ] , dar mi-era in mod evident rusine. L-am&lt;br/&gt; pupat din mai marea rusine catre Luminita si apoi am&lt;br/&gt;sesizat ca el era mai rosu decat snurul de la martisor. &lt;br/&gt;Tin minte ca era o potcoava. Cand eram in grupa mare&lt;br/&gt; am vrut sa-l fac gelos pe Ionut cu Andu. Mie imi placea&lt;br/&gt; de Andu , pentru ca unchii lui locuiau in spatele casei&lt;br/&gt; in care stateam atunci cu bunicii si mai vorbisem&lt;br/&gt;cu el cu ocaziile alea. L-am rugat pe Andu sa ma ia&lt;br/&gt; in brate cand venea Ionut , dupa ce trimisesem &lt;br/&gt;pe cineva in prealabil dupa el sa ii spuna ca il chem. &lt;br/&gt;Ionut a venit , s-a inrosit si s-a uitat urat la Andu si &lt;br/&gt;apoi a plecat cu demnitate. Ma simteam ca o mare &lt;br/&gt;cuceritoare si eram fericita ca-l facusem gelos pe&lt;br/&gt; Ionut. Am crezut ca asta a fost tot si ce amuzant&lt;br/&gt; fusese! De fapt , la sfarsitul zilei s-au intors amandoi&lt;br/&gt; cu bulina albastra acasa pentru ca Ionut i-a dat un &lt;br/&gt;pumn lui Andu in camera in care tineam pantofii , un&lt;br/&gt; fel de hol inainte de sala principala. Andu a facut pe&lt;br/&gt; victima si a chemat-o pe Luminita, apoi , in sala ,&lt;br/&gt; Andu i-a tras scaunul lui Ionut , iar Ionut a &lt;br/&gt;chemat-o si el pe Luminita. Eu am fost singura care&lt;br/&gt; a plecat acasa cu buline rosii.&lt;br/&gt;  A fost o zi in ultimul an cand am fost decat 4 toata&lt;br/&gt;ziua. Ploua torential si cand am ajuns acolo , eram singura.&lt;br/&gt;Apoi a mai venit Costin , Andra si cred ca si Ionut. Ne-au&lt;br/&gt;lasat sa ne jucam toata ziua si cu toate jucariile , aveam&lt;br/&gt;de unde alege. A fost una dintre cele mai fericite zile.&lt;br/&gt;  Undeva pe un perete , langa locul meu obisnuit erau&lt;br/&gt;doua traistute in care tineau cartile cu povesti. Erau o&lt;br/&gt;adevarata fascinatie pentru mine, mereu mi-am dorit&lt;br/&gt;sa le pot atinge , macar pentru cateva secunde , sa le pot&lt;br/&gt;citi si eu , dar mi-era prea rusine sa cer. In clasa I m-am&lt;br/&gt;intors intr-o zi sa o vad pe doamna Raducanu si mi-a&lt;br/&gt;oferit chiar ea privilegiul de a citi cartile acelea. &lt;br/&gt;  Eram suparata pentru ca nu ma lasa sa iau mai mult de 3 &lt;br/&gt;buline rosii pe zi . Si pentru ca nu puteam sa citesc cartile&lt;br/&gt;alea. Pentru ca acasa ii scriam mamei declaratii de dragoste&lt;br/&gt;si la Telega citeam Ion Creanga mereu ,  iar acolo nu puteam&lt;br/&gt;sa arat ca stiu sa fac toate astea. Si nu a fost singurul loc , in&lt;br/&gt;care am patit asa, dar toate la timpul lor.&lt;br/&gt;  Am cunoscut-o si pe fata Doamnei Raducanu. Era o fata inalta&lt;br/&gt;si slaba , nesuferita , dar care parea sa fie tare apreciata de&lt;br/&gt;adulti in general , in special de mama mea. Era studenta la facultatea&lt;br/&gt;de litere si se pregatea sa devina profesoara de engleza.&lt;br/&gt;   Mama ei , ne invatasem cate putin din ce prinsese de la fata ei.&lt;br/&gt;Ne punea sa ne ridicam in picioare , ne invatase sa ne spunem numele&lt;br/&gt;si varsta si alte nimicuri.&lt;br/&gt;   Intr-o dimineata de 6 decembrie stateam in pat cu un nou set&lt;br/&gt;de carioci si o rata care canta imnul frantei. Mama m-a intrebat&lt;br/&gt;daca vreau sa invat engleza . I-am spus ca da , desi nu pricepeam&lt;br/&gt;prea bine ce presupune asta , cel putin asa cred. Aveam 5 ani pe&lt;br/&gt;atunci. Mi-a zis bine, de saptamana viitoare mergi la Ancuta , fata&lt;br/&gt;doamnei Raducanu.&lt;br/&gt;  Parea un vis urat. Ancuta era tipa aia mare si nesuferita iar eu &lt;br/&gt;trebuia sa petrec 2 ore cu ea in fiecare saptamana. La prima sedinta&lt;br/&gt;m-a luat de mana si m-a dus in camera ei si m-a intrebat ce cuvinte &lt;br/&gt;stiam eu in engleza. I-am spus si ea mi-a aratat cum se scriu. Apoi&lt;br/&gt;am invatat cum se conjuga verbele si asa mai departe. Am ramas&lt;br/&gt;in casa aia o vara intreaga ca sa invat totul deodata si am reusit&lt;br/&gt;in mare parte. Plecam dimineata la 9 , ajungeam acolo la 10 , la 12&lt;br/&gt;trebuia sa plec. In fiecare zi , mai putin duminica si atunci cand nu&lt;br/&gt;putea nici una din noi.&lt;br/&gt;  Am iubit-o pe Ancuta de cand m-a luat de mana.&lt;br/&gt;  Pe parcursul anilor , chiar si dupa ce am incetat pregatirea cu ea&lt;br/&gt;pentru ca se maritase , nu mai statea asa de aproape , am continuat&lt;br/&gt;sa tinem legatura . Mama i-a cerut sfatul cand am mers la Ploiesti la&lt;br/&gt;scoala , chiar si in legatura cu profilul de liceu la care sa merg.&lt;br/&gt;  Dupa aproximativ 11 ani , toamna trecuta am revazut-o pe Ancuta&lt;br/&gt;pentru a face din nou pregatire cu ea. M-am dat jos din masina si&lt;br/&gt;ea m-a luat de mana. Era din nou prima oara , dupa mult timp.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Ieri , cand m-am intalnit cu doamna Raducanu as fi vrut sa i spun&lt;br/&gt;ce nu poti spune in cuvinte. Ca mi-e dor de Pint[z]i , pisica familiei,&lt;br/&gt;ca as vrea sa stiu ce mai face Petrut , ca as vrea sa mai tanjesc o&lt;br/&gt;singura data dupa sacul ala cu cartea de povesti si ca as vrea sa fac&lt;br/&gt;poze  in curtea aia in care nu ne jucam decat maxim de 2 ori pe an,&lt;br/&gt;ca mai vreau sa fiu doamna invatatoare la serbari si sa dansam ca&lt;br/&gt;ratustele.&lt;br/&gt;Dar nu se mai intoarce nimic inapoi. Raman doar amintirile , pe&lt;br/&gt;care le conserv pe un blog.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Julia.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-6233098199837670871?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/6233098199837670871/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=6233098199837670871&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6233098199837670871'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6233098199837670871'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/02/cum-inceput.html' title='Cum a inceput.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-7020234728353066319</id><published>2009-01-31T22:58:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T19:06:07.832+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eye contact'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='euforie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>hoppipolla</title><content type='html'>&lt;br/&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript" language="javascript"&gt;show_f5b0a90c552c43(448, 46);&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sigur Ros - Hoppipolla&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br/&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;Asculta mai multe audio  Muzica »&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript" language="javascript"&gt;show_f5b0a90c552c43(448, 46);&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sigur Ros - Hoppipolla&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Nu stiu ce sa va spun despre piesa asta&lt;br/&gt;in afara de faptul ca merita ascultata.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Imi place de multa vreme si am reusit&lt;br/&gt;recent sa aflu cum se numeste. In rest?&lt;br/&gt;In rest fac documentari despre o anumita&lt;br/&gt;tara in care traieste un anumit tip care&lt;br/&gt;mi-a cam cazut cu tronc , mai mult sau &lt;br/&gt;mai putin and it's all due to eye contact.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Pana acum nu am realizat cat de important&lt;br/&gt;e contactul vizual , mai bine zis , am &lt;br/&gt;realizat prea putin ce inseamna sa &lt;br/&gt;acorzi atentia cuvenita unui singur om.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Si cat de special te simti daca un om,&lt;br/&gt;din toata sala te alege pe tine pentru a te&lt;br/&gt; privi. chiar daca stii ca nu asta ii e stilul&lt;br/&gt;obisnuit , chiar daca stii ca ii zambesti&lt;br/&gt;pentru a-l face sa se simta increzator , toti&lt;br/&gt;ceilalti fac si ei asta mai mult sau mai&lt;br/&gt;putin dar el te cauta pe tine. Si tu il cauti&lt;br/&gt;decat pe el.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;si mai stii ca e doar o iluzie. Pentru ca pur&lt;br/&gt; si simplu nu poate fi. Pentru ca e prea putin&lt;br/&gt;timp , prea multa departare , prea multe&lt;br/&gt;intre [ incepand cu vesnica scoala.]&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Revenind la eye contact , daaaaa e extrem&lt;br/&gt;de important . Poti face multe cu el:&lt;br/&gt;- poti sa o faci pe cea mai mare bitch din&lt;br/&gt;scoala sa se creada nimeni pe langa tine&lt;br/&gt;- poti sa o faci pe cea mai buna prietena&lt;br/&gt;sa se simta mai bine&lt;br/&gt;- poti sa convingi pe o profa ca ti ai facut&lt;br/&gt;tema dar chiar te grabeai cand ai plecat&lt;br/&gt;de acasa si ai uitat pe birou caietul&lt;br/&gt;- poti sa il faci pe tipul din tramvai&lt;br/&gt;sa ridice capul din ziar &lt;br/&gt;- poti sa o faci pe tipa care te asculta&lt;br/&gt;sa se creada cea mai speciala doar pentru&lt;br/&gt;ca te uiti numai si numai la ea.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;eyes are the door to the secrets within the&lt;br/&gt;soul . so keep your eyes closed to protect&lt;br/&gt;your soul.&lt;br/&gt;As for me , I decide to keep my eyes wide&lt;br/&gt;shut... &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Juliette.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Muzica" title="Muzica"&gt;Asculta mai multe audio  Muzica »&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-7020234728353066319?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/7020234728353066319/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=7020234728353066319&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/7020234728353066319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/7020234728353066319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/01/hoppipolla.html' title='hoppipolla'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-8590073142028712897</id><published>2009-01-25T21:46:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T22:19:20.539+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='touch'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pervers'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='atingeri'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Amintiri'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>touch</title><content type='html'> ma tot gandesc asa de la o vreme la atingeri.&lt;br/&gt;Cat de importante sunt atingerile , de tot felul,&lt;br/&gt;cat contribuie la starea noastra de spirit , la&lt;br/&gt;emotii , la impresiile pe care ni le cream.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Daca cineva te ia in brate ca sa te imbarbateze,&lt;br/&gt;sau pur si simplu iti strange mana  o sa te simti&lt;br/&gt;bine , pe moment si o sa ramai cu o impresie&lt;br/&gt;placuta despre persoana aia , care a avut curajul&lt;br/&gt;sa te atinga . chiar daca o alta persoana te&lt;br/&gt;incurajeaza verbal , o atingere valoreaza mult mai&lt;br/&gt;mult , o bataie pe spate , o imbratisare.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Dar nu la asta ma gandesc eu in seara asta.&lt;br/&gt;Ma gandesc la un alt tip de atingeri. Ma gandesc&lt;br/&gt;la o anumita zi cand atingerile numite mangaieri&lt;br/&gt;erau insotite de atingeri numite sarutari si ma&lt;br/&gt;gandesc la senzatia de a fi intinsa in propriul pat&lt;br/&gt;si de a experimenta. Mda , stiu , suna dubios ,&lt;br/&gt;dar asa a si fost. Dubios si al dracului de bine :)).&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Cred ca atingerile astea spun mult mai mult.&lt;br/&gt;Ma gandesc la senzualitate. Ma gandesc la multe&lt;br/&gt;chestii perverse in clipa asta , dar prefer sa nu le&lt;br/&gt;zic , desi o sa spun ca atingerile au o anumita &lt;br/&gt;tenta sexuala , indiferent de care ar fi ele[ sper&lt;br/&gt;doar sa fie intre persoane de sex opus ].&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Daca nu ne am atinge nu am mai avea aceeasi&lt;br/&gt;intensitate a trairilor. Daca ati vazut city of angels&lt;br/&gt;si sacrificiul pe care il face cage aka seth , doar&lt;br/&gt;pentru a o atinge pe ea - avea si o replica ca ar&lt;br/&gt;fi dat eternitatea doar ca sa i poata mirosi o data&lt;br/&gt;parul si sa o sarute o data . mi aduc aminte si de&lt;br/&gt;ce bulversat era saracul la primul orgasm , caci&lt;br/&gt;sa fim seriosi , asa virgina cum sunt , sunt convinsa&lt;br/&gt;ca sexul nu ar mai exista fara atingerile din timpul&lt;br/&gt;si de dinaintea lui.Atingerile sunt un fel de semnale&lt;br/&gt; ca esti dispus sa ... primesti mai mult sau nu.&lt;br/&gt; Atingerile spun mai mult decat cuvintele.&lt;br/&gt;si blogul asta e o intreaga lalaiala,&lt;br/&gt;daca ti as pune o mana pe umar si ti-as spune:&lt;br/&gt;prietene , pune mana pe fata ca nu te musca ,&lt;br/&gt;as avea un impact mult mai puternic decat daca &lt;br/&gt;as sta la 2 metri de tine si ti as spune : tre' sa faci&lt;br/&gt; ceva. Sau decat am eu acum scriind pe acest blog.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Ah , exemplu pot sa va dau 2 prieteni [ adica o&lt;br/&gt;prietena si un tembel ] care se plac [ e evident].&lt;br/&gt;Dar : ea nu il atinge in timp ce sta de vorba&lt;br/&gt;cu el pentru ca ar parea prea deschisa si e extrem&lt;br/&gt;de orgolioasa si nu vrea sa cedeze prima , iar el&lt;br/&gt;e prea timid [ sau nu stiu , ceva de genu , depinde&lt;br/&gt; de dispozitie ] ca sa faca ceva mai mult. Stiu ca&lt;br/&gt;au starnit indignarea la un moment dat , o colega&lt;br/&gt;zicea: da de ce dracu no ia si o saruta , sta la 2 metri&lt;br/&gt;ca prostu . Recent au ajuns la 1.30 metri.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;E o chestie de body language daca stau sa ma gandesc&lt;br/&gt;mai bine. Exista niste limite intre sexi si intim , si&lt;br/&gt;prietenesc si doar deschis.&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;Pana la urma traim intr-o lume perversa care&lt;br/&gt; se gandeste tot timpul , mai mult sau mai putin la&lt;br/&gt;sex  si la interpretarea gesturilor. Unele sunt clare,&lt;br/&gt;altele nu , e o chestie care depinde de cum vrei sa&lt;br/&gt;interpretezi. si evident , de  ce si cum&lt;br/&gt;vrei sa transmiti.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eah , totul e interpretabil , noi sa fim sanatosi :)&lt;br/&gt;Cand n avem ce face sa scriem pe bloguri si&lt;br/&gt;sa fim perversi dar nu in vazul lumii prea mult:D.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;:)&lt;br/&gt;Iulia&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-8590073142028712897?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/8590073142028712897/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=8590073142028712897&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8590073142028712897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8590073142028712897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/01/touch.html' title='touch'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-8819892938471118798</id><published>2009-01-25T20:33:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-25T21:43:01.270+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='codecs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spirit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='share'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='paul'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cursuri'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='seara'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lmt'/><title type='text'>lauda de sine</title><content type='html'>eu chiar mi am numit rubrica in care apar postarile&lt;br/&gt;scrieri interesante si alte genialitati? chiar am facut&lt;br/&gt;asta ? Pe bune ? Oh , shit. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Aceasta postare este ca sa ma laud. Eu si inca vreo 15&lt;br/&gt;oameni sutnem absolventi de cursuri marca LMT , cu&lt;br/&gt;amprenta personala a lui Paul Olteanu :)).&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Pai si ce am invatat eu? Sa am muuuuulta incredere&lt;br/&gt;in mine , nimic din tot ceea ce spui nu e gresit , nu&lt;br/&gt;exista pareri bune si pareri gresite ci doar pareri.&lt;br/&gt;Ca e bine sa ai obiective si ca nu trebuie sa ti dai singur&lt;br/&gt;in cap atunci cand nu reusesti sa le indeplinesti.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;si evident , cel mai important , e ca e biiine sa ai&lt;br/&gt; un motiv pentru care sa iesi duminica din casa &lt;br/&gt;[ nu mi vine sa cred ca iar o sa fiu sechestrata,&lt;br/&gt;desi cred ca mama ar vrea sa mi gasesc asa, rapid&lt;br/&gt;un prieten ca sa nu mai stau in casa duminica ,&lt;br/&gt;spre deosebire de tata care considera ca iesitul&lt;br/&gt;in oras pe bune , care se intampla o data pe luna&lt;br/&gt;in cele mai bune cazuri este fooooarte des]&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Dar revenind la lmt , ah ce fain a fost:D&lt;br/&gt;Mai vreau , mai vreau!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;am mai invatat ca:&lt;br/&gt;e bine sa porti chiloti&lt;br/&gt;e ok sa te gandesti cum ar fi la inmormantarea&lt;br/&gt;ta[ eventual cum te plang ceilalti :)) ]&lt;br/&gt;e foooarte ok sa folosesti prezervativul&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Ah , da si am mai sesizat o chestie.Daca ai un&lt;br/&gt;aparat nikon cu reglare manuala toata lumea&lt;br/&gt;cand o sa invete sa l foloseasca o sa zica mai &lt;br/&gt;intai ca l mangaie , apoi o sa realizeze ca poza&lt;br/&gt;e de fapt orgasmul aparatului . Va recomand&lt;br/&gt;sa cumparati o camera nikon daca vreti sa&lt;br/&gt;auziti o gama larga de persoane gemand.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Multumesc LMT:))&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-8819892938471118798?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/8819892938471118798/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=8819892938471118798&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8819892938471118798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8819892938471118798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/01/lauda-de-sine.html' title='lauda de sine'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-7558033653649053400</id><published>2009-01-18T12:33:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T12:48:05.857+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='codecs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fericire'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='copilarii'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bucuresti'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Bucuresti</title><content type='html'> Renuntand la visele aiurea cu nationala la engleza ,&lt;br/&gt;am decis sa fac ceva mai bun pentru mine si anume&lt;br/&gt;sa fac un modul de training pe care tot astept de un an &lt;br/&gt;sa-l fac. &lt;br/&gt;  O sa fie in Bucuresti si am si ocazia de a sta la o&lt;br/&gt;prietena. Ah , Bucuresti. De ce iubesc eu orasul asta&lt;br/&gt; pe care multa lume il uraste? &lt;br/&gt;   Pentru ca are viata , pentru ca te face sa te simti&lt;br/&gt;parte din lume . Pentru ca poti sa mergi cu metroul.&lt;br/&gt;Pentru ca pot sa-mi revad vreo 2-3 prieteni cu&lt;br/&gt;ocazia asta. Pentru ca o sa revad sediul Codecs. Pentru&lt;br/&gt;ca ma face fericita. Pentru ca daca as putea sa ma&lt;br/&gt;mut acum in Bucuresti , as face o doar cu regretul&lt;br/&gt;de a lasa 2 prietene in urma si atat , nimic mai mult.&lt;br/&gt;   Pentru ca o plimbare pe Magheru seara nu echivaleaza&lt;br/&gt;decat cu ocazia de a merge la New York. Pentru ca centrul&lt;br/&gt;te face sa te simti bine ca roman , chiar daca e asa de &lt;br/&gt;aglomerat.  Pentru ca as vrea sa merg la Teatrul National.&lt;br/&gt;Pentru ca poate o sa merg in Green Tea , iar :D:X. Poate&lt;br/&gt;ca o sa aflu si multe altele. &lt;br/&gt;  Poate ca o sa fiu fericita. Poate ca o sa fac multe poze. &lt;br/&gt;Poate ca o sa invat Bucurestiul pe de rost. Poate ca o sa &lt;br/&gt;ma descurc cu metroul la fel de bine ca in Praga. Poate ca&lt;br/&gt;mi-era dor.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Abia astept , dar intre timp , trebuie sa merg la scoala.8-|&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Bucuresti , iti promit o revedere:X.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-7558033653649053400?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/7558033653649053400/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=7558033653649053400&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/7558033653649053400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/7558033653649053400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/01/bucuresti.html' title='Bucuresti'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-8279192034711650490</id><published>2009-01-18T00:19:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-18T00:42:49.451+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='never'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nervi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='coruptie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='olimpiade'/><title type='text'>infrangere.</title><content type='html'> Mi-aduc aminte de ce intreba paul saptamana trecuta:&lt;br/&gt;daca esti trist sau suparat sau ai patit ceva de natura mai&lt;br/&gt;naspa , pe cine  dai vina: pe tine sau pe altcineva?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Azi , am dat vina pe altii. De obicei consideram ca e vina&lt;br/&gt;mea , ca nu am muncit destul , dar sunt perfect convinsa&lt;br/&gt;ca era pur si simplu out of my hands. There was nothing&lt;br/&gt;I could do . Si nu pentru ca ceea ce am facut eu a fost&lt;br/&gt;insuficient , ci pentru ca nu a fost corect. Pentru ca ministerul&lt;br/&gt;s-a gandit ca in acest an , bobocii sa fie mult mai norocosi,&lt;br/&gt;sa li se dea o sansa. Sansa de a compune lotul national &lt;br/&gt;pentru prahova . Sansa care nu a fost acordata si anul&lt;br/&gt;trecut cand eram si eu boboaca si cand subiectele erau&lt;br/&gt;mult mai grele.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;si pentru ce am plans in seara asta , zici? Pentru mama.&lt;br/&gt;Pentru toti care "stiau" ca merit si ca urma sa fiu acolo.&lt;br/&gt;Pentru ca aveam 3 vise , dintre care unul e spulberat.&lt;br/&gt;Il si vedeam taiat de pe lista cu to-do, dar nu ca nu se &lt;br/&gt;va mai indeplini. Nationala nu e pentru mine. Am renuntat.&lt;br/&gt;Prefer sa fiu fericita altfel.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;am tremurat in frig o ora asteptand masina , timp in&lt;br/&gt;care am lasat sa curga totul afara , chit ca putinii zgribuliti&lt;br/&gt;asteptand sa mearga acasa se uitau insistent la mine.&lt;br/&gt;Cei mai multi cred ca au crezut ca am fost parasita de&lt;br/&gt;prieten in ajun de aproape 14 februarie , sau la cum eram&lt;br/&gt;imbracata , ca am fost concediata. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Cand am ajuns acasa , cu o durere de cap ingrozitoare ,&lt;br/&gt;cand a venit mama sa mi deschida poarta , am  inceput&lt;br/&gt;sa plang din nou. De ce? Pentru ca omul asta si ar da si&lt;br/&gt;viata pentru mine , iar eu nu sunt capabila din cauza unor&lt;br/&gt;cretini , unor dobitoci corupti , sa imi indeplinesc mie un&lt;br/&gt;vis care ar face o pe ea fericita , tocmai prin fericirea mea.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Si ce doare cel mai tare in toata chestia asta , e ca&lt;br/&gt;pur si simplu nu a fost vina mea. si nu pot sa fac nimic.&lt;br/&gt;nu pot sa dau in judecata ministerul ca nu a dat corect &lt;br/&gt;subiectele , ca nu au fost impartiali . ce pot sa fac e sa&lt;br/&gt;stau si sa privesc. Si sa ma intreb daca oare voi reusi&lt;br/&gt;sa scap vreodata de aici.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;citeam pe blogul lui Bucurenci: daca nu ti ar fi frica , ce&lt;br/&gt;ai face? Raspunsul lui era din cate tin minte ca s-ar muta&lt;br/&gt;in america si ar lua o de la capat.&lt;br/&gt;Raspunsul meu e asemanator:&lt;br/&gt;Daca as putea , as pleca in america si nu m-as mai intoarce.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Pana acum am fost o visatoare. Am crezut ca putem&lt;br/&gt;schimba ceva am crezut ca : " we are young , heartache&lt;br/&gt;to heartache we stand " dar am realizat ca nu are nici un&lt;br/&gt;rost. Suntem prea bolnavi in adancuri ca sa mai reparam.&lt;br/&gt;Vindecam exteriorul pentru a ascunde un interior sangerand.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Ce rost are? Ce rost are? &lt;br/&gt;Nici unul.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Tempux edax verum &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-8279192034711650490?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/8279192034711650490/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=8279192034711650490&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8279192034711650490'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8279192034711650490'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/01/infrangere.html' title='infrangere.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5555039200559542202</id><published>2009-01-16T22:24:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T22:31:04.694+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>blogul meu.</title><content type='html'> Pentru ca am un blog si pentru ca l viziteaza lumea&lt;br/&gt;nu inseamna ca ar trebui sa ma tem nu? Doar am &lt;br/&gt;declarat sus si tare ca ma simt independenta si ca&lt;br/&gt;nu am nevoie de parerile altora? si atunci de ce am&lt;br/&gt;mintit fix aici unde ma eliberez? Ca sa scap de presiunea&lt;br/&gt;numita peer pressure? Nu doamnelor si domnilor&lt;br/&gt;care stati cu fundul intr un scaun la un birou eventual&lt;br/&gt;cu mana pe mouse citind acest blog. Nu am prieten&lt;br/&gt;si nu am avut. As putea foarte bine sa l numesc&lt;br/&gt;blogul unei virgine , dar nu al unei ciudate. Am&lt;br/&gt;prieteni care ma respecta , si care ma iubesc si&lt;br/&gt;oponenti  viciosi , care nu recunosc cat de tare le&lt;br/&gt;pasa daca postez ceva in  seara asta sau nu. Deci , &lt;br/&gt;pentru ca tin prea mult la amintirile intiparite pe aici&lt;br/&gt;nu o sa l inchid , nu are rost. &lt;br/&gt;Sunt o persoana prea pozitiva si prea optimista,&lt;br/&gt;desi pe aici scriu numai cand am nervi  sau cand&lt;br/&gt;sunt de a dreptul furioasa , sau cand sunt deprimata.&lt;br/&gt;De cand am acest blog m-am schimbat prea mult&lt;br/&gt;si voi continua sa ma ocup de el pana cand voi&lt;br/&gt;avea o varsta mai inaintatata , doar pentru placerea&lt;br/&gt;de a reciti toate evenimentele vietii mele incepand&lt;br/&gt;de la 15 ani. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;cu alte cuvinte , ce fac aici e doar pentru mine ,&lt;br/&gt;eventual prietenii mei. Si m-am saturat sa cedez&lt;br/&gt;unor presiuni din afara care nu isi au rostul.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Multumesc celor ma citesc chiar daca nu ma cunosc,&lt;br/&gt;din diverse motive ...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia Iordache.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5555039200559542202?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5555039200559542202/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5555039200559542202&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5555039200559542202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5555039200559542202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/01/blogul-meu.html' title='blogul meu.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-6072166754438963594</id><published>2009-01-14T23:50:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T13:26:33.631+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='barbati'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='article-type'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='femei'/><title type='text'>Sado-maso.</title><content type='html'> &lt;br/&gt;conform unor recent efectuate sondaje de "celebra" : "eu",&lt;br/&gt;am ajuns la concluzia ca femeile sunt sadice si ca le place&lt;br/&gt;sa fie chinuite, pentru ca apoi sa aiba motive sa se planga&lt;br/&gt;oricui le iese in cale.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;mda, suna ciudat , dar asa e. care ar mai fi farmecul daca&lt;br/&gt;dupa o lunga zi de serviciu nevestele nu s-ar plange ostentativ&lt;br/&gt;pentru ca sotii sa se simta obligati sa le faca masaj?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;de ce am mai zice , noi , "femininele" cu frustrare:" tampitul ala iar&lt;br/&gt;se uita dupa mine si nu face nimic , in ma-sa. dar de maine&lt;br/&gt;nici nu-l mai bag in seama. din clipa asta nu mai exista pentru &lt;br/&gt;mine". Evident , what if tomorrow never comes? &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;placerea de a suferi este uneori mai mare decat placerea &lt;br/&gt;de a fi fericit. depinde de la om la om , evident , dar exista&lt;br/&gt; certitudinea ca astfel de cazuri masochiste , exista in principal&lt;br/&gt; la reprezentatele sexului frumos.atunci cand perfectiunea&lt;br/&gt; nu poate fi atinsa , prin fericire , ajungem din nou la starea&lt;br/&gt;initiala de nefericire cauzata tocmai de absenta fericirii , &lt;br/&gt;deci nu putem fi multumite in veci, but is it worth trying?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;evident , masculii feroce nu se tem sa sufere. amuzant este&lt;br/&gt;insa , cand cei care nu au de ce sa sufere , pentru ca au toate&lt;br/&gt;atributele unui "macho" sau cel putin ale unui tip "bun " , de&lt;br/&gt; lume , pentru care orice gagica "misto" ar face destul de multe&lt;br/&gt;chestii , sufera. am putea spune ca au chiar o atitudine emo ,&lt;br/&gt;doar pentru ca "the one" al lor nu-i vrea . situatia imi aminteste&lt;br/&gt;de glumele cu barbatul singur pe o insula inconjurat de femei ,&lt;br/&gt;intrucat si acest "macho" din exemplul meu , desi are cam tot&lt;br/&gt;ce-i pofteste sufletelul el tot insista sa aiba singura femeie de&lt;br/&gt;pe insula care nu il vrea.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;ar putea sa tina si de instinctul vanatoresc , mai ales la barbati,&lt;br/&gt;dar explicatia la femei care este? probabil ca sentimentul de&lt;br/&gt;vulnerabilitate este permanent necesar unei femei , pentru a&lt;br/&gt;se simti implinita. deci , cand este refuzata , sau cand pur si simplu&lt;br/&gt;"nu-si gaseste sufletul pereche" sau "boul ala nenorocit isi bate&lt;br/&gt;joc de ea" , exista placerea de a fi compatimita de ceilalti /&lt;br/&gt;celelalte : " da-l incolo de prost fata , ca gasesti tu altu mai bun".&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;concluzionand , frustrarile si sentimentele umane in general sunt&lt;br/&gt;de neinteles. singura concluzie reala pe care putem sa o tragem&lt;br/&gt;din tot acest sadism este faptul ca suntem cu totii niste ciudati.&lt;br/&gt;ah , dar in mod clar si  uimitoarea concluzie pe care am tras-o eu&lt;br/&gt;cand am avut contact cu "macho-ul ranit " : si barbatii sufera ca&lt;br/&gt;prostii , numai ca la ei e mai rusinos , eventual jenant , penibil si&lt;br/&gt;nu in ultimul rand , o chestie pe care nu ar trebui sa o faca in vazul&lt;br/&gt; lumii , mai ales in vazul ei.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;hm. sadismul sau sado-masochismul , mai bine zis,  ar trebui&lt;br/&gt;incadrat in categoria drogurilor puternice , dar care nu au &lt;br/&gt; intotdeauna un efect placut.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-6072166754438963594?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/6072166754438963594/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=6072166754438963594&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6072166754438963594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6072166754438963594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/01/sado-maso.html' title='Sado-maso.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-2734579888680933220</id><published>2009-01-11T22:17:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-11T23:39:03.993+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>choose.</title><content type='html'> Daca ar trebui sa alegi , ce ai alege?&lt;br/&gt;Daca ar trebui sa alegi intre ratiune si&lt;br/&gt;inima, ce ai alege?&lt;br/&gt;   Am realizat recent , ca daca ar trebui&lt;br/&gt;sa aleg intre fizica !!!! si sa trebuiasca&lt;br/&gt;sa fac eu primul pas intr-o relatie , as&lt;br/&gt; alege fizica. Trebuie sa mentionez ca&lt;br/&gt;urasc fizica , nu mi a placut , nu stiu nici&lt;br/&gt;un pic de fizica si nici nu voi stii. Stiam&lt;br/&gt;un sondaj conform caruia 80 la suta dintre&lt;br/&gt;oameni daca ar trebui sa aleaga intre&lt;br/&gt;moarte si a atinge o tarantula ar prefera&lt;br/&gt;sa moara.&lt;br/&gt;  Cam asta e si optiunea mea in cazul asta.&lt;br/&gt;E o situatie ciuuuuudata, extrem de ciudata,&lt;br/&gt;cea mai ciudata. Sentimentele nu se&lt;br/&gt;explica , prin simplul fapt ca eu sunt inconstanta,&lt;br/&gt;iar el e constant. Eu sunt constanta in sentimente,&lt;br/&gt;el nu a fost vreodata. Cel putin pentru mine.&lt;br/&gt;Presupun ca isi iubeste mama , tatal , vreo ruda&lt;br/&gt;mai importanta , cea mai buna prietena , dar&lt;br/&gt;nu pe mine. &lt;br/&gt;  Conflictul e deci simplu si totusi complicat.&lt;br/&gt;Nu stiu daca exista ceva constant sau nu , daca&lt;br/&gt;visez sau nu. Am mai visat , degeaba. Dar parca&lt;br/&gt;soarta totusi insista. Am ales sa fac pasii gresiti&lt;br/&gt;pana acum , sa fug ? Dar , imi aduc aminte de&lt;br/&gt;chestii din trecut , dovezi , a tot ceea ce a fost ,&lt;br/&gt;dovezi de ieri care mi spun ca mai e ce cred&lt;br/&gt;eu ca e.&lt;br/&gt;  Aleg . Aleg sa fiu eu.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Juju&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-2734579888680933220?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/2734579888680933220/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=2734579888680933220&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2734579888680933220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2734579888680933220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/01/choose.html' title='choose.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-8860054138064780589</id><published>2009-01-10T23:27:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T23:58:37.197+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='olimpiade'/><title type='text'>greseli .</title><content type='html'> Sunt multe greseli pe care le poti face in viata.&lt;br/&gt;Atat de multe incat nu merita sa enumeri nici&lt;br/&gt;macar una. E detestabil sa transformi o veselie&lt;br/&gt;de cateva minute intr-o suferinta prelungita,&lt;br/&gt;datorita unor povesti pe care le credeai &lt;br/&gt;incheiate de multa vreme.&lt;br/&gt; E groaznic sa realizezi niste adevaruri care&lt;br/&gt;au fost intotdeauna in fata ta si tu ai refuzat&lt;br/&gt;sa le vezi. E oribil sa ti dai seama. Realitatea&lt;br/&gt;doare, chiar daca nu ai fost drogat inainte.&lt;br/&gt; M-am saturat sa cred ca am anumite &lt;br/&gt;aptitudini si posibilitati pe care de fapt nu&lt;br/&gt;le am. M-am saturat sa cred prea mult in&lt;br/&gt;mine.&lt;br/&gt; Am inceput sa nu mai cred in vise/visuri.&lt;br/&gt;Nu ajuta la nimic. The american dream , even&lt;br/&gt;requiem for a dream , m-au adus intr-o &lt;br/&gt;deplorabila stare de a crede ca dintre toti&lt;br/&gt;oamenii de pe planeta eu sunt singurul care&lt;br/&gt;nu trebuie sa viseze , sau sa creada in puterea&lt;br/&gt;viselor de a se indeplini.&lt;br/&gt; Mi s-au spulberat visele unul dupa altul si&lt;br/&gt;cel mai greu imi e atunci cand invie speranta , &lt;br/&gt;ca ar putea fi ceva, ca as putea schimba ceva,&lt;br/&gt;ca in mine sta puterea de a schimba, dar eu , &lt;br/&gt;nu sunt capabila de asa ceva. Sunt perfect &lt;br/&gt;untrained for , unfamiliar with , everything&lt;br/&gt;that has a "no" in front of it. &lt;br/&gt;  always say never goes the saying for me.&lt;br/&gt;Pur si simplu asa e , m am saturat. Pana&lt;br/&gt;maine dimineata o sa o iau efectiv razna.&lt;br/&gt;Cat de greu e sa afli ceea ce te intereseaza?