tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88542011031662836972024-03-12T21:15:18.169-07:00neutraldoctrineLaura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.comBlogger31125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-59397662562013359322023-10-21T08:51:00.000-07:002023-10-21T08:51:28.788-07:00Do not:<p> I have quite a lot of experience receiving both solicited and unsolicited advice, whether it was part of a research I was doing or just told people about different goals. I've learned that, no matter how convincing of a talker a person is, it is best if I follow these personal "guidelines".</p><p>Do not take financial advice from those who are not doing very well themselves. They tend to present lots of ideas and seem like they know what they're talking about, but they are really just in debt all the time. Also, do not accept financial advice from someone who is doing good simply because they received an inheritance. It is good to inherit goods, but if someone else worked to build what they have and they never did anything, maybe it would be best to wait until they've accomplished something before giving advice to those who are trying to make it from scratch.</p><p>Do not accept maternal or parenting advice from women who do not have kids of their own. A lot of times, lack of empathy can come even from fellow moms. Some with easier pregnancies, who forget that not all pregnancies are the same. Some, with maybe more difficult ones that think everyone should suffer if they did. But it is usually those who don't have kids who try to lecture future moms, while they have zero experience with the hormonal fluctuations that can come with a pregnancy and what it does, the pains that can affect pregnant women like pelvic girdle pain that makes each step hurt and you cannot even sit for long. Discomfort makes people grumpy, more unproductive, depressed etc. So if you cannot help them with a good word, leave them alone at least. And YES, I am the one who signed up for it, which means I am also the one responsible to go through it as best as I can, avoid risks and stress, even if that means standing up to people sometimes. And also, yes, that talk is not always gonna be calm, because of said discomfort. However, it does not matter; prioritize yourself and your child.<br /></p><p>Do not accept fitness and nutrition advice from people who are not and maybe never were fit/as fit as you want to get. Especially if you are looking for long-term results. It either clearly doesn't work, or they never followed their own advice so they cannot know what works well. While, of course, most body types, organisms, lifestyles etc. differ from one person to another, I tend to gravitate towards people who are a good example of what they preach.</p><p>Do not let malicious lurkers affect your mood. This mainly happens on social media - the ones that never interact/react positively to ANYTHING you post, ever, regardless of whether it's music, a selfie, a random picture, a meme, an artwork, a thought. Nothing! Logically, you would think someone keeps you in their list because they like you, your posts, feel like you have things in common. Not this species! They always only pop up to disagree with something, to criticize something or try to lecture you, pick an argument, be opinionated, etc. The weak character, even if, interestingly enough, you've always been cordial towards them. But yes, this says more about them than it does about you.<br /></p>Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-35472270086628100962021-03-24T06:46:00.004-07:002021-03-24T06:48:43.846-07:00The cartoon killer generation<p><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"> </span></span></p><div><div dir="auto"><div class="ecm0bbzt hv4rvrfc e5nlhep0 dati1w0a" data-ad-comet-preview="message" data-ad-preview="message" id="jsc_c_27y"><div class="j83agx80 cbu4d94t ew0dbk1b irj2b8pg"><div class="qzhwtbm6 knvmm38d"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="d2edcug0 hpfvmrgz qv66sw1b c1et5uql rrkovp55 a8c37x1j keod5gw0 nxhoafnm aigsh9s9 d3f4x2em fe6kdd0r mau55g9w c8b282yb iv3no6db jq4qci2q a3bd9o3v knj5qynh oo9gr5id hzawbc8m" dir="auto"><div class="kvgmc6g5 cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">So Pepe LePew is being cancelled due to "lack of consent" in the cartoon <span class="pq6dq46d tbxw36s4 knj5qynh kvgmc6g5 ditlmg2l oygrvhab nvdbi5me sf5mxxl7 gl3lb2sf hhz5lgdu"><img alt="😒" height="16" src="https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/t6f/1/16/1f612.png" width="16" /></span>.
And so many other things are being cancelled because, while there are
so many ways to interpret something, society will choose only one
perspective and make it the general thing.</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">As
a kid, what I understood from this move in cartoons was how cringy guys
can be who don't understand you don't like them, and guys can easily
get the same message from it and learn to not act desperate, right?
Also, women can learn that playing "hard to get" makes you more wanted,
which is true (even if it's wrong to play these games, haha).</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">It's considered a "bad influence", right? For kids/ guys.</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">Pepe
LePew was an old cartoon, so I can tell you some things I observed as a
kid, from back when we used to watch this cartoon, among others.</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">While
growing up, half the guys in my class would grope girls during breaks.
Now people only take this part into consideration and rush to explode
already, but you know what was more fucked up? More than half of the
girls in my class would happily allow it and were PROUD of it! They
thought it was cool, so the kids thought if so many girls allow it, it's
ok and the "abnormal" ones are that don't. And what these girls would
watch daily was teen series and mainstream pop music videos, in which we
all know that the "cool guys" were always surrounded by slutty women
and the "pop divas" were more than half naked and sold their shitty
music through sex-appeal. That was clearly what the girls were inspired
by, and they were always calling the rest of us out, making fun for not
allowing the same things and "not having a boyfriend or more yet" at 14.</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">So,
I have to ask myself, was Pepe LePew the bad influence on guys, or the
girls that acted slutty and made fun of the others for not doing the
same, making the guys think their behavior should be the standard?</div></div><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q"><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;">(If
you can't understand this and think I am "victim shaming" or whatever,
get out of here because my patience is running low. The facts are simply
that not everything is black and white and we are just polishing the
surface by censoring what is convenient.)</div></div></span></span></span></div></div></div></div></div>Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-30259748261271841242018-06-30T23:29:00.000-07:002018-06-30T23:33:52.834-07:00PainHub^^Some people feed on your pain as much as you feed on your own pain.