&lt;br/&gt;Cat de greu ii poate fi unui om sa-si invinga&lt;br/&gt;sentimentul de timiditate si rusine macar o&lt;br/&gt;data si sa gaseasca cel mai banal motiv de a&lt;br/&gt;spune...Ceva. Orice. Doar nu e prima oara,&lt;br/&gt;caci stiu ca nu e , caci a mai fost o data, si tot&lt;br/&gt;cu mine. &lt;br/&gt;  SI da , stiu sentimentele mele de frustrare si&lt;br/&gt;enervare sunt aproape emo.aproape , n o sa fiu&lt;br/&gt;niciodata emo , pentru ca ascult frank sinatra&lt;br/&gt;si nu am de gand sa mi tai venele sau sa ma &lt;br/&gt;arunc din pod.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;O noapte buna va urez,&lt;br/&gt;chiar si tie,&lt;br/&gt;si dream crusher-ilor.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Julie&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-8860054138064780589?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/8860054138064780589/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=8860054138064780589&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8860054138064780589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8860054138064780589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/01/greseli.html' title='greseli .'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-6020370424273298784</id><published>2009-01-10T19:29:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-10T20:28:50.140+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='youth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nervi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='drog'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='extaz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='engleza'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='olimpiade'/><title type='text'>supradoza.</title><content type='html'> Chiar a inceput scoala acum o saptamana? Chiar am intrat&lt;br/&gt;in acest an de 10 zile? Ma simt de parca ar fi trecut o &lt;br/&gt;vesnicie.Abia astept ziua de maine si intalnirea cu Paul , &lt;br/&gt;chiar am nevoiede ceva ganduri mai bune dupa zilele&lt;br/&gt; astea petrecute ca un soarece de biblioteca , la propriu , &lt;br/&gt;citind incontinuu si scriind pentru o amarata de &lt;br/&gt;olimpiada care nu cred ca o sa mi aduca satisfactia&lt;br/&gt; pe care speram sa mi-o aduca [ exista vorbe conform&lt;br/&gt;carora ar fi aranjate locurile la nationala].&lt;br/&gt;  Ma doare capul si nici nu mai stiu ce vreau , stiu ca&lt;br/&gt; trebuie sa depun 1 mie si una de cereri pentru tot&lt;br/&gt; felul de evenimente in strainatate , trebuie sa ma&lt;br/&gt; pun la punct la mate , la fizica , la info , ca sa fiu&lt;br/&gt; sigura ca o sa si iau bacul peste 2 ani:).&lt;br/&gt; Am sprijin , din fericire , din partea cui trebuie&lt;br/&gt; si asta ma ajuta sa merg mai departe.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Azi mi-am cumparat , ca premiu pentru bataia&lt;br/&gt; de cap, requiem for a dream , cartea. Am facut &lt;br/&gt;bine ca nu m am uitat la film pana acum ,deci. &lt;br/&gt;Mi se pare foarte interesanta ideea de drog, &lt;br/&gt; ca fiecare avem cate un drog. Mi am dat seama&lt;br/&gt; ca eu am avut puterea sa ma las de anumite&lt;br/&gt;droguri. si sper sa am puterea sa o duc pana&lt;br/&gt; la capat. De exemplu : dependenta de mess ,&lt;br/&gt; la care am renuntat cu usurinta. Dependenta &lt;br/&gt;[ care nu a fost niciodata dependenta , mai mult&lt;br/&gt; o prosteala de-a mea ocazionala ] de tigari .&lt;br/&gt;Dependenta de a auzi numai lucruri bune despre&lt;br/&gt;mine. Dependenta de oameni. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Tot ceea ce ne inconjoara e drog. Si , din cate am&lt;br/&gt; testat eu pe pielea mea , cel mai puternic si mai &lt;br/&gt;periculos drog e dragostea.  nu ca as avea eu o&lt;br/&gt; mare experienta de viata. Dar stiu ca toate &lt;br/&gt;vorbele din popor sunt adevarate. Dragostea&lt;br/&gt; te orbeste , exact asa cum heroina sau cocaina iti&lt;br/&gt;iau mintile. Nu mai stii care i realitatea , traiesti&lt;br/&gt; in lumea ta , in care existati doar voi doi. Iar apoi , &lt;br/&gt;cand efectul drogului se termina , te simti gol ,&lt;br/&gt; pustiit si mai vrei , nu vrei sa renunti asa de usor.&lt;br/&gt; Si te reintorcila starea de letargie provocata de el .&lt;br/&gt; Totusi , eu inca mai asociez starea de iubire cu&lt;br/&gt; diverse suferinte provocate de indepartarea&lt;br/&gt; de substanta drogului.  am ramas oarecum blocata .&lt;br/&gt; mi-aduc aminte de prima , sa-i zicem , prima dragoste.&lt;br/&gt; mi-aduc aminte de primul sarut. Daca am trait&lt;br/&gt;vreodata ceva apropiat de starea de drogat , atunci&lt;br/&gt; aceea e starea. mi-aduc aminte cat de ametita si cata &lt;br/&gt;lipsa de concentrare si cat el exista in mine atunci. Cat&lt;br/&gt; din parfumul lui , cata nebunie si tinerete si necunoscut.&lt;br/&gt;Cata dorinta de a pastra ramasitele momentului , &lt;br/&gt;amintirea , cata pasiune de a reveni , ca o noua injectie&lt;br/&gt; care poate fi fatala , cata nevoie de o supradoza.&lt;br/&gt;Da , iubirea e exact ca un drog. Sau , cel putin , &lt;br/&gt;sentimentele puternice ,coplesitoare , sunt droguri.  &lt;br/&gt; Si ma gandesc la placere. La placerea aia si le senzatia&lt;br/&gt; de explozie din inima. Probabil ca in cazul unui drog &lt;br/&gt;normal resimti aceasta placere si explozie la nivelul&lt;br/&gt; creierului. Dar , amintindu mi sentimentele de atunci&lt;br/&gt; si combinandu-le cu cele de acum ajung la o stare&lt;br/&gt; de sufocare , de acaparare a intregului corp.&lt;br/&gt;Simt ca nu mai am aer si ca nu ma pot gandi decat&lt;br/&gt; la asta. mi-aduc aminte in clipele alea ca eram atat&lt;br/&gt; de emotionata si de molesita incat tot corpul imi&lt;br/&gt;parea greu si nu puteam sa tin ochii deschisi , era&lt;br/&gt; un fel de somnolenta alerta.&lt;br/&gt;  si pana la urma , de ce sa refuzam drogurile? sunt&lt;br/&gt; unele droguri nocive, de proasta calitate care ne fac&lt;br/&gt; mai mult sa suferim decat sa fim in extaz si evident&lt;br/&gt;exista si marfa buna , care merita totul. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;tu de care marfa esti? Marfa buna sau proasta? Ma poti &lt;br/&gt;aduce la extaz sau ma poti face doar sa sufar?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Ah , tinerete, imbata-ma!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Julie&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-6020370424273298784?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/6020370424273298784/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=6020370424273298784&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6020370424273298784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6020370424273298784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/01/supradoza.html' title='supradoza.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-4923329865656595977</id><published>2009-01-03T19:25:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-03T19:41:23.610+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='theo'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='paul'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='engleza'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='razvan'/><title type='text'>What's there about him.</title><content type='html'> the first moment I saw him I wondered where does the&lt;br/&gt;sparkle come from. There was shine in his eyes , a touch&lt;br/&gt;of mistery and lots of intelligence . That's how I first &lt;br/&gt;became interested in him.&lt;br/&gt;  He seemed the kind of guy wanting to have fun , but&lt;br/&gt;there was also something else. I wasn't expecting to find &lt;br/&gt;out what that was , but we were soon given the chance &lt;br/&gt;to spend some time together , a lot more time than it&lt;br/&gt;could have ever crossed my mind.&lt;br/&gt;   And that's how I discovered that he wasn't who I &lt;br/&gt;thought he would be. He had a brilliance in thought and&lt;br/&gt;also the ability to make you wonder why  he  was exactly&lt;br/&gt;the way you saw him.&lt;br/&gt;  there was something challenging about him. How could&lt;br/&gt;I not have fallen for him? I even told him how much I&lt;br/&gt;admired his own way of being , his achievements , his luck.&lt;br/&gt;  Nowadays , I just know that I want to be exactly how he&lt;br/&gt;is . Why? He is just ... I have no word to describe him exactly&lt;br/&gt;the way he is. He is smart and also charming , though he&lt;br/&gt;is not necessarily pretty. He has this kind of charm and mistery&lt;br/&gt;and sparkling eyes that attract you. But above all , there's&lt;br/&gt;his mind. His brilliant mind and way of thinking. I had too much&lt;br/&gt;to learn from this man of almost my age not to consider him&lt;br/&gt;my mentor. Indeed he is , but he doesn't even know it.&lt;br/&gt;  And then , there 2 more. Sparkling and amazing as well.&lt;br/&gt;  I can only thank these 3 men for existing and making me&lt;br/&gt;realise what I might lose if I do not pursue my dreams. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;oh , it's enough praising for tonight. Thank you : R, P and T.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Have a wonderful evening and a great year ,&lt;br/&gt;all the best , &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Julia &lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-4923329865656595977?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/4923329865656595977/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=4923329865656595977&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4923329865656595977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4923329865656595977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/01/whats-there-about-him.html' title='What&apos;s there about him.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5407828207303816828</id><published>2009-01-02T18:05:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-02T18:18:39.019+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Happy new year!</title><content type='html'> Well , happy new year!&lt;br/&gt; I hope you'll have a great year , cuz that's surely&lt;br/&gt;what I'm gonna have ! :) Am inceput bine , foarte bine, &lt;br/&gt;foarte foarte bine si extrem de sexi at the same time.&lt;br/&gt; Mi am dat seama ca ma enerveaza multe, mai ales la mine.&lt;br/&gt;Am mintit doar ca sa scap de o chestie naspa , n am avut &lt;br/&gt;curaj si nici nu vreau sa am. I'm just a bitch breaking a heart.&lt;br/&gt;Ma enerveaza faptul ca stau prea mult pe net , ca sunt foarte&lt;br/&gt;cocosata de la o vreme si ca am mancat de Craciun fix cat&lt;br/&gt;sa pun la loc ce dadusem jos. N am facut nimic in vacanta si&lt;br/&gt;saptamana viitoare am pre-testul care imi va spune daca&lt;br/&gt;merg la nationale sau nu.Nu mi-am facut eseul de intrare la&lt;br/&gt;FWLS , nu am facut absolut nimic nici pentru UWC , dar am&lt;br/&gt;facut si o chestie buna.&lt;br/&gt;  Zilele astea a fost la TV Legally Blonde . M am uitat la el&lt;br/&gt;( si ieri si azi , in timpul revenirii dupa nebunia de la rev si&lt;br/&gt;cele 3 ore de somn , care au fost petrecute in patul cui trebuia,&lt;br/&gt;i know that sounds kinky but it was meant to be like that :P)&lt;br/&gt;.... si mi am adus aminte ce vreau eu. Vreau sa plec la studiu&lt;br/&gt;in strainatate , sa fiu nu buna , ci foarte buna la tot ceea ce &lt;br/&gt;fac , sa arat mai bine decat beyonce si sa stiu exact ceea ce vreau.&lt;br/&gt;  Anul asta imi aduce un vant bun , prielnic pentru tot ceea&lt;br/&gt;ce fac si dupa seara asta , credeti-ma ca nu o sa mai fiu om , decat&lt;br/&gt;foarte rar. O sa fiu .... ceva ce nu vedeti decat asa prin filme.&lt;br/&gt;   And ... Just listen Alanis Morissette- I'm a bitch I'm a lover , &lt;br/&gt;maybe you'll get my point.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I'm done searching infinity for others. I'm searching my own way , &lt;br/&gt;my own infinity.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Cheers ,&lt;br/&gt;Iulia&lt;br/&gt;  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5407828207303816828?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5407828207303816828/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5407828207303816828&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5407828207303816828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5407828207303816828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2009/01/happy-new-year.html' title='Happy new year!'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-3740275818401779945</id><published>2008-12-29T19:58:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-16T22:22:24.434+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blower&apos;s daughter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anul nou'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='destin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Dor.</title><content type='html'> Nu-ti dai seama cat ti-e de dor de cineva , decat&lt;br/&gt;atunci cand nu-l vezi pentru o perioada de timp , &lt;br/&gt;sau nu ai nici o veste de la acea persoana pentru&lt;br/&gt;acelasi scurt interval.&lt;br/&gt; Am avut o bucurie inexplicabila zilele astea sa &lt;br/&gt;vorbesc cu 2 prieteni: prima , o ea , desi e mai&lt;br/&gt;tot timpul on-line , nu prea ne vorbim si a fost&lt;br/&gt;placut sa impartasim cateva cuvinte. &lt;br/&gt;  Al doilea , un el , care nu a mai fost online de &lt;br/&gt;duminica trecuta cred , iar atunci cand l-am vazut&lt;br/&gt;on-line am tresarit de bucurie , pentru ca voiam&lt;br/&gt;sa stie atat de multe si voiam sa stiu atat de multe.&lt;br/&gt;Desi nu am petrecut mult timp impreuna in&lt;br/&gt;real life time [ e student la cluj , dragul de el ] , am&lt;br/&gt;vorbit mult prea mult ca sa nu ma bucur de prezenta&lt;br/&gt;lui in permanenta. &lt;br/&gt;   Din cand in cand , mi-a sosit cate un gand bun si&lt;br/&gt;dintr-un colt indepartat al lumii , de la cineva care se&lt;br/&gt;pare ca asteapta cu nerabdare intoarcerea acasa , desi&lt;br/&gt;se va intampla dupa primul nostru revelion impreuna&lt;br/&gt;si totusi despartiti de multi kilometri.&lt;br/&gt;    Un alt prieten a aparut on-line azi si desi nu mi-am&lt;br/&gt;permis sa-i spun buna , ce mai faci? pentru ca sunt &lt;br/&gt;destul de multe greseli de ambele parti care ne despart ,&lt;br/&gt;am tresarit din nou la gandul ca nu mai stiu nimic de el ,&lt;br/&gt;ca poate e vina mea , dar nu am ce sa fac... &lt;br/&gt;    Am visat toata noaptea. L-am visat tocmai pe acest&lt;br/&gt;prieten care mi spunea sa ne mai vedem candva , ca e &lt;br/&gt;pacat. M-am trezit cu un zambet pe buze si cu convingerea&lt;br/&gt;ferma ca trebuie sa fac ceva. Pana acum nu am facut&lt;br/&gt;nimic , dar trebuie sa fac ceva , pentru propria-mi constiinta.&lt;br/&gt;    Au existat si situatii care au devenit ce nu trebuiau sa&lt;br/&gt;devina si nu stiu a cui e vina , dar am simtit ca totul a evoluat&lt;br/&gt;fara mine , eu nu am dat unda verde pentru nimic , si totusi&lt;br/&gt;lucrurile au luat-o razna. Da , poate ca trebuia sa spun stop,&lt;br/&gt;nu sa ma ascund , dar avand in vedere ca pentru a se dezvolta&lt;br/&gt; ceva , era nevoie si de mine , iar eu nu am fost acolo , nu , nu&lt;br/&gt;e vina mea. &lt;br/&gt;      Uneori , ma simt singura . Dar , stiind ca&lt;br/&gt;desi nu e , totusi e undeva , ma calmez fix atunci&lt;br/&gt; cand imi trimite in zbor adieri calde pline de el. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Nopate buna va doresc ,&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;julie&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;comme si tu etais ici , comme j'etais ici dans tes bras.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-3740275818401779945?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/3740275818401779945/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=3740275818401779945&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3740275818401779945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3740275818401779945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/dor.html' title='Dor.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-335866680808390292</id><published>2008-12-27T14:34:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-27T14:47:17.491+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mister'/><title type='text'>Mister.</title><content type='html'> Si am reusit sa pastrez misterul. Am reusit sa tac din&lt;br/&gt;gura , sa tin un secret si sunt mandra de asta. Asa cum&lt;br/&gt;nici eu nu voiam sa aflu ce cadouri urma sa puna "mosu"&lt;br/&gt; sub brad , asa am reusit sa tin secret, desi am exagerat&lt;br/&gt;pe alocuri.&lt;br/&gt;  si ce e misterul? E un sentiment , o emotie , entuziasm ,&lt;br/&gt;secret , e o parte din suflet. E starea aia in care-ti doresti&lt;br/&gt;foarte tare ceva , dar nu reusesti sa obtii pentru ca nu&lt;br/&gt;stii ceea ce e. &lt;br/&gt;  uneori e si teama de necunoscut. E ca vantul , pe care&lt;br/&gt;il poti simti , dar nu-l poti vedea , e ca un parfum mistic&lt;br/&gt;ce te invaluie si te sufoca , simtindu-ti dorinta disperata&lt;br/&gt; de a-l putea cuprinde pe tot in sufletul tau.&lt;br/&gt;   E dorinta de a vedea ce se ascunde in spatele aparentelor,&lt;br/&gt;in spatele unui val care flutura usor , e dorinta de a avea&lt;br/&gt;ceea ce nu ai avut pana acum , e dorinta de a fi cu tine.&lt;br/&gt;    E un gand care strabate mii de kilometri , e o poveste&lt;br/&gt;cu final fericit , e o rola de film din anii 40 , e un fir de par ,&lt;br/&gt;un graunte de fericire.&lt;br/&gt;   e un secret atat de bine pastrat , incat nu-l pot sti decat 2&lt;br/&gt;oameni care au devenit unul singur. E ceva vechi , care&lt;br/&gt;exista de mii de ani si totusi nou , pentru ca in fiecare zi&lt;br/&gt;devine altceva in altcineva . &lt;br/&gt;      E speranta , fericire si euforie. E magie , poveste , clinchet&lt;br/&gt;de clopotei. E lumina de la capatul fiecarei zile .&lt;br/&gt; Noi suntem mister.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Julie.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-335866680808390292?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/335866680808390292/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=335866680808390292&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/335866680808390292'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/335866680808390292'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/mister.html' title='Mister.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-4761446715290528657</id><published>2008-12-26T14:15:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T16:04:56.237+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nervi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='craciun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muzica'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/SVTkEw67azI/AAAAAAAAAFI/srmmk57G-Kc/s1600-h/poze+ziua+mama+035.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/SVTkEw67azI/AAAAAAAAAFI/srmmk57G-Kc/s200/poze+ziua+mama+035.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284099033315109682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/SVTit5K7ebI/AAAAAAAAAFA/fGi5LQmmBuo/s1600-h/poze+ziua+mama+225.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/SVTit5K7ebI/AAAAAAAAAFA/fGi5LQmmBuo/s200/poze+ziua+mama+225.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284097540881086898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript" language="javascript"&gt;show_142b4cc248c4e5(448, 46);&lt;/script&gt;&lt;br/&gt;In clipe ca acestea , nimic nu ma mai poate calma&lt;br/&gt;prea tare. Poate doar gandul ca poate , maine &lt;br/&gt;seara merg la patinoar si ca poate , maine seara&lt;br/&gt;o sa reusesc sa conving pe cineva sa ma insoteasca&lt;br/&gt;undeva;;).&lt;br/&gt;Pe langa asta , vreau sa va recomand cu caldura&lt;br/&gt;cateva melodii, care din pacate nu au mers afisate&lt;br/&gt;in format audio , so i'll just tell you about them:|&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Goran Bregovic - Tango ( e ok si varianta underground).&lt;br/&gt;Chad Kroeger - Hero&lt;br/&gt;Jason Mraz-If it kills me + Lucky ( feat Colbie Caillat)&lt;br/&gt; Hoobastank- The reason&lt;br/&gt;Goran Bregovic - Delicious solitude&lt;br/&gt;Goran Bregovic - Ausencia ( feat Cesaria Evora )&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;In rest , nu va pot ura decat sarbatori fericite alaturi de cei dragi.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;P.S. Catre persoana care chiar vreau sa asculte melodiile&lt;br/&gt;astea , stiu ca nu exista alta cale  [si daca ti le dau pe mess&lt;br/&gt;stiu ca nu le asculti , ca asa faci de obicei. Poate acu reusesti&lt;br/&gt;sa le ceri fara sa le ofer. In afara de hero ;) , e de la sine inteles.]&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-4761446715290528657?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/4761446715290528657/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=4761446715290528657&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4761446715290528657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4761446715290528657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/show142b4cc248c4e5448-46-in-clipe-ca.html' title=''/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/SVTkEw67azI/AAAAAAAAAFI/srmmk57G-Kc/s72-c/poze+ziua+mama+035.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-7923827337800580867</id><published>2008-12-25T15:14:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T23:26:07.928+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='maine'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nervi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='destin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='craciun'/><title type='text'>Craciun.</title><content type='html'> Craciunul asta a avut mult farmec doar in&lt;br/&gt;momentul in care l-am revazut pe un om de care&lt;br/&gt;imi era tare dor, apoi evaporandu-se lasand loc &lt;br/&gt;unor nervi si unei oboseli indreptatite de situatia&lt;br/&gt;curenta.&lt;br/&gt; Mama mea e nascuta de Craciun, ocazie pentru toate&lt;br/&gt;rudele din univers sa vina la noi acasa si ocazie pentru&lt;br/&gt;noi sa facem curat cu 2 saptamani inainte urmand&lt;br/&gt;ca de ajun sa retusam tot, precum si prilej de a face&lt;br/&gt;2 tone de mancare pentru numerosii oaspeti.&lt;br/&gt; De asemenea , nimic nu s-a schimbat din anii trecuti,&lt;br/&gt;poate decat eu. Nervii sunt aceiasi , dar , in trecut&lt;br/&gt;erau calmati de asteptarea unei surprize. Nu neaparat&lt;br/&gt;ca astept cine stie ce cadouri , dar m-am saturat sa&lt;br/&gt;stiu tot. Vreau sa nu mai aflu nimic , sa fie tot secret,&lt;br/&gt;sa ma mut intr-o lume numai a mea , in care sa nu aiba&lt;br/&gt;acces nimeni.&lt;br/&gt; De cand am inceput post-ul casa s-a umplut si a si&lt;br/&gt;fulguit. ( see , i told you it would snow:D ) , iar dispozitia&lt;br/&gt;mea o sa se modifice din nou inspre si mai rau cand&lt;br/&gt;o sa apara matusa mea. Cea cu fiul etalon cu prietena.&lt;br/&gt;  Da. au mai trecut 4 ore de cand a venit matusa , care&lt;br/&gt;a sarit peste orice grosolanie , din fericire , dar am avut&lt;br/&gt;un punct critic , in care a trebuit sa ma duc sus , sa ma &lt;br/&gt;refugiez in bratele lui toni si sa incerc sa rezist tuturor&lt;br/&gt; celor care veneau sus ca sa ma cheme sa mananc tortul&lt;br/&gt;la care am muncit azi de dimineata ca sa iasa un mare&lt;br/&gt;naspa pleostit pentru ca a fost facut in graba. Nici macar&lt;br/&gt;vinul nu era demidulce , ci demisec si nici de ala n am &lt;br/&gt;baut prea mult.&lt;br/&gt;  Ce pot sa zic? Asta e definitia Craciunului. Asa a fost&lt;br/&gt;si anul trecut. Un mare naspa in care le spui oamenilor&lt;br/&gt;ce mai faci , cat de bine iti merge , cati de 10 ai la scoala,&lt;br/&gt;ce ti mai face prietenul inexistent. &lt;br/&gt;   Cat despre magie... The heck with it. nu mai e de vreo 2 ani&lt;br/&gt;si nici nu o sa mai fie prea curand. Sunt prea mare ca&lt;br/&gt;sa mai fie placut.&lt;br/&gt;    Doar la gandul ca vine revelionul , care in mod sigur&lt;br/&gt;o sa fie crazyyyyy , ma mai relaxez un pic. Vreau sa chem&lt;br/&gt;pe cineva pe la mine acasa zilele astea , sa ies in oras pana&lt;br/&gt;in revelion , sa ma simt bine , sa ma relaxez , la naiba , &lt;br/&gt;m-am saturat de stresul asta permanent si de oameni&lt;br/&gt;pentru care trebuie sa fac ceva tot timpul.&lt;br/&gt;   Dar de maine fac numai ce vreau eu. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-7923827337800580867?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/7923827337800580867/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=7923827337800580867&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/7923827337800580867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/7923827337800580867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/craciun.html' title='Craciun.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-2076113904614385855</id><published>2008-12-21T21:51:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-21T22:52:56.816+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='youth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zambet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='patinaj'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blower&apos;s daughter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='seara'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='craciun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><title type='text'>De ziua mea</title><content type='html'> Desi nici nu mi-am dat seama ca e ziua mea pana&lt;br/&gt;nu am primit un mesaj , desi stiam ca azi urma sa&lt;br/&gt;fie Sf. Iuliana , cu toate astea am reusit sa zicem &lt;br/&gt;sa o serbez , desi neintentionat.&lt;br/&gt; Dupa o absenta de aproximativ un an de pe ringul&lt;br/&gt;patinatorilor am reusit sa revin in lumina reflectoarelor.&lt;br/&gt; Evident , ca o vedeta ce sunt , am fost recunoscuta&lt;br/&gt;de toti fanii mei , care m-au intrebat pe toata durata&lt;br/&gt;seriei daca invat in Caragiale. Ajungand acasa am realizat&lt;br/&gt;ca principalul meu fan era chiar Sebi! febletea colegelor&lt;br/&gt;mele de grupa la engleza . Da fetelor , am fost cu Sebi&lt;br/&gt;la patinoar, stiu sunt groaznica , ma urati , dar da , si&lt;br/&gt;eu va iubesc :). Ziceti mersi ca nu am fost cu Fabio :)).&lt;br/&gt; Am avut un noroc fantastic. Gheata a fost facuta la &lt;br/&gt;timp , patinele au mers bine , au fost reflectoarele aprinse&lt;br/&gt;inca din primele minute , nu am cazut , compania a fost&lt;br/&gt;foarte placuta , totul a fost mai mult decat ok.&lt;br/&gt;  Apoi ajungand acasa , am avut ocazia sa ma delectez&lt;br/&gt;cu un film foarte dragut , asa ca desert dupa felul principal.&lt;br/&gt;  Sarbatorile se anunta foarte dragute anul asta , sau&lt;br/&gt;cel putin vacanta. Desi am multa treaba acasa , gasesc timp&lt;br/&gt;si pentru alte chestii , cum ar fi mersul cu colindul la profi,&lt;br/&gt;sau mersul in oras cu bebe ca sa-i cumpere ceva lui alex &lt;br/&gt;de craciun :). [ Fac progrese ;)) ] . Poate merge si pisi cu&lt;br/&gt;noi sa cumpere si ea o carte pentru soferi incepatori ;). Eu&lt;br/&gt;o sa ma multumesc cu privitul desi incep sa am tot mai multe&lt;br/&gt;remuscari ca nu le-am luat nimic alor mei. Adica le-am luat &lt;br/&gt;cate ceva de prin Cehia , cel putin mamei , dar imi place&lt;br/&gt;prea tare sa fac shopping , adica shopping de craciun. E singura&lt;br/&gt;perioada in care chiar imi place sa ma amestec in aglomeratie.&lt;br/&gt;  Azi e ziua mea , pentru a 3 a oara anul acesta. ;)). Da , stiu&lt;br/&gt;ce de zile! Dar , spre deosebire de celelalte zile , azi am inceput&lt;br/&gt;inca de cand m-am trezit sa ma gandesc la tot ce am realizat&lt;br/&gt;anul acesta , la oamenii din viata mea , la cei ce nu mai sunt si&lt;br/&gt;mi-as dori sa mai fie , la toti cei care ar trebui sa fie langa mine&lt;br/&gt;si nu sunt si din fericire la cei al caror loc e langa mine si sunt&lt;br/&gt;langa mine. &lt;br/&gt;  Si iata si cadoul cel mai important de ziua mea care a aparut&lt;br/&gt;fix acum cand scriu acest post : apartament mobilat dar nelocuit&lt;br/&gt;cu sistem home-cinema , de inchiriat pentru revelion. Deci ,&lt;br/&gt; in sfarsit scap de incertitudine. O sa incep anul nou cu o super&lt;br/&gt;petrecere si cu noi prieteni.&lt;br/&gt;  Astfel , ziua de azi devine fantastica , m-am simtit grozav&lt;br/&gt;inca din prima clipa in care m-am trezit pana acum , cand probabil&lt;br/&gt;o sa ma duc la culcare pentru ca sunt destul de obosita, patinele&lt;br/&gt;nu-s lucru usor :).&lt;br/&gt;  In ceea ce priveste vremea de afara , premonitiile mele nu&lt;br/&gt;sunt asa de puternice , dar speranta ramane. Speranta ca va fi&lt;br/&gt;totul asa cum trebuie , adica va ninge de Craciun.&lt;br/&gt; Ca o sa ma simt bine de rev si ca in sfarsit tot ce imi doresc &lt;br/&gt;capata un sens si o culoare e deja o certitudine.&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;O noapte buna va urez tuturor , &lt;br/&gt;Mai ales fanilor mei ;)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-2076113904614385855?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/2076113904614385855/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=2076113904614385855&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2076113904614385855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2076113904614385855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/de-ziua-mea.html' title='De ziua mea'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-4040775742361105136</id><published>2008-12-20T13:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T15:28:16.793+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='youth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zambet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spirit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='share'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anul nou'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Imagini'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='craciun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ameteala'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><title type='text'>Magia Craciunului</title><content type='html'> E incredibil ce poate sa faca o sarbatoare asa de faina&lt;br/&gt;cum e Craciunul pentru oameni. Personal , sunt cu gura&lt;br/&gt;pana la urechi de aseara , dar zambesc incontinuu de vreo&lt;br/&gt;3 zile.&lt;br/&gt; De ce sunt cu gura pana la urechi? Pai , daca pana si tata&lt;br/&gt;a fost cuprins oarecum de spiritul sarabtorilor si s-a apucat&lt;br/&gt;sa-mi faca mie!!! farse la telefon si sa rada apoi cu pofta ( rar&lt;br/&gt;face asta ) , e clar ca se intampla ceva. &lt;br/&gt; E ceva in aer , pluteste si ne invaluie. Mamei ii mirosea&lt;br/&gt;aseara a sarmale in casa , desi inca nu am gatit nimic, tata se&lt;br/&gt;joaca cu pisoiul mai mult ca oricand si ii surprind zambete pe&lt;br/&gt;sub mustata tot timpul ,  pisoiul e mai dragastos ca oricand , &lt;br/&gt;bebe si paun sunt mai ...:X ca niciodata , pisi e mai confuza ca&lt;br/&gt;oricand , eu fiind cea mai vesela ca pot sa-i observ pe toti.&lt;br/&gt; Azi , facand curat cu mama , ascultam colinde de Craciun , ca&lt;br/&gt;sa-i fac ei un moft si , ori pentru ca am eu dispozitia necesara&lt;br/&gt;si nu mai sunt asa posaca , ori pentru ca are mama dispozitia &lt;br/&gt;necesara , trancanim cum nu am mai trancanit de multe despre&lt;br/&gt;tot felul de tampenii ;;). &lt;br/&gt; Toata lumea pare vesela , mai buna , mai dispusa sa cedeze&lt;br/&gt;la rigiditatile de zi cu zi. Orgolii sunt calcate , muuulte daruri&lt;br/&gt;sunt schimbate , multe bucurii , viata si culoare.&lt;br/&gt; Imi place. Am eu un feeling din asta foarte fain asa , cum nu&lt;br/&gt;am avut decat in secunda 1 cand am facut 16 ani :D . E lumea&lt;br/&gt;plina de poveste , e ceva magic care ne trezeste dimineata mai&lt;br/&gt;voiosi ( adica nu-mi mai injur pisica in fiecare dimineata :D ).&lt;br/&gt; Sunt in permanenta ametita. Adica eram cand am inceput &lt;br/&gt;acest post. Acum s-a mai ameliorat ( am ochelari din nou :D ),&lt;br/&gt;dar inca mai traiesc pe baza de aer. Mananc mai nimic , datorita&lt;br/&gt;unui obicei nesanatos pe care l-am tot hranit de cand m am intors&lt;br/&gt;din Cehia , de a manca aer , presupun ca si de asta ametesc.&lt;br/&gt;Dar , in orice caz , ametesc de fericire , e prea placuta atmosfera&lt;br/&gt;asta si sper doar sa nu fie calmul de dinaintea furtunii...&lt;br/&gt; Urez tuturor un Craciun  fericit! Si va doresc tot ce-i mai bun , &lt;br/&gt;sa fiti si voi macar la fel de euforici ca mine... &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam ;)&lt;br/&gt;  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-4040775742361105136?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/4040775742361105136/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=4040775742361105136&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4040775742361105136'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4040775742361105136'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/magia-craciunului.html' title='Magia Craciunului'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-8432438250426918131</id><published>2008-12-20T00:04:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T00:18:27.432+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='romania'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='filme'/><title type='text'>Restul e tacere.</title><content type='html'> Da , sunt impresionata. In sensul bun al cuvantului.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Ce scrie pe cinemagia.ro:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;Nu-i usor sa ai un tata celebru. Tanarul GRIG este fiul unei vedete a Teatrului National, acum aproape 100 de ani. Dar propriul sau bilant este oarecum dezamagitor. Prea scund pentru scena, prea timid cu femeile, prea excesiv in stilul de viata, fiul e pe cale sa comita greseala capitala, pacatul de neiertat in ochii tatalui: sa regizeze un film de cinema! Il viseaza ca pe cel mai grandios si mai lung film realizat vreodata. Va fi reconstitutirea fidela a razboiului cu turcii, prin care Romania isi cucerise independenta cu 35 de ani in urma...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;LEON, un mosier local atins de deliruri mesianice si auto-proclamat Patron al Artelor, devine finantatorul intregii afaceri. Tot el devine, pe rind, protectorul lui Grig, dascalul sau, parinte substituit, partener necinstit si dusman pe viata. Dar va putea GAUMONDE, compania franceza ce controleaza piata cinematografica aproape peste tot in Europa, sa accepte competitia cu o productie independenta de o asemenea amploare? Si daca da, va obtine Grig, prin aceasta victorie, respectul tatalui sau?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;O poveste (in mare parte) adevarata.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/i&gt;Ce spun eu:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/i&gt; Surprinzator. Uimitor de colorat pentru noi. Fara ceausism ,&lt;br/&gt;placut , cu umor ( desi pe alocuri usor penibil ) , quite a nice&lt;br/&gt;plot i would say , actori necunoscuti si totusi recunoscuti cu &lt;br/&gt;usurinta . &lt;br/&gt; Marius Vizante este genial. Era de departe omul cel mai potrivit.&lt;br/&gt;Iar interepretul lui Leon este la fel de bun&lt;br/&gt; Cinematografia face pasi catre un viitor mai colorat.&lt;br/&gt;Ma simt implinita si oarecum patriota in seara asta :). &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Ce imi place la filmul asta si nu mi-a placut la California&lt;br/&gt;Dreamin'? Pai , nu prezinta tot ce nu-i bun la romani , nu&lt;br/&gt;ne arata betivi , desfranate si disperare , vise care nu-s &lt;br/&gt;plauzibile. Ne arata o alta epoca , placuta si regretata a&lt;br/&gt;Romaniei.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Am ras cand :&lt;br/&gt;- tatal lui Grig il alerga&lt;br/&gt;- cand Grig merge la rege si fiind intrebat cati ani are&lt;br/&gt;raspunde mai intai 25 , apoi la repetarea intrebarii 19 :).&lt;br/&gt;De fapt , are 27 de ani , este mic de inaltime si complexat&lt;br/&gt;de asta.  &lt;br/&gt;- cand se intalnescu cu ghicitoarea interpretata de&lt;br/&gt;Marilena Chelaru ( mi-a adus aminte de propria mea&lt;br/&gt;interpretare a unei tiganci ghicitoare :) )&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; Da , un film bun. Romanesc.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Noapte buna .&lt;br/&gt;Iulia.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-8432438250426918131?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/8432438250426918131/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=8432438250426918131&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8432438250426918131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8432438250426918131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/restul-e-tacere.html' title='Restul e tacere.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-25560456088364338</id><published>2008-12-18T23:43:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T01:11:35.425+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='youth'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blower&apos;s daughter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><title type='text'>De ce te semnezi Myriam?</title><content type='html'> Banal, nu i asa.  O banala intrebare pusa de Cosmin.&lt;br/&gt;De ce m-am semnat Myriam? De ce ma semnez Iulia?&lt;br/&gt;De ce m-am semnat Juju?&lt;br/&gt; Pentru ca sunt o mie de oameni intr-un singur trup.&lt;br/&gt;Sunt fata de pe bulevard care zambeste trecatorilor&lt;br/&gt;mohorati , sunt fata care citeste in tramvai , sunt fata&lt;br/&gt; care trece strada prin locuri nepermise , sunt fata cu&lt;br/&gt;buzele inghetate , sunt fata cu nasul rosu si esarfa&lt;br/&gt; albastra, sunt fata care iti zambeste tie , azi , maine,&lt;br/&gt;in veci , doar ca sa-ti rapeasca si tie un zambet si sa nu&lt;br/&gt;te mai simti trist sau singur.&lt;br/&gt; Sunt fata care cedeaza locuri in autobuz si se topeste&lt;br/&gt; de dragul copiilor . Sunt fata cu glasul cald , dar puternic,&lt;br/&gt;care te striga o data si a carei voce iti ramane mereu &lt;br/&gt;intiparita in suflet. Sunt pasagerul clandestin al unui vas&lt;br/&gt;care ma duce spre infinit. Sunt ecoul din munti. Sunt&lt;br/&gt;raul care susura la vale , cu glasu-i cristalin , care te &lt;br/&gt;imbie sa te rasfeti cu apa sa racoritoare...&lt;br/&gt; Sunt ceea ce iti lipseste. Si daca asta inseamna ca trebuie&lt;br/&gt;sa fiu Myriam , Iulia , Juju , Lacroche... etc.voi fi o mie &lt;br/&gt;de oameni intr-unul singur. Sunt ceea ce simt si devin&lt;br/&gt;vant cald de vara , cantec de vioara , asfintitul unei zile&lt;br/&gt;toride , zorii unei ierni , sunt poveste , sunt ceea ce nu &lt;br/&gt;poti atinge , dar ceea ce poti trai.&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Da , cred ca asta sunt... &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;si nu sunt nici myriam , iulia sau juju.&lt;br/&gt;Sunt eu , pur si simplu&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Eu ;).&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-25560456088364338?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/25560456088364338/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=25560456088364338&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/25560456088364338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/25560456088364338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/de-ce-te-semnezi-myriam.html' title='De ce te semnezi Myriam?'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-8430462461803285901</id><published>2008-12-18T21:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T22:56:28.314+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blower&apos;s daughter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='destin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='craciun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><title type='text'>Ati vazut cumva...</title><content type='html'> Ati vazut cumva norii mohorati , ziua ploioasa de&lt;br/&gt;azi si fata zambitoare de pe bulevard?  Era o fata&lt;br/&gt;cu o palarie , cu mers rapid, cu o punguta de cadouri&lt;br/&gt;in mana , care privea in jurul ei , zambea cand vedea&lt;br/&gt;copii , zambea tot timpul. De ce zambea? Vin sarbatorile,&lt;br/&gt;e iarna , e placut , de ce sa nu zambeasca?&lt;br/&gt; Acea fata eram eu.&lt;br/&gt; Ati vazut cumva un grup de colindatoare cu caciulite&lt;br/&gt;de craciunite in pasaj? sau poate in spatele mall-ului&lt;br/&gt;vechi?  Le-ati auzit cumva cantand? Cause you better&lt;br/&gt;watch out , better not cry , better not pout i'm tellin&lt;br/&gt;you why! Santa claus is coming to town:D&lt;br/&gt; Acel grup era pus la punct de mine . :)&lt;br/&gt; Ati vazut cumva luminitile din oras? Miile de trecatori?&lt;br/&gt;Miile de copii? Miile de cadouri? Miile de jucarii...&lt;br/&gt; Acelea eram noi.&lt;br/&gt; Noi suntem in fiecare lucru. Existam in lumea care&lt;br/&gt; ne inconjoara. Existam in glasuri , in culori , in zambete,&lt;br/&gt;in cuvinte, in lumini , in dragoste si ne contopim in &lt;br/&gt;viata.&lt;br/&gt; Craciun fericit!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;P.S Mai colindam si maine:D;) Ne puteti vedea la&lt;br/&gt;cei mai mari mahari din ploiesti sau probabil in pasaj&lt;br/&gt;ca sa insufletim ploiestiul:).&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-8430462461803285901?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/8430462461803285901/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=8430462461803285901&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8430462461803285901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8430462461803285901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/ati-vazut-cumva.html' title='Ati vazut cumva...'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5692656564189427554</id><published>2008-12-17T23:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-18T01:13:27.275+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blower&apos;s daughter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='craciun'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><title type='text'>copilarie.</title><content type='html'> Da , a fost o zi superba azi. Cap-coada . &lt;br/&gt;Multumesc Thomas pentru imboldul de&lt;br/&gt;a scrie , caci probabil as fi fost prea ametita&lt;br/&gt;sa fac asta.:)&lt;br/&gt; copiii. Copiii au fest remarcabil de dragalasi,&lt;br/&gt;chestie la care eu nu ma asteptam absolut deloc,&lt;br/&gt;avand in vedere generatiile de azi . Dar , lipsa&lt;br/&gt;de anumite lucruri , cum ar fi rasfatul excesiv&lt;br/&gt;si telefoanele mobile scumpe , transforma copiii&lt;br/&gt;in suflete modeste , iubitoare.&lt;br/&gt; Am aflat multe povesti azi , de la 2 fetite &lt;br/&gt;extrem de simpatice. De exemplu va puteati inchipui&lt;br/&gt;ca scufita rosie era o fetita cu o caciulita rosie care&lt;br/&gt;ii ducea cozonac si vin bunicii ei? Sau ca lupul din&lt;br/&gt;Capra cu Trei iezi a stat la o masa din " creta" de &lt;br/&gt;ceara? A fost extrem de simpatic , toate intrebarile&lt;br/&gt;si cat de dragalasi erau cu noi , am ramas impresionata&lt;br/&gt;de lipsa de "fitze" si mi-am adus aminte de cat de mult&lt;br/&gt;vreau sa am eu un copil.&lt;br/&gt; Da , pare ciudat , dar e una din cele mai mari dorinte&lt;br/&gt;ale mele. Daca exista un gand care sa ma sperie mai tare&lt;br/&gt;decat posibilitatea de a nu avea o familie , atunci acela&lt;br/&gt;ar fi gandul ca nu voi putea avea copii. Mi se pare cel&lt;br/&gt;mai minunat lucru din lume sa fii mama. Sa porti o viata&lt;br/&gt;inauntrul tau , sa fie parte din tine.  &lt;br/&gt;  Da , evident ar exista si posibilitatea de a infia . Dar &lt;br/&gt;cum ramane cu oribilele greturi matinale? Cu nervii&lt;br/&gt; aia de femeie insarcinata cu care poti teroriza pana si&lt;br/&gt;teroristii? Cu burta aia mare pe care trebuie sa o cari?&lt;br/&gt;Cu poftele alea de ciocolata care sa ceara suplimentarea&lt;br/&gt;fondurilor mondiale de cacao ( nu conteaza daca exista&lt;br/&gt;sau nu :D )?&lt;br/&gt; Deci , cum reusesc femeile sa faca avort?motivele medicale,&lt;br/&gt;da le inteleg, decat sa nasti un copil cu malformatii , mai &lt;br/&gt;bine avortezi.&lt;br/&gt;Dar , daca nu ai astfel de probleme si nu ai o varsta relativ&lt;br/&gt;onorabila si 2 copii de peste 15 ani , nu mai inteleg motivele.&lt;br/&gt;Si ce daca am 16 ani? Daca as fi gasit&lt;br/&gt;un prost care sa ia prezervative de 50 de bani si sa raman&lt;br/&gt;gravida as fi facut totul si l-as fi pastrat , chit ca mi-as&lt;br/&gt;fi ratat marile planuri de viitor. Dar cred ca pun problema&lt;br/&gt;usor gresit. cineva ca mine , nu si ar pune intrebari de genul:&lt;br/&gt;daca nu o facem , ma lasa , ce sa fac? &lt;br/&gt; Erau abordate niste subiecte asemanatoare in pliantele&lt;br/&gt;de acolo, nu m-am putut abtine sa nu vorbesc despre asta.:)&lt;br/&gt; Si a fost asa simpatic la copiii:X Era si un bebelus pe care&lt;br/&gt;nu am vrut sa l stresez si nu l-am vazut din pacate. Dar&lt;br/&gt;copiii au fost fantastici. Figura fericita a lui Adi( 4 ani) cu camera&lt;br/&gt;digitala a Claudiei facandu-ne poze, strungareata andrei  , &lt;br/&gt;poeziile lui nicu si peste toate invitatia de a deveni voluntari,&lt;br/&gt;de a petrece 2 saptamani acolo si sa avem grija de copii la vara.&lt;br/&gt; Fucking brilliant :). De-abia astept.&lt;br/&gt; si da , e grozav sa devii mos craciun pentru o zi. Sa vezi lumini,&lt;br/&gt;sperante , bucurie, copilarie in ochii unor copii teribil de inocenti.&lt;br/&gt; si stiti ce a fost cel mai frumos? Raspunsul la o intrebare:&lt;br/&gt; O sa ti fie dor de mine?&lt;br/&gt; Nu, pentru ca o sa te intorci.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Stiau. In sufletele lor , stiau.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5692656564189427554?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5692656564189427554/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5692656564189427554&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5692656564189427554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5692656564189427554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/copilarie.html' title='copilarie.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-6109856954850903291</id><published>2008-12-17T23:33:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T23:42:42.171+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Te iubesc</title><content type='html'> Te iubesc , dar te iubesc atat de mult incat&lt;br/&gt;nici eu nu imi dau seama cat te iubesc de mult.&lt;br/&gt;Si iti multumesc ca esti langa mine in fiecare&lt;br/&gt;zi. Si iti multumesc ca te certi cu mine . Si iti&lt;br/&gt;multumesc ca te gandesti la mine. Si te iubesc.&lt;br/&gt;Si , desi te am urat din prima clipa pentru ca&lt;br/&gt;erai fosta colega a celui care se anunta urmatorul&lt;br/&gt;Razvan Fodor , dar era doar Fodor , si pentru&lt;br/&gt;ca te-ai asezat in banca cu singura tipa pe care&lt;br/&gt;o stiam si era si super simpatica si pentru ca&lt;br/&gt;te uram atat de tare pe toate chestiile astea , de&lt;br/&gt;asta te iubesc asa de mult acum , cand plang din &lt;br/&gt;orice prostie. A fost cel mai frumos cadou de &lt;br/&gt;Craciun din viata mea si cand o sa te vad o sa incep&lt;br/&gt;iar sa plang. Te iubesc , mama de meserie ce esti , &lt;br/&gt;asa cum am zis si azi la copii.&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;Paunito. Esti cea mai dulce si cea mai simpatica si&lt;br/&gt;cea mai iubitoare si cand eu si cealalta balanta suntem&lt;br/&gt;in toane proaste si nu ne inghitim , tu ne aduci impreuna.&lt;br/&gt;Si pe tine nu stiu cand am ajuns sa te iubesc. Din grupul&lt;br/&gt;ala de 3 fete venite de la aceeasi scoala ai ajuns in&lt;br/&gt;grupul celor 3 nebune care se sustin si tin la ele mai&lt;br/&gt;mult decat tin altii la parintii lor. Te iubesc si pe tine atat&lt;br/&gt;de mult incat nu vreau sa mi mai dau jos cadoul de &lt;br/&gt;Craciun de la tine. Esti un om fantastic si sunt convinsa&lt;br/&gt;ca o sa ramanem impreuna , pentru ca tu o sa ne tii&lt;br/&gt;impreuna , asa leoaica focoasa cum esti. Te iubesc si &lt;br/&gt;iti multumesc pentru telefonul care mi-a adus cel mai&lt;br/&gt;teribil cadou de craciun din viata mea. Of. Iarasi plang.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Si nu , nu fac parte din familia Emonescu. Doar atat , &lt;br/&gt;va iubesc . Si mi-e tare dor de unii oameni care nu sunt&lt;br/&gt;azi aici sa vada cat de fericita sunt. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Va iubesc.&lt;br/&gt;Juju a voastra&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-6109856954850903291?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/6109856954850903291/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=6109856954850903291&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6109856954850903291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6109856954850903291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/te-iubesc.html' title='Te iubesc'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-1483144194547027604</id><published>2008-12-17T18:35:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T18:48:17.923+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='share'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='muzica'/><title type='text'>Touch Me</title><content type='html'>Nu stiu ce-mi veni cu melodia asta. Am dat iar&lt;br/&gt;de ea in calculator si iar am facut o fixatie pe ea:&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript" language="javascript" src="http://www.trilulilu.ro/embed-audio/d_k_01/e36dec435f6f22"&gt;&lt;/script&gt;&lt;script type="text/javascript" language="javascript"&gt;show_e36dec435f6f22(448, 46);&lt;/script&gt; &lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;touch me&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br/&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilulilu.ro/audio/Diverse" title="Diverse"&gt;Asculta mai multe audio  Diverse »&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Si ce mai vreau sa share-uiesc ar fi probabil un&lt;br/&gt;trailer de la kung fu panda , dar presupun ca toata&lt;br/&gt;lumea il vazuse deja inaintea mea si dupa seara&lt;br/&gt;asta cred ca o sa postez si trailer ul de la P.S. I&lt;br/&gt;love you pe care intentionez sa-l vad imediat dupa&lt;br/&gt;ce termin cartea:D&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Mi-s vesela.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-1483144194547027604?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/1483144194547027604/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=1483144194547027604&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1483144194547027604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1483144194547027604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/touch-me.html' title='Touch Me'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-1997961041011035750</id><published>2008-12-16T23:15:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T23:39:43.040+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blower&apos;s daughter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='anul nou'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='destin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Amintiri'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><title type='text'>Maine voi fi Mos Craciun</title><content type='html'> Maine merg la un orfelinat impreuna cu niste&lt;br/&gt;oameeni ceva mai speciali ca sa facem o bucurie&lt;br/&gt;unor copii.&lt;br/&gt;  Da , generic suna foarte bine. Si da generic ,&lt;br/&gt;realizand gestul meu de maine chiar o sa fie foarte&lt;br/&gt;bine , cu toate ca aveam ceva indoieli in legatura&lt;br/&gt;cu motivatia unora de a fi acolo.&lt;br/&gt;  Da , vine Craciunul. Da , chiar vreau sa vina.&lt;br/&gt;Da , da , da. In sfarsit o simt. E euforie , e magie , &lt;br/&gt;e familie , e bucurie.&lt;br/&gt;  Azi am facut schimb de cadouri si m-am simtit&lt;br/&gt;ca intr-o mare familie cu multi copii care isi asteapta&lt;br/&gt;nerabdatori darurile. Asa cum vor fi si copiii de la&lt;br/&gt;orfelinat.&lt;br/&gt;  Si da , acesta este spiritul sarbatorilor. Da. Si desi&lt;br/&gt;pentru mine nu exista perioada mai deprimata ca &lt;br/&gt;sarbatorile de iarna , mereu aceleasi , multa lume&lt;br/&gt;, de cele mai multe ori fara rost in jurul meu , o sa-i&lt;br/&gt;accept ca de obicei fara sa zic nimic.&lt;br/&gt;  Da , e ziua mamei fix in ziua de Craciun. Da, ma deprima.&lt;br/&gt;E prea multa lume , toti cerandu-ti lucruri , Iulia , dar &lt;br/&gt;stii... Si Iulia cum mai e la scoala ? A da , ca tu esti fata&lt;br/&gt;desteapta. Dar evident si mult mai recentul : Ce-ti&lt;br/&gt;face prietenul ? Primit de la matusile constiente ca toate&lt;br/&gt;fetele normale tre sa aiba prieten dom'le , asta inca&lt;br/&gt;de cand varul meu are prietena , e etalon. Mda , sigur.&lt;br/&gt;Ceea ce este enervant si plictisitor este necesitatea de&lt;br/&gt;a repeta informatia de mai multe ori fiecarei persoane&lt;br/&gt;pentru a fi convinsa ca o intelege : Lasati ca spal eu vasele &lt;br/&gt;pentru ca dumneavoastra sunteti musafiri. Scoala merge&lt;br/&gt;foarte bine , multumesc. Praga e fantastica , multumesc&lt;br/&gt;de intrebare. Nu am prieten pentru ca nu-mi plac manelistii , &lt;br/&gt;astept facultatea, chiar daca spuneti ca o sa raman fata&lt;br/&gt;batrana multumesc. &lt;br/&gt;  si anul nou. Anul nou. Anul trecut a fost scaldat intr-o&lt;br/&gt;depresie demna de un emo.:) A fost petrecut acasa cu mama,&lt;br/&gt;tata , unchiul meu care se culca de la 1.30 si sotia lui care&lt;br/&gt;rade incontinuu. A fost ceata si artificiile pe care le vedeam&lt;br/&gt;in fiecare an au devenit invizibile , ramanandu-ne decat consolarea&lt;br/&gt;de a auzi bubuiturile sacadate ale intregului oras.A fost un&lt;br/&gt;revelion scaldat in sampanie si filmat pe alocuri cu camera mea.&lt;br/&gt;Camera mea furata. Un revelion facut in fata calculatorului&lt;br/&gt;cu 3 postari pe blog daca imi amintesc bine aminte. Si ceva&lt;br/&gt;imi spune ca nici anul asta n-o sa fie prea schimbat. Decat ca&lt;br/&gt;unchii mei au alte planuri. &lt;br/&gt;  Cu aceasta ocazie fac un anunt: Caut apartament de inchiriat&lt;br/&gt;in noaptea de revelion la pachet cu oameni dispusi sa se distreze&lt;br/&gt;de revelion.&lt;br/&gt;  Sau poate ca o sa l fac acasa , in stil "cool girl" , cea mai tampita&lt;br/&gt;revista din univers ( da recunosc , o citeam cu frenezie in perioada&lt;br/&gt;12-14 ani ) , o sa ma distrez cu my best 2 friends.si chiar o sa ne &lt;br/&gt;distram , eu iar o sa le dau qi hong iar ele or sa zica ca-i oribil ,&lt;br/&gt;poate o sa-mi fac curaj sa deschid vestitul sahlab:).&lt;br/&gt; Poate va fi un an bun.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-1997961041011035750?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/1997961041011035750/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=1997961041011035750&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1997961041011035750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1997961041011035750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/maine-voi-fi-mos-craciun.html' title='Maine voi fi Mos Craciun'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-9003927930921201501</id><published>2008-12-16T00:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T01:30:29.766+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blower&apos;s daughter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='destin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><title type='text'>Amintiri.</title><content type='html'> Ma poticnesc de amintiri.&lt;br/&gt; Seara asta a fost a amintirilor. Am inceput cu o&lt;br/&gt;conversatie cu o veche prietena cu care nu mai &lt;br/&gt;vorbisem de ceva vreme , am continuat cu un &lt;br/&gt;banal link de hi5, care mi-a starnit cele mai diverse&lt;br/&gt;amintiri de Cuza. Ah ,Cuza.&lt;br/&gt;  Si cum era . Cum a trecut doamne asa mult timp?&lt;br/&gt;Unde au plecat zilele alea? Mi se perinda prin fata&lt;br/&gt;ochilor mii de imagini , mii si mii. Zamete , hohote&lt;br/&gt;de ras , bucurie , tipete , incruntari , armonii , &lt;br/&gt;dezorganizari , fete , atat de multe. Par un film care&lt;br/&gt;are scenele extrem de amestecate , dar care totusi&lt;br/&gt;are mai mult sens decat orice altceva. Vad tot &lt;br/&gt;liceul ala in fata ochilor , vad atatia oameni , vad&lt;br/&gt;culori , vad neputinta de a le mai aduce inapoi.&lt;br/&gt;   Tot in seara asta am dat de cateva print screenuri&lt;br/&gt;de anul trecut. Nu-mi vine sa cred ca puteam spune&lt;br/&gt;unele din lucrurile pe care le-am spus. Adica... Nu stiu.&lt;br/&gt;Chiar atat de mult se poate schimba un om in cateva&lt;br/&gt;luni? [ era vorba de anul scolar trecut .] Nu stiu cui&lt;br/&gt;trebuie sa multumesc pentru transformare , dar &lt;br/&gt;presupun ca toate astea incep undeva in vara. Si&lt;br/&gt;totusi am avut tendinta sa repet unele lucuri , desi&lt;br/&gt;am invatat multe din prostiile de anul trecut.&lt;br/&gt;  Ca sa ma citez din anul trecut: " X e ca un drog&lt;br/&gt;de proasta calitate . In loc sa devii high , devii doar&lt;br/&gt;dependent de nefericire." Si da , aveam dreptate , &lt;br/&gt;X chiar era un drog de proasta calitate. Si multe&lt;br/&gt;alte lucruri in viata sunt droguri de proasta calitate.&lt;br/&gt;  In clipa de fata nu simt decat dor fata de anii&lt;br/&gt;trecuti , dar nici un regret fata de trecerea acestui an.&lt;br/&gt;A fost oribil , groaznic , teribil de prost , in anumite&lt;br/&gt;privinte , dar si extraordinar de productiv in altele.&lt;br/&gt; Mi-am schimbat viata. Am ajuns sa fiu multumita&lt;br/&gt;de mine , aproape mi-am schimbat mentalitatea spre&lt;br/&gt;ce-mi doream eu sa fiu. M-am impacat cu mine&lt;br/&gt;insami si asta cred ca e cel mai important lucru.&lt;br/&gt;  Mi-aduc aminte de suferinta din anii trecuti , care &lt;br/&gt;anul asta nu m-a mai insotit , decat in mica masura.&lt;br/&gt;Suferinta de a fi " rebut social , tipa care nu are&lt;br/&gt;prieten , e grasa , groaznica , etc".&lt;br/&gt; Am devenit omul care arata bine , are farmec&lt;br/&gt;prin strungareata pe care o ura , tipa care asteapta&lt;br/&gt;doar omul potrivit pentru ea , tipa care se accepta&lt;br/&gt; asa cum e , tipa care zambeste mai mult , tipa&lt;br/&gt;care flutura din gene in tramvai , tipa constienta&lt;br/&gt;de lumea din jurul ei, tipa care e capabila sa treaca&lt;br/&gt;peste multe.&lt;br/&gt;  That doesn't mean I don't have my up's and down's&lt;br/&gt;too . Da , exista perioade cand redevin vechea mea&lt;br/&gt; persoana , pentru ca ma confrunt cu prea multe ca&lt;br/&gt;sa nu clachez , din cand in cand , pentru 5 minute.&lt;br/&gt;Nici un om nu e atat de puternic.&lt;br/&gt;  Si in legatura cu suferinta de a nu avea pe cineva,&lt;br/&gt;exista intotdeauna speranta de a-l gasi pe right one , &lt;br/&gt;dar oricum nu mai e aceeasi suferinta. Nu am devenit&lt;br/&gt;imuna , sunt cu atat mai vulnerabila cu cat simt&lt;br/&gt;apropierea sarbatorilor . Dar , la acest lucru nu se mai&lt;br/&gt;adauga motivele. Daca nu e , nu e pentru ca it wasn't&lt;br/&gt;meant to be. nu pentru ca as fi eu fiica padurii , ca sa&lt;br/&gt;ma exprim putin mai formal:). Nu e din vina mea ,&lt;br/&gt;decat daca vina mea e de a alege cu grija , de a mi&lt;br/&gt;dori un om care sa nu dea cu mingea in peretii clasei , &lt;br/&gt;care sa aiba curajul sa vorbeasca si sa nu ma lase&lt;br/&gt;doar pe mine sa vorbesc , care sa ma aprecieze pentru &lt;br/&gt;ceea ce sunt si sa ma respecte , fara sa vrea si altceva.&lt;br/&gt;Si am exemple atat , dar atat de concrete pentru &lt;br/&gt;fiecare dintre oamenii astia, incat contraexemplul , &lt;br/&gt;omul acela , nu cred ca mai poate exista. &lt;br/&gt;  Vin sarbatorile. M-a izbit ieri cand mi-am luat&lt;br/&gt;la revedere de la Paul si astazi de la Doamna Lungulescu.&lt;br/&gt;Nu o sa i mai vad anul asta. Si ce am facut eu anul asta?&lt;br/&gt;Multe. &lt;br/&gt;  Ma uit la graul de langa mine. Se anunta un an prosper.&lt;br/&gt;Dar oare chiar vreau tot ce am spus ca vreau? Chiar...&lt;br/&gt;Dar cred ca da. O sa fac un sacrficiu pentru a ma modela, &lt;br/&gt;asa cum fac mereu.Stiu ca am sa pot , numai sa fiu ajutata&lt;br/&gt;de providenta.&lt;br/&gt;   si cum ramane cu romantismul? Locul 2 , evident. Nu mi&lt;br/&gt;pot permite sa sper ca la pastele armasarilor voi avea si asta,&lt;br/&gt; in conditiile in care sunt lucruri mult mai importante la care&lt;br/&gt; ar trebui sa ma gandesc cum ar fi aplicarea la tot felul de &lt;br/&gt;activitati care ma duc tot mai aproape de facultate , in alta&lt;br/&gt;tara.&lt;br/&gt;   Da , cred ca stiu ce vreau. Da, nu regret anul asta. Da , vor&lt;br/&gt;veni vremuri mai bune. Da , o sa patinez weekendul asta.&lt;br/&gt;Da , o sa ma bucur de ziua mamei de Craciun. Da , va fi&lt;br/&gt;magic.[ multumesc inca o data de urari , T.]. da, viata mea&lt;br/&gt;se schimba.Da .&lt;br/&gt;    Craciun fericit !&lt;br/&gt;    Sarbatori fericite!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam:)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-9003927930921201501?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/9003927930921201501/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=9003927930921201501&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/9003927930921201501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/9003927930921201501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/amintiri.html' title='Amintiri.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-2932027783138153598</id><published>2008-12-14T00:24:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T01:04:45.718+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blower&apos;s daughter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='destin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>That's amore. Remember?</title><content type='html'>In Napoli where love is king&lt;br/&gt;When boy meets girl here's what they say...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Se spune ca povestile sunt adevarate.&lt;br/&gt;Se spune ca exista printi si printese.&lt;br/&gt;Se spune ca viata e mai frumoasa cand iubesti.&lt;br/&gt; Se spune ca e cineva pentru fiecare dintre noi.&lt;br/&gt;Se spune ca nu exista sfarsit trist , pentru ca &lt;br/&gt;intotdeauna va urma ceva.&lt;br/&gt;Se spun atat de multe.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Dar cate sunt adevarate?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;When the moon hits you eye like a big pizza pie&lt;br/&gt;That's amore&lt;br/&gt;When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine&lt;br/&gt;That's amore&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Euforie, that feeling , you know it. Cand te furnica pielea , &lt;br/&gt;cand ai un gol un stomac si iti simti inima batand in gat , doar&lt;br/&gt;din cauza unei prostii. Unui lucru marunt , dar atat de important.&lt;br/&gt;Cand te sperii de telefon , doar pentru ca ai vazut cine te suna &lt;br/&gt;si incepi sa-ti dregi vocea, ca sa nu pari gatuita de emotie.&lt;br/&gt;Cand il vezi si nu stii cum sa il saluti, iti ascunzi privirea si imediat&lt;br/&gt;dupa regreti , dar el intoarce capul si ramai chiar mai tacuta&lt;br/&gt;decat prima oara , fara sa mai respiri.&lt;br/&gt;Cand crezi ca esti puternica si poti sa treci peste , dar tresari&lt;br/&gt;de fiecare data cand il vezi , fara motive aparente.&lt;br/&gt;Cand te imbraci intr-o culoare pe care stii ca o destesta , doar&lt;br/&gt;ca sa-i arati cat de mult iti pasa de parerile lui si sesizezi , ca lui&lt;br/&gt;incepe sa i devina mult mai palcuta acea culoare.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Small things. &lt;br/&gt;One more time with emotion&lt;br/&gt;It's so delicate&lt;br/&gt;When you're painting someone's heart&lt;br/&gt;It's a little bit hard to be so eloquent&lt;br/&gt;When you don't know where to start&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;This is actually love. It's nice to remember from time to time.&lt;br/&gt;Nu mai stiu de ceva vreme cum e sa fii cu capul in nori , dar&lt;br/&gt;imi place sa-mi aduc aminte chiar daca nu mai pot sa simt.&lt;br/&gt;Sa simt amintirile care ma invaluie , din cand in cand , e posibil,&lt;br/&gt;dar dureros. Vad greseli , vad dorinta de a le face din nou , &lt;br/&gt;vad dorinta de a face ceva sa se intample. Vreau sa iubesc&lt;br/&gt;de Craciun. Vreau sa fac sarbatorile astea magice.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Nu se stie daca o sa reusesc. Adica nu e vorba de reusit,&lt;br/&gt;cred prea tare in mister si destin si teoria " meant to be" ca sa&lt;br/&gt;fac eu ceva. Cred pur si simplu ca o sa pice de undeva de sus&lt;br/&gt;ca si ciocolata de la Metro la pret promotional.:). &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Cred in pasiune , in lucruri marunte , in viata si spiritul&lt;br/&gt;de sarbatori , in povestea ce invaluie bradul , in ochii copiilor&lt;br/&gt;care inca il mai asteapta pe mos.Cred in surprize. Nu mi-a&lt;br/&gt;placut si nu mi place sa vad cadoul inainte de Craciun. Inaintea&lt;br/&gt;diminetii de 25. Urasc chestia asta. E cel mai placut lucru din&lt;br/&gt;lume , dupa ajun in care muncesc la mancare si cozonaci ,&lt;br/&gt;sa ma trezesc cu entuziasm , sa privesc bradul de la poale , &lt;br/&gt;in casa sa miroasa aromat a rom si eu sa desfac cu cea mai&lt;br/&gt;neomeneasca rabdare cadourile , ca sa prelungesc inca putin &lt;br/&gt;clipa cand voi vedea ce se afla in pachet...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Copilaroasa ? Da , stiu. Si totusi prea matura. E ciudat sa fii&lt;br/&gt;un hibrid  intre traditionalism si modernism , realism si fantezism ,&lt;br/&gt;obiectivism si subiectivism. Sunt un om complicat , dar imi&lt;br/&gt;place prea mult de mine asa ca sa ma schimb.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;E povestea de Craciun. Cand casa e plina , cand as vrea sa me retrag &lt;br/&gt;in cel mai tacut colt al casei , in bratele cuiva , sa i povestesc&lt;br/&gt; nimicuri , sa mi sopteasca nimicuri si din cand in cand sa ma gadile&lt;br/&gt;in palme, in timp ce eu ma bucur de mireasma unui aftershave.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Cred in puterea barbatilor de a fi barbati. Inca din clasa a 5a &lt;br/&gt;imi placeau cei de-a 12 a. Cred ca e oarecum normal acum sa fiu&lt;br/&gt;atrasa de oameni peste 23. :). Cred in varsta de 30. Flowering age.&lt;br/&gt;Dar si 16 e o varsta prea frumoasa ca sa nu o traiesc din plin.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Multe cifre , viati , iubiri , sarbatoari. mult din toate. Putina&lt;br/&gt;filozofie , putin parfum care sa ne invaluie , putina inaltare catre&lt;br/&gt;spirit si amintirea unui eu mai vechi.Asta suntem noi.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Vreau sa vina Craciunul.Sa bata vantul , sa ma contopesc&lt;br/&gt; cu florile de gheata , sa privesc fulgii de zapada , sa ma scurg&lt;br/&gt;in turturi argintii , sa raman eu si totusi sa fiu alta . Un eu mai&lt;br/&gt;vechi alaturi de eul tau nou. " tu" , " el " si alte apelative fiind&lt;br/&gt;generice, doar v-am spus ca-s idealista.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;P.S versurile de la inceput sunt:&lt;br/&gt;Dean martin- that's amore&lt;br/&gt;ATB- wait for your heart&lt;br/&gt;:)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-2932027783138153598?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/2932027783138153598/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=2932027783138153598&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2932027783138153598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2932027783138153598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/thats-amore-remember.html' title='That&apos;s amore. Remember?'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-96374092308372070</id><published>2008-12-09T11:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T00:54:23.704+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Zambet'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spirit'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blower&apos;s daughter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='destin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Amintiri'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Imagini'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='vant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Blower's daughter in Prague</title><content type='html'> Inca de cand am coborat din  tren am inceput sa respir.&lt;br/&gt; Intens. mi s au dilatat pupilele in asteptarea miraculosului.&lt;br/&gt;Voiam sa vad tot , sa miros tot , sa cutreier tot , dar mai ales&lt;br/&gt;sa simt tot  , sa ma invalui in aroma catifelata a orasului,&lt;br/&gt; sa devin o parte din el , sa ma confund cu oamenii , cu multitudinea&lt;br/&gt;de turisti care sa nu stie ca o parte din Praga ii urmareste.&lt;br/&gt; Voiam sa fiu blower's daughter , sa fiu o adiere , proaspata , &lt;br/&gt; sa ma fac simtita , lumea sa stie cine sunt , dar sa nu ma recunoasca,&lt;br/&gt;sa mi simta caldura , dar sa nu o poata avea decat pentru scurt&lt;br/&gt;timp. &lt;br/&gt;  Si am reusit. Am reusit sa las o parte din mine in Praga. M-am&lt;br/&gt;descompus in mii de farame , cele mai multe le-am adus acasa , aici&lt;br/&gt;in acest loc , de unde tastez cuvinte fara sens , dar am lasat franturi&lt;br/&gt;acolo , ca lumea sa ma simta.&lt;br/&gt;  Mi-am lasat ganduri imprastiate pe strazi. Am lasat putina bucurie&lt;br/&gt;pe bancile de langa primarie , am lasat uimire in turn , am lasat mandrie&lt;br/&gt;si patriotism in fata scenei unde au cantat niste romani , am lasat veselie&lt;br/&gt;in sufletele celor care ne-au ghidat si ne-au vazut razand , am lasat&lt;br/&gt;o imagine in aparatele foto ale celor care s-au mirat vazandu'ne cantand , &lt;br/&gt;am lasat atat de multe. Eu m-am lasat acolo, m-am uitat acolo. &lt;br/&gt;  si eram prea multa acolo , ca sa realizez ca plec , ca pierd vantul , ca&lt;br/&gt;pierd mirosul de kurtosi , ca pierd plimbarile pe strazi noaptea , zambetele&lt;br/&gt;aruncate strainilor , ca pierd povestea si farmecul  , ca pierd tot.&lt;br/&gt;    Eu sunt acolo inca. Traiesc din amintire. Traiesc din sufletul meu&lt;br/&gt;de acolo, din imaginile care insista sa mi aduca aminte , din franturile&lt;br/&gt;ramase acolo.&lt;br/&gt;   Sunt prezenta in catedrala. Acolo am ramas. Spirit vesnic . Sunt si&lt;br/&gt;voi fi mereu in trenul catre Praga. Sunt spirit.sunt eu , vesnica.&lt;br/&gt;    Si , acum realizand ca nu mai sunt fizic acolo , dar ca mult din viata&lt;br/&gt;mea a ramas acolo , ma intreb unde o sa ma mai imprastii in lume?&lt;br/&gt;O sa mi las un zambet in Paris , un cuvant soptit in Londra , o poveste&lt;br/&gt;in Iasi , un zumzet energic in New York , o privire zambareata pe&lt;br/&gt;strazile Amsterdamului si prima iubire de oras in Praga.&lt;br/&gt;  Sunt atatea orase in lume , iar eu am viata , am suflet , sunt pala de &lt;br/&gt;vant imprastiata in 4 zari , o sa raman in fiecare. &lt;br/&gt;  si mi-aduc aminte de povestirile Inei in copou . Vreau sa ajung in&lt;br/&gt;Romania , sa ma contopesc cu tara mea , vreau sa revad vlastarele&lt;br/&gt;Orastiei din Starometska Pragai , vreau sa fiu vant , sa vad lumea.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;si acum , scriind asta m-am transformat in spirit. nu mai exist ca&lt;br/&gt;fizic , sunt un suflu , sunt prezenta din spatele tau ce te priveste ,&lt;br/&gt;sunt fata vantului care-ti sopteste la ureche. Ma simti? Ma simti&lt;br/&gt;adanc , o sa-ti raman in piele , o sa ma iubesti pentru ca sunt a ta&lt;br/&gt;si a altor mii de locuri si o sa ma vrei aproape sa simti cat mai multe&lt;br/&gt;franturi de ale mele impregnate in simturile tale. O sa ai parfumul&lt;br/&gt;meu mereu , o sa fiu gandul unui tango care te bantuie  , o sa fiu&lt;br/&gt;ceea ce iti lipseste cand esti singur , mereu prezenta , acolo. si stii&lt;br/&gt;ca nu mint , stii ca sunt vesnica , ca nu ma poti uita , ca vrei sa ai mai&lt;br/&gt;mult , ca vrei sa ma cunosti , sa stii cine sunt cu adevarat , sa simti&lt;br/&gt;atingeri , reale , iar eu nu o sa ti pot oferi nimic. O sa ma dezintegrez&lt;br/&gt;in rafale , in tornade de furie , in adieri romantice , o sa ma aiba o lume&lt;br/&gt;intreaga , iar tu n-o sa ma poti simti. Si o sa ma vrei cu disperare.