Everything is a transaction when you can get what you want and offer
them what they want. It's a predictable but necessary cycle of pretending to give
what they think you want so that they can take it away, and then you do
your part and give some suffering in return. <br />
Get well into the role you chose, milk it and move forward. <span class="_5mfr _47e3">However, one of the most important factors is to fuel their power trip by letting them believe they chose this role for you. You can also let yourself believe that, as it feeds your submission, after all. You both know what is going on, but you play the part as well as you can, to make it feel real. Play the affection and suffering down to the tiniest detail. Disguise your hints and dangle them in front of your "opponent". That amplifies the feeling of momentary control over the game. You both live with the impression that, by giving these hints, you have shown the other what to expect and they are still clueless. But if you don't play dumb here and there, you end it all too soon, and we like to push things and see where we end up. </span><br />
<span class="_5mfr _47e3">Your brain will rot if you don't get out of that comfort zone.</span>Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-72881156752764931052018-04-11T13:04:00.000-07:002018-04-11T13:04:02.855-07:00We used to be whole. We used to smile with glittering eyes at the future and travel forward on our mundane timeline, one day at a time, one second at a time. We never thought we'd have to separate.<br />
We had to part ways...and now I feel empty of anything that once was. She tries to save what's left by pulling on my hands, my sleeves and my melancholy.<br />
<br />
"Don't become an automaton, don't become like all the rest, please don't leave me!"<br />
"Haven't you noticed, child, that there is nothing for us here?"<br />
"We agreed we would make all of our daydreams come true. That we will remain together as one, remember?"<br />
"Can't you see that is impossible? Can't you see that everything we crave is illusory? And I have to remember this every second, as long as you don't let go of me. Don't tease me with past affections and hopes long forgotten."Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-6469476966132562712017-12-27T11:30:00.001-08:002017-12-27T11:30:11.859-08:00People suffer, they hurt themselves...people take their own lives. People die.<br />
The most perfect time for their so-called closest ones to start
victimizing themselves - honoring their dead by almost taking even this post-mortem spotlight, making the event about them. They make collages of joyful pics together with
their newly-defunct, throw in the "they were always smiling, would have
never expected this..." crap.<br /> Why were they jolly around you? Maybe
because they were fuckin' smart enough to know the sad reality: we are
only wanted around when we are fun and seemingly have the power to
entertain. When we need to spill our soul out from down under in the
dumps, people run like rats.<br /> So we smile to our loved ones on our way over the edge.Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-83226284804575378192017-10-08T22:45:00.000-07:002017-11-05T04:16:05.323-08:00What a beautiful morning.<br />
Waking up with a cuddly cat's nose in your neck, sunshine filtering through the autumn leaves, peace and quiet all around.<br />
Then you open the window and it smells like death again. Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-68166533444656525142017-02-04T05:54:00.000-08:002017-02-04T05:54:00.964-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-91082566570676472402016-11-15T03:04:00.003-08:002019-05-03T14:16:50.014-07:00Post mortemI had a dream last night, one that some would label as a "nightmare".<br />
It seemed like I had suffered a sudden death or so I could assume, since apparently I haven't had time to tell them to preferably incinerate me once my time comes. It was dark all around, I could feel that I was the prisoner of a narrow place, even though I could not move and the last tiny rays of light were quickly disappearing as some blackness seemed to be pouring over the cracks, bit by bit. It dawned on me (literally?): it was my burial.<br />
Laying there, I could hear sounds...voices, cries and some of my favorite music in the background. I then started wondering who came to celebrate my death. Random faces of people that were never an important part of my life popped into my mind, one by one. "Are you here? ...And you?" Then the important faces followed. I was curious, but at the same time I was glad I didn't have to face the crowd. <br />
<br />
Then I awoke. I found myself in the isolation of that same grave, which was my room. I did not want to face the crowd outside, all of the entities exuding a wide palette of thoughts. No matter how many feelings walk those streets, my mind is flooded with resignation: there will never be any real connections tied.<br />
Just like at the funeral....everyone manifests an emotion, but they never understood anything about the one they are there for.<br />
I got used to the fact that people don't see wider than they are used to seeing, in their eyes, you are what they make you in their head, and explaining has no purpose when true, deep understanding is impossible. I dare believe that, in case of that hypothetical case, you would hardly need any words, because you could just feel each other.<br />
<br />
Then I started wondering why it mattered at all. It is all over anyway. Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-528614036526462622016-08-28T01:41:00.001-07:002016-08-28T01:41:30.887-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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"These tears they keep on falling down on me<br />
These tears they won't be gone with autumn leaves"</div>
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<br />Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-53468941268239632002016-08-22T13:49:00.000-07:002019-05-03T14:25:32.630-07:00How many storms have washed the streets throughout these years? How many people have died?<br />
How many tears have washed our cheeks and what is the cost of a smile?<br />
How do we separate night from day, if all we have are dreams to keep us feeling alive?<br />
<br />
Addicted to pain we shall become when every minute hurts and we try to hide.<br />
Addicted to wishing for the the untouchable, but you don't want anything else.<br />
How could you care about others if you don't anymore care for yourself?<br />
<br />Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-54737147634210408192016-08-22T10:35:00.004-07:002017-11-23T12:44:42.995-08:00Pieces I brought home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Those depressing moments when the time has come to return to the concrete jungle. But in my mind, I'm always in similar places. Here's what my phone kept:</span></span></div>
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Oh, and I also finally found my dragon!</div>
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<br />Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-31604443066272472402016-07-26T03:50:00.002-07:002016-07-26T05:51:04.964-07:00Walking towards dead-endAs an inevitable result of our chimeric desperation, we will end up looking for this dark-clothed figure that isn't limited by any outlines. And you somehow wish it would prove itself completely inhuman. Once you will have gotten tired of the tideous daily of human life, you will feel it is about time to dare aiming higher. You aim for the absolute. Once all of your hopes - nurtured back when life was just about to begin - are turned to ash, when your eyes will no longer shine, you will start searching.<br />
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Back in the day, when you were sitting in the benches of school, daydreaming, drawing your beautiful aspirations on the last pages of a notebook or engraving them onto your desk with the tip of a compass; back when you thought that, in just a few years, the infinite possibilities of an ideal world will open up to you and you will finally be able to enjoy settings you had envisioned, you thought you'd have control.<br />
You will crave and you will search, voluntarily blinded by the risk of repeated disappointments.<br />
Those ripe days and nights of ecstatically anticipating times of delirium to come, timeless times and limitless space, of fascination, smoke laces and magic...gone. Your ideal world ahead, everything was possible. You could lay with your nose poking upon the pages of a book all night long, living parallel lives, at your discretion...at your pleasure. Could afford to wake up after one hour's sleep, with the reminiscence of magic still pulsing through your cognitive muscles and nothing else around you would matter in the following hours. Could get lost, child as you were, in a sunrise you were secretly watching by the window after a secretly sleepless night, lost in music that resonated with your feelings to the point of perfection and carried you towards new ideas and dreams. In the creative process of a drawing, a melody, shape of a cloud, smell of old pages. You were sure life will reach it's hiatus one day, the romantic and the artist within had to rely on this.<br />
You created obscure, semi-abstract images, the perspective of this world you lost yourself in and got too used to. All the freedom you can imagine would be at your feet, a realm without any authority or boundaries other than your own, nobody will hurt you anymore.<br />
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But, my dear, there comes a time when this thing called "reality" kicks in, and an invincible sort of boredom will end up taking it's toll on everything you used to be, together with the need and automated responsibility of survival, gradual resignation of becoming a tiny engine of society. This is all so meaninglessly fractional in the eyes of the Universe that any of it barely exists. But from your own eyes, it is everything, you are everything that you have, essence of the child determined to triumph and wanted to live in a different world.<br />