&lt;br/&gt;O sa atingi cu mangaieri o tastatura incercand sa-ti gasesti vorbele&lt;br/&gt;cu care sa mi spui cat de tare doresti , o sa-ti arcuiesti buzele rostind&lt;br/&gt;soapte pe care decat alte adieri le pot prinde , o sa faci totul , fara sa&lt;br/&gt;reusesti. Si atunci cand nu o sa te astepti , cand nu o sa stii , o sa fiu in&lt;br/&gt;fata ta . si o sa ti doresti sa ma strangi in brate , pe mine , spirit , si&lt;br/&gt;o sa ma descompun in bratele tale , dar o sa te inavalui! O sa simti mereu&lt;br/&gt;parfumul meu. O sa fiu eu in tine si orice gest ai face o sa fiu eu&lt;br/&gt;si nimeni altcineva. La fiecare pas o sa te impiedici , o sa simti...&lt;br/&gt;O sa ma simti.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;[ Te bantui deja cu ganduri. Oare cine sunt?Oare cine esti?]&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;   &lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-96374092308372070?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/96374092308372070/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=96374092308372070&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/96374092308372070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/96374092308372070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/blowers-daughter-in-prague.html' title='Blower&apos;s daughter in Prague'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5114379691639648800</id><published>2008-12-03T20:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T20:50:58.431+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Maine la ora 07:11 imi aterizeaza trenul in gara de vest&lt;br/&gt;din mirificul ploiesti. R374 vagon 363 ,  ruta bucuresti&lt;br/&gt; nord - praga via budapesta ( asta am bagat o de la mine&lt;br/&gt;pentru ca stiu ca pe acolio trece:D)&lt;br/&gt;Emotii? Hmmm , da. Cand ieseam azi din scoala dupa&lt;br/&gt;ce am pupacit lumea si am iesit pe usa . Wow maine plec&lt;br/&gt;in Cehia!&lt;br/&gt;  AM multe bagaje de facut , dar nu m am putut abtine ,&lt;br/&gt;asa intre 2 cautari ale mersului trenurilor si o excursie&lt;br/&gt;pana la bucatarie sa vad cum stam cu mancarea , sa nu&lt;br/&gt;anunt bloggerimea ce fericita sunt ca plec iar , dupa toate&lt;br/&gt;cate s au intamplat:).&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Va pup , vorbim marti.:)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5114379691639648800?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5114379691639648800/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5114379691639648800&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5114379691639648800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5114379691639648800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/12/maine-la-ora-0711-imi-aterizeaza-trenul.html' title=''/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-4574964553649657058</id><published>2008-11-30T15:51:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-30T21:00:33.631+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='venin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Imagini'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><title type='text'>Degradare morala</title><content type='html'> Lumea. Lumea asa cum e ea. Refuz sa o vad.&lt;br/&gt;Mai bine spus am refuzat. Ce s-a intamplat in &lt;br/&gt;acest weekend a reprezentat un soc pentru &lt;br/&gt;mine. Dar , din fericire , consider ca am luat&lt;br/&gt;decizia corecta si sunt extrem de fericita ca am&lt;br/&gt;fost alaturi de oamenii care conteaza pentru mine&lt;br/&gt;pana la capat.&lt;br/&gt; De ce trebuie sa facem anumite lucruri doar ca&lt;br/&gt;sa parem altfel de cum suntem? Sau asa suntem?&lt;br/&gt;De ce suntem teribilisti? De ce o distractie aproape&lt;br/&gt;inocenta se transforma intr-o orgie? De ce nu&lt;br/&gt;e nimeni ceea ce pare? De ce jignim oameni carora&lt;br/&gt;le datoram respect? De ce ne credem cineva sau&lt;br/&gt;ceva ce nu suntem?&lt;br/&gt; Oribil. Pueril , dar oribil. Dizgratios. Betie. Betie.&lt;br/&gt;Betie. Betie a simturilor , betie animalica , betie.&lt;br/&gt; Sunt doar dezgustata. Atat. Pentru ca tupeul ar&lt;br/&gt;trebui sa aiba limite. Impunerea punctelor de&lt;br/&gt;vedere ( desi sunt cele mai idioate ) ar trebui sa aiba&lt;br/&gt;limite. &lt;br/&gt;  Dar , cum trebuie sa aiba si o parte buna, am avut&lt;br/&gt;multe de invatat din evenimentele recente. Ca ar&lt;br/&gt;trebui sa am aceeasi incredere in mine mereu , ca&lt;br/&gt;ar trebui sa invat din greselile  ALTORA , i do insist,&lt;br/&gt;ca sunt mai matura decat ceilalti colegi cu mult , &lt;br/&gt;asta daca discutiile cu cosmin nu ma convinsesera &lt;br/&gt;pana acum:) , ca mi-am facut mandri parintii si&lt;br/&gt;ca merit mai mult de atat. Am luat decizia de a&lt;br/&gt; trece peste cu mai multa forta decat ar putea crede&lt;br/&gt;oricine ca am. Si o sa scap de toate astea. Curand.&lt;br/&gt;  Si cum trebuie sa fie o parte funny , azi noapte&lt;br/&gt;cand ma intorceam cu ai mei , i am intrebat daca &lt;br/&gt;s-ar supara pe mine daca m-as marita cu un tip&lt;br/&gt;de varsta lui columbeanu:) . Au ras si au zis ca daca&lt;br/&gt;aia e varsta cu care sunt compatibila e ok. Si i-am&lt;br/&gt; mai zis lu tata ca o sa-i prinda bine sa vorbeasca cu&lt;br/&gt;sotul meu de varsta lui.:) A fost dragut. Nu ma mai&lt;br/&gt;simtisem de multa vreme asa de aproape de ei.&lt;br/&gt;  Si voi , cei care credeti ca am luat decizia gresita ,&lt;br/&gt;atunci cand am acceptat sa va parasesc , imi pare&lt;br/&gt;rau sa va dezamagesc. Dar lucrurile grave sunt&lt;br/&gt;intotdeauna foarte grave , iar lucrurile mai putin&lt;br/&gt;grave sunt mult mai grave decat par. Musamalizam&lt;br/&gt;totul , de frica , o teama idioata , cretina, care pana&lt;br/&gt;la urma ne da de gol. Si voua , celor care va e teama sa&lt;br/&gt;nu afle omul care ar trebui sa afle, ma mai gandesc.&lt;br/&gt;  Atata dezgust , si atata scarba pentru oamenii care&lt;br/&gt;ma inconjoara nu am simtit niciodata.&lt;br/&gt;  Ma intristeaza un singur gand. Nu  o sa ma pot&lt;br/&gt;impartasi anul asta. Pentru ca sunt certata cu cineva,&lt;br/&gt;nu o sa ma mai simt implinita dupa iesirea din biserica...&lt;br/&gt; In ce lume traim. O lume parsiva , rece , depravata,&lt;br/&gt;perversa. Si oarba ...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-4574964553649657058?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/4574964553649657058/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=4574964553649657058&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4574964553649657058'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4574964553649657058'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/11/degradare-morala.html' title='Degradare morala'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-6371733796558699285</id><published>2008-11-28T00:17:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-28T00:32:19.442+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>gol.</title><content type='html'> Ma simt atat de goala. Goala , rece si nepasatoare. Nu mai&lt;br/&gt;imi place lumea mea. E prea organizata , previzibila si nimic&lt;br/&gt;nu e asa cum ar trebui sa fie.&lt;br/&gt; Revin la gandurile cu romante imposibile a la filme ... mi- aduc&lt;br/&gt;aminte de Amelie si de imposibilitatea unei intamplari gen &lt;br/&gt;Amelie. Dar e frumos. Sa crezi ca exista si asa ceva.&lt;br/&gt; imi place sa vad ca primul om pe care il vad intr-o zi e fix el,&lt;br/&gt;chiar daca asta e cel mai neasteptat eveniment dintre toate.&lt;br/&gt;Chiar daca lui nu-i pasa. nu ma mai intereseaza. A mai ramas&lt;br/&gt;doar dorinta aia ciudat de prezenta de a avea o mana fina si&lt;br/&gt;puternica pe care sa o strang si care sa o simt prezenta mereu.&lt;br/&gt;A mai ramas decat dorinta de a fi cineva. Care sa ma surprinda,&lt;br/&gt;cu care sa merg la patinuar si sa ne tinem de mana si lumea sa&lt;br/&gt;ne priveasca asa cum ii privesc eu , cand ma odihnesc pe margine.&lt;br/&gt;  E gol si asa a fost mereu. E un gol care se strange. E mic.&lt;br/&gt;A fost mult mai mare. S a umplut mai intai cu sperante ca apoi&lt;br/&gt;sa devina iarasi imens , mai mare decat prima oara , iar acum&lt;br/&gt;e pur si simplu un gol. Care se strange , se strange si devine tot&lt;br/&gt;mai mic datorita constientei ca nu o sa fie cineva care sa-l umple.&lt;br/&gt; Si daca o sa fie , nu o sa fie acum. nu are cum. Sunt prea diferita&lt;br/&gt;de generatia mea. Golul ar fi umplut de un om cu cel putin 2 ani&lt;br/&gt;mai mare, pentru ca doar asa ne am apropia ca gandire. Ca&lt;br/&gt;mentalitate. Sau nu. &lt;br/&gt;  mai conteaza?&lt;br/&gt;e gol, e pustiu , e iarna. Astept ninsoarea , sa mi astearna fulgi&lt;br/&gt;de nea peste durere si sarutari peste fruntea-mi inghetata.&lt;br/&gt; Vreau sa gasesc ceva de facut. Vreau sa gasesc un om care sa&lt;br/&gt;aiba nevoie de mine.Vreau sa ajut pe cineva , sa ma simt utila.&lt;br/&gt;Poate atunci n o sa mai fie asa gol.&lt;br/&gt; Vreau sa fac pe cineva fericit. Vreau sa simt Craciunul si sa&lt;br/&gt;nu ma mai enerveze casa plina de oameni care-i canta mamei&lt;br/&gt;la multi ani la cea de a 41 a aniversare ( cum trece timpul...).&lt;br/&gt; Vreau un copil. Al meu. Vreau sa simt ca iubesc ceva , pe cineva,&lt;br/&gt;pentru ca e parte din mine.Nici nu va puteti inchipui cat&lt;br/&gt;il iubesc pe toni , metis angorasul meu. Dar , cum e un pisoi , nu&lt;br/&gt;stiu cat de tare se resimt sentimentele lui fata de mine.&lt;br/&gt; Dar imi iubesc cartile . Cele 10 de la Gaudeamus ma asteapta.&lt;br/&gt;O sa ma las de mess.&lt;br/&gt;Trebuie sa mi promit ca o sa scriu pe blogul asta mai des, e calmant.&lt;br/&gt;E ca un balsam, de cand nu mai am jurnal :).&lt;br/&gt;E placut sa te simti parte din ceva.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;A venit iarna. Merg la munte. MErg la Praga.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Noapte buna!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-6371733796558699285?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/6371733796558699285/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=6371733796558699285&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6371733796558699285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6371733796558699285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/11/gol.html' title='gol.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-1845616666577092483</id><published>2008-11-20T02:07:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T02:10:13.515+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Ecou</title><content type='html'>degete fine &lt;br/&gt;impletite cu ale mele&lt;br/&gt;zambete obosite...&lt;br/&gt;chin.&lt;br/&gt;dulci chinuri&lt;br/&gt;ale noastre,&lt;br/&gt;ale tale si ale ei.&lt;br/&gt;eu nu sunt parte&lt;br/&gt;a tot ce aveti voi&lt;br/&gt;eu nu sunt&lt;br/&gt;nimic&lt;br/&gt;in lumea ta.&lt;br/&gt;Eu sunt &lt;br/&gt;un eu ratacit&lt;br/&gt;care te striga&lt;br/&gt;si striga&lt;br/&gt;ecou&lt;br/&gt;voce&lt;br/&gt;nu se mai aude.&lt;br/&gt;N ai auzit.&lt;br/&gt;sfarsit.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-1845616666577092483?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/1845616666577092483/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=1845616666577092483&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1845616666577092483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1845616666577092483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/11/ecou.html' title='Ecou'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-1401535153393274654</id><published>2008-11-20T01:43:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T02:07:21.889+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Ce a fost</title><content type='html'>Azuriu , cerul&lt;br/&gt;Pete albe , norii&lt;br/&gt;Inaltat spiritul,&lt;br/&gt;S-a spulberat.&lt;br/&gt;Iluzii coplesitoare&lt;br/&gt;Guri de aer respirate&lt;br/&gt;Cu greu.&lt;br/&gt;noi.&lt;br/&gt;respira.&lt;br/&gt;Si apoi a venit furtuna&lt;br/&gt;Norii. ploaia. vantul.&lt;br/&gt;Si n-a lasat &lt;br/&gt;decat &lt;br/&gt;gri melancolic.&lt;br/&gt;Uite-l . Il vezi?&lt;br/&gt;e aici. e n mine.&lt;br/&gt;Uite-l . il vezi?&lt;br/&gt;nu vezi. nici&lt;br/&gt;n-asteptam&lt;br/&gt;N ai vazut nimic,&lt;br/&gt;nimic...&lt;br/&gt;Pana acum.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Prea tarziu.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-1401535153393274654?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/1401535153393274654/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=1401535153393274654&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1401535153393274654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1401535153393274654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/11/ce-fost.html' title='Ce a fost'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-776430571713685876</id><published>2008-11-18T00:15:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-18T21:53:37.400+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><title type='text'>Boys</title><content type='html'> Some say it's quite very extremely hard to &lt;br/&gt;understand women. But it's not. Oh , do believe me!&lt;br/&gt;  Baietii. pfu. who understands them?&lt;br/&gt;  Baietii sunt acea specie rara , pe cale de disparitie,&lt;br/&gt;care isi aduc aminte de ziua ei de nastere , care fac&lt;br/&gt;pasii decisivi catre inceputul unei relatii , care cred&lt;br/&gt;in relatii mai lungi de 1 saptamana finalizate cu acel&lt;br/&gt;cuvant magic cu e la mijloc de care v am mai zis.&lt;br/&gt;Gen Cosmin , ca tot urla modestia din tine :)).&lt;br/&gt; Am( a se citi cu diacritice:)) ). Chestiile celelalte.&lt;br/&gt; Chestiile celelalte sunt tipii in genul din cauza&lt;br/&gt;caruia ma duc eu sa fumez cand am cei mai&lt;br/&gt;mari nervi de pe planeta asta. Si am corupt si pe &lt;br/&gt;altii :) . Din fericire nu am devenit dependenta de &lt;br/&gt;asa ceva , dar de fiecare data cand vad astfel de&lt;br/&gt; specimene( de baieti , nu tigari ) imi vine pofta&lt;br/&gt;de o sheesha. De un parliament methol . Nu ca as&lt;br/&gt;avea prea mare experienta:D Dar astea mi plac,&lt;br/&gt;pentru ca am apucat sa le incerc.&lt;br/&gt;  Chestiile celelalte sunt aceia care ne fac sa &lt;br/&gt;devenim dependente de ciocolata , m&amp;amp;m ,&lt;br/&gt;cafea , ne fac sa avem insomnii, sa intoarcem&lt;br/&gt;cea mai banala situatie de 1001 ori pe fata si&lt;br/&gt;pe dos , doar pentru ca nu le intelgem &lt;br/&gt;motivele de a fi azi asa si maine invers. &lt;br/&gt;  Dar poate ca si noua ne place. Pentru ca &lt;br/&gt;fetele au oarecum o natura sado-maso. Le&lt;br/&gt;place sa fie pesimiste pentru ca nu vor sa&lt;br/&gt;fie prea optimiste ( dar oricum nu stiu ce&lt;br/&gt;sa inteleaga de la ei ), le place sa le dea&lt;br/&gt;mesaj si apoi sa se considere proaste de o&lt;br/&gt;mie de ori pentru ca i au dat mesaj si poate&lt;br/&gt;par prea dispearate , le place sa si &lt;br/&gt;marturiseasca sentimentele in cele mai&lt;br/&gt;metaforice si mai ciudate moduri ( vezi &lt;br/&gt;Daca vrei cu tine lumina sa o impart , sau&lt;br/&gt;si ma rau ma propun ) , le place sa ramana&lt;br/&gt;stabile si sa tina cu dintii de aceeasi &lt;br/&gt;pasiune care le a dezamagit de mii de ori ,&lt;br/&gt;le place stabilitatea intr o relatie in &lt;br/&gt;care nu si ar mai dori de mult sa fie , le&lt;br/&gt;plac tipii care nu intrunesc nici o calitate&lt;br/&gt;din cele pe care le cauta la un baiat.&lt;br/&gt;  Mda. This is who we are , pisy :)).[am &lt;br/&gt;observat ca se face abuz peste tot de &lt;br/&gt;acest cuvant , desi nu mi explic de ce :-?? ]&lt;br/&gt;  Well , actually baietii pe care ar trebui&lt;br/&gt;sa i cautam sunt de fapt barbati . [ cosmin , &lt;br/&gt;modestule , esti ultimu an la poli - precizez&lt;br/&gt;acest lucru ca sa intelegeti cam varsta necesara&lt;br/&gt;for him to be able to suit our needs and never&lt;br/&gt;to forget our birthday ].&lt;br/&gt; Baietii sunt celelalte specimene . Baietii...&lt;br/&gt;Baietii ... I am at a complete loss of words.&lt;br/&gt;Cunosc si un tip de 20 de ani care e complet&lt;br/&gt;copil , desi nu pare - dar ma abtin sa dau nume,&lt;br/&gt;nu vreau sa l jignesc:D. Dar mai cunosc  2 tipi&lt;br/&gt;de 18 ani care are mai multa minte decat&lt;br/&gt;amandoi , aman3 tipii de care mi a placut mie&lt;br/&gt;pana acum:D. chit ca insumati anii lor , ar trebui&lt;br/&gt;sa aiba vreo 40 de ani , pe putin .&lt;br/&gt;  am cunoscut multa lume vara asta. Cea mai mare&lt;br/&gt;parte speciala. Am cunoscut si cativa baieti care&lt;br/&gt;par altfel si sunt altfel. De vreo 2-3 stiu sigur , de&lt;br/&gt;ceilalti intuiesc:D.a se vedea cosmin:)) Modestule.&lt;br/&gt; Mda. Ce mai e de spus? Ca nu o sa mai ascult&lt;br/&gt;in veci sfaturi de genu : " spune i ce simti pentru&lt;br/&gt;el!!!" "  Bine... Ma propun."  no way.&lt;br/&gt;   Cred ca mi am invatat lectia . Momentan viata&lt;br/&gt;mea decurge monoton , ca o vara fara ploi care&lt;br/&gt;sa tulbure , ca o iarna fara zapezi dar cu mult ger , &lt;br/&gt;ca viata mea de obicei.&lt;br/&gt;  Si in sfarsit cred ca am reusit sa ma debrac de&lt;br/&gt;haina sfioseniei si sa spun ce gandesc. Si da , da , &lt;br/&gt;da , pentru tine erau toate , dar n-o sa te jignesc&lt;br/&gt;scriindu-ti numele aici. Dar da , pentru tine au&lt;br/&gt;fost toate. Au fost. Caci nu mai sunt. Ti am spus&lt;br/&gt;la revedere si nici nu ti ai dat seama. O sa realizezi&lt;br/&gt;ce ai pierdut candva , dar nu mi mai pasa. &lt;br/&gt;Am reusit sa inving. &lt;br/&gt; Si acum , ca tot vorbeam de propuneri , fetelor, &lt;br/&gt;va propun sa nu i mai lasam sa fie doar chiuvete si&lt;br/&gt;sa i fortam sa devina parte activa si integranta&lt;br/&gt;a mediului in care traim.&lt;br/&gt; cu alte cuvinte. I'm going into biznis honey. And&lt;br/&gt;I'm gonna hit all the markets. Precisely where it &lt;br/&gt;hurts them.&lt;br/&gt;  I feel mean at this time of the evening , so &lt;br/&gt;I'd better go to sleep before i say something even&lt;br/&gt;nastier than i already did.&lt;br/&gt; Please scuzati mi incoerenta , greselile gramticale,&lt;br/&gt;romgleza fluenta , si engleza de balta.&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;O seara placuta tuturor.&lt;br/&gt;Final goodbye to some of you.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia.&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-776430571713685876?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/776430571713685876/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=776430571713685876&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/776430571713685876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/776430571713685876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/11/boys.html' title='Boys'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-8569645670865167942</id><published>2008-11-16T00:31:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T00:41:00.014+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><title type='text'>descoperire</title><content type='html'>nu m am putut abtine.&lt;br/&gt;tipa asta are cam mare dreptate&lt;br/&gt;in acest post , nu m am putut abtine.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;http://jazz-7azz.blogspot.com/2008/01/mi-aprind-o-igar.html&lt;br/&gt;De fiecare data cand o sa fumez o &lt;br/&gt;tigara de acum inainte o sa ma&lt;br/&gt;gandesc la asta.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Esti tigara sufletului meu.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-8569645670865167942?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/8569645670865167942/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=8569645670865167942&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8569645670865167942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8569645670865167942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/11/descoperire.html' title='descoperire'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-4599838946732183372</id><published>2008-11-14T21:53:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T22:19:26.671+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Predispuse la esec.</title><content type='html'>eu niciodata nu ma invat minte?&lt;br/&gt;Cred ca nu.&lt;br/&gt;Ar trebui sa fac acelaeasi greseli din trecut&lt;br/&gt;de o mie de ori sa ma invat minte. Niciodata nu mi&lt;br/&gt;convine cand nu mi iese ca mine.Niciodata nu inteleg&lt;br/&gt;lectia din prima. &lt;br/&gt;Am spus te iubesc de multe ori fix cui nu trebuia&lt;br/&gt;( a fost unul singur ) si cred ca in cele din urma a&lt;br/&gt;facut ce face orice baiat cand are parte de confesiuni:&lt;br/&gt;profita si se simte mai stapan pe el , te ameteste si&lt;br/&gt;apoi te lasa.&lt;br/&gt;Eu sunt una dintre cele slabe de duh , iar blogul a devenit&lt;br/&gt;un fel de confesionar al meu , tocmai pentru ca este citit.&lt;br/&gt;Imi aduc singura aminte de tipa din cruel intentions 1,&lt;br/&gt;care aparuse intr un ziar tocmai pentru ca era virgina la&lt;br/&gt;o varsta inaintata.Nu m ar deranja soarta ei totusi.&lt;br/&gt;Nu am taria sa le rezist ingratilor.Nu am taria sa le rezist,&lt;br/&gt;la naiba.&lt;br/&gt;Am inceput sa realizez ca tot ceea ce am simtit in viata mai&lt;br/&gt;serios pentru anumiti , a fost bazat pe o relatie de lunga&lt;br/&gt;durata , care nu-mi permitea sa ma apropii prea tare sau&lt;br/&gt;prea des de ei , dar sa le pastrez amintirea vie , ca o flacara&lt;br/&gt;inauntrul fiintei mei.&lt;br/&gt;Am simtit repulsie la un anumit moment dat pentru fiecare&lt;br/&gt;dintre ei , chit ca era pentru faptul ca pur si simplu erau&lt;br/&gt;ei , chit ca pur si simplu gaseau pe alta.&lt;br/&gt;Dar nu gasesc omul perfect pentru mine. Marmo imi zicea&lt;br/&gt;ca-s perfectionista. Cosmin si Lidu slava domnului ma&lt;br/&gt;inteleg. &lt;br/&gt;Dar sunt perfectionista , caci nu gasesc rostul unei relatii&lt;br/&gt;daca nu e de durata , romantica , iar omului de langa tine sa-i&lt;br/&gt;pese . &lt;br/&gt;Si perfectiunea e imposibil de atins, dar poate fi cautata.&lt;br/&gt;Si daca nu o sa ating aproape varful everestului , voi incerca&lt;br/&gt;sa fie special si sa mi mai lipseasca 5 metri pana in varf.&lt;br/&gt;Daca nu voi reusi sa gasesc ce-mi doresc aici , voi pleca.&lt;br/&gt;Oricum vreau sa plec. Oricum am cunoscut oameni care&lt;br/&gt;merita mult mai mult decat cei ce ma inconjoara si ma&lt;br/&gt;scarbesc zi de zi. ( vorbesc de evident despre anumitii din&lt;br/&gt;liceu). Sa zicem ca ar fi maxim 5 , dintre care ei nu i stiu pe&lt;br/&gt;toti care ar merita un oarecare interes. Dar merit eu&lt;br/&gt;interesul lor?&lt;br/&gt;Uneori si the sparkle of life that you can only find in me , &lt;br/&gt;e un impediment. De ce imi plac molaii? Sau teribilistii?&lt;br/&gt;De ce azi imi plac brunetii cu ochi albastri dar maine&lt;br/&gt;o sa mor dupa un blond cu cei mai frumosi ochi caprui&lt;br/&gt;din lume?&lt;br/&gt;Nu ma mai suport.&lt;br/&gt;Mi-am propus ca peste toate sa-mi cumpar un nikon&lt;br/&gt;cu putere cat mai mare si sa plec in lume si sa o vad.&lt;br/&gt;Fara sa mai fac nici un studiu , nimic . sa fiu eu si nikonul&lt;br/&gt;meu. si atunci cand o sa ma plictisesc , o sa le arat &lt;br/&gt;oamenilor ce am facut eu , de ce am plecat de la scoala,&lt;br/&gt;o sa fac o facultate renumita cu nikonul meu cu tot , &lt;br/&gt;o sa astept primul om care iese din cladirea new york&lt;br/&gt;post si o sa l rog sa vina cu mine si sa-mi doneze samanta&lt;br/&gt;lui pentru perechea mea de gemeni.&lt;br/&gt;Si o sa fiu prima femeie intacta care naste gemeni si&lt;br/&gt;are un nikon care a vazut si kenya si india si malaezia si&lt;br/&gt;rusia. Ah rusii...&lt;br/&gt;Si vreau sa fiu eu capabila sa nu ma mai ametesc&lt;br/&gt;cu apa rece. Niciodata nu reusesc sa ma imbat , dar &lt;br/&gt;ma ametesc destul de des. Dar sper ca daca voi reusi&lt;br/&gt;sa spun gata , ma voi asculta pe mine.&lt;br/&gt;Imi trebuie un timp numai pentru mien sa inteleg ce doamne&lt;br/&gt;iarta ma sa petrece cu mine , ce vreau , pe cine&lt;br/&gt;vreau si de ce il vreau.&lt;br/&gt;Caci iar fac vesnica greseala de a-l dori eu prea mult.&lt;br/&gt;Si ce daca mi spuneti voi sa fiu extrem de sincera&lt;br/&gt;si sa i spun exact? Va spuneam ca i molau. si ce, n ar&lt;br/&gt;fi in stare de nimic si sa i spun : " ba , m am saturat&lt;br/&gt;sa ravnesc la buzele tale si sa ma pierd o zi intreaga&lt;br/&gt;in ochii tai si sa ma tii de mana de la un apus la altul".&lt;br/&gt;M-ar intreba ce am zis pentru ca nu a inteles ce am &lt;br/&gt;vrut sa spun. Poate ca exagerez , dar scriu cu furie .&lt;br/&gt;Furia neputintei. Furia care te apuca atunci cand stii&lt;br/&gt;ca nu i nimic in mana ta si nu poti face nimic ca sa&lt;br/&gt;schimbi ceva, vreau sa pot sa fac totul , sa schimb lumea.&lt;br/&gt;Dar nu pot sa o schimb singura. Imi trebuie oameni&lt;br/&gt;care sa ma ajute , oameni care sa vrea , oameni ...&lt;br/&gt;Si uite cum o dau dintr-una intr-alta.&lt;br/&gt;Dar nu mi place lumea mea , lumea in care traiesc , &lt;br/&gt;m-am saturat de tot si toate.&lt;br/&gt;Vorba cantecului : in familie barbatul a devenit chiuveta.&lt;br/&gt;Si atat.&lt;br/&gt;Baietii ar trebui sa faca mult mai multe. Si nu ma&lt;br/&gt;refer la turma , ma refer la cei outstanding , care chiar&lt;br/&gt;ai pentru ce sa i apreciezi si in care vezi ceva.&lt;br/&gt;Ca turma , face destule. Incepand cu acel termen de&lt;br/&gt;3 litere care incepe cu s , se termina in x si are e la mijloc.&lt;br/&gt; Cei care nu fac parte din turma sunt speciali in&lt;br/&gt;2 moduri. fie sunt chiar ... cu un je-ne-sais-quoi , fie&lt;br/&gt;sunt ciudati. &lt;br/&gt;  Si nu , nu sunt rea. Dar am vazut si ciudati speciali.&lt;br/&gt;Sunt speciali , dar au ceva care nu ti permite sa te apropii&lt;br/&gt;decat daca esti facut pentru asta.&lt;br/&gt;  Ceilalti speciali , au prieteni deosebiti , cu care-si petrec&lt;br/&gt; timpul si ar trebui sa fii si tu in anumite cercuri ca sa&lt;br/&gt;ajungi aproape de ei.&lt;br/&gt;  Si aici ma gandesc la ruxandra , stie ea de ce. Pentru ca&lt;br/&gt;acele cursuri de chitara si de teatru sunt facute pentru&lt;br/&gt;astfel de oameni.&lt;br/&gt; Doar ca eu am decis sa las chitara pe dezbateri de viata,&lt;br/&gt;si teatrul pe drepturile omului.&lt;br/&gt; Pentru ca eu vreau sa schimb conceptiile oamenilor&lt;br/&gt;despre teatru ( pentru ca se pot face bani si din teatru ,&lt;br/&gt;nu conteaza ce zice mama si tata ) si nu sa joc eu teatru,&lt;br/&gt;poate decat dupa ce ii voi convinge ca teatrul e o arta.&lt;br/&gt; Si nu ma refer la jucat teatru ca mintit. Ma refer la &lt;br/&gt;teatru ca arta pur si simplu.&lt;br/&gt;  Si iar ma uit unde am ajuns.&lt;br/&gt;   Da , dar eu sunt predispusa la esec. Dar inca mai cred&lt;br/&gt;ca viata e frumoasa si ca intr-o zi voi zambi gandindu ma&lt;br/&gt;si recitind aceste framantari si poate voi reusi sa fac macar&lt;br/&gt;unul dintre lucrurile pe care mi le propun.&lt;br/&gt;  si pentru cei care nu au inteles inca( am intalnit cateva&lt;br/&gt;cazuri):&lt;br/&gt;  Da , nu am avut prieten inca . De ce? Pentru ca am citit&lt;br/&gt;prea multe povesti cand eram mica si m-am uitat la prea&lt;br/&gt;multe filme in aceasta scurta adolescenta ca sa nu mai&lt;br/&gt;cred in the right one who is going to come. &lt;br/&gt; Chiar cred ca exista the right one. Chiar si pentru mine.&lt;br/&gt;Chiar pentru mine , care nu am nimic outstanding ca &lt;br/&gt;frumuseste , dezinvoltura sau orice altceva , pentru baieti.&lt;br/&gt;  Da , sunt eu si nu mai imi e rusine de ceva vreme sa o&lt;br/&gt;spun. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Sunt eu si invat sa mi accept viata asa cum e.&lt;br/&gt;Predispusa la esece si succesuri :).&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-4599838946732183372?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/4599838946732183372/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=4599838946732183372&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4599838946732183372'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4599838946732183372'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/11/predispuse-la-esec.html' title='Predispuse la esec.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-2622434318480132889</id><published>2008-11-09T19:23:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T20:47:59.750+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Predispuse la romantism</title><content type='html'>  Mda. noi fetele. Noi fetele de azi.noi vrem romantism.&lt;br/&gt;hm, nu va asteptati la asta nu?&lt;br/&gt; ei bine eu ma asteptam sa nu va asteptati la asta. Stiu&lt;br/&gt;ca si celelalte fete vor romantism , dar eu vreau chiar&lt;br/&gt;mai mult si pentru ca nu va pot spune exact ce vor ele,&lt;br/&gt;dar va pot spune ce vreau eu , o sa fac chiar acest lucru.&lt;br/&gt; Fetele vor un tip curajos care sa vina la ele tam-nesam&lt;br/&gt;si sa le spuna te iubesc , sa-si asume riscul de a fi refuzati.&lt;br/&gt;  Fetele vor un tip care sa le invite la un suc dintr-un &lt;br/&gt;motiv stupid : hai sa invatam la o ciocolata calda , nu&lt;br/&gt;conteaza ca nu suntem in aceeasi clasa / liceu / oras.&lt;br/&gt;   Fetele vor un tip care sa nu se poate abtina sa le ia de&lt;br/&gt;mana , sa le sarute chiar daca nu-si permit. Fetele vor un&lt;br/&gt;tip care sa le intrebe daca pot sa fie sarutate sa nu aiba&lt;br/&gt;timp sa raspunda si sa fie sarutate.&lt;br/&gt;   Fetele vor un tip destept. Nu conteaza cat e de frumos,&lt;br/&gt;dar trebuie sa nu spuna " n am mai citit o carte de cand &lt;br/&gt;eram clasa a 4 a si nu citesc decat daca n am de unde sa&lt;br/&gt;mi iau comentariile la romana". Fetele vor un tip care &lt;br/&gt;sa zica " Stii cartea aia? am citit o mi s a parut faina rau"&lt;br/&gt;  Fetelor vor un tip direct. Care dupa foarte putine pretexte&lt;br/&gt;de a avea o anumita legatura cu ele , iau atitudine si le&lt;br/&gt;invita la mult asteptata ciocolata.&lt;br/&gt;   Fetele vor un tip care sa intelega ce vor ele si care sa&lt;br/&gt;aiba curaj sa greseasca. Si ce daca te refuza prima oara? Or&lt;br/&gt;sa zica da a doua oara , doar pentru ca prima oara le-ai luat&lt;br/&gt;prin surprindere si a doua oara deja stiu ca-ti asumi riscuri.&lt;br/&gt;  Fetele vor un tip care sa nu aiba mai multe bijuterii decat&lt;br/&gt;ele si blugi mult mai slim decat ai lor.&lt;br/&gt;   Fetele vor un tip care sa arate demential la costum,&lt;br/&gt;care sa aiba o camasa incredibil de sexy , care sa le innebuneasca&lt;br/&gt;de fiecare data cand o vad.&lt;br/&gt;   Fetele vor un tip care pur si simplu traverseaza curtea scolii&lt;br/&gt;si zice " Buna Y . Eu sunt X. Vino la un suc cu mine sambata.&lt;br/&gt;nu accept un refuz pentru ca nu o sa mai am curajul sa mi mai&lt;br/&gt;exprim inca o data sentimentele."&lt;br/&gt;   Fetele vor un tip direct , care sa fie capabil sa spuna te iubesc.&lt;br/&gt;   Fetele vor un tip care sa nu vrea altceva din prima saptamana.&lt;br/&gt;  Fetele vor un tip care nu le spune te iubesc la prima intalnire.&lt;br/&gt;   Fetele vor sa fie iubite , vor sa traiasca o poveste ca in filme.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Din foarte mica mea experienta , cam asta vor fetele.&lt;br/&gt;Din gandurile mele va pot spune ca mi doresc sa traiesc o poveste&lt;br/&gt;ca n filmele alea americane - for teens. Nu chiar popularul scolii&lt;br/&gt;se intalneste cu tocilara scolii si se schimba radical , dar un tip&lt;br/&gt;care sa se intalneasca cu mine si sa faca ceva , exact in clipa&lt;br/&gt;in care ma astept cel mai putin. Sa ma ia de mana sa ma duca &lt;br/&gt;pe baza scolii si sa ma invite undeva . Sa apara din senin la usa&lt;br/&gt;clasei mele si sa mi zica ca trebuie sa mi spuna ceva chiar in&lt;br/&gt;acelasi moment , sa ma sperii crezand ca a patit ceva si el&lt;br/&gt;sa mi spuna ca nu mai rezista tacand. Eu vreau un tip puternic.&lt;br/&gt;Ideea e ca Prince Charming nu se gaseste pe toate drumurile,&lt;br/&gt;cu atat mai putin in caragiale , ploiesti. Totusi eu sper ca o &lt;br/&gt;sa gasesc my own prince charming , iar pana nu l gasesc nu o &lt;br/&gt;sa vorbesc cu nici o imitatie. Da am ramas aceeasi.&lt;br/&gt;  Si stiti de ce sunt eu asa de romantica? Pentru ca sunt idealista,&lt;br/&gt;perfectionista , si nu vreau sa stric starea mea actuala de good&lt;br/&gt;girl , not touched girl cu imaginea de very touched girl.&lt;br/&gt;  Am sarutat un singur tip pana acum si nu mi-e rusine sa&lt;br/&gt;o afirm pe blogul care il citeste 3 sferturi de clasa , eventuali&lt;br/&gt;baieti interesati , oricine. Si sunt mandra ca nu am sarutat&lt;br/&gt;mai multi pentru ca nu au meritat altii. Nici norocosul nu stiu&lt;br/&gt;daca merita , dar era un pas pe care trebuia sa l fac la vremea&lt;br/&gt;respectiva pentru ca eram prea orbita de prezenta singurului&lt;br/&gt;om cu care imi imaginam ca pot sa ma sarut. II multumesc&lt;br/&gt;oficial pe aceasta cale ca mi a zis de muuulte ori ca sarut foarte&lt;br/&gt;bine , although it was my first time.&lt;br/&gt;   Mda , acestea fiind zise ( dupa un alt session de nestapanita&lt;br/&gt;sinceritate pe blog ) , presupun ca orice tip care afla de acest&lt;br/&gt;blog si il citeste ori: 1. Becomes totally turned off by a virgin&lt;br/&gt;in relationships 2. becomes turned on by the chase of a begginer.&lt;br/&gt; Pentru categoria 1: Bravo voua baieti :)) duceti-va la alea cu&lt;br/&gt;experienta. 2: n-aveti nici o sansa.&lt;br/&gt;  Eu caut categoria 3. Care ma vrea pe mine si nu experienta&lt;br/&gt;mea.:)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Hai , gata :)&lt;br/&gt;O seara placuta,&lt;br/&gt;Iulia.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-2622434318480132889?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/2622434318480132889/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=2622434318480132889&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2622434318480132889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2622434318480132889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/11/predispuse-la-romantism.html' title='Predispuse la romantism'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-8682232077876189630</id><published>2008-11-08T12:23:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-08T12:33:42.025+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='venin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Yann Tiersen - comptines d'un autre ete</title><content type='html'> &lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ogMMGC9aDpA&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ogMMGC9aDpA&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;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;elle est Amelie Poulain. Et elle aura Nino Quicampoix.&lt;br/&gt;Je crois que le chanson est fabuleux. &lt;br/&gt;Nu va radeti de franceza mea....&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-8682232077876189630?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/8682232077876189630/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=8682232077876189630&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8682232077876189630'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8682232077876189630'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/11/yann-tiersen-comptines-dun-autre-ete.html' title='Yann Tiersen - comptines d&apos;un autre ete'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-9111161624777925949</id><published>2008-11-04T22:17:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T22:49:58.178+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Imagini'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Elixirul vietii</title><content type='html'> Am revenit la romana dupa o lunga perioada de timp. Sunt anumite&lt;br/&gt;sentimente care se traiesc in romana. Sunt oarecum indragostita.&lt;br/&gt;Dar nu in felul ala normal ( bine si in ala normal :D ) , sunt in love&lt;br/&gt;with life.&lt;br/&gt; Pur si simplu , faptul ca am simtit niste chestii recent ( de bine) ,&lt;br/&gt;care m-au facut sa simt ca traiesc , ca sunt reala , tangibila , aici,&lt;br/&gt;intr-o uimitoare lume plina de culori , ca sunt clasa a Xa ( clasa cu&lt;br/&gt;multa dragoste dupa cum zice dirigu ) , ca sunt la liceu , pe care&lt;br/&gt;am ajuns sa -l iubesc si sa-l respect atat de tare incat mi-e teama&lt;br/&gt;sa nu irosesc nici o secunda.&lt;br/&gt; Am ajuns sa pretuiesc viata. Asa cum e ea , cu buna si rele si trec&lt;br/&gt;printr-o perioada in care natura emo a mea nu se mai arata cam deloc,&lt;br/&gt;iar eu cred ca nici nu o sa se arate prea curand.&lt;br/&gt; Starea initiala de euforie s-a evaporat usor , dar ramane substratul&lt;br/&gt;care-mi aminteste ca viata e facuta ca sa fie traita.  Ma ghidez dupa&lt;br/&gt;" carpe diem " in fiecare clipa si regret ca nu au descoperit si altii&lt;br/&gt;elixirul care ma face sa zambesc zi de zi.&lt;br/&gt;  Zambesc , pur si simplu  zambesc. Am in suflet culori , atingeri , &lt;br/&gt;voci,  prinderi de maini , zambete , priviri , multe amintiri , &lt;br/&gt; ii am in suflet pe cei cativa oameni de care chiar imi pasa, pe care&lt;br/&gt;ii pot numara pe degetele de la o mana , pe 4 degete fara mama si&lt;br/&gt;tata .&lt;br/&gt;  Ii multumesc Domnului seara de seara , ca sunt aici , ca are grija&lt;br/&gt;de mine si ca-mi da o viata mai fericita decat as fi cerut eu. Cred ca&lt;br/&gt;fara ajutorul Celui de sus nu as fi reusit niciodata nimic si norocul&lt;br/&gt;meu , de acolo vine.&lt;br/&gt;    Acest post e o multumire pentru prieteni , o declaratie de dragoste,&lt;br/&gt;o voce , un ecou pentru cine vrea sa asculte.&lt;br/&gt;    Nu vreau decat sa spun ca viata se afla pe pamant pentru a fi traita&lt;br/&gt;si iubita , caci iubim sa traim si traim sa iubim. &lt;br/&gt;Si stiu... Multe lucruri le stiu... Le simt . Si ma multumesc sa simt ,&lt;br/&gt;caci sentimentele sunt mult mai intense decat orice gand. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Nu putem spune ca viata e frumoasa azi sau ca a fost ieri. Viata e&lt;br/&gt;frumoasa zi de zi , trebuie doar sa stii cum sa o traiesti si pentru&lt;br/&gt;ce sa o apreciezi.&lt;br/&gt;Si totusi , viata mea mea nu a fost niciodata mai frumoasa ca acum, &lt;br/&gt;in perioada asta , pentru ca de-abia acum am invatat sa iubesc&lt;br/&gt;existenta ei. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iubesc tot ceea ce ma inconjoara.&lt;br/&gt;Te iubesc.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Pentru cei 4 oameni speciali din viata mea.&lt;br/&gt;( Ghiciti-va singuri)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Cu dorinta de a vedea si voi lucrurile asa cum le vad eu ,&lt;br/&gt;Iulia.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-9111161624777925949?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/9111161624777925949/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=9111161624777925949&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/9111161624777925949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/9111161624777925949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/11/elixirul-vietii.html' title='Elixirul vietii'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5055693475914013361</id><published>2008-10-27T22:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T22:33:21.693+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Amintiri'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='engleza'/><title type='text'>Life&amp; love</title><content type='html'>Somebody told me one day that i was going to find my prince&lt;br/&gt;someday but he was not the one. &lt;br/&gt;Everyday i believe more and more that there is no such thing&lt;br/&gt;as my prince charming riding the white horse. I keep waiting&lt;br/&gt;for the right one to appear but he just keeps saying no to my&lt;br/&gt;wishes , because i refuse to beg.&lt;br/&gt;I've fallen out for a guy and i don't know if what i feel is real.&lt;br/&gt;Of course , he doesn't know and if he would even read this &lt;br/&gt;he would say that definetly he isn't that " one" that i am talking&lt;br/&gt;about.&lt;br/&gt;I haven't ever fallen in such a deep way for someone. Or maybe&lt;br/&gt;just once , but let's say it was because i had known that person&lt;br/&gt;for many years. Now , i know nothing about him , he's a mistery,&lt;br/&gt;he gives me hopes , he takes them , i felt betrayed by him some&lt;br/&gt;time ago and now , when history repeats i'm in the same situation.&lt;br/&gt;  If he would make me feel like the most stupid person on earth right &lt;br/&gt;now , next time i would do exactly the same , i mean leting him&lt;br/&gt;know exactly what i  feel for him.&lt;br/&gt;   I feel so old. It makes me feel old. Love makes me feel old. I'm done&lt;br/&gt;with considering all the possible options , I'm done with interpreting all&lt;br/&gt;his gestures, I'm done with everything.&lt;br/&gt;   But who is going to believe me? I don't even believe me. Why would &lt;br/&gt;you? Why would he?&lt;br/&gt;   I'm dumb. I don't even learn although i have great plans and some&lt;br/&gt;people have great expectations. tomorow i have test papers in physics&lt;br/&gt;and TIC. So what? I don't even bother. I'm too old for anything.&lt;br/&gt;   And you know what's funny? I'm one of the most open-minded and&lt;br/&gt;natural people in my class , but when it comes to him i'm the funniest&lt;br/&gt;and dumbest person ever. I pretend not to see him , i refuse to talk&lt;br/&gt;to him , i do the worst things ever.&lt;br/&gt;   What is there left to say? I feel stupid , in love with  the dumbest boy,&lt;br/&gt;i feel old , i feel tired and i really am what i feel.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I am what i do and what i do is who i am.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5055693475914013361?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5055693475914013361/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5055693475914013361&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5055693475914013361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5055693475914013361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/10/life-love.html' title='Life&amp; love'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-3349387902446943867</id><published>2008-10-15T23:40:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T00:21:38.730+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='engleza'/><title type='text'>I feel tired.</title><content type='html'> I feel so damn tired. where are those sunny days when&lt;br/&gt;all i had to do is lie down with a glass of still water and lemon&lt;br/&gt;or with a cup of coffee and look at the sky?&lt;br/&gt; And i don't know if i am tired phisically. I think it's this&lt;br/&gt;feeling that i have been having for a while , that school&lt;br/&gt;isn't what i want to do. Or at least , here , in romania.&lt;br/&gt;  I've been yearning for the BR meeting since school begun.&lt;br/&gt;And here I am , 2 days before leaving. It's a really nice&lt;br/&gt;feeling , knowing that I am going to meet again all those&lt;br/&gt;peoplethat i fell in love with . I really miss them. &lt;br/&gt;  and the best part is that on saturday night we're havin&lt;br/&gt;a party \:d/. and what i know for sure is that i am&lt;br/&gt;going to be there , that the so-called " soul of the party" paul &lt;br/&gt;is going to be there , that 2 special persons that i am&lt;br/&gt;getting more and more attached to are going to be there,&lt;br/&gt;and now that i think about it more i realise that many&lt;br/&gt;of the people i care about are going to be there. And we're&lt;br/&gt;going to have a great time. I know it for sure. &lt;br/&gt;   But i still feel tired. Because i am tired of proving who&lt;br/&gt;i really am to people who don't even deserve a look from &lt;br/&gt;me. I deserve more but i have to work for it more and more.&lt;br/&gt;And what i want needs so much time that i'd have to &lt;br/&gt;give up things that i have to do but i don't want to.&lt;br/&gt;  I want to give up. But i still have fiath and ambition and&lt;br/&gt;i am a continous source of creativity and that's why i won't&lt;br/&gt;give up. I have people who believe in me , people who&lt;br/&gt;love me for who i am and who know that i am made of a&lt;br/&gt;a very hard steel that won't torn into pieces at the first&lt;br/&gt;pale of wind.&lt;br/&gt;   I am proud of my first weekend in bucharest. :) It's &lt;br/&gt;going to be magical , sprinkled with lots of pixie-dust&lt;br/&gt;and wonderful people . Add some feelings of friendship,&lt;br/&gt;some memories , some stress , and you'll get the mood.&lt;br/&gt;  It's going to be stresfull ( very early wake up , train&lt;br/&gt;to bucharest , sessions until about 6 in the evening , &lt;br/&gt;lovely parties and games:X:X:X until i don't know what&lt;br/&gt;hour , wake up early in the morning , bussines planning&lt;br/&gt;session , train back to ploiesti , i might get home or i might &lt;br/&gt;not , because i have LMT classes in the afternoon with one&lt;br/&gt;of the people i just left :) , so it's gonna be stressfull ).&lt;br/&gt;   and that reminds me about how tired i am and how&lt;br/&gt;much i want my own time and a holiday.&lt;br/&gt;   i am going to sleep.&lt;br/&gt;  Good night :)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-3349387902446943867?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/3349387902446943867/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=3349387902446943867&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3349387902446943867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3349387902446943867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-feel-tired.html' title='I feel tired.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-2679989093699784206</id><published>2008-10-13T23:36:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T00:03:00.570+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='engleza'/><title type='text'>well.</title><content type='html'>Well it's hard . I want to do a lot of things but i have no&lt;br/&gt;support. It's annoying. Really.&lt;br/&gt; most of them are parties but does it really matter? :-"&lt;br/&gt; I want to get involved into some interesting projects,&lt;br/&gt;but it's quite hard when you have parents who dissaprove&lt;br/&gt;of staying late ,  spending nights in bucharest or being alone when&lt;br/&gt;leaving by train.&lt;br/&gt;  It's quite hard not to have independence although you are&lt;br/&gt;only 16. But I can't say i'm not trying. I really am. I'm really&lt;br/&gt;getting a small piece of it , but sooner or later i'll have it.&lt;br/&gt;  My biggest problem is that i don't have parents to say , go&lt;br/&gt;there and do your job. It's something like : well , what are&lt;br/&gt;you going to do there? is it necessary? does it help? Will&lt;br/&gt;it be useful for your future? Are you sure? who are you&lt;br/&gt;going to see there? do you know them? do you know anyone?&lt;br/&gt; Quite hard , right?&lt;br/&gt;  Well at least they trust lmt , and ...ummm....lmt?&lt;br/&gt;  They know all the people i know. It's something like : i'm &lt;br/&gt;meeting the Br guys on saturday . Really? yeap. Are you&lt;br/&gt;going with that nice girl you've been with in the czezh republic?&lt;br/&gt;Is the girl from oricum coming too? are you going to see the guy&lt;br/&gt;that you are having that lmt training too? is the guy that i saw&lt;br/&gt;on teo , that marian , coming too?&lt;br/&gt; It's exhausting , believe me.&lt;br/&gt; And my form teacher.... oh god. if i understood what he means&lt;br/&gt;whenever he is talking i wouldn't share my frustrated thoughts&lt;br/&gt;on the internet , blogging.&lt;br/&gt;  He doesn't understand english. He doesn't understand romanian &lt;br/&gt;either even though he teaches it.  he has the most comunist &lt;br/&gt;conceptions about the world and he is ambitious in stupid&lt;br/&gt;issues. He is stubborn just like a mule.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;pf. I'm going to sleep.&lt;br/&gt;see you tomorrow probably with new things that i hate.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Bye bye.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-2679989093699784206?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/2679989093699784206/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=2679989093699784206&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2679989093699784206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2679989093699784206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/10/well.html' title='well.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-1889167955330233591</id><published>2008-10-12T23:15:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-10-12T23:33:10.392+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><title type='text'>about the world</title><content type='html'> i feel a change in the world. I feel this world is changing &lt;br/&gt;constantly and not necesarily in good. I see more and more &lt;br/&gt;children becoming " emo" or even worse " manelari" , and&lt;br/&gt;i'm shocked. am i into the last generation which is able to&lt;br/&gt;resist temptation and keep the " oldies but goodies"?&lt;br/&gt; People have hopes from us. they hope we'll change the&lt;br/&gt;world while we are listening to florin salam and romeo&lt;br/&gt;fantastik. If paula seling is singing " manele" what's next?&lt;br/&gt;A duo between celine dion and guta? Or a live concert&lt;br/&gt;with rod stewart and denisa from i don't know what city?&lt;br/&gt;   I'm dissapointed. I thought we were different. I thought&lt;br/&gt;we could change the world , but we just can't. We are not&lt;br/&gt;that many to be able to change a world of people who yell&lt;br/&gt;and come to simphonic concerts just because they are &lt;br/&gt;obliged to , people that don't read just because it's not&lt;br/&gt;fashionable.&lt;br/&gt;  We seem to taste only things that are fashionable. Fancy&lt;br/&gt;cars , voluptuous naked girls-singers , rich men , footballers,&lt;br/&gt;anything we see on tv , whose quality is getting worse each day.&lt;br/&gt;  what is happening? &lt;br/&gt;  i don't have a suitable answer.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-1889167955330233591?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/1889167955330233591/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=1889167955330233591&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1889167955330233591'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1889167955330233591'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/10/about-world.html' title='about the world'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-6449156531742399964</id><published>2008-10-04T20:01:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-10-04T20:05:48.873+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>I'll be back</title><content type='html'>Parca asa am zis nu? Well , I'm back.&lt;br /&gt; M-am intors si din creta si din cehia , de peste&lt;br /&gt;tot , a inceput scoala cu mirosul ei caracteristic,&lt;br /&gt;cu caietele umplute din primele saptamani , cu profii&lt;br /&gt;neintelegatori , cu dirigi sclerozati , cu toate cele&lt;br /&gt;pe care le are scoala.&lt;br /&gt;  Eu m-am intors oarecum diferita. Am avut o vacanta&lt;br /&gt;de genul - eu n-am mai facut niciodata asta , acum am&lt;br /&gt;facut-o. am facut muuulte , pe care nu prea credeam ca&lt;br /&gt;o sa le fac fara sa regret , care totodata sa mi placa...&lt;br /&gt;  Nu va ganditi prea departe totusi. Am facut destule, &lt;br /&gt;dar nu chiar pe toate.&lt;br /&gt;  Acum visez cu ochii deschisi la alte taramuri , fara&lt;br /&gt;scoala , cu zapada si cu un anumit om langa mine. Nici&lt;br /&gt;eu nu stiu care.&lt;br /&gt;  Mai vorbim de-astea normale mai incolo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Myriam Lacroche&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-6449156531742399964?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/6449156531742399964/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=6449156531742399964&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6449156531742399964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6449156531742399964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/10/ill-be-back.html' title='I&apos;ll be back'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-852932929591081560</id><published>2008-09-27T13:24:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T13:24:59.467+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Creativity</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.oneplusyou.com/bb/synesthesia" style="display: block; background: url('http://www.oneplusyou.com/q/img/bb_badges/synesthesia.jpg') no-repeat; width: 318px; height: 114px; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 35px; color: #fff; text-decoration: none; text-align: center; padding-top: 126px;"&gt;81%&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;Created by OnePlusYou - &lt;a href="http://www.oneplusyou.com"&gt;Free Dating&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-852932929591081560?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/852932929591081560/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=852932929591081560&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/852932929591081560'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/852932929591081560'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/09/creativity.html' title='Creativity'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5137218907778068147</id><published>2008-09-26T23:32:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T23:41:07.337+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='diverse'/><title type='text'>blog:D</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.oneplusyou.com/bb/blog_addiction"&gt;71%&lt;span&gt;How Addicted to Blogging Are You?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;p&gt;Created by OnePlusYou - &lt;a href="http://www.oneplusyou.com/"&gt;Free Online Dating&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5137218907778068147?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5137218907778068147/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5137218907778068147&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5137218907778068147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5137218907778068147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/09/blogd.html' title='blog:D'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-778888672678801636</id><published>2008-08-28T11:49:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T12:19:18.736+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='BR'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Imi iau zborul</title><content type='html'>Maine plec in Creta.&lt;br/&gt;Mi-era dor de greci... Tare tare dor de ei.&lt;br/&gt;Voiam tare mult o vacanta in care sa zac langa&lt;br/&gt;ai mei pe un sezlong la soare... Si nu sa ma duc&lt;br/&gt;every night in tineretului sau sa joc Mafia pana la &lt;br/&gt;6 , cu toate ca daca e sa ma gandesc mai bine as&lt;br/&gt;da sezlongul pe mafia imediat :)).&lt;br/&gt; Mi-e tare dor de toate. Asa cum mai vorbesc cu&lt;br/&gt;antreprenoristii mei pe mess , mi-e tare dor de ei&lt;br/&gt;si as da orice sa ma intorc la Poiana Pinului... Sa stam&lt;br/&gt;mai mult acolo si sa jucam Mafia pe intuneric :D imi&lt;br/&gt;pare rau daca am facut o obsesie pe chestia asta...&lt;br/&gt;Dar nu pot sa uit  cat de tare era...&lt;br/&gt;Si ma intorc pe 5 acasa ca sa plec pe 6 in Cehia:) &lt;br/&gt;Multumita tot celor de la BR. Doamne ce va mai iubesc:X&lt;br/&gt;Mi-e atat de dor in fiecare clipa incat pe cuvant&lt;br/&gt;de nu ma gandesc ca m-ati indoctrinat. Suntem&lt;br/&gt;o adevarata secta :)) Martorii lui Razvan si alte &lt;br/&gt;povesti de genu :))...&lt;br/&gt;Vreau sa mai vand zodiace , sa-l gasesc pe bogdan in&lt;br/&gt;patul meu facandu-i masaj sabinei , vreau sa mai&lt;br/&gt;cant baby shark cu anca , vreau sa mai rad de Razvan&lt;br/&gt;si antena lui , vreau sa mai dorm cu capul pe masa &lt;br/&gt;langa francezi , vreau sa mai cant i'm a bitch i'm a lover ,&lt;br/&gt;vreau sa se mai aseze cutu pe picioarele mele , sa&lt;br/&gt;o mai aud pe Silvana razand ( =)) ) , sa mi scriu necrologul,&lt;br/&gt;sa caut umbra pe scarile alea , sa ma feresc de albine ,&lt;br/&gt;sa ma feresc cu alexandra de omu ala mic si negru , &lt;br/&gt;sa va insotesc la fumat si sa -mi scriu postari pe blogul&lt;br/&gt;de hartie , sa alerg la masa ca iar am intarziat si sa se uite&lt;br/&gt;urat la mine bucataresele cand le cer apa , sa va vad &lt;br/&gt;costumati in becalli si banel , green spirits si tiganci ,&lt;br/&gt;sa va vad la never ever :&gt;....&lt;br/&gt;vreau sa mai fiu alaturi de voi :D. Doamne cu cata nerabdare &lt;br/&gt;astept acel follow-up.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;si uite ca si postarea mea despre Creta si Cehia s-a transformat&lt;br/&gt;tot intr-o lauda a sectei BR. :))&lt;br/&gt;Deci :&lt;br/&gt;Vreau in Cehia si Creta. Asta era ideea.:)&lt;br/&gt;Da mi-e dor de voi...&lt;br/&gt;Si atunci cand o sa lancezesc la soare cu o pina colada in mana&lt;br/&gt;sau cand o sa mi pun camera la dispozitie pentru un student ceh&lt;br/&gt;tot la voi o sa ma gandesc...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Deci... imi iau zborul... Vorbim cand incepe scoala( of doamne :( )&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Mi-e dor de voi :*&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia Iordache&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-778888672678801636?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/778888672678801636/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=778888672678801636&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/778888672678801636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/778888672678801636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/08/imi-iau-zborul.html' title='Imi iau zborul'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-6087040453390205788</id><published>2008-08-22T16:09:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T17:08:34.502+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Change in life</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/SK7GMt0uyWI/AAAAAAAAADM/OsxjbIV16MY/s1600-h/DSC00787.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/SK7GMt0uyWI/AAAAAAAAADM/OsxjbIV16MY/s200/DSC00787.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5237341338439960930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt; Imi propusesem sa scriu numai in engleza... It's just not&lt;br/&gt;possible. Sunt anumite lucruri care nu pot fi scrise in&lt;br/&gt;engleza pentru ca sunt traite in romana. Sunt unele lucruri&lt;br/&gt;care nu pot fi scrise deloc , pentru ca ele exista doar in emotie.&lt;br/&gt; Sunt anumite stari , anunmite vibratii , anumite inamplari,&lt;br/&gt;anumite lucruri care nu pot fi scrise. Si stiu ca cei carora&lt;br/&gt;ma adresez scriind aceasta postare inteleg la ce ma refer.&lt;br/&gt; Pentru ca niciodata nu m-am simtit atat de inteleasa. &lt;br/&gt;Niciodata nu m-am simtit la unison cu sentimentele celorlalti,&lt;br/&gt;niciodata nu am crezut ca o sa ma atasez de niste oameni pe&lt;br/&gt;care nici n-am apucat sa i cunosc intr-o saptamana cat nu m-am&lt;br/&gt;atasat in intreaga viata poate decat de mama , niciodata nu&lt;br/&gt;am crezut ca viata mea o sa se schimbe in urma unei amarate&lt;br/&gt;de tabere , niciodata nu am crezut ca o tabara imi poate reda &lt;br/&gt;sperante de mult uitate , niciodata nu am crezut ca pot sa traiesc&lt;br/&gt;cu atata intensitate.&lt;br/&gt;  Dar ce spun eu aici? Tabara? Nu. Oameni. Oameni care sunt &lt;br/&gt;cu totii speciali , care te fac sa devii si tu special alaturi de ei ,&lt;br/&gt;care te pretuiesc si cu care poti sa fii tu insuti fara sa te rusinezi ,&lt;br/&gt;fara sa ai complexe , oameni fata de care nu poti sa ai prejudecati ,&lt;br/&gt;oameni care iti arata cine sunt , care sunt deschisi... Oameni cu&lt;br/&gt;adevarat.&lt;br/&gt;   De multe ori in timpul acestei saptamani m-am intrebat cum &lt;br/&gt;de e posibil sa gasesti atatia oameni , toti la fel , toti extraordinari ,&lt;br/&gt;cum poti sa i aduci impreuna ... Cum poti sa i faci speciali impreuna?&lt;br/&gt;  Si acum chiar vreau sa le multumesc unor oameni care...&lt;br/&gt;pe cuvant de nu te fac sa te intrebi " what am i gonna do to thank &lt;br/&gt;them?"&lt;br/&gt;  Vreau sa i multumesc lui Gabi , pentru ca a avut grija de noi si a &lt;br/&gt;fost asa ca un guardian si ... cel mai mult ii multumesc pentru ca ea&lt;br/&gt;a fost initiatoarea proiectului...&lt;br/&gt;   Vreau sa i multumesc lui Razvan , omul care mi-a deschis cu &lt;br/&gt;adevarat ochii , ca nu-s eu aia nebuna. Pentru ca pana sa-l cunosc pe&lt;br/&gt; Razvan eu chiar ma gandeam : La naiba de ce tre sa-mi fac eu griji cu&lt;br/&gt; ce se gandeste lumea,&lt;br/&gt;de ce tre sa-mi pese atat de tare de reputatia mea cand celorlalti nu le&lt;br/&gt; pasa? Uite ca le pasa. Multumesc Razvan. Si lectia cu intuitita. Mi-a &lt;br/&gt;fost frica de intuitia mea mereu. Am facut cateva decizii bazate pe &lt;br/&gt;intuitie si au fost cele mai bune din viata mea , care m-au condus &lt;br/&gt;spre o dezvoltare lenta dar sigura si totusi imi era teama. Multumesc &lt;br/&gt;Razvan pentru ca ne-ai spus ca intuitia nu e un lucru rau si ... o sa ma &lt;br/&gt;mai gandesc la treaba cu bungee :) Si multumesc pentru umilinta.&lt;br/&gt; Era fix ce aveam nevoie. Pe bune. Acum pot sa stau singura in picioare&lt;br/&gt; fara sa-mi mai fie frica de vant. &lt;br/&gt;  Multumesc... colegelor de camera care m-au suportat cand ma &lt;br/&gt;intorceam la 6 in camera si mai faceam si dus ca sa fiu sigura ca le&lt;br/&gt; trezesc. Multumesc Paul pentru ideea cu zodiacul. ( daca nu ma&lt;br/&gt; intreba el de 3 ori ce zodie sunt nu faceam afacerea aia ).Multumesc&lt;br/&gt; pentru sustinerea din primul meu joc de mafia cu voi si multumesc&lt;br/&gt; pentru sustinerea in meciul in care v-am batut ca mafiot.Si mai ales&lt;br/&gt; multumesc Paul pentru seara in care tu si ai tai comunicativi :) ati cantat.&lt;br/&gt; V.I.P.P este putin spus. You were great! Si stiu ca nici &lt;br/&gt;voua nu va venea sa credeti cat de tari ati fost. &lt;br/&gt;  Multumesc Bogdan , chiar ma simteam bine cand imi ziceai ca&lt;br/&gt; aveam o figura angelica si ma strigai ingeras.&lt;br/&gt;   Multumesc Anca pentru ca am fost cele mai tari dive impreuna...&lt;br/&gt;( baby shark...ttt...)&lt;br/&gt;   Multumim cu totii lu Alex! Razvanel cel mic ! Tipul care ne-a&lt;br/&gt; adus tuturor mai multi bani , ne a adus clienti , ala mic si simpatic :X...&lt;br/&gt;    Multumesc Cosmin pentru ca   mi-ai zis de Cehia...&lt;br/&gt;   Mulumesc Andrei P. pentru ultima noapte acolo. Cu totii cred ca iti&lt;br/&gt; suntem recunoscatori pentru acel moment , pentru mine a fost cel &lt;br/&gt;mai  ...moment din toata tabara... Faptul ca am simtit cum bate inima &lt;br/&gt;celorlalti ... totul a fost unic. Cum zicea si Marian Stas , maestrul Pascale, &lt;br/&gt;you really deserve applause! Si chiar de n-o sa mai fiu eu la anu' acolo&lt;br/&gt; chiar ma bucur pentru cei care vor fi acolo si pe care sunt convinsa&lt;br/&gt; ca vei reusi sa-i surprinzi.&lt;br/&gt;   Multumesc Vlad pentru ca ai cantat Good Riddance la chitara &lt;br/&gt;si pentru ca mi-ai pozat fluturele din par...&lt;br/&gt;   Multumim Ancai H , care a fost cel mai tare regizor...&lt;br/&gt;   Multumesc intregii echipe de la antreprenoriat pentru ca au fost&lt;br/&gt; the best...Si talents night desi nu a fost funny pentru ceilalti , we&lt;br/&gt; sure had a great time preparing it. Cu Mentolsheep , cu Charlie's &lt;br/&gt;angels( you bitches:D ) , cu Luke I am your father ( define father ;)) ),&lt;br/&gt; cu tot ce a fost si cu hohotele de ras. Eu nu am mai ras asa de tare&lt;br/&gt; deeeeee multa vreme. Si nici nu o sa mai rad pana nu ne revedem.&lt;br/&gt;  Multumesc koko pentru ecusonul pe care nici nu stii ca ti l-am&lt;br/&gt; luat ca amintire si pentru muzica din ultima seara :).&lt;br/&gt;  Multumesc Casian pentru cea mai tare poza pe care am facut-o &lt;br/&gt;acolo :))( scuze daca o tin obsesiv la avatar , dar ... You're the best ;) )&lt;br/&gt;  Multumesc Obosession :))&lt;br/&gt;  Multumesc Marian Stas pentru ca nu a spus nimanui cat de tare&lt;br/&gt; plangeam la momentul lui Andrei...si multumesc pentru ca a facut&lt;br/&gt; codecs pentru oameni ca noi , cei mai iubiti dintre pamanteni.&lt;br/&gt;  Sper ca nu am ratat pe nimeni. Adica sunt cativa omisi dar:&lt;br/&gt;  Acolo ne-am simtit ca cei mai iubiti dintre pamanteni , cei mai &lt;br/&gt;fericiti , cei mai norocosi , cei mai cei. Va multumesc voua , celor&lt;br/&gt; mai iubiti dintre pamanteni.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;  Now , we expect the unexpected , believe it or not...No words ,&lt;br/&gt; just voices...&lt;br/&gt;Thank you!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Iulia Iordache ( no more myriam lacroche :) )&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-6087040453390205788?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/6087040453390205788/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=6087040453390205788&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6087040453390205788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6087040453390205788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/08/change-in-life.html' title='Change in life'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/SK7GMt0uyWI/AAAAAAAAADM/OsxjbIV16MY/s72-c/DSC00787.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-3201891974375102025</id><published>2008-08-07T20:34:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T21:03:37.519+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='engleza'/><title type='text'>My kind of guy</title><content type='html'> I'm in a strange ... feeling. I'm in it. I'm into it. It&lt;br/&gt;sounds weird , I don't think it's actually right to&lt;br/&gt;say such a thing in english , but let's just say that&lt;br/&gt;I have the license to do it.&lt;br/&gt;  So. I'm in a strange feeling. I'm in a Carrie feeling.&lt;br/&gt;About 15 minutes I ended watching Sex&amp;amp; The city,&lt;br/&gt;the movie. &lt;br/&gt;  It was great. It was amazing. I watched the TV&lt;br/&gt;series more than once , but... It's not the same.&lt;br/&gt;I know it's just a movie but...&lt;br/&gt;   There are always 'but-s'. But.But.But.&lt;br/&gt;    Well.&lt;br/&gt;    It's so real. I realised how much these girls&lt;br/&gt;care about each other in the moment Carrie got&lt;br/&gt;dumped. And I wondered :&lt;br/&gt;         Do I have 3 other girlfriends to do that for me?&lt;br/&gt;    I don't.&lt;br/&gt;    Will I get dumped?&lt;br/&gt;     Will I get my own Big?&lt;br/&gt;   I really want my own Big. I just love that man.&lt;br/&gt;I love the appearance of Chris Noth and the &lt;br/&gt;charater of John Preston . Mr Big. Mr Right. Or,&lt;br/&gt;how I like to call him The Big.&lt;br/&gt;  The Big. He's big. He's tall . He's handsome.&lt;br/&gt;He's rich. He's a man. He has issues. He isn't&lt;br/&gt;perfect , but ( again) that is what makes The Big&lt;br/&gt;perfect.&lt;br/&gt;   He's done a lot of wrong things. He's the worst&lt;br/&gt;choice from all the choices. But... It's natural. I&lt;br/&gt;realised about 2 seconds ago that the only guy&lt;br/&gt;I really loved made me suffer like hell. And even &lt;br/&gt;now I think of him. And even now I wonder if ...&lt;br/&gt;If he'd come back now would I say yes? I tried&lt;br/&gt;to picture myself in this situation and I pictured&lt;br/&gt;myself saying that he's a man-hore. But. I don't&lt;br/&gt;actually think that if he would appear here &lt;br/&gt;devastated after the situation I know he's in ,&lt;br/&gt;telling me ' Sorry , I'm a dumb ass , could you please&lt;br/&gt;forgive me? Please tell me you still love me '&lt;br/&gt;I would say no.&lt;br/&gt;  Even now. Every guy has to be compared to him.&lt;br/&gt;He's been The Big. And I want to get rid of this thing.&lt;br/&gt;  Every and each one of us has its Big. Some chose&lt;br/&gt;him wisely , some didn't. I'm in the second .&lt;br/&gt;   But. I'm trying to get in the first. Now I just have to&lt;br/&gt;find The Big. The real one. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span&gt;Myriam Lacroche&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-3201891974375102025?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/3201891974375102025/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=3201891974375102025&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3201891974375102025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3201891974375102025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-kind-of-guy.html' title='My kind of guy'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5292396828171802464</id><published>2008-07-31T22:41:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T23:37:44.663+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='engleza'/><title type='text'>You</title><content type='html'> Well. We have each other. But will you betray my faith?&lt;br/&gt;I guess you will. I suppose you will. But I hope you won't.&lt;br/&gt;  It's a strange feeling. This whole betrayal thing. But it&lt;br/&gt;did trap me inside , somehow. I feel as if I were trapped&lt;br/&gt;in a strange cage , that allows me to touch the world &lt;br/&gt;around me , but that makes it impossible for me to&lt;br/&gt;actually connect with it , entirely.&lt;br/&gt;  And i have a key for this cage. To open it. And I&lt;br/&gt;don't even know if it's the right key , or if it's a fake&lt;br/&gt;because I am too afraid to try.&lt;br/&gt;  I had a dream last night. And it expressed so well&lt;br/&gt;the way I feel , that I ended up crying . It's exhausting.&lt;br/&gt;To keep thinking and thinking and thinking and not&lt;br/&gt;finding the wrong thing you are doing and not knowing&lt;br/&gt;whose fault is it. Yours or theirs?&lt;br/&gt;  I realised I miss school. But not because I miss learning.&lt;br/&gt;But because the cage seems to get bigger when I'm&lt;br/&gt;in school. I can almost connect to the world. ALMOST.&lt;br/&gt;  &lt;br/&gt;  And now I'm in await for a miracle. And it's so strange.&lt;br/&gt;My hopes are definetly overcoming any possible truth,&lt;br/&gt;but  I keep hoping. Stupid me. Foolish me.&lt;br/&gt;   Why do I keep seeing nice things and nice people and...&lt;br/&gt;where actually there aren't such things?&lt;br/&gt;   Does love exist? And I'm not talking about the love&lt;br/&gt;as " they found each other , they fell for each other ,&lt;br/&gt;married and lived happily ever after " . I'm talking&lt;br/&gt; about love between friends and people. About being&lt;br/&gt;able to care about somebody even though it's not&lt;br/&gt;a relative or a friend. About caring and loving your&lt;br/&gt;place on this world not just for yourself.&lt;br/&gt;   We are so egocentric. So damn egocentric. We only&lt;br/&gt;think about ourselves . And maybe that's why I am&lt;br/&gt;so dissapointed. Because I tried to show the world &lt;br/&gt;some love , the little I could offer and the world &lt;br/&gt;showed me nothing but hate and misundertanding.&lt;br/&gt;  It's bad to be good. It's bad to feel. It's bad to love.&lt;br/&gt;    I can only hope for someone to share my dreams.&lt;br/&gt;the bad part is that I have already chosen that&lt;br/&gt;person and I don't know if I will be chosen back.&lt;br/&gt;It always happens like that.&lt;br/&gt;    Now , I am leaving. I refuse to speak to the&lt;br/&gt;world. I am going somewhere away , where&lt;br/&gt;no one could find me. But I am sure no one would&lt;br/&gt;even try as my phone never rings in summer.&lt;br/&gt;    Goodbye. I hope to write again with happier&lt;br/&gt;thoughts...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#cc33cc;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;Myriam Lacroche&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;   &lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5292396828171802464?