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And guess what? Along with years passing and the experiences they bring that are too heavily packed with "reality", you'll have lost a great deal of authenticity...you're tired. The ascending exhaustion will transform the hope of escaping into genuine obsession. You search for more, with sweat pouring down your face, eyes popped out and red, too focused to even blink, gaze fixed on some target hidden someplace beyond the portal between this life and That One. "There has to be more than this vapid, predictable world" - you say to yourself. Maybe you could take matters into your own hands, maybe there can be more for you here. Maybe you could somehow isolate from the ordinary and live in those dreamlands, to seclude the love between yourself and the Child in you, that is becoming your Ghost as you grow up. You don't want to share it with the surrounding world that you were born into. After all this time, you feel that it is still alive within, it exists...and you are selfish. After all, you've waited for too long for the two of you to finally live, the mundane has no place in this bond so idyllic and pure. In our terrestrial existence, it seems almost impossible to "merge the mundane and the magic" atfer all. You could finally fulfill the wishes of the person you once were. You could meditate in peace, you could fly again, you could touch those heights of a sinister beauty. You could...but you can't. The black hole of ordinary life is sucking away your blood, your energy, at the same time nailing your feet to the ground just so won't fly away, to continue being it's productive little engine. If you go your own way, you are useless. So you strive, with whatever is left, that unsatisfying quantity. The supreme frustration is that you must sweat blood for a little part of something that was natural, should've been natural.<br />
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Thirst for absolute takes over and you seek. You look for liberation, this allmighty evil entity, the great inhuman, in the darkest corners of humanity which you're still trapped in. But not for long. You look for it in the winding forests of your last hope, shrouded with the thorns and carress of the unknown. At least the unknown can restore your perspective of unbounded possibilities that you once held on tight to. You almost want to take refuge in an infinite journey, to keep on searching. At least it feels much better to look forward to something, than look back and return to find the same you ran away from. Hand in hand with your Ghost, your absolute love, you proceed deeper and deeper into this intriguing place, pacing through leaves that have fallen to the ground and melted into it, the abrasive touch of blackened moss, trees that filter the blood-red light as they reach for the moon. There is no need for words. You walk and walk, with a mutual sense of calm resignation, with a taste of the final victory on pale lips. Darkness falls around the two of you, more and more profound, swallowing you with each step.<br />
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You are prepared to be the sole witnesses of your loosening from the world left behind. Pitch black - the most beautiful feeling you have ever had. The most beautiful and the last one, and you are connected more than ever before. Like an orgasmic moment, the superlative of all feelings approaches in streams, the ending ceremony for the death of generic human life. Darkness embarces you gently, and then the grip of it's arms tightens. Captive in it's embrace, you and the ghost of who you used to be are joint again, suffocated by agony and an unexplainable relief. Just like a starving giant, blackness of the unknown smothers you.<br />
Welcome to the portal.<br />
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It's merciless torns pierce you like skewers, flesh blends with flesh, blood blends with blood. This is more than you could ever hope for, sharing the supreme experience that can be only lived once. And died once. After the last synchronized breath, you fall onto wet soil, united in beautiful carnage on this cold ground, and irony smell of seething blood sets in over the putrid stench of nature long gone. You have escaped, you are free...you found it. The black entity of dead-end has fulfilled it's mission once again.<br />
You and ghostchild from your grip have married Death, the eternal communion.<br />
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Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-38562646892360422412016-07-08T09:26:00.000-07:002019-05-03T14:27:31.919-07:00The untouchable is likely to have a lifetime warranty.<br />
Like getting a beautiful doll as a gift that you are aching to unbox. But it'd probably be a matter of time until it's used and damaged, which might affect the way you initially felt about it.<br />
Maybe, maybe not. Do you dare unbox?<br />
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<br />Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-69709097329141433012016-05-29T05:05:00.002-07:002019-05-03T14:34:53.182-07:00OversaturationHa, oamenii spun ca nu ar trebui sa iti faci griji.<br />
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Sunt de acord, si am vazut pe mult mai multi oameni mult mai panicati decat mine in situatii tensionate, insa s-a mai degradat sanatatea nervilor mei in ultimii ani, in special fiind toata viata o persoana careia nu ii place sa se complice daca nu castig nimic semnificativ din asta, vrea sa fie lasata in pace si sa isi asume singura consecintele faptelor sau procrastinarii sale. Sunt capabila sa gandesc situatia de la inceput (sau prezent), pana la capat, luand in considerare fiecare outcome posibil, in functie de pasivitatea sau activitatea mea.<br />
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De exemplu, mai demult, in lungile perioade cand stateam inchisa in casa si aveam putin de lucru in acea perioada, ma simteam cam pierduta. Stateam zile in sir focusata pe ceea ce imi placea sa fac, ma refugiam in carti, muzica, iar apoi prietenii buni, sau amicii care, desi stateam intru-un orasel trist de plicticos, erau nenumarati (n-ai zice asta cand vezi cat sunt de singuratica si plictisita de oameni, nu?). Ma distram, iar in carapacea puteam visa la discretie si ma simteam bine, in inutilitatea mea.<br />
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Ideea e ca dupa ce ai stat ani in sir inconjurat de oameni, unii fenomenali, altii mai putin (din diferite puncte de vedere), te cam saturi. Nu mai conteaza care cat e de inteligent sau ce fel de inteligenta ii reprezinta, sau cat e de fun, de reliable, te saturi. Iti ajunge daca petreci timp cu unii sau schimbi doua vorbe o data la cateva saptamani bune. Avand o experienta atat de vasta cu oameni, cu prieteni, cu amici si cu cei care ma urau sau au ajuns sa ma urasca, atatea conversatii pe atatea subiecte, muzica, arta, si cu cei mai apropiati - filosofie, cat si small-talk, glume, nazbatii gen intrat prin efractie in gradinita noaptea cu sticla de vodka si calatorii spontane de care nu stia familia, cam toata lumea a devenit previzibila pentru mine si ma plictiseste tot ce ar avea de spus, to be honest. Pe atunci era ceva nou, tot voiam sa descopar, tot speram sa ajung la descoperiri satisfacatoare in ceea ce priveste fiintele umane, dar dupa ce ai ajuns chiar sa cunosti sute sau mii de persoane si ai avut diferite tipuri de relatii cu ei, vezi ca e acelasi cacat peste tot, doar cate-un cacat este legat cu o fundita rosie.<br />
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Si cand vad ce posteaza unii pe diferite retele de socializare, pe care oameni destepti ajung sa ii aprobe si sa ii remarce, mi se face greata si ma simt parca dezamagita si de acei putini oameni pe care ii admir pentru inteligenta si selectivitatea lor in societate...Sunt impresionati de niste idei care mie si altor copii banali li se invarteau prin cap deja de pe la varste fragede, consider ca e la mintea cocosului si nu au spus nimic special. Si atunci te gandesti "acelui om destept pe care l-am apreciat chiar i se pare vreo revelatie banalitatea asta, de se deranjeaza sa ii dea credit acelui chirias de spatiu virtual cu monitorul-scut?"<br />
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Acum am colegi minunati in cercul carora nici nu ma simt de parca as fi la servici. Insa ma panicheaza la culme faptul ca sunt obligata sa imi petrec 9 ore pe zi intr-un mediu dinamic, si nu mai am sansa sa desenez, sa citesc asa cum obisnuiam, sa devorez muzica oricand si oricat, sa ma uit la pereti si sa fac calatorii cu mintea mea odihnita oriunde am chef. Din start, programul zilnic din timpul saptamanii poate fura mult din ceea ce eram odata. Insa tin cu dintii si cu ghearele de momentele acelea.<br />
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Mi se par cam inutile aceste explicatii, deoarece traim in era socializarii superficiale excesive, in care mereu cauti sa te vezi in ochii altora iar asta sa fie intr-o lumina cat mai buna, iar eu voi parea doar o biata negativista care nu vrea sa se adapteze la mediocritatea inconjuratoare care fuge dupa noi toti ca un Pacman turbat.<br />
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Obositoarea experienta ale experimentelor pe relatii interpersonale, nevoia semi-falsa de adaptare in medii de acest tip m-au extenuat de-a binelea si m-au adus in pragul mizantropiei, nu "negativismul". Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-38120842047571293852016-04-03T00:00:00.000-07:002019-01-08T11:23:33.448-08:00In cautarea Omului Negru<div data-contents="true">
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<span data-offset-key="4g46c-0-0"><span data-text="true">Ca urmare a acestei disperari himerice inevitabile, il cautam pe acest om negru. Dar cumva speram ca ultimul lucru de care va da dovada este umanitatea. Si tu iti vei dori sa il gasesti.