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5292396828171802464/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5292396828171802464&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5292396828171802464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5292396828171802464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/07/you.html' title='You'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-3700539657762223903</id><published>2008-07-30T21:18:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T21:18:58.919+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Things.</title><content type='html'>Actually things are right. the cards are now shown. but i hoped for  some other cards. for some bitter luck. And it never showed up even though i did my best to overcome the hard part. i'm not precious to you but you are to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-3700539657762223903?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/3700539657762223903/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=3700539657762223903&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3700539657762223903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3700539657762223903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/07/things.html' title='Things.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-3258248630568075869</id><published>2008-07-30T20:47:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T21:14:14.617+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='engleza'/><title type='text'>Betrayal</title><content type='html'> what does this word mean?&lt;br/&gt; Well. let's see. when usually a woman talks about&lt;br/&gt;betrayal people generally suppose a man must&lt;br/&gt;be involved too.&lt;br/&gt;  For me it's not.&lt;br/&gt;  It has never been.&lt;br/&gt;  But.&lt;br/&gt;  I feel betrayal . I feel betrayed. I feel as if I gave&lt;br/&gt;my soul to someone and that person has other &lt;br/&gt;souls to handle and has left mine behind. &lt;br/&gt;  I feel left behind. I would beg for some attention.&lt;br/&gt;  Because i can't seem to find what i am seeking for.&lt;br/&gt; And.... The betrayers find it. Without me. And that&lt;br/&gt;is why I feel betrayed.&lt;br/&gt;  It's stupid isn't it?&lt;br/&gt;  At least , it looks stupid. I might not have the gift&lt;br/&gt;of talking . I might not be pretty. I might not have&lt;br/&gt;done a great job dumping a great guy. But how&lt;br/&gt;guilty am I?&lt;br/&gt;   I feel guilt. I feel the guilt of the entire planet.&lt;br/&gt;And no one feels my guilt. I bare the sins of the&lt;br/&gt;universe but i refuse to weigh mine. &lt;br/&gt;  I am scared that one day i will wake up alone.&lt;br/&gt;  I am afraid i will be betrayed continously.&lt;br/&gt;  I fear the fact that the bearer of my soul will&lt;br/&gt;always leave it behind.&lt;br/&gt;  I fear the fact that i will never know the real&lt;br/&gt;weight of my sin , and that i will always  believe&lt;br/&gt;it's bigger than it really is.&lt;br/&gt;   I feel that the whole world can't understand me.&lt;br/&gt;Why , oh why , big world , why don't you understand?&lt;br/&gt;  Why don't you take my happiness forever?&lt;br/&gt;  I am done with being happy for a second and waking&lt;br/&gt;up for the following minute to realise my happiness&lt;br/&gt;was an illussion.&lt;br/&gt;   Why do i feel betrayed?&lt;br/&gt;   By the world , the sky , the sea , the rain , the trees,&lt;br/&gt;why do they all betray me?&lt;br/&gt;   Why am I the only chosen?&lt;br/&gt;    I keep hoping there must be another person in&lt;br/&gt;my situation. And when we'll meet we'll forget&lt;br/&gt;the betrayal of the others and focus on ourselves.&lt;br/&gt;    There is only one person who could never&lt;br/&gt;betray me. And there is no longer the person who &lt;br/&gt;never did. I love them both. I still do.  And if i&lt;br/&gt;can wish anything is that one day we'll meet again&lt;br/&gt;to apologise to the ones who never betrayed me and&lt;br/&gt;whom i betrayed.&lt;br/&gt;      Why do people invent so many things?&lt;br/&gt;      Technology is meant to make you suffer.&lt;br/&gt;     It's meant to make you feel small , cheap,&lt;br/&gt;and left behind. The world is going on without you,&lt;br/&gt;but you can't stop it. Technology can show you how&lt;br/&gt;much you mean to people. And usually you will be&lt;br/&gt;dissapointed , because you'll realise that you don't&lt;br/&gt;mean that much to that person...&lt;br/&gt;    It's a matter of development.&lt;br/&gt;  You have to step on others' bodies to make your&lt;br/&gt;own way.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="color:#993399;"&gt;Myriam Lacroche&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-3258248630568075869?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/3258248630568075869/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=3258248630568075869&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3258248630568075869'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3258248630568075869'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/07/betrayal.html' title='Betrayal'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-572583270168626097</id><published>2008-07-16T20:06:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T14:23:48.028+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tamenii'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Euphoria</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.destination360.com/north-america/us/new-york/images/s/new-york-city.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.destination360.com/north-america/us/new-york/images/s/new-york-city.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;/a&gt; e vara.&lt;br/&gt;E perfect,&lt;br/&gt;e 16 iulie.&lt;br/&gt;e .. de toate dom'le.&lt;br/&gt;De ce euphoria? Plec la mare. And i am euphoric:D&lt;br/&gt;Ma rog. euhoric e putin spus. Mi am luat haine&lt;br/&gt;ca orice fata care se respecta ( abia astept sa le si port ;)) )&lt;br/&gt;Si nush ma simt de parca ma duc la new york. ( si de aia&lt;br/&gt;am pus o poza cu new york-ul. plus ca exprima viata aia&lt;br/&gt;care e la mare . Furnicarul care nu doarme niciodata. Lume&lt;br/&gt;care se  alearga pe plaja , danseaza in club , priveste rasaritul...)&lt;br/&gt; Ma incanta ideea asta. &lt;br/&gt;Mai am un motiv pentru euforia asta exacerbata.&lt;br/&gt;E tabara, si n am mai fost intr o tabara de multi ani. Eram &lt;br/&gt;clasa a 4a si a fost prea tare pentru clasa a 4a . Acum sunt&lt;br/&gt;aproape a 10 a:D Si o sa fie prea tare pentru aproape a 10 a.&lt;br/&gt;Totusi ma. E costinesti. :D&lt;br/&gt;If you want to have fun come to the only place for youngsters,&lt;br/&gt;Costinesti:&gt;.&lt;br/&gt;E costinesti. si n am de gand sa dorm.&lt;br/&gt;Chiar daca n-am o companie prea placuta :-". &lt;br/&gt;Nu ca m-ar deranja ca am fi toti aproape a 10 a.&lt;br/&gt;( ma rog , ma deranjeaza asa putin de tot. Da putin.:D&lt;br/&gt;Pentru ca daca noi fetele eram aproape a 10 a si ei&lt;br/&gt;aproape a 12 a , ar fi fost mai ok:D Asta inteleg&lt;br/&gt;eu prin companie nu prea placuta. Dar nu vreau sa-mi&lt;br/&gt;jignesc colegii de grupa , cu atat mai putin colegele.)&lt;br/&gt;O sa fie atata de tare:X. Mai sunt4 zile,&lt;br/&gt;Of.&lt;br/&gt;Cand am scris 4 numarand mi-am dat seama ce repede &lt;br/&gt;a trecut timpu. eu tot mai vedeam ca mai e mult.&lt;br/&gt;Da acu m a izbit. Mai e putin de tot.&lt;br/&gt;Da putin. O doamne.&lt;br/&gt;Nu mi-am calcat hainele , nu am trimis formularul&lt;br/&gt;la cea de a 2a tabara.:-&lt;&gt;zic de o saptamana.).&lt;br/&gt;  M-am mandrit? Nu prea cred.merg in 2 tabere,&lt;br/&gt; pentru ca am aplicat la inca una in august si am&lt;br/&gt;fost primita.:D Antreprenoriat , sponsorizata de&lt;br/&gt;comisia europeana ( eu nu dau decat 800 de mii:D),&lt;br/&gt;traineri draguti:-" si buni as preciza , dar evident&lt;br/&gt;ca nu pentru asta ma duc eu acolo. Prefaceti-va ca nu&lt;br/&gt;am scris asa ceva.&lt;br/&gt;  Azi m-am pregatit un pic de plecare ( wax&amp;amp;wax&amp;amp;wax).&lt;br/&gt; si m am si tuns.:) e dragut. SSta creeeeeeet. si de la &lt;br/&gt;apa sarata o sa fie si mai cret dragul de el:). m am gandit &lt;br/&gt;si cum il aranjez:D Cred ca urmatorul lucru pe care&lt;br/&gt;il fac e sa mi aduc geamantanul si sa l fac si sa l desfac&lt;br/&gt;pana plec. Mai e asa de putin...&lt;br/&gt; Acu vreo 2 ore ma gandeam... daca mi se face dor de casa?&lt;br/&gt;Casa insemnand tv , mess &amp;amp; pushu. Am zis pushu ok,&lt;br/&gt;dar pot sa renunt o saptamana la tv&amp;amp; mess pentru&lt;br/&gt; tineretului:D Si pentru obelisk :D si pentru epava:).&lt;br/&gt;  doamne:D Deja devin obsedanta si obsedata nu?&lt;br/&gt;  Mai tre sa fac ceva gen oscar acu in final.&lt;br/&gt;  Sa multumesc prietenilor mei care m-au fericit&lt;br/&gt;toata vacanta si nu mi au dat motive de depresie &lt;br/&gt;deloc da deloc de tot:D&lt;br/&gt;  O sa incep cu Deea , pentru ca azi m -a scos dintr-o&lt;br/&gt;mare incurcatura de la mare:D E la mamaie:D Si&lt;br/&gt;ploua si sta pe o terasa si bea suc si se gandeste la &lt;br/&gt;mine. si cand o sa citeasca ea blogu asta , adica ori luni&lt;br/&gt;ori marti cand se intoarce ea acasa si eu plec ,  vreau&lt;br/&gt;sa stie ca o iubesc mult si ca i multumesc asa in stil de &lt;br/&gt;oscar:).&lt;br/&gt;   Apoi ana. adica pardon bebe marin. ( a fost la mare&lt;br/&gt;si asa a devenit bebelusu submarin) . Si pe tine te iubesc&lt;br/&gt;pentru ca pe langa faptu ca esti adorabila esti adorabila.&lt;br/&gt;Numai tu poti sa dai anumite mesaje cui nu trebuie ( da&lt;br/&gt;chiar nu trebuie :)) ) si sa zici tampenii si sa porti tricoul&lt;br/&gt;pe care l-ai primit cadou de la paris hilton insasi cu i'm&lt;br/&gt;hot you're not :&gt;  Te iubesc bebe. si tie iti multumesc&lt;br/&gt;in stil golden globe.&lt;br/&gt;   Si Bunny'S.:D no sa ti zic numele ca sa nu te fac de ras.&lt;br/&gt;Da tu bunny meu , esti cea mai sincera si neintersata &lt;br/&gt;persoana ( uneori nu inteleg cum poti fi asa de maica&lt;br/&gt;domnului). Folks , si-a luat mancarea de la gura sa o dea&lt;br/&gt;la cersetori , ar fi fost in stare sa piarda ultima masina&lt;br/&gt;care sa o scoata dintr-o urbe indepartata si naspa :P&lt;br/&gt;( de aia nu vii prea des ) ca sa dea de mancare la un&lt;br/&gt;cutu flamand. Si in rest? in rest o trasnesc idei nebune&lt;br/&gt;si radem de ele. ( cum ar fi ca am vreo 3 bai la acelasi&lt;br/&gt;etaj una langa alta , iar dormitorul parintilor undeva pe &lt;br/&gt;balcon :D ) . De ce bunny'S? Stii tu pentru ce e S-ul.&lt;br/&gt;Daca nu ma insel in engleza asta i pentru a arata posesia.&lt;br/&gt;cui asupra cui. Ramane de vazut. Te iubesc si pe tine&lt;br/&gt;dar tie iti acors zmeura de aur. si iti mai dau si serbetul&lt;br/&gt; de aur. Sa l posezi cu placere:))&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;  Zmeura pe care o imparti cu Ina:-". Am auzit eu ca&lt;br/&gt;ii place cum suna si asa am de gand sa i zic de-acu incolo,&lt;br/&gt;of course not face to face , caci face to face nu o sa ma pot&lt;br/&gt;abtine niciodata sa-i zic " bai ...ina":D . si ea sa ridice &lt;br/&gt;magica spranceana , mai nou foarte dragut pensata.:)&lt;br/&gt;Tu esti una dintre cele mai sexy persoane pe care le-am&lt;br/&gt;cunoscut:D si iti spun asta de multa vreeeeme. Inca de cand&lt;br/&gt;edi isi culca capul obosit la pieptul meu , daca intelegi tu&lt;br/&gt;ce vreau sa spun , dar sigur intelegi. Tu,  imparti&lt;br/&gt;zmeura de aur cu bunny, cu toate ca ar trebui sa o ai singura &lt;br/&gt;pentru ca faci cele mai mari gafe ever:D . Tot tu trebuie sa&lt;br/&gt; mai primesti ceva stil oscar:) premiul pentru sexiest woman&lt;br/&gt;alive.:) daca te uiti cu atentie pe wikipedia:&gt; o sa vezi ce femei&lt;br/&gt;au mai fost.:&gt; te iubesc si pe tine. A da si pe andrei draga , sa&lt;br/&gt;nu-l uit pe andrei. Il iubesc mult. :D&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;    si toate sunteti acolo pe langa locu 1. :)) Sunteti un pic&lt;br/&gt;mai in fata de 1. de aia sutneit pe langa ;)) .&lt;br/&gt; si acu ca am terminat cu oscarul ce pot sa mai zic? Ma duc&lt;br/&gt;sa incep sa sortez totusi hainele ca vine sambata acu si&lt;br/&gt;n am mai nimic calcat si habar nu am ce o sa iau la mine&lt;br/&gt;in afara de 2 rochii si perechea noua de sandale:D&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;   Si te asteptai tu ina safaca myriam vrodata asa ceva cand&lt;br/&gt;ai descoperit o?:)&lt;br/&gt;   Si voi restul nu va asteptati oricum:D da eu va iubesc.&lt;br/&gt;  PLEC  LA MARE!!!!&lt;br/&gt;   la costinesti. si o sa mi fie dor de push, da cred ca ma &lt;br/&gt;descurc:)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; Pa:D&lt;br/&gt; Le mer... Ah le mer.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-572583270168626097?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/572583270168626097/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=572583270168626097&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/572583270168626097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/572583270168626097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/07/euphoria.html' title='Euphoria'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-2605504215662700419</id><published>2008-06-28T19:13:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T19:20:27.214+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Forever summer</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.khpmusic.com/pictures/forever_summer.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.khpmusic.com/pictures/forever_summer.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;E varaaaa:D Nu-mi vine sa cred pur simplu&lt;br/&gt;Ca e atata de cald si de bine.&lt;br/&gt; &lt;/a&gt;E efectiv imposibil sa fie atat de cald si de bine:D&lt;br/&gt;Imi place sa alerg toata ziua desculta prin iarba cu pisoiul pe urmele mele.&lt;br/&gt;Sa citesc tot ce mi pica in mana : Brosuri carti cu tampenii , carti clasice , orice.&lt;br/&gt;E o senzatie uimitoare. Pana si aerul e mai prietenos.&lt;br/&gt;Si o sa merg laaaaa maaaare departare de casa:D&lt;br/&gt;Si o sa fie perfect.O sa dorm pe plaja pana la 6. si o sa vad rasaritul din apele&lt;br/&gt;marii negre.&lt;br/&gt;Si ...Vorba la reclama aia simpatica de la pepsi. It's hard to be a woman, try &lt;br/&gt;something light :X World means endless posibilities. It's an endless world and &lt;br/&gt;I love it.&lt;br/&gt;Caldura , bronz , albastru , cer , mare , culoare , tu , eu , noi , iubire , vara ,&lt;br/&gt;poze , valuri , amintiri , ramas-bun , revederi , incercari , nebunii , nou,&lt;br/&gt;necunoscut , vechi , reamintire , bucurie si speranta.&lt;br/&gt; E vara. Bucurati-va de fiecare vara:D E prea frumos afara:)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche....&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-2605504215662700419?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/2605504215662700419/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=2605504215662700419&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2605504215662700419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2605504215662700419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/06/forever-summer.html' title='Forever summer'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-6011959381331132540</id><published>2008-06-28T18:57:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T19:07:28.341+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Ce astept?</title><content type='html'> Astept sa vii int-o zi si sa-mi spui : hai sa mergem la bucuresti.&lt;br/&gt; Si eu sa ma mir si sa te intreb cum , asa pur si simplu? Si tu sa zici da.&lt;br/&gt; Si sa plecam si sa fie iarna si frig si sa ma tii in brate pe o banca plina&lt;br/&gt;de chiciura in fata Casei Poporului si sa-mi sufli in ureche , sa ma gadili&lt;br/&gt;si sa-mi spui ca-ti doreai de multa vreme sa ma aduci pe o banca plina&lt;br/&gt;de chiciura si sa-mi zambesti.&lt;br/&gt; Si sa nu spui la nimeni despre noi. Si sa apari deodata la mine-n clasa&lt;br/&gt;si sa zambesti tuturor si sa te prefaci ca nu ne cunoastem si sa ne pitim&lt;br/&gt;pe o banca in spatele scolii si sa bata vantul in timp ce-mi spui ca nici &lt;br/&gt;tie nu-ti placea fizica si ca merita sa chiulesc. &lt;br/&gt; Tu meriti sa chiulesc.&lt;br/&gt;  Si in fiecare iarna sa ma convingi sa vin cu tine pe o partie necunoscuta&lt;br/&gt;intr-o tara straina si sa bem ciocolata calda sub un brad langa un semineu&lt;br/&gt;intr-o cabana de brad. &lt;br/&gt;  Si in fiecare primavara primul ghiocel pe care-l vad sa fie acela pe care&lt;br/&gt;tu mi-l daruiesti.&lt;br/&gt; Si-n fiecare vara sa ma-nveti sa inot , sa ma pierd printre valuri si&lt;br/&gt;speriat , tu sa ma regasesti.&lt;br/&gt;  Si-n fiecare toamna sa ne plimbam prin parcurile acoperite de frunze &lt;br/&gt;castanii si sa ma tii de mana si sa-mi asezi fularul in Noiembrie in timp&lt;br/&gt;ce cateva babe se plimba si ne privesc spunand: Asa eram si eu cu Nicusor&lt;br/&gt;dupa al doilea razboi mondial...&lt;br/&gt;  Si ce daca tu nu ai fost in al 2 lea razboi mondial? tu esti eroul meu. Si&lt;br/&gt;daca ai fi fost , ai fi primit cele mai multe grade... Si oricum ai de purtat&lt;br/&gt;un razboi importiva mea...&lt;br/&gt;  intrebarea mea e : de ce nu te vad?&lt;br/&gt; Pentru ca sunt adancita in munca mea?&lt;br/&gt; De ce nu mi-am dat seama ca esti aici?&lt;br/&gt;Pentru ca esti adancit in munca ta?&lt;br/&gt; Si am impresia mereu ca in doar 2 zile imi voi da seama daca am dreptate.&lt;br/&gt;Si stiu ca daca ti-as cere ai merge cu mine pana la capatul lumii doar ca&lt;br/&gt;sa stam pe o banca acoperita de chiciura....&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche &lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-6011959381331132540?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/6011959381331132540/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=6011959381331132540&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6011959381331132540'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6011959381331132540'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/06/ce-astept.html' title='Ce astept?'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-9073627120368207647</id><published>2008-06-17T19:07:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T19:29:50.351+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Femeia.</title><content type='html'>V-ati intrebat vreodata ce o face pe o femeie sa fie femeie cu adevarat?&lt;br/&gt;Un act, executat de multe ori din curiozitate sau nerabdare nu ne face&lt;br/&gt;femei. &lt;br/&gt; Femeia, in deplinul sens al cuvantului , este cea care si-a descoperit&lt;br/&gt;simturile si isi traieste viata pentru ea si simte in ea tot ceea ce are&lt;br/&gt;lumea sa-i ofere.&lt;br/&gt; Femeia e cocheta , reala , directa , complicata , sensibila , puternica,&lt;br/&gt;e ea.&lt;br/&gt; Si ce ne face femei? Pur si simplu o stim cand devenim femei. Si&lt;br/&gt;orice lucru ne poate declansa sentimentul. La unele se declanseaza&lt;br/&gt;atunci cand simt lumea la picioarele lor pentru prima oara , la altele&lt;br/&gt;atunci cand o depresiele face sa realizeze ca trebuie sa-si regaseasca&lt;br/&gt;eul pentru a redeveni ele.&lt;br/&gt;  Se spune ca devii femeie atunci cand devii a unui barbat. Dar daca&lt;br/&gt;femeile devin femei atunci cand devin ale lor si ale nimanui altcuiva?&lt;br/&gt;Fara sa fie sufocate de un gand absurd , adulmecand sentimentul&lt;br/&gt;libertatii ca pe o dovada a sinelui lor puternic , nedepinzand decat&lt;br/&gt;de vointa lor.&lt;br/&gt; Ce face o femeie? Se cedeaza ei intru totul . Total. Fara sa se &lt;br/&gt; impotriveasca. Isi daruieste propria viata si stie pe ce drum va trebui&lt;br/&gt;sa mearga ca sa fie o ea. &lt;br/&gt; Isi daruieste un zambet, isi daruieste vointa de a fi cocheta si de a&lt;br/&gt;refuza tot ce vrea sa refuze si e ea pentru ea.&lt;br/&gt;  O femeie alearga cu picioarele desculte in iarba , calcand adanc&lt;br/&gt; pentru a se umple de seva vietii.  Priveste cerul si adulmeca vantul&lt;br/&gt;pentru a simti ceea ce nu se poate vedea.&lt;br/&gt; Isi invinge soarta imprumutand cuvinte din singurul loc care ii apartine&lt;br/&gt;ei.&lt;br/&gt; Si e fericita. Si pluteste pe deasupra norilor pentru ca ea e ea.Si se&lt;br/&gt;descopera singura in fiecare privire pe care si-o arunca in oglinda,&lt;br/&gt;fugar , apoi cu nesat de fiecare data cand isi descopera zambetul&lt;br/&gt;jucaus care-i spune ca cel mai bine ii sta atunci cand e femeia pe care&lt;br/&gt;si-o doreste zi de zi in sine.&lt;br/&gt; Si femeia uita. Uita de ea , alearga si  nu se opreste decat atunci cand&lt;br/&gt;talpile ating nisipul si apa unui ocean , fuge de valuri , se ascunde ,&lt;br/&gt;rade , se invarte , fuge la bordul unei nave straine , cunoaste un om&lt;br/&gt;pe care nu-l va mai revedea in veci , coboara in primul port si mananca&lt;br/&gt;prima ciocolata intalnita in cel mai mare magazin, nu raspunde la&lt;br/&gt;telefonul nimanui, nu se simte sufocata.&lt;br/&gt; Si se daruieste unui om cu ochii albastri si par de abanos , intruchiparea&lt;br/&gt;Albei-ca-Zapada intr-un barbat. Si nu-i afla numele . &lt;br/&gt; Zboara mai departe in lumea larga ca sa-i afle misterele.&lt;br/&gt; Si cum lumii nu i se sfarsesc misterele , femeia nu va deveni niciodata&lt;br/&gt;femeie. O femeie nu va deveni femeia. Pentru ca o impiedica firea.&lt;br/&gt; Dar poate fi aproape de perfectiune.&lt;br/&gt;  Fiecare femeie e unica. &lt;br/&gt;  Si fiecare poate deveni femeiA.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Am devenit femeie(?).&lt;br/&gt;Prin puterea vietii mele si prin puterea pe care mi-o da o constiinta&lt;br/&gt;infiorator de lucida  simt latul sufocant al vietii care inca nu-mi&lt;br/&gt;apartine. Colivia devine tot mai mica , dar in curand va deveni &lt;br/&gt;neincapatoare.&lt;br/&gt; Ce se va intampla atunci?&lt;br/&gt; Voi deveni femeie.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-9073627120368207647?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/9073627120368207647/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=9073627120368207647&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/9073627120368207647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/9073627120368207647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/06/femeia.html' title='Femeia.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-2277696584990692800</id><published>2008-06-12T22:17:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T22:28:14.567+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tamenii'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Vanatorii</title><content type='html'> Unde sunt vanatorii de azi? &lt;br/&gt; Nu mai exista. Voiam sa vorbesc despre asta de multa vreme.&lt;br/&gt;Fetele sunt vanatorii zilei de azi... el sta si o priveste. ea intelege&lt;br/&gt;semnalu. si tot incearca sa l atraga. Dar el nu face nimic. Si ea tot&lt;br/&gt;incearca. Dar el se lasa greu. &lt;br/&gt;  Ce mai urmeaza? Femeile vor leadershipul , ei vor sa stea la meci.&lt;br/&gt;din cate inteleg eu , conform cu sondajele la inima de tigan ( mircea&lt;br/&gt;badea a zis ca antena 3 a avut rating 4 , realitatea 3 , si acasa cu 14)&lt;br/&gt;barbatii vor sta in curand la telenovele in timp ce femeile se vor &lt;br/&gt;inhama la constructile skyscraperelor din viitor.&lt;br/&gt;   Si barbatii unde sunt mai?&lt;br/&gt;    eu m am saturat sa i vad cum stau picior peste picior pe bancuta,&lt;br/&gt;ca babele la taifas.&lt;br/&gt;    Ori avem de a face cu o metamorfoza care duce femeile mereu&lt;br/&gt;deasupra ( interpretati cum vreti ) , ori toti barbatii devin gay.&lt;br/&gt;Iar noi femeile , o sa ramanem doar cu gandul si cu filmele.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-2277696584990692800?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/2277696584990692800/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=2277696584990692800&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2277696584990692800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2277696584990692800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/06/vanatorii.html' title='Vanatorii'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-1570206846727531284</id><published>2008-06-12T21:42:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2008-06-12T22:16:45.812+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Nimic.</title><content type='html'> Viata incepe cu nimic , continua cu incercarile noastre de&lt;br/&gt;a face din nimic ceva si se termina cu nimic.&lt;br/&gt; Unde e nimicul meu de ieri? Unde e ceva ul de ieri?&lt;br/&gt; Ma zbat si ma lupt in fiecare zi pentru ceva, iar azi realizez&lt;br/&gt;ca maine nu voi mai avea nimic. Pentru ca nu am avut niciodata&lt;br/&gt;ceva , ci doar am imprumutat de la altii.&lt;br/&gt;  Cautam fericirea. Dar ce e fericirea?&lt;br/&gt;  Exista?&lt;br/&gt;  Unde e?&lt;br/&gt;  Cred ca exista. Si o are cine nu merita.&lt;br/&gt;  Nimic... am nimic. Cum pot avea nimic? Si doar incerc sa ofer.&lt;br/&gt;Mie nu imi rezerv asa de multe in speranta ca imi vor oferi alti&lt;br/&gt;nimeni. Si nimeni ai mei , s-au dovedit nimeni ai lumii.&lt;br/&gt; Si strig : De CE?!?&lt;br/&gt; Cu ce gresesc? Pentru ca undeva am gresit.&lt;br/&gt; Nu mi pot explica mie si nimanui ce fac atat de gresit.&lt;br/&gt; Si de aia sunt rasplatita cu nimic.&lt;br/&gt; Oare vreodata? Sau niciodata? &lt;br/&gt; De ce ma caracterizeaza nu? De ce pentru mine nu exista da?&lt;br/&gt; De ce nu ma poate nimeni asculta si la bine si la rau?&lt;br/&gt; Mereu exista cineva sa te consoleze , mereu exista cineva sa&lt;br/&gt;fie langa tine cand te bucuri , dar de ce nu exista cineva in viata&lt;br/&gt;de zi cu zi? La tot ce faci , indrugi , sporovaiesti , toate tampeniile&lt;br/&gt;pe care le zici? Pentru ca daca nu e nimeni atunci , vor ajunge in&lt;br/&gt;situatia in care vor trebui sa te consoleze pentru ca simti nevoia&lt;br/&gt;unui nimeni care sa te asculte. &lt;br/&gt; Stiu ca m-ati inteles gresit. Nu vorbesc despre dragoste. Nu&lt;br/&gt;vorbesc despre o casnicie in care sotii sa se inteleaga si sa-si &lt;br/&gt;vorbeasca zilnic despre micile nimicuri. Va veni si vremea aceea.&lt;br/&gt; Momentan eu am nevoie sa vorbesc. Vorbesc mult , de una singura&lt;br/&gt;de cele mai multe ori , chiar fara sa mi dau seama ca nimeni nu&lt;br/&gt;ma mai asculta.&lt;br/&gt; Si de aia stau ca penibila vineri seara si tot weekendu si scriu pe&lt;br/&gt;blog in loc sa ies in oras. Si spun stop. Pentru ca m am saturat de&lt;br/&gt;nimic . Si nimeni. Si niciodata.&lt;br/&gt; Nu sunt pe alt fus orar. Sunt aici , reala , tangibila, exist. Si daca&lt;br/&gt;e nevoie ca lumea sa se schimbe pentru mine , am sa astept. Pentru&lt;br/&gt;ca merit si nu gresesc. Vreau sa mi pice si mie ceva din cer fara sa &lt;br/&gt;strig dupa acel ceva.&lt;br/&gt; Si va veni.&lt;br/&gt; Chiar daca va trebui sa astept o eternitate. Va fi eternitatea mea.&lt;br/&gt;In care mi voi cladi un ceva din nimic. Si ma voi folosi de tot ajutorul&lt;br/&gt;meu si prin mine voi reusi.&lt;br/&gt;  Pentru ca nu mai are rost sa cred in cineva. &lt;br/&gt;  Nu uita ca in lumea de azi esti doar tu... Si nimeni altcineva.&lt;br/&gt;  &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-1570206846727531284?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/1570206846727531284/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=1570206846727531284&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1570206846727531284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1570206846727531284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/06/nimic.html' title='Nimic.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-6811521439404585851</id><published>2008-06-10T20:54:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T21:35:49.920+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tamenii'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><title type='text'>Atmosfere. Alegeri.</title><content type='html'> Trebuie sa iau o decizie importanta .&lt;br/&gt;Si , cum eu nu pot sa iau decizii importante decat daca&lt;br/&gt;le vad scrise pe hartie , sau in cazul asta , pe calc , am&lt;br/&gt;decis sa scriu.&lt;br/&gt;  Dupa cum scrie si in profilul meu , am 15 ani. ( aproape&lt;br/&gt;16 , dar nu-mi place sa ma devin  batrana :D ) . Deci ,&lt;br/&gt;anul asta am fost clasa a 9 a( dupa parerea mea inca mai &lt;br/&gt;sunt pana nu incep a 10 a ) . Si cum era ceva foarte la&lt;br/&gt;moda la inceputul anului scolar , m-am apucat si eu &lt;br/&gt;de debate. Am fost peste 100 de persoane la trainingul&lt;br/&gt;initial. Ulterior trupele s-au rarit atat de mult incat&lt;br/&gt;eram chiar mandra ca am rezistat cu stoicism atata &lt;br/&gt;vreme sacrificandu-mi fiecare sambata in favoarea &lt;br/&gt;acestei activitati( n am citit tot anul o carte buna. de&lt;br/&gt;fapt n am citit prea multe carti . maxim 4-5 ). &lt;br/&gt;   M-am certat cu mama si i am scos ochii cu idei de&lt;br/&gt;genul : habar nu ai tu ce inseamna faptul ca sunt la&lt;br/&gt;debate pentru intrarea mea la facultate. Am avut cea&lt;br/&gt;mai mica medie din toata cariera mea de elev:) Si nu&lt;br/&gt;pot sa zic ca e mica , dar nu mi am dat seama pana &lt;br/&gt;acum de acest lucru.Ca nu e deloc mica.&lt;br/&gt;  Am fost la FIAT. Competitia internationala de debate,&lt;br/&gt;care are loc in Romania , la Sinaia . Trebuia sa merg si&lt;br/&gt;in Estonia , dar nu am avut bani , sponsorizare ( ne&lt;br/&gt;trebuiau in jur de 2000 de euro pentru intreaga echipa&lt;br/&gt;si coach.). FIAT trebuia sa fie cea  mai tare experienta ca&lt;br/&gt;debater din primul an de debate. Eu insa nu pot sa zic&lt;br/&gt;ca am agreat-o prea mult. A fost tare. Si singurul lucru&lt;br/&gt;care ma face sa nu regret acea competitie a fost ultima &lt;br/&gt;noapte , in care in sfarsit m am simtit parte din FIAT.&lt;br/&gt;  Asa cum a reiesit probabil si din postarile anterioare ,&lt;br/&gt;sunt o fire mai timida , credula , dar nu pot sa zic ca-s&lt;br/&gt;nemultumita de atitudinea mea. Sunt ceva mai tacuta&lt;br/&gt;fix atunci cand nu trebuie.&lt;br/&gt;    Si tocmai de aia nimeni din club nu ma agreaza in afara&lt;br/&gt;de prietenii mei. Cu care ma cunosc de o viata. Si ca sa nu&lt;br/&gt;mai dau vina pe mine atata ca stiu ca nu e vina mea . &lt;br/&gt;Macar in cazul asta nu e vina mea. Sunt cu fite de bucuresti&lt;br/&gt;si trebuie sa te bagi  in seama cu studentii si cu tipii mai mari&lt;br/&gt;ca sa ai vreo sansa ca incepator .&lt;br/&gt;  Or eu n am de gand sa perii pe nimeni nici sa ma platiti. Nu&lt;br/&gt;vreau sa perii. Singurul om pentru care m am chinuit 8 luni&lt;br/&gt;a fost proful care conduce clubul. Pentru ca el nu intelegea&lt;br/&gt;care-i smenu in club. Si cand a inteles... Eu nu m am mai dus,&lt;br/&gt;pentru ca pana la urma el nu poate sa le faca pe toate.&lt;br/&gt;   Si imi pare asa de rau ca de o luna nu mai merg la debate.&lt;br/&gt;M am trezit intr o dimineata vesela ca fusesem la debate. Si&lt;br/&gt;apoi mi am dat seama ca am visat. Cum? aia marii nu puteau&lt;br/&gt;fi asa de prietenosi decat intr un vis.&lt;br/&gt;   Iar acum . Decizie. Sa ma las de tot sau sa ma mut la clubul&lt;br/&gt;oponent? L as trada pe prof. Si toti cei care pleaca din clubul&lt;br/&gt;asta vor sa se apuce la anu in celalalt.  Asta nu inseamna ca&lt;br/&gt;tot de fita o sa dau? nu mai vreau. Pentru ca din cei 100&lt;br/&gt;de la inceput era multa fita. Numai fitosii fac debate. Or eu&lt;br/&gt;vreau sa fac pentru mine , ca sa fiu in stare sa vorbesc si eu&lt;br/&gt;2 cuvinte da bune. Calitati oratorice , etc , etc. Poate ajung&lt;br/&gt;andreea esca intr o zi :)).&lt;br/&gt;     Si de ce vreau sa ma duc la clubul celalalt ? FIAT. I am&lt;br/&gt;vazut si pe ei acolo. Si ei dau sanse oricui , sunt simpatici&lt;br/&gt;si n au fite de 2 bani. Plus ca nu prea mai au oameni ca toti &lt;br/&gt;trec a 12 a. Daca stau bine sa ma gandesc si la clubu de acum &lt;br/&gt;se intampla la fel. Dar stai ca mai sunt cei din geeneratie&lt;br/&gt;cu mine care se comporta de parca as fi retardata sau&lt;br/&gt;invizibila. Niste scarbe toate. oops. am zis toate? voiam sa zic &lt;br/&gt;toti. &lt;br/&gt;     Maine ma vad cu proful . Si vreau sa vorbesc cu el.Si&lt;br/&gt;o sa i spun clar ca al sau club a devenit de tot ... ( ce are&lt;br/&gt;ursu in loc de mana ? - laba- sau ce se gaseste pe piata&lt;br/&gt;la turci mai ales? - rahat-) Stiu ca iar o sa incerce sa faca&lt;br/&gt;ceva si nu o sa i iasa din nou. Da ma rog. Ar trebui&lt;br/&gt;sa ajung eu studenta ca sa se intample ceva...&lt;br/&gt;     Si de ce ma oftic cel mai tare? Pentru ca o sa pierd regionala&lt;br/&gt;si Nationala de anul asta din urmatoarele motive:&lt;br/&gt;     1. n am mai fost la debate de multa vreeeeeeeme.&lt;br/&gt;      2. n am echipa&lt;br/&gt;      3. ce dracu sa caut acolo daca eu un jucator de clasa&lt;br/&gt;a 9 a , am avut un punctaj aproape la fel cu o tipa care &lt;br/&gt;e super jmekera in club si toti o iubesc ( e tot a 9 a ) ,&lt;br/&gt;[si la fel la fel cu o tipa de a 11 a pe care chiar o respect &lt;br/&gt;si nu mi vine sa cred ca a avut acelasi punctaj ca mine]?&lt;br/&gt;    Sunt ofticata rau. :-&lt;&gt;Am mai avut enspe mii de incercari. Dar acum chiar m am&lt;br/&gt;saturat de toate fitele si de toti nenorocitii. Punct.Vor sa &lt;br/&gt;scape de mine? O sa le ofer satisfactia asta , iar apoi am&lt;br/&gt;sa am grija sa ma vrea inapoi , dar sa ma vrea al naibii de&lt;br/&gt;rau...&lt;br/&gt;     Mi am descarcat nervii. Si stiu foarte bine ce am de facut.&lt;br/&gt;( stiu ca maine profu o sa ma dea inapoi cu vreo 20 de mii&lt;br/&gt;de kilometri... )&lt;br/&gt;        Gata. A venit vara. Sa ne gandim la lucruri frumoase.&lt;br/&gt;       ;;)&lt;br/&gt;       :)&lt;br/&gt;       Vacanta placuta tuturor. Si sa va distrati. sa mereti la &lt;br/&gt;munte , la mare , la discoteca tineretului in costinesti , in tabara&lt;br/&gt;(la gratare si sa faceti foc de tabara pe un deal inalt noaptea langa &lt;br/&gt;o cruce maaaaare. :D  Va iubesc aiuritilor:D)&lt;br/&gt;     Asa . Ce sa mai zic?&lt;br/&gt;      A da. &lt;br/&gt;      Nimic.&lt;br/&gt;        Am zis nimic,&lt;br/&gt;               Deci PA!:D&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-6811521439404585851?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/6811521439404585851/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=6811521439404585851&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6811521439404585851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6811521439404585851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/06/atmosfere-alegeri.html' title='Atmosfere. Alegeri.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-8362202248991693000</id><published>2008-06-05T20:33:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T21:25:43.267+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><title type='text'>Toti trandafirii au spini.</title><content type='html'>Si de ce spun eu asta? Nu stiu.&lt;br/&gt;E o cugetare care nu are poate legatura cu starea mea de acum ,&lt;br/&gt;care e pur si simplu.&lt;br/&gt;E o idee care m-a traznit in timp ce culegeam trandafiri.&lt;br/&gt;Si ma intepau , iar eu uimita de eternele parfumuri continuam sa&lt;br/&gt;culeg , fara sa le iau in seama strigatul de disperare.&lt;br/&gt;Dar , nu e vorba numai de trandafirii care inteapa.&lt;br/&gt;E vorba de perfectiune.&lt;br/&gt;Care nu exista.&lt;br/&gt;Stii care e cel mai  raulucru ? &lt;br/&gt;Sa crezi in perfectiunea ta. Daca trandafirii au spini , atunci si tu&lt;br/&gt; vei avea defecte. Si de ce ai refuza sa le vezi? Nu , cu totii le &lt;br/&gt;vedem , dar incercam sa le ascundem. Sau, mai am putea vorbi&lt;br/&gt;despre categoria de oameni care nu-si da seama de spinozitatea&lt;br/&gt;comportamentului lor si se bucura de aceste asa zise atuuri cu&lt;br/&gt;un talent umitor de a rani . &lt;br/&gt;Nu suntem perfecti , dar avem tendinta sa credem ca suntem mai&lt;br/&gt;perfecti decat altii...&lt;br/&gt;E aiurea spus , stiu asta , dar m-am lovit in spinii societatii.&lt;br/&gt;Iar acum stiu sa ma feresc. Si mi au crescut aripi , si colti ca sa ma&lt;br/&gt;apar ca o leoiaca.