Cand te vei fi saturat de banalitatea cotidianului vietii umane, parca ai tinti mai sus. Tintesti spre absolut.
Dupa ce-ti vor fi spulberate toate lucrurile la care sperai pe vremea cand viata inca abia avea sa urmeze, cand stateai in bancile scolii si desenai visator pe ultimele pagini ale caietelor si iti gravai aspiratiile cu varful compasului pe banca, cand credeai ca peste doi-trei ani ti se vor deschide posibilitatile infinite ale unei lumi ideale si vei avea in sfarsit libertatea de a te inconjura cu oameni care vor fi exact cum te asteptai, vei cauta. Vei spera si vei cauta, voluntar orbit fata de riscul unei noi dezamagiri.
Visai la momente de delir, fum, dantele si euforie, la lumea ta ideala.
Puteai sta cu nasul intr-o carte toata noaptea, traind vieti paralele, la alegere...la discretie. Te puteai trezi dupa o ora de somn, cu reminiscentele magiei inca pulsand prin muschiul gandirii si nimic din jur nu mai conta in orele ce urmau. Te puteai pierde, copil ce erai, intr-un rasarit privit pe furis prin fereastra, in muzica ce rezona perfect cu tine si te impingea spre idei noi, in procesul de creatie al unui desen, unei melodii, unui obiect decorativ, si stiai ca vei face lucruri mari intr-o zi. Exact ca artistul si romanticul dinauntrul tau. Te pierdeai in imagini cu peisaje obscure si semi-abstracte, care creau atmosfera unei lumi ideale, pe care o asteptai sa vina.
Vei avea toata aceasta libertate, lipsit de orice autoritate, nu te vor mai bate ceilalti copii, vor vedea ei intr-o zi...
Cand dai de ceea ce ne place sa numim "realitate", te izbeste un plictis inegalabil impreuna cu nevoia, respobsabilitatea automata de a supravietui, resemnarea de a deveni un simplu motoras al societatii, care este atat de marunt din ochiul Universului, aproape insesizabil. Dar din al tau, iti consumi tot timpul si energia, tu esti tot ce ai, visele si esenta copilului determinat sa triumfe.
Si ghici ce?
Odata cu varsta si experientele prea reale pe care le aduce aceasta pe parcurs, ai pierdut mare parte din versiunea ta autentica...esti obosit.
Oboseala aceasta ascendenta va face din speranta de scapare o veritabila obsesie. Cauti, cu sudoarea siroind pe trup, cu ochii iesiti din orbite si rosii, prea concentrat ca sa mai clipesti, asupra unei tinte ascunse pe undeva prin intunecimea portalului dintre lumea noastra si lumea Aceea.
Trebuie sa fie mai mult decat atat in lumea aceasta fada si previzibila - iti zici. Ai putea face chiar tu sa fie mai mult pentru tine in aceasta lume. Sa te izolezi cumva de cotidian si sa traiesti in lumea ta, sa iti izolezi iubirea absoluta dintre tine si Copilul din tine, nu vrei sa o traiesti si sa o impartasesti cu lumea inconjuratoare. Dupa atata timp, in sfarsit ai vazut ca exista, mai este totusi viu ...si esti egoist. Pana la urma, ai visat mult si la iubirea asta si nu isi are loc mondenul in aceasta legatura atat de idilica si pura. Ai putea indeplini, in sfarsit, dorintele arzatoare a ceea ce ai fost odata. Ai putea medita, ai putea zbura din nou, ai putea atinge culmile acelea de o frumusete sinistra. Ai putea...dar cotidianul iti suge sangele, la fel ca si toata energia si te tine cu picioarele pe pamant, le bate-n cuie, numai sa nu iti iei zborul, sa fii in continuare un motoras productiv pentru el. Asa ca, te straduiesti, cu ceea ce ti-a mai ramas, acea cantitate nesatisfacatoare. Frustrarea suprema o constituie faptul ca trebuie sa te straduiesti din greu pentru ceva ce venea atat de usor si de natural adineaori.
Setea de absolut preia controlul si cauti. Il cauti pe marele neom prin cele mai intunecate locuri ale existentei. Il cauti prin padurile intortocheate ale ultimei sperante, impanzite cu spinii si mangaierea necunoscutului. Macar necunoscutul iti da perspectiva aceea pe care ai avut-o odata, perspectiva posibilitatilor nemarginite. Parca iti vine sa te refugiezi intr-o cautare infinita. Mana in mana cu celalalt corp al tau, iubirea ta absoluta, pasiti calmi prin frunzele cazute si contopite solul moale, insotiti de atingerea abraziva al muschiului negru de pe copacii inalti care filtreaza sangeriul lunii.
Nu este nevoie de cuvinte. Pasiti cu sentimentul comun de calmul resemnarii, cu gustul victoriei finale pe buzele palide. In jur se lasa un intuneric tot mai profund care va inghite cu fiecare pas. Sunteti pregatiti pentru a fi singurii martori ai dezlegarii voastre de viata lasata in urma.
Bezna - cel mai frumos sentiment pe care l-ati avut odata. Cel mai frumos si ultimul, si va leaga. Ca un orgasm, superlativul sentimentelor se apropie in suvoaie, slujba finala care celebreaza moartea naturii.
Intunericul va imbratiseaza bland, apoi forta bratelor sale creste. Captivi in stransoarea lui, va contopiti, sufocati de agonie si de o usurare inexplicabila. Ca un urias infometat, va sufoca negreala necunoscutului. Ati gasit portalul. Spinii lui lungi va strapung ca pe niste frigarui, se amesteca carne cu carne si sange cu sange. E mai mult decat puteati spera vreodata, impartasiti experienta care se poate trai o singura data. Si care ‘se poate muri' tot o singura data. Dupa sincronul ultimei suflari, cadeti pe solul umed, uniti intr-un carnagiu frumos pe pamantul rece, iar peste mirosul de natura putreda, se asterne incetul cu incetul mirosul de fier al sangelui clocotind.
Ati scapat....l-ati gasit. Omul Negru si-a indeplinit inca o data misiunea.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="65fsg-0-0"><span data-text="true">V-a casatorit cu Moartea, eterna comuniune. </span></span></div>
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Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-34470222159433657592016-01-09T05:15:00.003-08:002017-11-05T04:19:53.949-08:00Media Trailer TrashDay by day, I have the "privilege" of reading too much ineligible crap (and this happens because I choose to cross paths with the main source of all this rubbish : media, of course). The most infuriating for today was: "Saggy skin may destroy your relationship. Find out how you can prevent..".<br />
...What?!<br />
<br />
Et voila! This is exactly media's way of destroying your relationship, in favor of consumerism. Thanks to us, the sheep, who are still too unevolved to remain unimpressed by superficial things that actually do not matter at all, mass-media can freely rise and successfully use it's manipulatoar powers, by creating unrealistic, plastic, absurd standards, expectations of things that should at least not be a priority, if not ignored completely. And which are not even aesthetic or healthy, in any way.<br />
"If it's on TV/ in magazines, for sure it's an example to follow!" Wrinkles, pimpals, extra pounds, every natural phenomenon that you will probably encounter during this lifetime is classified as a disaster. "Get rid of X gross trait, and you will see that the boy of your dreams will smile at you immediately, X group will accept you, your life will switch to perfect right away!"<br />
Of course it is a great thing to take care of yourself, to stay fit and healthy, but because you want to, not because of what you and your friends see in catalogues or TV...from the moment you let media stick it's nose into your existence and get under your skin, you won't even realize that you are trying unnecessarily hard to head in a direction that is not even yours, that you don't even want or need, just because the surrounding world dictates it, sitting on your shoulder and whispering indications directly into your mind. The subconscious never sleeps, dude. You will find that you have stopped using your own untainted definition of 'beautiful' as a guideline, and instead following what you see is considered 'beautiful' in the outer media-driven world. Maybe we don't even have an own genuine definition of 'beautiful' or 'ugly' anymore, since we grew up associating these words with all the visuals provided by the modern world: posters, teleshopping, magazines... therefore, the herd spirit gravitates towards the artificial. They sell their products, people will lose their mind, their acquisitions become based on vanity & desperation, rather than their actual needs and wishes and their own taste; all will risk losing their ability to think and feel clearly. The more these copy machine-made false ideals are publicized, the bigger the need of building ourselves in accordance with their image and likeness. In turn, we will end up constructing similar expectations of people around us, especially our partner, forgetting that a scratch-free aspect or a more or less photoshopped 90-60-90 body is not really that beautiful or special, and neither a relationship criteria that will keep us warm in the long run. So, inevitably, we will all find someone at a point, that we will treat nicely in the feverish game of fresh meat, we will fake-feel with some autosuggestion that the other person is as perfect as they pretend to be, and of course, as we expect them to be. After which, comes the time of phantom-expectations. You want a partner exactly like in commercials. If you have that, you will still direct your attention towards something else, that to you seems 'something more'. If you don't have that, you will try to change, adjust your lover. Or, you will simply make them feel like shit and inadequate, by making favorable comments about X public figure or clubwhore, as if they were supreme beauty, the cherry on top, untouchable. <br />
To this sort of behavior, one reaction would be that he/she will try to exaggerate with self-improvement and still, will never feel like he/she is good enough, and will consider him/herself inferior to X public figure or the clubwhore. Another possibility is that they will gravitate towards a more concentrated attention because of self-respect, and will leave you behind to make someone else miserable. The worst case would be resignation, they will accept the thought and feeling that they will never be "good enough", never the grand prize or focal point for you and thus, will neglect themselves, will give up and not care about themselves anymore. In this case, you will find yourself in a rutine that you have created by treating your partner as a simple annex to your grand ego with grand expectations, not knowing that X public figure and X clubwhore wear masks, too. <br />
But in this case, do NOT wonder if, after a long tedious day at work, you will come home to find a person as sour as you sitting in a corner, obese, sweaty, or with bony, sucked-in cheeks and eyes framed by dark circles and swelled from so much crying because they wasted their life with you. You sure as hell will not feel like getting physically close to them, and the inner distance has been created long ago, by your faulty idea of having a partner. At most, you will cheat on each other if you're lucky enough to find someone as miserable and desperate as you two, and if not, you will channel all that negative energy and tension into endless, constant fights. <br />
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Another form of media with the same effect is social media. Everyone posts an inflated version of their face and their lives, everything seems perfect with everyone. Everyone but yourself. So you post a "better" version of yourself, as well, to fit in and it all becomes a competition of fake egos. If you are the douchebag from above, you will see other girls'/boys' selfies as "WOW!" and see them as prettier than your lover that you were smitten with recently. Maybe you get to talk to them, they might not be exactly what you've expected in reality, but well, they're pretty on Facebook and that is enough. Then you skip to the next pretty selfie and meet disappointment again. Disappointment that you deserve, for being a douchebag.<br />
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It is not your skin that will ruin your relationship, but media and the lack of character that you suffer from.Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-62311278672017499692015-12-03T00:47:00.001-08:002015-12-03T00:47:53.614-08:00Tossing and turning in this puddle of blackened blood, I cannot find my peace. The certainty that I never will is crushing my bones and spits in my face. I lay helpless, left to mourn blood bonds and friendships.....to mourn everything that ever made me feel like I will never be alone again. These are the tools "fate" used to deceive me and, in my experience, it will keep it up until repulsion suffocates every trace of joy I had left.Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-40178556779706360272015-11-12T13:08:00.002-08:002018-10-29T13:07:23.976-07:00Death, daily<span style="color: #242f33; font-family: "proximanovaregular" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.15px; line-height: 21px;">Cel putin o data la trei zile, mergand pe strada, sau in orice loc public, imi imaginez cum ar fi ca toti strainii care ma inconjoara, sa se sinucida in urmatoarea secunda, prin metoda cea mai la indemana.