&lt;br/&gt;Leoaica tanara , putere , obsesie , exagerare si un dram de dramatism.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-8362202248991693000?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/8362202248991693000/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=8362202248991693000&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8362202248991693000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8362202248991693000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/06/toti-trandafirii-au-spini.html' title='Toti trandafirii au spini.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-2805425418320705722</id><published>2008-05-14T23:10:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-05-14T23:20:13.870+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><title type='text'>Viata e lunga.</title><content type='html'>  Deci nu mai am nici un chef. Viata mea e lunga , e un plictis total,&lt;br/&gt;imi doresc sa vina vara ca sa mai diversific activitatile.&lt;br/&gt;  Orar zilnic : Ma trezesc , mananc , plec , ma intorc , stau pe mess,&lt;br/&gt;baie ma culc.&lt;br/&gt;   Everyday.&lt;br/&gt;   Nici nu va dati seama. Sunt obosita , plictisita si e 11 si un sfert&lt;br/&gt;noaptea. Nu am mai citit o carte buna integral de 2 saptamani si&lt;br/&gt;ma enerveaza majoritatea oamenilor din jurul meu. Nu am mai&lt;br/&gt;citit blogurile din blogroll de o mie de ani si nici nu o sa citesc prea&lt;br/&gt;curand. &lt;br/&gt;   Nici chestii interesante nu mai dau din mine.&lt;br/&gt;    Am vreo 2 chestii cum ar fi continuarea la NFS si inca ceva da sunt&lt;br/&gt;pe hartie si o sa le scriu pe 13 iunie aici :). Dupa ce se incheie scoala.&lt;br/&gt;  Mai vorbim atunci:)&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Noapte buna. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-2805425418320705722?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/2805425418320705722/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=2805425418320705722&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2805425418320705722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/2805425418320705722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/05/viata-e-lunga.html' title='Viata e lunga.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-4998294100269387777</id><published>2008-04-04T22:19:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T05:23:11.176+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Imagini'/><title type='text'>Need For Speed</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/R_aZYdpb8uI/AAAAAAAAABw/aZjrNZ8klmQ/s1600-h/for+post.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/R_aZYdpb8uI/AAAAAAAAABw/aZjrNZ8klmQ/s320/for+post.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185500666518041314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;   Si am privit acul cum urca. 100.110. 150.170... Am apasat acceleratia&lt;br/&gt;cu putere si am strans volanul intre maini ca sa gust puterea. Si am &lt;br/&gt;simtit. Masinile de langa mine ramaneau in urma asa cum ramanem&lt;br/&gt;cu totii , la un anumit moment dat.&lt;br/&gt;    Apoi m-am razgandit. Am vrut sa vad culorile noptii. Am apucat&lt;br/&gt;schimbatorul , am micsorat viteza si m-am lasat cuminita pe prima&lt;br/&gt;banda a autostrazii goale. Nici o lumina.&lt;br/&gt;    " Urmeaza mix-ul de seara cu dj DG." Spune o voce neimportanta&lt;br/&gt;in boxe. Privesc campul gol. Ar fi cazul sa ma intorc in oras, sa vad &lt;br/&gt;lumina.&lt;br/&gt;     Si ma intorc. Stau la semafor. Si vad masinile cum trec , trec , trec,&lt;br/&gt;ca vietile oamenilor care trec prin fata mea , zi de zi si ora de ora. &lt;br/&gt;Oameni , masini , suntem cu totii niste masinarii , care-i diferenta?&lt;br/&gt;     Privesc soferul din stanga mea. E plictisit. Viata lui e invaluita in&lt;br/&gt;rutina. Acum se intoarce de la serviciul lui plictisitor. E arhitect. &lt;br/&gt;Credea ca nu se va plictisi , dar iata-l acum , unde a ajuns? Are 2&lt;br/&gt;copii , o fata de 16 ani si un baiat de 8 ani. Nu se inteleg . Trebuie sa-i&lt;br/&gt;tot impace. A obosit.  Si sotia? Se inteleg bine. Ea gateste si face tot &lt;br/&gt;felul de lucruri casnice, are grija de el ,dar sexul e rar si plictisitor.&lt;br/&gt;Pasiunea din vremurile bune e apusa.&lt;br/&gt;      Si iar e verde. Urmatorul semafor. In dreapta mea e o masina cu&lt;br/&gt;geamuri fumurii din care ma izbesc sunete asemanatoare cu cele de pe&lt;br/&gt;postul radio pe care il ascult si eu. Probabil e acelasi.&lt;br/&gt;       Geamul se lasa jos si o mana cu o tigara iese afara , in frig. Norul &lt;br/&gt;de fum , iese afara si cauta libertatea , omul duce tigara din nou la buze &lt;br/&gt;si atunci realizez ca e el. E Dan. Incerc sa imi ascund uimirea . Dar e &lt;br/&gt;in zadar. E totodata prea tarziu. M-a vazut. Il vad cautand ceva prin&lt;br/&gt;masina. E telefonul.&lt;br/&gt;       Atunci un tarait familiar imi atrage atentia. Imi suna telefonul.&lt;br/&gt;       " Buna ,  sunt George. Cand vii acasa?"&lt;br/&gt;       " Mai stau doar putin."&lt;br/&gt;      Inchid. Dan ma priveste , dar inca mai tine mana pe telefon.&lt;br/&gt;      Taraitul se aude din nou.&lt;br/&gt;      " Vino pe autostrada."&lt;br/&gt;       Aud si citesc buzele din care ma infruptam odata. Mi-e dor de Dan.&lt;br/&gt;   E verde. Fac rondul odata cu el si ne indreptam spre autostrada,&lt;br/&gt;        Iata-ne aici. In fata intinderii. Il vad concentrandu-se. O sa apese&lt;br/&gt;acceleratia. O stiu. Asa ca o apas si eu.&lt;br/&gt;        Putere . Adrenalina. Forta. Masini. Vieti. Amintiri. Toate in fata &lt;br/&gt;ochilor mei.&lt;br/&gt;        De ce ne-am oprit? De ce am renuntat la viata asta pentru altii?&lt;br/&gt;Si ce daca mi-am dorit mereu sa fiu medic. Tot mai fericita sunt in&lt;br/&gt;spatele volanului.&lt;br/&gt;        Il vad incetinind. Si stiu unde vrea sa ma duca. E parcarea acelui&lt;br/&gt;motel , unde ne-am cunoscut. Aici ne intalneam si aici consumam tot&lt;br/&gt;ceea ce era intre noi.&lt;br/&gt;         Si ii vad sigla veche atarnand. E exact la fel. Dar noi nu mai suntem &lt;br/&gt;aceiasi.&lt;br/&gt;       Ma opresc. Deschid usa. Ma asez pe capota. Se indreapta spre mine.&lt;br/&gt;       Si brusc, imi aduc aminte de ce il doresc asa de mult. De ce George&lt;br/&gt;nu e ceea ce am nevoie. Pentru ca are ochii aia mari , posesivi , gelosi ,&lt;br/&gt;care imi spun ca daca sunt a lui , a lui voi ramane , pentru ca are mainile&lt;br/&gt;cu care m-a sedus si prima si ultima oara. Pentru ca pur si simplu l-am&lt;br/&gt;iubit pentru puterea lui. Si el m-a invatat ca nu sunt decat 3 lucruri in &lt;br/&gt;viata capabile sa-ti aduca placerea absoluta: sexul , ciocolata si viteza.&lt;br/&gt;Si mi le-a aratat pe toate.&lt;br/&gt;          Se opreste . Ma saruta. Ma saruta asa cum ma saruta el intotdeauna.&lt;br/&gt;Puternic , apasat , cu forta, cu pasiunea care imi spunea totul , care ma fura&lt;br/&gt;de fiecare data. &lt;br/&gt;          " De ce?"&lt;br/&gt;          " Nici tu nu ai uitat."&lt;br/&gt;          " George..."&lt;br/&gt;          " Alina. Ce daca?"&lt;br/&gt;          " Noi avem puterea si pasiunea. Ei nu au nimic."&lt;br/&gt;          " Ba da. George ma intelege..."&lt;br/&gt;          " George nu poate sa inteleaga asta." Si ma saruta cu si mai mult&lt;br/&gt;patos. Vrea sa fiu a lui. Are dreptate. George nu m-a facut niciodata sa&lt;br/&gt;ma zgribulesc de frig la simpla lui privire. Nu mi-a starnit atentia decat&lt;br/&gt;prin romantismul lui exagerat. Eu vreau putere. Si ii raspund. Ii simt&lt;br/&gt;bratele in jurul meu. Ma strange cu putere. A lui voi ramane in veci.&lt;br/&gt;Chiar de nu sunt langa de el , eu sunt a lui.&lt;br/&gt;              " Alina nu vrea asta."&lt;br/&gt;           " De ce? Ea nu vrea putere?"&lt;br/&gt;             " Ea  nu e genul meu de femeie , asa cum nici George nu e &lt;br/&gt;genul tau. El e doar un medic. Si tu esti medic , dar vrei sa concurezi&lt;br/&gt;din nou. Am vazut-o in ochii tai. Nu poti trai fara sa simti pedala sub&lt;br/&gt;picior, fara sa vezi luminile trecand pe langa tine."&lt;br/&gt;              " Ai dreptate. Dar nu pot ."&lt;br/&gt;               " Ba poti. De ce refuzi daca ne-am intalnit iar?Nu vezi ca&lt;br/&gt;tot si toate si oricine si orice ne vrea impreuna? Concureaza cu mine.&lt;br/&gt;O data. Fii copilotul meu. " &lt;br/&gt;                " ..."&lt;br/&gt;                " O sa poti. Pana te hotarasti vino sa vedem camera noastra."&lt;br/&gt;                "..."&lt;br/&gt;Deja nu mai am cuvinte.Il aud vorbind , persuasiv , dar nu inteleg ce&lt;br/&gt;spune. Stiu doar ca vreau asta. Da , o vreau , al naibii de mult. Apas&lt;br/&gt;pe telecomanda si masina se incuie. &lt;br/&gt;     El se duce inauntru sa ia camera , iar eu il astept afara fumand.&lt;br/&gt;Miros a spital. Vreau sa pierd mirosul asta. Si stiu ca in seara asta o&lt;br/&gt;sa capat din nou mirosul lui. Trag cu putere din tigara. Si George?&lt;br/&gt;Ma iubeste. O sa inteleaga.&lt;br/&gt;      Dan se intoarce.&lt;br/&gt;      Doamne cat de mult il doresc.&lt;br/&gt;      Si ma saruta iar.&lt;br/&gt;      Si apoi... Se intampla ceea ce mi doream sa se intample de atata &lt;br/&gt;vreme. Ce dor mi-a fost de tine Dan!&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-4998294100269387777?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/4998294100269387777/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=4998294100269387777&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4998294100269387777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/4998294100269387777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/04/need-for-speed.html' title='Need For Speed'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/R_aZYdpb8uI/AAAAAAAAABw/aZjrNZ8klmQ/s72-c/for+post.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-6171116945361971298</id><published>2008-04-02T22:16:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T23:02:42.313+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='noi'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Eu stiu ca tu banuiesti ca eu... exist.</title><content type='html'> Titlul acestei postari e ceva. Ceva ce eu am inventat usor , iar acum &lt;br/&gt;imi trec prin minte toate sensurile acestei expresii , ce inseamna. Pai,&lt;br/&gt;haideti sa o luam cu inceputul.&lt;br/&gt;   Eu stiu ca tu banuiesti - vine de la faptul ca eu stiam ca el banuieste&lt;br/&gt;ca mie nu imi e tocmai indiferent . Dar am evoluat si mi am dat seama&lt;br/&gt;ca el ma are atat de mult in atentie incat de abia stie daca eu exist.&lt;br/&gt;   Nu e ceva groaznic? Citeam acu ceva vreme la romana un citat:&lt;br/&gt;Eu stiu ca o femeie ignorata de un barbat e un monstru. Otilia din&lt;br/&gt;Enigma Otiliei. Si nu avea ea oare dreptate? Femeia ignorata de &lt;br/&gt;barbat nu e ea insasi . O femeie ignorata nu  mai are sperante sau&lt;br/&gt;are prea multe. Depinde de la caz la caz.&lt;br/&gt;   Unele femei , cand sunt ignorate nu mai cred pe nimeni si nu mai&lt;br/&gt; cred in nimic.  Sunt triste si isi pierd orice speranta , orice ramasita&lt;br/&gt;de incredere in oricine , oricand.&lt;br/&gt;  Alte femei , din care fac parte si eu , au tendinta de a vedea in orice&lt;br/&gt;gest , o speranta , un semn , o invitatie la vis. Eu sper prea mult , &lt;br/&gt;visez prea mult , vad semne in orice si invitatii la mai mult in orice,&lt;br/&gt;asta ma face atat de deprimata dupa ce visul se sfarseste. Si daca &lt;br/&gt;nu as vedea semne , atunci tot nu ar fi bine. Caci as fie deprimata&lt;br/&gt;mereu. &lt;br/&gt;   Mai tineti minte rusul? Ei bine , rusul mi a adus inapoi sentimente&lt;br/&gt;pe care habar nu aveam ca le mai pot simti. Si dupa ce iluzia s-a&lt;br/&gt;incheiat , am ramas impacata. Nu-mi mai pasa de rus , pentru ca&lt;br/&gt;rusul era exact ce nu-mi doream. Si am descoperit asta abia dupa&lt;br/&gt;ce el si-a gasit gheisa, intrucat am sesizat cum ii este de supus. &lt;br/&gt;  Eu nu vreau sa ma supun. Eu vreau sa-i ascult parerea , el sa&lt;br/&gt;mi-o asculte pe a mea si daca nu ajungem la un comun acord ,&lt;br/&gt;sa ramanem fiecare cu parerea lui. Nu el sa se lase convins doar&lt;br/&gt;pentru ca asa spun eu : Bine draga , imi pare rau , imi pare extrem&lt;br/&gt;de rau , ai incredibil de mare dreptate. Eu vreau un tip asertiv,&lt;br/&gt; care are un pic de forta , de agresivitate si nu un tip pasiv care&lt;br/&gt;sa joace dupa cum ii cant eu. Plus ca trebuie sa mi placa si ca fizic,&lt;br/&gt;sa impartasim pareri , chiar daca nu m ar deranja discutiile in&lt;br/&gt;contradictoriu. Stop. Incepe sa sune a anunt matrimonial.&lt;br/&gt;   Da , rusul era pasiv. Si ma uimeste forta pe care eu o vedeam&lt;br/&gt;in el. si acum vad o forta in germanul asta , numai ca este &lt;br/&gt;intreita fata de ce vedeam in rus. &lt;br/&gt;   Si ma vad dansand tot timpul cu germanul asta. Il tot vad&lt;br/&gt;intr-un costum negru , cu ochii lui caprui invartindu ma prin&lt;br/&gt;sala de bal. Si poate ca intr-o zi se va implini. Poate ca asa va&lt;br/&gt;fi. Pana atunci eu sper prea mult. Sper sa si dea seama ca &lt;br/&gt;exist. Sper sa-si dea seama ca sunt un om , cu sentimente&lt;br/&gt;puternice , cu trairi , ca visez din orice gest.&lt;br/&gt;    Si daca nu va fi germanul ce daca? Voi gasi eu un alt print,&lt;br/&gt;de o alta nationalitate , in care sa gasesc tot mai multe din &lt;br/&gt;calitatile barbatului perfect din opinia mea. Si daca nu va fi&lt;br/&gt;deloc asa cum mi l-am imaginat , ar fi perfect.&lt;br/&gt;    Imi place neprevazutul.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-6171116945361971298?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/6171116945361971298/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=6171116945361971298&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6171116945361971298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/6171116945361971298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/04/eu-stiu-ca-tu-banuiesti-ca-eu-exist.html' title='Eu stiu ca tu banuiesti ca eu... exist.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-3074078596319529772</id><published>2008-04-01T20:57:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2008-04-01T21:48:18.665+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Si ii caut ochii caprui</title><content type='html'>   V-ati pierdut vreodata in ochii cuiva?&lt;br/&gt;    Eu da. Si ratacirea a fost atata de scurta incat , vreau sa -l regasesc&lt;br/&gt; cu orice pret , orice ar fi , oricum ar fi eu vreau sa-l regasesc. Pe cine , ce ?&lt;br/&gt; Sentimentul pe care il am cand ma afund in ochii tai atat de caprui ,&lt;br/&gt; ce-mi amintesc de puterea ta asupra mea, de puterea pe care o&lt;br/&gt; are o privire asupra unei femei , slabe de inger.&lt;br/&gt;      Viata nu e o joaca e o provocare. Tu esti o provocare. Esti acel ceva&lt;br/&gt; de care am nevoie ca sa ies din rutina. De ai stii cat te am visat azi. Am&lt;br/&gt; ascultat la radio o melodie , oarecare si brusc mi-ai apraut in fata &lt;br/&gt;ochilor. Te-am vazut la costum , sobru , cu ochii tai caprui , privindu&lt;br/&gt; ma si venind la mine , invitandu-ma la dans. M-am vazut ratacindu&lt;br/&gt;ma in bratele tale pe acel ritm oarecare , ti-am vazut privirea&lt;br/&gt; pierzandu se intr-a mea si apoi am visat un sarut .&lt;br/&gt;Si stii ce am mai visat? Ca nu era o crima. Am visat ca pe ultimele &lt;br/&gt;acorduri ale acelui ritm oarecare,ma inchideai ,ma strangeai cu forta&lt;br/&gt; in bratele tale , pentru ca eu asta vreau. Te vreau pe tine pentru ca&lt;br/&gt; am vazut puterea in privirea ta si atunci am stiut ca nu esti la fel. Am&lt;br/&gt; stiut ca pe tine ma pot baza , ca tie iti pot cere , ca de la tine pot sa&lt;br/&gt; vreau , ca daca eu sunt langa tine o sa simt un barbat si nu un copil.&lt;br/&gt;   Poate exagerez , dar tu nu esti ca ceilalti, o stiu. Vreau sa avem&lt;br/&gt; secrete , sa stiu doar eu ce stii si tu , sa stii doar tu ce stiu si eu , &lt;br/&gt;vreau si stiu ca poti. Vreau sa putem fi doi cu adevarat. Si stiu ca&lt;br/&gt;ai putea. Vei gasi puterea , dar oare vrei?&lt;br/&gt;     Ochii tai spun ca da.  Ca vei gasi puterea , dar nu alaturi de&lt;br/&gt; mine. Eu pot decat sa ti-o arat , dar nu sa fiu alaturi de tine&lt;br/&gt; atunci cand esti puternic. Eu nu sunt supusa si nu vreau ca tu&lt;br/&gt; sa fii supus , caci daca voiam , ma duceam la el si nu veneam la &lt;br/&gt;tine , de -ai stii cat iti duc dorul. &lt;br/&gt;     Ma opresc in acest punct simtind ca imi pierd toata ratiunea . &lt;br/&gt;Nimic nu mai e rational. Ma pierd intre atatea ganduri si toate-s &lt;br/&gt;despre tine. Si stiu ca visez prea mult , ca singura mea sansa e&lt;br/&gt;sa am un copil alaturi si nu un barbat. Si visez , visez , visez , &lt;br/&gt;invartindu ma in bratele tale intro sala de bal, dar apoi totul &lt;br/&gt;dispare ca o fantasma si ma trezesc crud la realitatea care-mi spune ca eu nu sunt a ta , ca tot ce pot avea e doar o dorinta.&lt;br/&gt;       Intre timp , astept sa cada ceva din cer. Asa cum asteptam&lt;br/&gt; toti sa ne pice viata din cer , sa se intample ceva ca viata noastra&lt;br/&gt; sa nu mai fie plictisitoare . Dar oare o sa pice? Nu pica de atata&lt;br/&gt; vreme , de ce ar pica tocmai acum?&lt;br/&gt;       Si mi-e dor de ochii tai iar, si de-abia astept sa ne revedem. &lt;br/&gt;Si nici nu stii cat ador cand imi citesti gandurile.&lt;br/&gt;         Citeste-ma ca pe o carte deschisa.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-3074078596319529772?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/3074078596319529772/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=3074078596319529772&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3074078596319529772'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3074078596319529772'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/04/si-ii-caut-ochii-caprui.html' title='Si ii caut ochii caprui'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5072947308618375298</id><published>2008-03-23T16:52:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T17:10:43.974+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Un sarut nu e o crima</title><content type='html'> Am debitat toate alea despre copiii din ziua de azi,&lt;br/&gt;iar acum am ramas cu fixatia asta pe sarut. Nu ma&lt;br/&gt;inteleg. De ce un sarut e o crima?&lt;br/&gt;  Sa o luam cu inceputul. Sarutul e ceva nepermis.&lt;br/&gt;E un furt , cand ii furi celuilalt buzele si gandurile,&lt;br/&gt;ti le daruiesti tie , sau iti sunt daruite... Saruturile&lt;br/&gt;furate sunt si mai nepermise. Pentru ca lasi impresia&lt;br/&gt;de sarut pe buzele celuilalt mult timp dupa. Si te&lt;br/&gt;lasi sa ratacesti prin gandurile aceluiasi si mai mult&lt;br/&gt;timp.&lt;br/&gt;    Cel mai placut e cand perechea din sarut face pe&lt;br/&gt;justitiarul . Atunci , el decide ca vrea sa faca &lt;br/&gt;pasul corect si sa te inchida pentru acest furt. Si,&lt;br/&gt;atunci , exact la sfarsitul sarutului iti pune lacat,&lt;br/&gt;te inchide intre gandurile lui , te inchide in inima&lt;br/&gt;lui si poti simti fiecare bataie , poti sa te joci cu&lt;br/&gt;toate astea... Poti sa-i faci inima sa i bata mai repede,&lt;br/&gt;poti sa-l faci sa te viseze , poti sa l faci sa nu se mai&lt;br/&gt;gandeasca  la altceva decat la tine , la urmatorul sarut.&lt;br/&gt;      Si atunci ... De ce un sarut e o crima? Pentru&lt;br/&gt;ca atunci cand tot saruti si saruti si saruti , mereu,&lt;br/&gt;mereu , mereu , intruna , intruna , intruna , iar&lt;br/&gt;nimeni nu te inchide in suflet , devii un criminal&lt;br/&gt;in serie. Si atunci , nimeni nu mai te saruta. Si&lt;br/&gt;daca te saruti , comiti o crima cu fiecare atingere,&lt;br/&gt;cu fiecare noua rasuflare...&lt;br/&gt;    Si eu? Eu am comis o crima.Am sarutat.Si&lt;br/&gt;nimeni nu m-a inchis. Am sarutat din nou. Si&lt;br/&gt;nimeni nu m-a inchis. Si m-am oprit. Constiinta&lt;br/&gt;mea nu mi-a permis sa mai fac acest lucru fara&lt;br/&gt;sa fiu inchisa.&lt;br/&gt;     Si acum? Ratacesc in libertate si caut omul&lt;br/&gt;pe care sa-l sarut si sa ma inchida , sa-mi &lt;br/&gt;linisteasca toate gandurile , caut omul pe care&lt;br/&gt;sa-l inchid si eu...&lt;br/&gt;     Si ii caut ochii caprui. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5072947308618375298?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5072947308618375298/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5072947308618375298&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5072947308618375298'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5072947308618375298'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/03/un-sarut-nu-e-o-crima.html' title='Un sarut nu e o crima'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-3240186002216481723</id><published>2008-03-23T16:20:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T16:51:31.328+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='venin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Viata'/><title type='text'>Lumea</title><content type='html'> Nu am mai scris de multicel. Nici nu am mai avut timp.&lt;br/&gt;Dupa cum stim cu totii , acesta e sezonul olimpiadelor ,&lt;br/&gt;iar eu una nu am scapat fara macar una sau doua pe&lt;br/&gt;week-end. Bine recunosc, nici nu am mai avut vreun &lt;br/&gt;sentiment inaltator sau ceva asemanator ,deci nici&lt;br/&gt;din aceasta cauza nu am mai scris dar , oricum, acum&lt;br/&gt;a venit momentul.&lt;br/&gt;  Lumea de azi. Obisnuiam sa merg prin liceu si sa-i&lt;br/&gt;privesc pe copii de clasa a5 a si  a6a si vazand ce stil&lt;br/&gt;au , cat de cool sunt sa zic " vai dar eu nu eram asa &lt;br/&gt;cand eram de varsta lor".&lt;br/&gt; Perfect normal. Dar e o uriasa diferenta intre generatii.&lt;br/&gt;Totusi , nu sunt decat cu 3-4 ani mai mare decat ei.&lt;br/&gt;Sunt putin mai conservatoare , dar totusi. Nu m-a&lt;br/&gt;izbit aceasta diferenta total aiurea intre generatii pana&lt;br/&gt;aseara cand fina mea a implinit un an. Nu despre ea&lt;br/&gt;e vorba , ci despre sora ei , care va implini 10 ani.&lt;br/&gt;   Are telefon mobil , sta pe mess , are cont de hi5,&lt;br/&gt;e fana rbd , daca nu traia intr-un mediu cat de cat&lt;br/&gt;normal ( normal insemna fara mobil si mess ), avea&lt;br/&gt;si un palmares impresionant de barbatei de 10 ani &lt;br/&gt;cu catre deja fusese ,, combinata ".&lt;br/&gt;   Eu merg la niste cursuri si am avut curajul sa spun&lt;br/&gt;ca primul meu sarut a fost la aproximativ 14 ani si&lt;br/&gt; m-am simtit total aiurea. De ce? Probabil pentru&lt;br/&gt;ca mi s-a parut prea tarziu cand a zis trainerita 14 ani.&lt;br/&gt;Da, m-am simtit aiurea. Pentru ca in comparatie&lt;br/&gt;cu generatia care urmeaza , eu sunt deja un soi de fata&lt;br/&gt;batrana. &lt;br/&gt;    Si totusi. Cred ca prefer varianta mea. De cand am &lt;br/&gt;intrat la liceu am inteles multe.  De ce aia de a9a te&lt;br/&gt;priveau cu superioritate cand erai doar a 8a. Pai ,&lt;br/&gt;nu am crezut niciodata ca 2 luni de scoala pot schimba&lt;br/&gt;atat de multe. &lt;br/&gt;    Revenind la verisoara mea , nu stiu cat e vina ei ,&lt;br/&gt;a parintilor sau a educatiei.E vina generatiei. Are &lt;br/&gt;colege pe care le cheama Jessica , care au multi bani&lt;br/&gt;de cheltuit, etc , etc. Pai , un astfel de colectiv te schimba&lt;br/&gt;in mod sigur.&lt;br/&gt;   Unde au plecat copii inocenti? Unde sunt copiii care&lt;br/&gt;asteptam sa vedem ca fac aceleasi nazbatii ca noi.&lt;br/&gt;Probabil ca sunt gone with the wind.&lt;br/&gt;   Intre timp eu raman cu dilemele adolecentine.Ma &lt;br/&gt;tot intreb de ce naiba m-am simtit jenata sa vorbesc&lt;br/&gt;despre un amarat de sarut? Nu e o crima. E ceva&lt;br/&gt;normal de care ar trebui sa avem parte in fiecare&lt;br/&gt;zi. Un sarut nu e o crima, totusi pentru mine e.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Pfff. Mai voorbim.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-3240186002216481723?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/3240186002216481723/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=3240186002216481723&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3240186002216481723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3240186002216481723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/03/lumea.html' title='Lumea'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-497257266580874977</id><published>2008-03-11T22:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-11T22:53:10.453+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Girls'/><title type='text'>Tu</title><content type='html'>Tu&lt;br/&gt;tu&lt;br/&gt;tu&lt;br/&gt;numai tu cand vei pleca&lt;br/&gt;mangaierea&lt;br/&gt;cu tine o vei purta&lt;br/&gt;da, tu&lt;br/&gt;mi-aduc aminte&lt;br/&gt;erau vremuri cand&lt;br/&gt;nu ne minteam&lt;br/&gt;cand cuvintele cantau&lt;br/&gt;si daca cerul&lt;br/&gt;nori razleti ne daruia&lt;br/&gt;ploaia lor ne curata&lt;br/&gt;ce s-a intamplat de atunci nu stiu&lt;br/&gt;stiu ca totul, totul e schimbat&lt;br/&gt;s-a pierdut ceva&lt;br/&gt;cantecul s-a risipit&lt;br/&gt;cat de mult ne-a indepartat&lt;br/&gt;tu&lt;br/&gt;tu ai sa faci din mine zbor&lt;br/&gt;ca sa cad cand mi-este dor&lt;br/&gt;de-al tau suras&lt;br/&gt;si vad din nou primaveri&lt;br/&gt;patul verde proaspat&lt;br/&gt;cand in iarba ne culcam&lt;br/&gt;stelele noptii&lt;br/&gt;stralucirea ochilor&lt;br/&gt;purtau&lt;br/&gt;imi spuneau ca suntem vii&lt;br/&gt;ce&lt;br/&gt;ce s-a intamplat de atunci nu stiu&lt;br/&gt;stiu ca&lt;br/&gt;stiu ca totul, totul e schimbat&lt;br/&gt;a ruginit&lt;br/&gt;a ruginit iarba, iarba&lt;br/&gt;care ne primea&lt;br/&gt;ochii s-au instrainat&lt;br/&gt;tu, linistea dintr-un cuvant&lt;br/&gt;tu, ai sa faci din mine vant&lt;br/&gt;tu, cand vei pleca&lt;br/&gt;stiu ca tu&lt;br/&gt;o sa faci din mine zbor&lt;br/&gt;am sa cad si mi-este dor&lt;br/&gt;de-al tau suras&lt;br/&gt;dar tu poti sa pleci&lt;br/&gt;sa iei ce vrei&lt;br/&gt;cantecul ce l-am avut&lt;br/&gt;nu-l vei uita&lt;br/&gt;da &lt;br/&gt;tu, tu&lt;br/&gt;tu ai dreptul sa ma alungi&lt;br/&gt;noptile cu stele&lt;br/&gt;mereu le vei vedea&lt;br/&gt;tu&lt;br/&gt;numai tu&lt;br/&gt;da&lt;br/&gt;tu&lt;br/&gt;cand vei pleca&lt;br/&gt;mangaierea mea &lt;br/&gt;cu tine tu o vei lua&lt;br/&gt;tu da tu&lt;br/&gt;tu vrei sa dispari dar&lt;br/&gt;in valurile mari pe mine&lt;br/&gt;tu ma vei vedea&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;mi-aduc aminte&lt;br/&gt;erau vremuri cand&lt;br/&gt;nu ne minteam&lt;br/&gt;cand cuvintele cantau&lt;br/&gt;si daca cerul&lt;br/&gt;nori razleti ne daruia&lt;br/&gt;ploaia lor ne curata..&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Tin sa precizez ca versurile nu imi apartin.&lt;br/&gt;Sunt din melodia Tu - Iris cu Florin Chilian.&lt;br/&gt;Imi plac prea mult ca sa nu le postez. &lt;br/&gt;Stiti ce-mi mai place  sa ascult ? De ce?&lt;br/&gt;Tot Iris cu Tudor Chirila.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Music Matters. Music is life.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-497257266580874977?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/497257266580874977/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=497257266580874977&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/497257266580874977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/497257266580874977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/03/tu.html' title='Tu'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-3850421889698781345</id><published>2008-03-09T21:23:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T21:54:36.270+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Girls'/><title type='text'>Crush my love down</title><content type='html'>  Ne prefacem ca totul e ok. In fiecare zi. Mintim.&lt;br/&gt;Ne prefacem ca totul e ok. Dar stim in sinea noastra&lt;br/&gt;ca nu e, ca visele cu fat-frumos , happy-endurile din&lt;br/&gt;povesti si din filme sunt doar produsul imaginatiei&lt;br/&gt;cuiva , care are darul de a ne readuce zambetul pe&lt;br/&gt;buze pentru 5 minute , cam cat dureaza un happy-&lt;br/&gt;ending. &lt;br/&gt;  De ce insistam totusi sa credem in ce nu exista?&lt;br/&gt;Cred ca ne place sa ne facem sperante. Eu , una ,&lt;br/&gt;ador sa fiu ,, in love " . Nu m-am indragostit niciodata&lt;br/&gt;cu adevarat , sau cel putin asa imi place sa cred , dar&lt;br/&gt;chiar imi plac sperantele , imi place zambetul meu&lt;br/&gt;de pretty much in love girl . Stiti cat de euforica se&lt;br/&gt;poate simti o fata plina de sperante? Cineva care are&lt;br/&gt;un vis? E o senzatie al naibii de placuta.  Zambesc&lt;br/&gt;tot timpul si rad si sunt mai nebuna ca oricand. Cand&lt;br/&gt;nu am o pasiune fulgeratoare , un vis , o speranta ,&lt;br/&gt;sunt normala. Adica rad doar 2 ore pe zi , in loc de &lt;br/&gt;obisnuitele 3-4 , nu mai glumesc la fel de mult , nu mai&lt;br/&gt;am aceeasi sclipire in privire. Si ajung sa-mi duc&lt;br/&gt;singura dorul. Si incerc sa fiu asa fara sperante .&lt;br/&gt;  Uneori reusesc. Dar de cele mai multe ori , sincera &lt;br/&gt;sa fiu nu prea-mi iese. Ok , glumeata si nebuna sunt tot&lt;br/&gt;timpul , lucru pentru care am inceput sa ma invinovatesc&lt;br/&gt;tot mai des. Pentru ca deep down , eu chiar nu simt&lt;br/&gt;nevoia sa rad. E exact opusul. Cu toate astea , rad&lt;br/&gt;mereu , ca ceilalti sa nu stie ce simt eu. E o masca doar , &lt;br/&gt;care ma face sa uit de mine.&lt;br/&gt;  Simt nevoia sa fiu zguduita de ceva. Un cutremur ,&lt;br/&gt;furtuna tropicala Erin sau mai stiu eu ce ciclon Ivan,&lt;br/&gt;am nevoie de un Hiroshima care sa ma trezeasca la&lt;br/&gt;realitatea de care sutn atat de departe.&lt;br/&gt;  De ce nu pot sa am acel sparkle fara o speranta la&lt;br/&gt;dragostea unui tip , care nici macar nu merita osteneala?&lt;br/&gt;De ce sper ca fiecare urmator vis o sa fie acela care sa &lt;br/&gt;merite osteneala? De fraiera. Pentru ca asa suntem noi,&lt;br/&gt;fetele astea care doar speram.&lt;br/&gt;  Si totusi... We can't possibly be crushed down by every&lt;br/&gt;crush that comes to us. It's time to be strong. Si stiu &lt;br/&gt;ca nu sunt singura in domeniu.&lt;br/&gt;  Hai sa uitam pur si simplu de ei? Nu-i asa?&lt;br/&gt;  Crush them down , we don't need 'em.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; You taught me to look much further. Yes , to a future&lt;br/&gt;without you or with you. No necesities.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-3850421889698781345?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/3850421889698781345/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=3850421889698781345&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3850421889698781345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/3850421889698781345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/03/crush-my-love-down.html' title='Crush my love down'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-8690071025430913287</id><published>2008-03-07T22:38:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T22:45:17.825+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Ne place</title><content type='html'>Imi place ca ma faci sa rad &lt;br/&gt;Chiar de-nautrul plange.&lt;br/&gt;Imi place ca nu pot sa rad&lt;br/&gt;De sufletul iti plange.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Imi place ca nu-ti pasa&lt;br/&gt;Chiar daca ma doare.&lt;br/&gt;Imi place ca imi pasa&lt;br/&gt;Daca pe tine&lt;br/&gt;                       Te doare.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Imi place sa privesc &lt;br/&gt;Imagini de poveste&lt;br/&gt;Imi place sa primesc&lt;br/&gt;De umire &lt;br/&gt;               Sa amutesc.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Mi-ar placea sa citesti &lt;br/&gt;In gandurile mele &lt;br/&gt;Mi-ar placea sa ghicesti&lt;br/&gt;Ca sunt doar &lt;br/&gt;              Ale tale.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Mi-ar placea sa stii&lt;br/&gt;Ca tu esti&lt;br/&gt;Mi-ar placea sa fii &lt;br/&gt;Asa cum esti&lt;br/&gt;                Cu mine .&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-8690071025430913287?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/8690071025430913287/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=8690071025430913287&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8690071025430913287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8690071025430913287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/03/ne-place.html' title='Ne place'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-7118097541790762322</id><published>2008-03-07T22:36:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T22:38:18.997+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Noi doi</title><content type='html'>Noi doi &lt;br/&gt;Nu suntem.&lt;br/&gt;Noi doi&lt;br/&gt;Oare vom fi?&lt;br/&gt;O intrebare nerostita&lt;br/&gt;De mult gandita&lt;br/&gt;Oare si de tine?&lt;br/&gt;Nu stiu.&lt;br/&gt;Noi doi&lt;br/&gt;Pe ritm de poezie&lt;br/&gt;Si nu asa as vrea sa fie.&lt;br/&gt;Noi doi&lt;br/&gt;Mai mult .&lt;br/&gt;Mai putin.&lt;br/&gt;Noi doi.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-7118097541790762322?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/7118097541790762322/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=7118097541790762322&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/7118097541790762322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/7118097541790762322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/03/noi-doi.html' title='Noi doi'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-1755592769214594244</id><published>2008-03-07T21:39:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T21:53:07.325+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tu'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Me'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eu'/><title type='text'>Te urasc</title><content type='html'>   Te urasc atunci cand imi zambesti , pentru ca vad&lt;br/&gt;speranta in zambetul tau. Te urasc atunci cand &lt;br/&gt;zambesti , pentru ca nu imi zambesti mie.&lt;br/&gt;     Te urasc atunci cand ma privesti pentru ca ai &lt;br/&gt;ochii prea senini si gandul prea profund. Te urasc &lt;br/&gt;atunci cand privesti si iti vad ochii adanciti in poveste , &lt;br/&gt;nu ma privesti pe mine.&lt;br/&gt;     Te urasc atunci cand te porti frumos cu mine pentru&lt;br/&gt;ca nu stii ca imi dai sperante cu fiecare gest de politete&lt;br/&gt;in plus pe care il faci. &lt;br/&gt;      Te urasc atunci cand esti langa mine pentru ca mereu&lt;br/&gt;vii atunci cand mi-am ratacit curajul de a-ti spune macar&lt;br/&gt;un cuvant.&lt;br/&gt;        Te urasc atunci cand imi impartasesti orice parere,&lt;br/&gt;si orice gand si orice vis... Si orice as spune asta ai spune &lt;br/&gt;si tu...&lt;br/&gt;          Te urasc pentru ceea ce esti.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;          Dar stii ce urasc cel mai tare?&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;Faptul ca nu-mi esti alaturi ca sa te pot uri mereu.&lt;br/&gt; Faptul ca nu stiu ce sa fac pentru ca mi-e frica sa nu-mi&lt;br/&gt; devii indispensabil...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Urasc! Urasc! Urasc !&lt;br/&gt;Te urasc!&lt;br/&gt;Pentru ca nu vreau ca eu sa fiu prima , pentru ca nu vrei&lt;br/&gt;tu sa fii primul si asa nu vom fi niciodata.&lt;br/&gt;Te urasc!&lt;br/&gt;Pentru ca eu stiu ca vreau sa te pot cunoaste , dar tu nu-mi&lt;br/&gt;spui nimic . Nu stiu nici ce vrei , nici cine esti  , nici ce cauti&lt;br/&gt;aici , in viata mea...&lt;br/&gt;Si totusi esti.&lt;br/&gt;Nu vreau sa pleci.&lt;br/&gt;Vreau sa-ti explici prezenta.&lt;br/&gt;Dar cand?&lt;br/&gt;Astept.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Tempus edax verum.&lt;br/&gt;( S-a adeverit zicala ).&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-1755592769214594244?