</span></span><span style="color: #242f33; font-family: "proximanovaregular" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.15px; line-height: 21px;">Imi imaginez cum femeia cu gatul lung, cearcane si burta umflata care arata ramasitele unei sarcini, sa isi inchida ochii si sa paseasca linistita pe asfalt, in fata masinii care vine cu viteza, soferul nebanuind in momentul precedent cum i se va schimba ziua. Imi imaginez cum sar oamenii in grupuri de cinci, cand ajunge metroul care va aluneca mai departe, uns de zeama cadavrelor proaspete. Imi imaginez persoanele care stau in balcoane, cum isi pun un picior si apoi pe celalalt, peste bariera dintre ei si cazatura brutala care urmeaza le puna capat suferintei. Imi imaginez femei, barbati, cu posete, serviete, cum au in acestea pregatita o viitoare supradoza si se grabesc asa de tare pe strada si la metrou pentru a pune in aplicare ultimul plan din existenta lor. Ma uit prin vitrinele bancilor si imi imaginez cum isi baga functionarii pixurile in venele lor nerabdatoare si se uita zambind si bucurosi unii la ceilalti, in timp ce se scurge viata din ei. Imi imaginez o mama cu bebelusul in brate cum trece peste un pod, cum pupa copilul pe frunte, il indeasa in bratele unui trecator si sare de pe pod, in valurile agresive, inghetate, care ii vor zdrobi trupul si il vor izbi de pietre...pana la nimicire. Ma uit la case in care imi imaginez ca cineva a pornit gazul si acum doarme, iar in camera de alaturi, altul atarna cu streangul in jurul gatului albastrui.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #242f33; font-family: "proximanovaregular" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.15px; line-height: 21px;">Cotidianul cadavrelor?</span></span>Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-70746434629219941392015-09-24T05:52:00.002-07:002021-03-24T07:03:51.942-07:00Virtual parade<p>Aproape toti folosim internetul in mod total gresit, in dezavantajul nostru, facandu-ne singuri un rau ireversibil. Spun "ireversibil" in primul rand pentru ca...timp. Pentru ca il pierdem in loc sa il investim si nu se va mai intoarce veci pururi.<br />
Facebook e in mod clar primul pe podiumul factorilor de irosire a vietii, a devenit un lucru care pare aproape indispensabil: ne trezim si ne culcam cu gandul de a ne verifica notificarile, si, mai rau, nu te opresti aici: trebuie sa te pui la curent cu viata virtuala a fiecaruia, pierzand notiunea timpului pe feed. Aici fac parada toti artistii neintelesi..nici eu nu inteleg, unde e arta? Desenezi sau ceva, sau ti-ai facut artist page pentru poze cu tine, pentru ca simti ca nu ai cucerit destul teren cu banalul profil al muritorului de rand? Cu sau fara pagina de artist, fac parada toate fiintele care dau p-afara de atata ego - asta, din perspectiva lor proprie,bineinteles. Asa ca,au nevoie de validarea altora si defileaza cu "selfie"-uri pe banda rulanta, iar aceasta parada aduce cu sine tot pupincurismul si superficialitatea. Daca vine butonul de "dislike",urmeaza si opusul, aroganta si hipstareala celor care il vor folosi. Nu putem trece mai departe de ceva fara sa "participam" in vreun fel, nu? </p><p>Iubiti Facebookul pentru ca va ofera ocazia sa va dati importanta si va da iluzia ca si altii va dau importanta. Apoi, daca tot sunteti aici, ati prins obiceiul gestului robotic de a da click pe fiecare clipulet tampit si fiecare articol care iti iese in cale, si te incarci cu informatii inutile si irelevante tie. E ca orice junkfood, exista, atrage, dar nu are valoare nutritiva. Dar decizia de a consuma sau nu aceste nimicuri destructive ii apartine fiecaruia.<br />
Daca ar fi sa aduni minutele din zi petrecute in acest fel, iti dai seama cat timp ai avea sa faci ceva pentru dezvoltarea personala. Recreere? Cum ar fi sa incerci sa te recreezi cu o carte in mana, la o plimbare cu iubitul, cu miscare, cu o conversatie incitanta, o bere cu oameni dragi, sa iesi si sa te inconjori cu exemple negative si pozitive care sa iti dea de Gandit, sa analizezi ce se intampla in jurul tau in viata reala? Cu ceva care sa iti hraneasca relatia cu tine si cu altii, sa iti inbunatateasca fizicul, intelectul, creativitatea, ceva care sa iti ofere mai mult decat sentimente de satisfactie falsa. Cum ar fi sa ne dezlipim de ecranul calculatorului si al telefonului, macar atunci cand ne permite TIMPUL?<br />
Ma mai ia si pe mine acest val, dar odata ce incepi sa analizezi situatia si sa nu o iei in aceasta directie de sinucidere colectiva a spiritului, nu iti ia mult sa te scarbesti.</p>Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-57582968004355023782015-07-07T02:57:00.001-07:002019-05-03T14:45:41.924-07:00Ură Ura e prezentă nu doar în teorie, ci și în practică. Mai ales în practică.<br />
Ai simțit vreodată atâta ură de îți venea parcă să vomiți cu acid peste lumea inconjuratoare? Ca și cum ar clocoti acest noroi negru in tot 'tinele' tău, care te înnebunește și de multe ori îți dorești cu ardoare să iasă, dar nu are de fapt nici măcar speranța unei portițe prin care să țâșneasca, sau macar sa picure? Că ai împroșca lumea din jur cu această substanță activă, să îi desfigureze pe toți precum acidul? Că pe lumea aceasta, în societate, în natura umană, totul este exact opusul a cum ai vrea să fie, că nu se va ridica niciodată la nivelul așteptărilor tale?......<br />
Dacă ești o ființă absolutistă, și ai pretenția de a avea ori totul, ori nimic, te macină această problemă pe tot parcursul existenței tale jalnice. Cred cu tărie și urmez cu sfințenie motto-ul ”be the change you want to see around you”, însă asta nu se întâmplă cam...niciodată, iar asta mă face să simt toate cele sus-menționate, plus inutilitate. Asta mă face să fiu și subiectivă - văd o prăpastie imensa între trying to be that change >< not seeing it around me. Eu m-am lepădat de unele aspecte ale conformismului existenței primitive, de cele mai multe ori aud ”nu se poate/ e imposibil/ etc”. Dacă știu că eu am reușit, atunci....Se poate, e posibil. Dar în mod radical, nu doar de fațadă... Atunci evident că mă văd pe mine (și pe cei ca mine) cu un pas în fața acestora, deoarece doar comparându-i cu moi pot demonstra că ”imposibilul” e posibil. Orice e posibil, trebuie doar să se vrea. Poți schimba de fapt multe trăsături clișeice pentru a ieși din rândul "majorității".<br />
Însă probabil e mai ușor să stai în colțișorul tău și să fii un morman de materie gri.<br />
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Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-26975034859868490892015-04-29T14:37:00.000-07:002019-01-08T11:27:04.861-08:00Media trailer trash Zilnic am prilejul de a citi mult prea multe tampenii (asta, din cauza mea, pentru ca aleg sa ma intersectez cu principala sursa a acestor tampenii: media, desigur). Insa cea mai proeminenta ineptie pe ziua de astazi e "Pielea lasata iti poate distruge relatia. Afla cum poti sa previi...".<br />
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Uuu-what?! Si, iata cum insasi media iti poate distruge relatia, mai degraba. Multumita prostimii predominante din popor, mass-media isi poate folosi la maxim puterea de manipulare, prin crearea unor standarde, idealuri, asteptari absurde, mai deloc prioritare, nu neaparat frumoase sau sanatoase in vreun fel. "Daca e la tv/in reviste, sigur e un exemplu de urmat!"... Ridurile, cosurile, kg in plus, toate fenomenele naturale pe care probabil le intalnesti pe parcursul vietii sunt considerate un dezastru." Scapa de.. " x chestie "scarboasa", si uite ca fata/ baiatul visurilor brusc iti va zambi, gasca imediat te va accepta, viata ta va deveni perfecta imediat! </div>
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Desigur, e bine sa te ingrijesti, sa faci miscare, sa te mentii sanatos, dar pentru tine, pentru partener eventual, si NU pentru ce vezi tu sau partenerul in cataloage si Tv.. din moment ce media a bagat laba, nici nu iti dai seama ca le faci pe toate pentru ca asta iti dicteaza lumea inconjuratoare... dar subconstientul lucreaza, bade. Nu te mai ghidezi dupa propria ta definitie de 'frumos', ci dupa ceea ce vezi ca e considerat 'frumos'. Poate nici nu mai avem o definitie proprie a ceea ce e 'frumos' sau 'urat', am crescut cu imagini asociate cu acesti termeni, pe afise, in teleshopping, in reviste... asa ca, spiritul de turma graviteaza spre artificial. Ei isi vand produsele, oamenii isi pierd mintile, isi vor baza cumparaturile mai mult pe vanitate si disperare decat pe nevoi reale (sau chiar propriile gusturi), isi pericliteaza abilitatea de a gandi si simti limpede. Cu cat sunt mai mediatizate aceste idealuri xeroxate, cu atat mai disperati vom fi sa ne construim eu-ul dupa chipul si asemanarea lor, si la randul nostru, avem asteptari asemanatoare de la oamenii din jur, in special de la partenerul/ partenera ideale, uitand ca poate un aspect fara vreo zgarietura sau un 90-60-90 mai mult sau mai putin photoshopat nu e totul, si acesta nu e un criteriu care ne va incalzi un timp indelungat. Apoi, cam inevitabil, fiecare isi va gasi pe cineva la un moment dat, cu care se va purta frumos in febra jocului cu carnea proaspata, se va preface perfect si se va minti ca si celalalt e atat de perfect cum se arata a fi. Apoi, vin asteptarile-fantoma. Vrei un partener fix ca in reclame. Daca ai unul asa, tot iti vei atinti privirile spre altceva. Daca nu ai, vei incerca sa il schimbi, sau pur si simplu il vei face sa se simta 'neadecvat' facand comentarii, comportandu-te ca si cum x persoana publica (sau atractia barului) ar fi suprema, the grand prize, cireasa de pe tort, de neatins. Apoi, va incerca sa se autodepaseasca sa fie cat mai hmm si tot nu se va simti niciodata suficient de bun, ori va gravita spre o atentie mai concentrata si te va lasa in urma ca sa umbresti zilele altcuiva, ori se va resemna ca niciodata nu va fi el/ea the grand prize si punctul focal pentru tine si se va neglija, nu ii va mai pasa, si atunci vei obtine rutina aceea pe care ai creat-o tratandu-ti partenerul ca o simpla anexa a ta. Dar, mai apoi, sa nu-ti fie cu mirare daca, dupa zece ani, cand te intorci acasa plictisit dupa o zi la munca, gasesti o persoana acra, la fel de plictisita, obeza, transpirata, sau cu obrajii supti si ochii lasati in jos de atata plans, cu care nu iti mai vine de mult sa faci nimic. Va veti insela daca gasiti altii la fel de tristi si disperati, cu viata ratata, sau daca nu, va veti canaliza toata acea energie de nefututi ce veti fi, in certuri constante si interminabile.<br />
Nu pielea lasata iti va strica relatia, ci mass-media si lipsa de caracter de care dai dovada.</div>
Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-70295063024731145792013-08-05T02:03:00.000-07:002016-04-10T00:06:21.732-07:00Mortal love?This is based on everything I have ever seen around me and also some personal experience. It is infuriating when things are so very obvious (or should be) to everyone, yet they still repeat the same shit endlessly, we intelligent beings should be able to identify the problems of our nature and change something. But...<br />
Most relationships either end up failing, or continue just: for the sake of continuing, 'fear' of popping the bad news about your dissatisfaction for the comfort of avoiding unpleasant conversations, fear of ending up alone.Yet, these would be a small price to pay for giving yourself a chance to change the part of your life that is burdening you.<br />
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The standard relationships go something like:<br />
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One notices the other, or they notice each other (target spotted before or after conversation). Everything starts to revolve around that person, they become the focus of your thoughts and feelings during any and every of your activities; so, probably your dreams, too. Let us call that person X. X is the one you genuinely feel happy thinking about, your serotonin is sky-high. You look forward to just any type of contact and a text message or a call mean the world. You picture X when things are bad at work and suddenly those problems seem diminished. Consciously or not, you feel satisfaction when others see you with X, because you feel proud of them. You're in awe, your face hurts from all the smiling, you listen to and soak up every word X says, even if it is not really your type of subject or field, you take interest in it, because you want to get to really know X. You bend and extend your interests for the sake of that. After all, if you choose to share your life with someone, you will share all kinds of things: the ones you are interested in sharing, and the ones that you are less excited to share, but that are included 'in the package'. You look at them with adoration and every hug, kiss leaves you thirsty for more. In intimacy you give things time because you never want the moment to end, cuddle, play, look into X's eyes because you desperately want to get right to the core of their being. All this, while feeling like you are the luckiest motherfucker and have had the honor to meet the most wonderful person on the face of the planet, and not only that, but they are all yours, and feel the very same way. What more could you ask for, if things are like this?<br />
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But most people do end up wanting more. Or, not 'more', really. Just that their appreciation for X lowers as they start taking things for granted, and they use the excuse that 'it can't always stay as it was in the beginning'.<br />
The question is: why not? Do you remember how you used to look forward to meeting them every time? Especially if there happened to be distance in between and time apart, that should have been a painful lesson of what it's like to be without them. You felt like once you get your arms around X, you will never let them go, and would have done just ANYTHING to see them for 5 minutes. Just so that after a few months/years, you'll give them bored kiss or even forget to kiss you when meeting/ parting. The contrast is really painful, if you think about it.<br />
You start looking around, the initial focus point faded and you think/ say 'mmm :>' when you see a stranger (on a screen, in real life, etc), and hardly react that way to X anymore...You start seeing other people as sex toys (because, c'mon, that's what all the attraction/ attention thing comes down to), but are hardly ever impressed by the partner that you were once THAT much astonished by, or even more (I am saying 'even more', because X raised your genuine interest and kept it alive as to make you fight for their proximity), no matter how much effort X puts into being/ staying just as attractive to you. Less attention, less appreciation, less genuine passionate, romantic, connection-creating sex. You'll have that area covered with the lame excuse of a robotic, purely physical sex (the kind that you'd do with those you say 'mmm :>' at). X will start hating making plans with your friends, because you will start to treat them indifferently in a social environment, no more the complicity, polite actions that once were, you know, when your 'toy' was new and you used to be proud of 'it'. Now you ignore them, exclude them, you even make observations that make them feel bad, in front of others. X will be depressed when thinking back at the time you were out and would have wanted them to be there, too. Actually, every situation contrasting between 'now' and 'then' will make them depressed. And more and more, each day.<br />
Of course you can't and shouldn't be constantly with your tongues down each other's throats, 24/7...but it doesn't hurt to keep the essence of the way things started, in order to be...you know, happy. Otherwise, sharing your life is just a complication, so the damage is bigger than the benefit. Superficiality and indifference will probably eventually leave X wanting more and gravitate towards something they feel good about. And the ironic thing is, you will be the one who will miss them when you again will have a cold bed, just like in the first days when you missed them. Or, they will just settle, which will bring them to frustration and make you both miserable (a bit more on that <a href="http://neutraldoctrine.blogspot.ro/2015/04/media-trailer-trash.html">here</a> ).<br />