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/1755592769214594244/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=1755592769214594244&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1755592769214594244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/1755592769214594244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/03/te-urasc.html' title='Te urasc'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5180861080752857130</id><published>2008-03-07T21:22:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T21:36:32.321+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tamenii'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mondene'/><title type='text'>Cand ti se implineste o dorinta</title><content type='html'>  Ce-si doresc femeile? Femeile isi doresc priviri lungi , dar&lt;br/&gt;nu insistente , cum spunea unul din blog-urile mele preferate.&lt;br/&gt; Isi doresc un tip care sa le minta ca sunt frumoase si speciale,&lt;br/&gt;ca sunt fix ce ii lipseste lui , jumatati , dragoste eterna si alte&lt;br/&gt;prostii de acest gen.&lt;br/&gt;    Evident , dorinta nu se implineste asa de repede. Apare un&lt;br/&gt;tip , sa zicem ca rusul , care gaseste o gheisa pe masura lui , &lt;br/&gt;care , isi doreste si ea ceva mai mult , o sarutare  , o atingere,&lt;br/&gt;iar rusul , surpriza : nu e in stare. Toata puterea , gloria ,&lt;br/&gt;totul , totul , totul , dispare din ce parea rusul. Rusul e doar un&lt;br/&gt;ideal. Nu e ceva real.&lt;br/&gt;    Si apoi... Frantuzoaica ramane ganditoare. Rusul nici macar nu&lt;br/&gt;se uita la mine. Poate ca cineva acolo sus ma iubeste si a vrut &lt;br/&gt;ceva mai bun pentru ea. Poate.&lt;br/&gt;     De ce nu apare nici un rus care sa se intereseze de ea? De ce?&lt;br/&gt;De ce ? De ce? De ce nici macar o tentativa nereusita de rus nu&lt;br/&gt;ramane prins in plasa ei? Are ochiurile prea largi acea plasa?&lt;br/&gt;      Deodata se intampla. Neromantic. Neperfect. Orice vreti voi&lt;br/&gt;dar cu ne , nu , in si orice alt prefix negativ pe care il mai stiti.&lt;br/&gt;       Rusul ideal este un tip obsedat de melodia preferata a&lt;br/&gt;frantuzoaicei adica aia cu ,, dusmanii-mi poarta pica dar n-au&lt;br/&gt;valoarea mea " Etc. Este blond , pitic , cu o acnee adorabila , cu&lt;br/&gt;fite de mare bastan. &lt;br/&gt;        Ma intreaba cineva pe mess : Why god why?&lt;br/&gt;  &lt;br/&gt;         Chiar asa: Why on earth God?&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.        &lt;br/&gt;         &lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5180861080752857130?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5180861080752857130/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5180861080752857130&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5180861080752857130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5180861080752857130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/03/cand-ti-se-implineste-o-dorinta.html' title='Cand ti se implineste o dorinta'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5424933185285188485</id><published>2008-02-24T22:55:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T23:40:24.817+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Vreau sa devin bitch</title><content type='html'>Cum e sa fii bitch. Sa-mi zica si mie cineva. La mine &lt;br/&gt;o perioada de bitchness dureaza maxim cele 7 ore &lt;br/&gt;elementare la scoala. De obicei ma inmoi pe ultimele&lt;br/&gt;5 ore din cele 7 , deci nu reusesc sa fiu bitch mai &lt;br/&gt;deloc. &lt;br/&gt;    Sa va prezint ziua mea de incercare de a fi bitch.&lt;br/&gt;Si cool . Si  glamour . Etc. Prostii si fite din astea.&lt;br/&gt;     Deci. Ma trezesc de dimineata la 11 in camasa mea&lt;br/&gt;sexy de matase , intre niste cearsafuri de satin( okei&lt;br/&gt;am modificat adevarul era un maieu rosu de bumbac &lt;br/&gt;si cearsafurile la fel) si merg somnoroasa la masa unde&lt;br/&gt;mama  ma implora sa mananc ( de fapt imi zice sa ma&lt;br/&gt;grabesc ca sa poata strange masa). &lt;br/&gt;    Dupa ce ii spun lui daddy cat de mult il ador si el&lt;br/&gt;imi jura ca voi fi mereu fetita lui...&lt;br/&gt;    ( - Tati tu stii cat te iubesc eu azi de dragobete?&lt;br/&gt;       - Ce vrei? )&lt;br/&gt;Accepta din prima sa ma plimbe doar de dragul meu&lt;br/&gt;la Bucuresti , la Globus. &lt;br/&gt;      ( -Haide tati te rog eu mult , am ajuns pe judet la&lt;br/&gt;romana , aide tati am avut 10 in 4 din cele 5 teze , &lt;br/&gt;haide tati....)&lt;br/&gt;Apoi urmeaza pregatirile. Sa-mi iau blugii aia sofisticati,&lt;br/&gt;sau pe cei cu i-pod incorporat, sau pe cei cu clape de la&lt;br/&gt;Chloe?&lt;br/&gt;         ( Sa-mi iau levi's ul sau pe aia care ma arata &lt;br/&gt;slaba?)&lt;br/&gt;      Decid sa-mi iau Chloe ( adica pe aia care ma arata&lt;br/&gt;slaba).&lt;br/&gt;       Camasa aia sexy , cu vedere la decolteu in nuante&lt;br/&gt;de mov , din matase naturala ma pune in valoare in&lt;br/&gt;mod extraordinar ( cred ca e matase sintetica da in&lt;br/&gt;rest totul e adevarat ).&lt;br/&gt;       Plecam de acasa , impreuna ca gasca noastra de &lt;br/&gt;prieteni din inalta societate , care de obicei merg numai&lt;br/&gt;la opera si teatru , dar de dragul nostru fac acest efort&lt;br/&gt;inimaginabil . &lt;br/&gt;       ( Plecam de-acasa cu gasca noastra de prieteni &lt;br/&gt;tacaniti , cu care ne distram mereu , iesim impreuna&lt;br/&gt;tot timpul  la iarba verde si radem muuuult de tot , care&lt;br/&gt;chiar isi doreau de mult sa mearga la circ).&lt;br/&gt;        Eu eram finalizata cu privire de gheisa periculoasa,&lt;br/&gt;gene luuuungi , sacou sexy , cizme cu toc , blugi fenomenali,&lt;br/&gt;mult self-confidence , atitudine de total bitch.&lt;br/&gt;        Ajungem acolo. Luam bilete, iar eu descopar ca am&lt;br/&gt;loc intre cea mai mare bitch-prietena a mea si un tip super&lt;br/&gt;sexy , ea ofticandu-se ca nu sta ea langa mine sa se dea la el.&lt;br/&gt;       ( Tipul sexy avea 5 ani si era blondin si super simpatic,&lt;br/&gt;iar prietena mea era la fel de bitch ca mine adica la fel de &lt;br/&gt;aproape de 0 % ).&lt;br/&gt;         Circul a fost grozav, revenind acum pentru tot restul&lt;br/&gt;postarii la lumea reala , va spun cu tristete ca nu stiu cum&lt;br/&gt;am ajuns pe jos , plina de praf , muradarindu-mi blugii si&lt;br/&gt;lovindu-ma pe jumatate din fata. Am o dunga ca si cum &lt;br/&gt;mi-ar fi facut ochelarii semn , o nara mova  si un semn&lt;br/&gt; deasupra sprancenei drepte.&lt;br/&gt;        Toata gasca a ras si a zis ca urmeaza sa ma marit,&lt;br/&gt;cica asa se zice la superstitiosi . Sincer? Nu cred in din-astea ,&lt;br/&gt;plus ca la cum arat nu m-ar vrea nici un marmot.&lt;br/&gt;        Mai stiti cand va ziceam ca nu folosesc fond de ten?&lt;br/&gt;Ei bine , as cam vrea sa-l folosesc , dar nu-l gasesc deloc.&lt;br/&gt;E pentru prima oara cand eu chiar am nevoie si nu am. Ma&lt;br/&gt;simt pentru prima oara disperata ca nu am fond de ten. Cu&lt;br/&gt;toate ca nu stiu cat o sa poata ascunde. &lt;br/&gt;       Mai bine ma manca Leo la circ. Sau mai bine fugeam cu&lt;br/&gt;rusii aia acrobati. Prea multi rusi la circ si nici unul rus ca tine.&lt;br/&gt;Nu vreau sa o dam pe filozofii.&lt;br/&gt;        Vreau sa devin bitch. Vreau sa nu-mi pese , ca o albinuta&lt;br/&gt;din floare in floare vreau sa zbor , etc. Din astea. Ca o albinuta&lt;br/&gt;cu blugi Chloe si machiaj de 1000 de euro , plina de fite as vrea&lt;br/&gt;sa fiu , pentru ca vad ca la unii , pe cat iti spun ca nu le place ceva,&lt;br/&gt;pe atat le place mai mult...&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Vai acu incep cu din-alea. I love you all... Pupici muuuuulti.&lt;br/&gt;Rbd rulzzz... &lt;br/&gt;Sunt incredibil si iremediabil de trista pentru ca nu mai am&lt;br/&gt;fond de ten , cred ca am sa ma sinucid de tristete, iubu meu&lt;br/&gt;o sa se sperie maine de mine :(( Vai ce tristete.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;In realitate , ma privesc in oglinda si ma amuz. &lt;br/&gt;In realitate , nu vreau sa devin bitch.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Sunt pur si simplu eu.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;       &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; &lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5424933185285188485?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5424933185285188485/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5424933185285188485&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5424933185285188485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5424933185285188485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/02/vreau-sa-devin-bitch.html' title='Vreau sa devin bitch'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5838800733949784029</id><published>2008-02-23T16:57:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-13T05:23:11.344+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><title type='text'>Hai sa ne reinventam.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/R8A1xHu1FhI/AAAAAAAAABo/MYwYKJUklGI/s1600-h/txuX3M546007-02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/R8A1xHu1FhI/AAAAAAAAABo/MYwYKJUklGI/s320/txuX3M546007-02.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170191490226656786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.hi5.com/friend/photos/displayMyPhoto.do?photoId=583502700&amp;albumId=94940279&amp;ownerId=70589835"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.hi5.com/friend/photos/displayMyPhoto.do?photoId=583502700&amp;albumId=94940279&amp;ownerId=70589835" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt; Ieri chiar ma credeam bitch. Aveam un sentiment din ala&lt;br/&gt;de self-confidence si o putere nebanuita izvorase din mine.&lt;br/&gt;Azi ma gandesc intruna la rusul meu. Rusul care as vrea sa&lt;br/&gt;fie al meu. Nu in sensul de posesie , in sensul de alaturare &lt;br/&gt;a destinelor. Ultima popozitie suna aiurea rau , dar asta e.&lt;br/&gt;  Azi e un feeling ciudat, parca mi-e dor de rus si totusi parca&lt;br/&gt;vreau sa-i arat ca nu sunt asa de usor de atins , vreau sa fiu&lt;br/&gt;ca un ideal inalt , chiar daca drumul duce in acelasi loc, chiar&lt;br/&gt;daca si eu si rusul vrem acelasi lucru.&lt;br/&gt;   Confuzie. Nu te inteleg rusule . Pe cuvant daca mai inteleg&lt;br/&gt;ceva. Nu inteleg ce vrei , de ce imi cauti privirea daca nu sunt&lt;br/&gt;eu frantuzoaica pe cale sa devina tarina ? Spune-mi doar un&lt;br/&gt;cuvant , nu ma mai lasa doar pe mine sa vorbesc, am spus&lt;br/&gt;deja prea multe. Intrebarile mele curg si curg si curg si nu&lt;br/&gt;primesc raspuns. De ce?Spune-mi tu mie de ce. Vreau sa stiu.&lt;br/&gt;  Nu stiu ce sa cred. Ma invart asa fara sens intr-un mare&lt;br/&gt;district al confuziei , iar pe tine nu te gasesc rusule. M-am &lt;br/&gt;saturat sa nu inteleg . M-am saturat sa nu zici nimic , sa nu&lt;br/&gt;intrebi un singur lucru. &lt;br/&gt;   Nu-mi place sa te vad ca esti , dar mai greu suport cand nu esti.&lt;br/&gt;Vreau sa vii sa mi ceri un caiet , un pix, o guma si apoi intr-o&lt;br/&gt;zi vreau sa vii sa ma ceri si pe mine , iar eu sa ma ofer. Asa cum&lt;br/&gt;m-am mai oferit. Dar nu mai propun nimic. Nu mai vreau sa visez&lt;br/&gt;iarasi fara sens. Nu vreau sa ma mai pacalesc , iar tu rusule ,&lt;br/&gt;sa privesti asiatice brunete cu ochi migdalati de gheise cuceritoare.&lt;br/&gt;  Daca eu nu am farmecul necesar pentru tine tar  rus, atunci&lt;br/&gt;lasa-ma , fara sperante , fara iluzii , fara poveste. O sa ma descurc&lt;br/&gt; mai usor decat cu vesnica speranta de a fi un graunte in adancul&lt;br/&gt;inimii unui rus , fara ea . &lt;br/&gt;   Spune-mi adio , spune-mi vino, dar spune ceva. Esti prea tacut&lt;br/&gt;rusule , iar eu nu pot sa invat limbajul tacerii... Am invatat rusa&lt;br/&gt;pentru tine... Dar mai mult nu pot. &lt;br/&gt;   Aici spun stop. Si te las pe tine sa spui start.&lt;br/&gt;   Piotr Ivanovici , afla ca nu-mi plac americanii care joaca baschet.&lt;br/&gt;Imi plac rusii care se plimba. Iar gresesc si iti spun exact ce vrei sa&lt;br/&gt;auzi , dar sa stii ca eu tot sper. Tu n-ai decat sa te joci cu mine.&lt;br/&gt;  Si apoi cand va veni ziua cand nu ne vom mai vedea atat de des ,&lt;br/&gt;voi uita. Sper. &lt;br/&gt;   Daca ai spune macar un cuvant, as face eu restul ...&lt;br/&gt;   As reinventa cerul , as schimba culoarea marii , as fi un fulg de nea&lt;br/&gt;intr-o zi calduroasa de vara. &lt;br/&gt;    Asa ca hai sa incepem din nou. Hai sa incepem cu adevarat.&lt;br/&gt;    vorbe goale. Nu o sa spui nimic ca de obicei. &lt;br/&gt;    Iar eu o sa sper mintita de semne invizibile din nou...&lt;br/&gt;    Asa cum m-am lasat mintita si de soare...In picioarele goale , &lt;br/&gt;ca un copil mic am sa sar in bratele tale , daca...&lt;br/&gt;    Dar daca nu inseamna sigur.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche&lt;br/&gt;    &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5838800733949784029?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5838800733949784029/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5838800733949784029&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5838800733949784029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5838800733949784029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/02/hai-sa-ne-reinventam.html' title='Hai sa ne reinventam.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/R8A1xHu1FhI/AAAAAAAAABo/MYwYKJUklGI/s72-c/txuX3M546007-02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-41037846583820202</id><published>2008-02-18T20:41:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T17:27:20.487+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rus'/><title type='text'>Unui rus...</title><content type='html'> Tu esti rusul meu. O sa iti spun Piotr Ivanovici. De ce esti rus? &lt;br/&gt;Pentru ca rusii sunt inalti si puternici. Pentru ca rusii sunt speciali.&lt;br/&gt;Pentru ca rusii au acel ceva. Esti un rus de la Sankt Petersburg,&lt;br/&gt;esti inalt si blond. Ai acea privire de invingator , acea privire de &lt;br/&gt;mister si acea atitudine care nu ma lasa sa vad acolo unde vreau sa&lt;br/&gt;ajung. &lt;br/&gt;   Piotr... Eu sunt o biata frantuzoaica lipsita de farmec , care nu stie&lt;br/&gt;arta flirtului... Tu stii ce inseamna asta pentru o frantuzoaica? Sa&lt;br/&gt;nu stii asta... Mama se trage dintr-o familie de curtezane , tata a&lt;br/&gt;fost muschetar... Iar eu sunt o biata frantuzoaica pierduta in tara&lt;br/&gt;ta. &lt;br/&gt;   Tara ta o vad in ochii tai. E intinsa... Vad zarea cum dispare in&lt;br/&gt;ochii tai. Vad cum ma pierd eu dansand prin gerurile siberiene&lt;br/&gt; in privirea ta. De ce ma priviesti Piotr Ivanovici? Nu ma privi.&lt;br/&gt;Daca iti place sa te joci , sa ma lasi sa ma pierd in privire , atunci&lt;br/&gt;stii ca mereu ma pierd acolo , ca mereu ma ratacesc fara sa mai&lt;br/&gt;gasesc drumul inapoi la realitate.&lt;br/&gt;    Nu ma mai privi. Misteriosule rus... Spune-mi ceva...Spune-mi&lt;br/&gt;ca ai inteles de ce vin frantuzoaicele in tara ta , spune-mi ca nu o sa&lt;br/&gt;ma trimiti in exil , sau spune-mi ca nu intelegi , spune mi ca vrei sa&lt;br/&gt;plec. Dar spune-mi ceva...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt; Unui rus... Piotr Ivanovici. Spune-mi ceva.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;20:52    18.02.08&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-41037846583820202?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/41037846583820202/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=41037846583820202&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/41037846583820202'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/41037846583820202'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/02/unui-rus.html' title='Unui rus...'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5891756228853142354</id><published>2008-02-12T21:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T21:39:06.662+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dragoste'/><title type='text'>PoVeStE De CuViNtE</title><content type='html'>Mi-am ratacit genele in privirea ta&lt;br/&gt;Si nu voi astepta &lt;br/&gt;Sa se descurce.&lt;br/&gt;Voi sa ramana in veci acolo ,&lt;br/&gt;Sa fie gene-n ochi de roua.&lt;br/&gt;Sa te privesc &lt;br/&gt;Sa ma cunosti&lt;br/&gt;Sa-mi spui ca tu esti&lt;br/&gt;Visul din privirea mea&lt;br/&gt;Te recunosc...&lt;br/&gt;Fii doar a mea...&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5891756228853142354?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5891756228853142354/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5891756228853142354&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5891756228853142354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5891756228853142354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/02/poveste-de-cuvinte.html' title='PoVeStE De CuViNtE'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-8201709042413429065</id><published>2008-02-09T14:12:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T22:29:54.720+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Aventura Orientala.</title><content type='html'>  Am citit Maitreyi. O carte despre aventura , despre pasiune , &lt;br/&gt;despre voluptate, despre trairi , dar cel mai important , despre&lt;br/&gt; cultura si civilizatia altor popoare.&lt;br/&gt;El vorbeste despre India, eu voi vorbi despre Africa. El a vorbit &lt;br/&gt;despre pasiune,dragostea adevarata , trairi mai presus de&lt;br/&gt; imaginatie, eu voi relata o intamplarela care am luat parte poate &lt;br/&gt;printr o coincidenta... Printr-o vacanta intr- o tara exotica...&lt;br/&gt;   Am simtit ca ceva se va intampla. Ca ceva se va schimba. &lt;br/&gt;( inca de cand am vazut stewardesu' care era al naibii de dragut&lt;br/&gt; si arab ;)) just kiddin ). A fost o vacanta reusita. Cea mai reusita. &lt;br/&gt;   Acum... Cand ma gandesc imi vin tot felul de cuvinte , propozitii&lt;br/&gt; , fraze in minte.,, Yalla " , ,, Haram " , ,, Habibi " , ,, Elle a quinze &lt;br/&gt;ans?!?", ,, Elle soufre pour Nillu ",,, Je ne parle plus fort francais&lt;br/&gt; mais je comprends " , ,, Il part demain " , ,, Il soufre aussi ", multe,  &lt;br/&gt;multe altele ...&lt;br/&gt;    In ziua in care a plecat... A fost atat de frig incat a plouat in&lt;br/&gt; desert...In Sahara a plouat... Si Yasmine se intorcea mereu la&lt;br/&gt; piscina si stiam ca nu a plecat , si voiam sa ma duc sa il caut si nu &lt;br/&gt;am fost... Si nu l-am mai vazut...&lt;br/&gt;    Sa o luam cu inceputul . Am aterizat si am simti aerul cald ,&lt;br/&gt; am inceput sa vad cum afara era totul impanzit cu palmieri . &lt;br/&gt;Mi-am tras mandra bagajul dupa mine pana la autocarul care&lt;br/&gt; urma sa ma duca la Hannibal Palace si m-am asezat fix pe a &lt;br/&gt;doua bancheta in spatele ghidului. Eram cu Michelle. Si eram &lt;br/&gt;foarte fericita... Respiram fiecare clipa asteptand magicul sa&lt;br/&gt; se intample...&lt;br/&gt;   Dar inainte de magic a avut loc realul... A fost prima saptamana &lt;br/&gt;din cele doua petrecute acolo . Vineri dimineata am plecat in&lt;br/&gt; prima excursie.Obositoare ,lunga , dar inedita. De cate ori ai &lt;br/&gt;ocazia in viata sa mergi sa vezi civilizatia africana, sa vezi Sahara?&lt;br/&gt; A fost frumoasa prima zi...Multa informatie , multa descoperire...&lt;br/&gt;Dar cel mai frumos a fost in Sahara. Camile , caldura , calarit ,&lt;br/&gt; nisipul cel mai fin din lume , portocaliu , 2 palmieri ... Noaptea am&lt;br/&gt; petrecut-o tot in Douz ( care e considerata poarta catre desert )&lt;br/&gt; la hotelul Les Dunes de ... nu mai stiu exact :D.&lt;br/&gt;Aveau o piscina foarte simaptica la care am stat pana pe la 10.&lt;br/&gt; A doua zi ne-am trezit la 5 si la 7 eram in desertul Chott el Jerid ,&lt;br/&gt; o intindere gigantica de sare...La timp pentru un rasarit... Ultima&lt;br/&gt; desttinatie de care-mi aduc eu aminte acum este o cascada de 5&lt;br/&gt; metri care era intitulata,dupa parerea unui roman care a vazut&lt;br/&gt; Saritoarea Bohodeiului de 80 de metri , in mod ironic ,Marea&lt;br/&gt; Cascada. De ce imi aduc aminte de asta printre ultimele ? Pentru&lt;br/&gt; ca se afla la 2 kilometri de granita  cu  Algeria  , pentru ca glumeam&lt;br/&gt; atunci ca ar  trebui sa incercam sa mergem in Algeria , fara sa stim &lt;br/&gt;ca ulterior ne vom dori sa mergem acolo...&lt;br/&gt;   Duminica a fost o zi cu soare.... Mult soare. Si evident ca ne am&lt;br/&gt; petrecut juma de zi la barul din piscina ... Ce juma ... Trei sferturi &lt;br/&gt;de zi... La 12 . Eu ,Michelle in piscina. Una bucata .,, balenut "&lt;br/&gt; ( asa l-am poreclit ulterior pe un tip grasut si simpatic pe care &lt;br/&gt;am aflat ca il cheama mohamed- cum putea sa-l cheme ?- si i se &lt;br/&gt;spunea manu ) ne tot privea... Adica pe Michelle... Ulterior si-a&lt;br/&gt; pozitionat sezlongul in pozitie de atac. Adica sa se utie la&lt;br/&gt; sezlongurile noastre . :) Eu si Mitz evident ;;) si ;;).  Michelle&lt;br/&gt; s-a dus in hotel . Eu am ramas sa citesc in timp ce ea aducea apa&lt;br/&gt;si biscuiti. Cand s-a intors stralucea efectiv. Mi-a zis ca balenutu&lt;br/&gt; era in sala de biliard( pe acolo trebuia sa treci ca sa intri in hotel )&lt;br/&gt; si ca a intrebat-o cum o cheama , si ca a aflat ca il cheama Manu ...&lt;br/&gt; Adica asa s-a prezentat.&lt;br/&gt;La apus eram in piscina cu Michelle si jucam magarusul . Si cum&lt;br/&gt; norocul ma urmareste mereu , a trebuit sa trec si eu in mijloc. Eram&lt;br/&gt; noi 2 fete si 4 baieti. Si evident ca nu pricepeam ce zic ei in araba&lt;br/&gt; acolo si ca eu nu mai reuseam sa prind mingea , mai ales daca&lt;br/&gt; era trimisa de un tip ,, cu chiloti verzi " ( poreclisem tipii in&lt;br/&gt;functie de culoarea sort-ului de plaja )... in cele din urma dupa ce&lt;br/&gt; am fost pacalita de mii de ori ca o sa-mi fie data mingea , chiar mi-a&lt;br/&gt; fost data . De el. Tipul cu chiloti roz, tipul cu care umbla manu cam&lt;br/&gt; peste tot. ,, Mersi " ,i-am zis, nemaistiind pe ce lume ma aflu ,&lt;br/&gt; dandu-mi ulterior seama ca a fost un ,, merci "pentru el.&lt;br/&gt;    Seara am iesit in oras cu ai mei... Dar iesirea propriu zisa a&lt;br/&gt; fost dupa ce ne-am luat la revedere de  la ei si Mitz a zis.. Acum iesim&lt;br/&gt; din camera ... am mers la piscina...viciul nostru de noapte , sa stam cu&lt;br/&gt; picioarele in apa... Si apoi cand ne-am intors in sala sa jucam un biliard , &lt;br/&gt;acolo erau ei. Manu  si Nillu. &lt;br/&gt;Si acolo au stat privind cum eu imi luam bataie de la Michelle.La&lt;br/&gt; figurat evident. Seara a fost lunga ... Mai ales pentru ca eu si ea am&lt;br/&gt; comentat 15 ore dupa , cum fusese toata ziua si cum aratau ei.Eram &lt;br/&gt;fermecata de tipul cu verde , dar ma atragea in mod misterios si tipul&lt;br/&gt; cu roz :Nillu.&lt;br/&gt;      A doua zi... Nu mai tin exact minte toate detaliile... Din timpul zilei.&lt;br/&gt;Caci seara , a fost cea mai uimitoare, cea mai plina de culoare, cea mai&lt;br/&gt; regretata ... ( seara aia m-a facut la inceputul liceului sa iau meditatii&lt;br/&gt;  la franceza ).&lt;br/&gt;      Evident ca nu ne-am putut abtine sa nu fugim din camera, daca-mi&lt;br/&gt; aduc aminte bine cred ca ne-au lasat parintii , in ideea ca mergem sa&lt;br/&gt; colindam magazinele. Si am mers in sala de biliard , am facut cunostinta&lt;br/&gt; cu tonele de rude ale lui Manu , cu sora lui care era incredibil de frumoasa&lt;br/&gt; , dar atat de prinsa in valuri... Femeile astea au un  mister aparte , le&lt;br/&gt; admir doar pentru cumintenia si puritatea  lor. Pentru capacitatea&lt;br/&gt;de a sta o  viata intreaga acoperite. Si cred ca in seara aia a aflat Nillu&lt;br/&gt; ca eu am 15 ani. Nu o sa uit cat o sa traiesc cum o tragea pe Michelle&lt;br/&gt; de mana : ,, Elle a quinze ans?!?Elle a quinze ans?!?". si inca nu-i&lt;br/&gt; implinisem. Mai avea putin si zubra saracul. :) Daca nu as arata asa&lt;br/&gt; matur, probabil ca saracul nu s-ar fi speriat de mine. uoff , lookurile &lt;br/&gt;astea:).&lt;br/&gt;        Am jucat cu ei si la un moment dat pe mine si pe Mitz ne trazneste&lt;br/&gt; mirifica idee sa mergem cu ei la o plimbare pe plaja ( nu ne cunoscusem&lt;br/&gt; nici de 2 zile si noi visam deja la sarutari si cuvinte frantuzesti spuse&lt;br/&gt; langa valuri ...). Le propune ea in franceza,nu inteleg. Le propun si eu&lt;br/&gt; in engleza , poate or pricepe , da ce trebuia tot nu au inteles.&lt;br/&gt;Am plecat spre oras. Spre parcul de distractii unde era ceva mare si&lt;br/&gt; oribil numit Evolution , un fel de topgun de pe la noi care se si invartea .&lt;br/&gt; Baietii ziceau ceva de un,, bateau " , dar ne apropiam vertiginos de&lt;br/&gt; evolution. Pana la urma ne-au cumparat bilete la ,, bateau " , o barcuta&lt;br/&gt; simpatica in care am strigat 5 minute de-a randul ,, i am going to die ".&lt;br/&gt; La inceput eram asezati astefel nillu manu michelle eu. Dar Michelle&lt;br/&gt;fata desteapta , cu experienta baietilor si a facultatii a schimbat ordinea&lt;br/&gt; pe motiv ca mi-e frica sa stau la margine. Noua ordine Nillu eu michelle&lt;br/&gt; manu. :). Si cand se oprea ,, bateau-ul " ucigas eram atat de speriata si&lt;br/&gt; vai de capul meu incat mitz a incercat sa mi ia temperatura. Pe obraz. &lt;br/&gt;Nillu a imitat o . si asa i am descoperit eu finetea mainii. Pe fruntea mea. &lt;br/&gt;        Trist , cand am coborat , a intrebat o pe mitz , daca eu vorbesc &lt;br/&gt;franceza. Si nu o vorbeam. Prea bine .I-am raspuns eu ca i speak &lt;br/&gt;english. Dar degeaba. El vorbea franceza. Eu engleza. Si asa am ajuns&lt;br/&gt; la un bar cu specific algerian , ei doi nu erau tunisieni, erau algerieni si&lt;br/&gt; ne-au cumparat cel mai bun nectar de capsuni din cate exista. Si ne-au&lt;br/&gt;dedicat o melodie. Baietii erau prieteni cu cantaretul . Cand am fost &lt;br/&gt;puse sa ascultam si am auzit ceva de Manu et Michelle si Nillu et Julie ,&lt;br/&gt; va dati seama reactie. Mai ales dupa ce am aflat ca acel cantec era &lt;br/&gt;,, de amour ".&lt;br/&gt;           Cand am ajuns inapoi la hotel , conduse de ei , am reusit sa schimb&lt;br/&gt; doua vorbe cu el. Despre creata care era sora lui, despre etajul la care stau,&lt;br/&gt; despre noi. ,, Je ne parle plus fort francais mais je comprends".&lt;br/&gt;            Urmatoarea zi am petrecut-o impreuna la piscina. Noi doua ,&lt;br/&gt; ei , copii polonezi , arabi , o mixtura interesanta de nationalitati. Ne&lt;br/&gt; jucam cu copiii. Ei ne ajutam sa le rasturnam saltelele, sa ne scufundam.&lt;br/&gt; Atunci am descoperit cat de putin ma inghitea  pe mine sora lui. Surorile&lt;br/&gt; lor de fapt. Yasmine , sora lui nillu era atat de posesiva incat daca el&lt;br/&gt; indraznea sa se apropie de mine , avea o reactie cel putin ciudata. Si el&lt;br/&gt; o iubea.Mult. Ii priveam si ma gandeam la o familie mare, unita. La &lt;br/&gt;dragostea in familia orientala. &lt;br/&gt;               Joi , am fost plecati in capitala. Si niciodata nu am regretat&lt;br/&gt; asa de mult. Aflasem in seara precedenta ca el urma sa plece vineri. &lt;br/&gt;Si ar fi fost ultima mea zi cu el acolo, dar nu a fost sa fie. Ne-am intors&lt;br/&gt; la 5 seara si in 5 minute facusem deja dus , si ma imbracasem&lt;br/&gt;pentru piscina. In speranta ca ei vor fi acolo. Si au fost. si i-am privit. &lt;br/&gt;Si am vorbit.&lt;br/&gt;                Seara a fost una din cele mai dezamagitoare. nillu l-a dat de&lt;br/&gt; gol pe manu care nu avea 18 ani asa cum spunea el , ci doar 16 . Urma&lt;br/&gt; sa implineasca 17 in zilele urmatoare.&lt;br/&gt;Rusinat ca un copil , persecutat de parintii lui , care vazusera ca&lt;br/&gt; vorbeste cu mihaela, nu si- a petrecut seara cu noi. Iar eu si mitz am&lt;br/&gt; ramas cu nillu, care ne-a cumparat clatite cu ciocolata si care ne-a povestit&lt;br/&gt; despre el. Nici macar nu stia unde e romania , desi tatal lui facea importuri&lt;br/&gt; si exporturi cu ,, du bm " et ,, du mertz" din europa. Allemagne &lt;br/&gt;mai precis. L-am urat pe manu, pentru ca era ultima seara a lui nillu&lt;br/&gt; si voiam sa vorbesc cu el, sa reusesc sa aflu eu mai multe de la el , nu&lt;br/&gt; sa-l ascult vorbind cu mitz. Manu....copil  inocent... Ne am despartit&lt;br/&gt; prin primul si ultimul nostru  sarut pe obraz , seara. Urma sa plece la&lt;br/&gt; 5 dimineata , a doua zi.&lt;br/&gt;                      Nu cred ca e necesar sa spun cat de prost am dormit. Ca&lt;br/&gt; ma trezeam din ora in ora si ma ridicam si stateam si am gandeam&lt;br/&gt; apoi incercam sa adorm al loc. De dimineata imi luam micul dejun&lt;br/&gt; ascultandu-i pe ai mei vorbind si uitandu-ma la mitz, cand cineva a zis &lt;br/&gt;ca mai vrea suc. Dornica sa petrec ceva mai mult timp cu mine si&lt;br/&gt; gandurile mele m-am oferit eu. Pe drumul spre dozator , in fata mea&lt;br/&gt; a aparut Yasmine. Am crezut ca o confund. Mai aveam putin pana&lt;br/&gt;  la sucuri cand l am vazut.  Era acolo! Nu plecase. eram atat de confuza , de&lt;br/&gt;auirita , de ametita incat sucul a dat peste... &lt;br/&gt;                     Am asteptat toata ziua la piscina. Degeaba. Inutil. Sora lui&lt;br/&gt; s-a tot plimbat pe acolo , amintindu-mi ca ei nu au plecat , dar pe el nu&lt;br/&gt; l-am mai vazut. si atat imi doresc acum sa fi reactionat la micul dejun... &lt;br/&gt;Sa ii fi spus ceva... Dar timpul nu poate fi dat inapoi...&lt;br/&gt;                     A fost atat de frig... Un cer atat de gri , incat ne am mirat&lt;br/&gt; cu totii. Era incredibil. Dar eu ma gandeam la altceva. La frigul din mine&lt;br/&gt; , la speranta neimplinita. La faptul ca nu ne-am cunoscut asa cum trebuia.&lt;br/&gt;Cand s-au intors cei care mersesera in desert , ne-au spus ca a plouat.&lt;br/&gt; In sahara. &lt;br/&gt;                      Sambata Michelle si-a implinit destinul . S-au sarutat si au&lt;br/&gt; fost fericiti o zi.Ea si manu. Si au pastrat legatura , ei doi, dar manu a fost&lt;br/&gt; gelos si nu a vrut sa i dea email-ul lui nillu ei, pentru mine. A vrut sa vina&lt;br/&gt; in romania , cateva luni mai tarziu. S-a razgandit in ultima clipa , dupa ce&lt;br/&gt; mitz l-a convins ca nu are rost...&lt;br/&gt;                       Cand avionul a decolat , o data cu viteza , o data cu luminile&lt;br/&gt; orasului in noapte am simtit ca pierd ce nu am avut... Cand priveam insa&lt;br/&gt; curcubeaul rasaritului in fata mea si stelele noptii in urma... Am stiut ca&lt;br/&gt; nu voi uita , dar am stiut si ca voi trece peste toate regretele. &lt;br/&gt;                        Acum cand ma gandesc , regret totul . Ca nu am stiut nimic&lt;br/&gt; din ce urma sa se intample ca sa fac mai multe atunci cand am avut ocazia.&lt;br/&gt; Nu o sa uit... Nici fetele cu valuri , nici tatuajul lui cu delfin , nici tatuajul&lt;br/&gt; meu pe inelar , nici lantisorul cu scoica ,pe al carui spate e desenat un n...&lt;br/&gt; Luminile , viata , bateau-ul , noi , nectar , melodii. &lt;br/&gt;                         Regret ca uneori cuvintele nu ne ajuta sa descriem exact&lt;br/&gt; ce simtim. Regret ca aici nu scrie decat ceva sec , pe care nu reusesc sa l&lt;br/&gt; descriu asa cum l-am simtit eu cu inocenta , cu nestiinta , cu nehotarare. &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;  why go? When you can stay a while.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;O zi intreaga finalizata la 19:30 - 09 .02.2008&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-8201709042413429065?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/8201709042413429065/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=8201709042413429065&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8201709042413429065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/8201709042413429065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/02/aventura-orientala.html' title='Aventura Orientala.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-5499514694173697525</id><published>2008-02-07T21:05:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T21:28:54.341+02:00</updated><title type='text'>To Him.</title><content type='html'>I hate the way you talk to me&lt;br/&gt;And the way you cut your hair &lt;br/&gt;I hate the way you drive my car&lt;br/&gt;I hate it when you stare&lt;br/&gt;I hate your big dumb combat boots&lt;br/&gt;And the way you read my mind&lt;br/&gt;I hate you so much it makes me sick&lt;br/&gt;And even makes me rhyme.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I hate it...&lt;br/&gt;I hate the way you're always right&lt;br/&gt;I hate it when you lie&lt;br/&gt;I hate it when you make me laugh&lt;br/&gt;And even worse when you make me cry.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;I hate it when you're not around&lt;br/&gt;And the fact you didn't call&lt;br/&gt;But mostly i hate the way i don't hate you&lt;br/&gt;Not even close&lt;br/&gt;Not even a little bit&lt;br/&gt;Not even at all.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;To Heath. May he rest in peace. Maybe he's better&lt;br/&gt;there than in this unfair world.He didn't deserve it.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Goodbye Heath Ledger.10 things i don't hate about you.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-5499514694173697525?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/5499514694173697525/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=5499514694173697525&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5499514694173697525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/5499514694173697525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/02/to-him.html' title='To Him.'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3363249613780195677.post-993075786707170659</id><published>2008-02-06T00:13:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T00:23:33.595+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Vreau</title><content type='html'> Vreau sa simt cerul . Vreau sa intind mana si sa ating culoarea &lt;br/&gt;asfintitului cald. Vreau sa fii langa mien cand il privesc. Vreau&lt;br/&gt;sa-mi spui ca prin atingerea mainilor noastre in timp ce privim&lt;br/&gt;adierea ai simtit fiorul ce-mi strabate fiinta cand traiesc viata&lt;br/&gt; asa cum ar trebui sa fie ea mereu.&lt;br/&gt;  Vreau sa fie frumos . Vreau sa fim 2. Vreau sa fim noi. Vreau&lt;br/&gt;sa privim rasaritul pe malul marii . Vreau sa-mi saruti fruntea&lt;br/&gt; asa cum un val saruta nisipul- mereu , neincetat , cu increderea&lt;br/&gt;ca va mai exista inca o ocazie pentru intalnirea lor , a buzelor&lt;br/&gt;tale cu fruntea mea. Vreau sa existam impreuna asa cum valul&lt;br/&gt;traieste alaturi de mare.&lt;br/&gt;   Vreau sa mergem sa simtim viata orasului de mana . Vreau&lt;br/&gt;sa patinam amandoi prin viata , sa cad si sa stiu ca ma voi&lt;br/&gt;ridica tinandu-ma de mana ta intinsa.&lt;br/&gt;    Vreau sa aducem povestea inapoi. Vreau sa putem simti &lt;br/&gt;lucrurile fara sa fie nevoie sa le vedem . ( Love is like the wind&lt;br/&gt;we can't see it but we can touch it ). Vreau sa fie intens , puternic,&lt;br/&gt;de neuitat.&lt;br/&gt;    Si mai vreau , ca la sfarsitul fiecarei zile in care am atins&lt;br/&gt; cerul impreuna , sa-mi posezi pentru o clipa , incet si tandru , buzele.&lt;br/&gt;   &lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;     Atat ii cer vietii . Multe atingeri , un sarut pe frunte si unul pe buze,&lt;br/&gt;de neuitat.&lt;br/&gt;      I like where we are. Here, in your arms.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;Myriam Lacroche.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;br/&gt;06.01.08   00:23.&lt;br/&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3363249613780195677-993075786707170659?l=myriamlacroche.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/feeds/993075786707170659/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3363249613780195677&amp;postID=993075786707170659&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/993075786707170659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3363249613780195677/posts/default/993075786707170659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myriamlacroche.blogspot.com/2008/02/vreau.html' title='Vreau'/><author><name>Iulia Iordache</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15285551249512371950</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='25' height='32' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6uvh_u2JH5w/STLyzo_P77I/AAAAAAAAAEo/h6H3KWKZCEU/S220/Copy+of+Copy+of+DSC01333.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