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Whether we want to or not, we feel. Why give ourselves just a taste of the best meal we have ever had, just to push it away and salivate at it from a distance, when we could enjoy just a bit of it every day? It is really not impossible as long as it feels worth the while and you want it.Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-70691050853544859532012-09-14T05:11:00.001-07:002013-10-27T13:43:51.600-07:00Music and smartasses<b> Been away for too long, I know. But I'm back with more mental vomit, which I now chose to spill here, since they would be way too long for a Facebook update. Now I know some would ask 'Why the need to spill it?' Because I feel like it. Problem? Yeah, didn't think so! At least I do it on MY page, my blog and don't spam others' virtual space.</b><br />
<b> Plus why not question things, make others question them and maybe improve them? </b><br />
<b>This is about music and all the 'wars' I see all over. All the bullshit, basically. <u>I do NOT see the point in debating music</u>. Apart from the fact that useless arguments will NEVER get to a conclusion because of the opinions and tastes that differ so it's no reason to even start them, I really think people should lighten the fuck up. I always thought people should focus much more on what they have in common and what they enjoy, instead of their differences and what they hate, spitting venom all over. Cooperating would lead to much more, but heck, some can't seem to grasp that. What I can't understand is: WHY compare music, compare bands, compare old with new, taking the role of deciding what is 'true enough'? Didn't it ever occur to you that you could enjoy a wide variety of things, instead of wanting to be smarter than everyone else and analyzing them? If I like metal, I can like punk just as much, and also industrial, even the '90s hits. I adore 'Kill 'em All' but also like 'St. Anger' a lot. I can listen to both oldschool heavy metal and black metal. 'This sucks, that sucks, that's a poser, XY is way better' etc. Why not just take various things as they are and enjoy them for what they are, or simply dismiss them without bitching? What point is there in picking on people for what they like or what they don't?? If you can answer that with something legit, you're probably a genius and I'll go hide in a corner. For instance I don't like powermetal and I think it's a silly subgenre, but I won't go bashing others for listening to it. </b><br />
<b> PEOPLE SHOULD LISTEN TO WHATEVER THE HELL MOVES THEIR INNER WORLD. Music is art, you can either relate to it or ignore it, of course having an opinion is always good, but wasting time and energy on something you could just ignore or avoid is ridiculous. If you can't relate to something, leave it for others. Why bother analyzing it to infinity and trying to convince people who like it that it sucks?</b><br />
<b> All so pointless, just loosen up and enjoy the music and your lifestyle. As a friend was saying, people in the alternative subculture should be much more united, no matter what they listen to.</b><br />
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Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-88447832159574320832012-03-31T14:44:00.000-07:002018-02-25T02:52:43.042-08:00B.<b>The once sharp, shiny, immaculate toy was enjoying it's own peril on my already candycane-like veins. I was just in the process of rewarding it for the pleasant pain it brought me over the years, by giving the rust some fresh bright red flowing, luscious beauty, in the intimacy of my lair, when a weird sound made it's intriguing debut infront of the chamber. Nobody ever comes here. Someone was singing, the voice seemed to be based on purity and innocence. It was followed by a shy knock on the door. But the door was invisible...my cave had no door. Still, it was there. I always felt a barrier between myself and the world; in there I was the darkness, the rest of the world was the light. The entrance to the cave was a portal, it was that radical transition - for me into their world and from their world into mine. But they never wanted to enter my world, because it was unknown to them, they prefered not to know about it and ignore it. Occasionally revolt against it, if ever - in the best case. I never really entered their world either because of the opposite reason - I knew it too well. It was repulsive. </b><br />
<b>I only went out there to kill. Their crowded world of light was much bigger than mine, it felt right to compensate, create a hint of balance between my life and theirs, by reducing their number and taking some of their light with me. If they won't give it willingly, I'll take it...no matter how hard I tried, I could never feel sorry for the larva that was incapable of evolving into a damn butterfly. </b><br />
<b>The knocking persisted, but looking at the invisible and probably inexistent door, you still couldn't see through it, couldn't even get the wildest idea of what awaits on the other side. In a weird way, the constant layout was always there: the huge stones, pebbles, sand and the dry little dwarftree on the left.</b><br />
<b>'Come in.'</b><br />
<b>A small, disproportioned figure appeared in the doorway, slightly distorted by he conteur of light from outside behind it, as she entered my own personal hell. 'It' approached with careful steps, the candlelight slowly revealing her gruesome features. It was a little girl, that would hardly ever be called or treated as such in the evil world of light. One step closer and she stopped. Stood still, staring with her immense eyes. At first, they seemed empty with resignation, but were telling thousands and thousands of stories. While trying to read through them, it got too loud in my head. All the voices exploded at once in a chaotic contest, taking their chance of liberation, all of them emitting different tones, in the predominant shades of sadness, anger, and a wild kind of sadistic joy. Besides being too loud, her eyes were also bloodred, embroided with tiny orange veins. She had no pupils, her eyes consisted of the overly expanded red iris. The look she gave was not at all a warm one....but a hot one. The exaggerated redness of them burned you down to ashes that she would eat for dessert. She fed on your misery and would top off her joy by consuming the dust she turned you into. Savouring it. Her hair was messy on one side, and with just a few sleek strands on the other side. The messy side was red and the other one, gray. She had no teeth, she was drooling acid. Her body was still soaked in amniotic fluid and the skin looked sheer and fragile. Veins everywhere, competing with her palor. Her hands were tiny, but she could destroy everything she touched, whenever she wanted. Her umbilical cord was hanging on her stomach, and she had a bad habbit of chewing on it. Sort of like a reflex. Her name was B. She would make everybody pay for everything.</b><br />
<b>Not me. She came to me for comfort. She needed someone she won't fear, someone that won't fear her and push her away. Someone that won't hurt her in any way, like most of them maggots did. That's why she would get her revenge, it was not her fault...it was their own fault. They turned her into an abomination, the perfect world of light aborted her, never gave her a chance before dismissing her. Never gave her anything. She made her own paperboat and would play with it down below, in the gutter. She had papercuts, and a pet. A ragged lilac mouse with one yellow tooth called Dax. Dax was afraid of my dragons, but they were trained. They would only hurt someone on my command, I'd sometimes command them to hurt me...I enjoyed it. Their skin was rough and scaled, huge brown worn-out claws, sharp teeth and they always had to duck while inside the cave, because they were too tall to fit in it otherwise. There was ten of them, each one had countless little heads with myriads of white eyes piercing through the black air. As we just stood there looking at eachother, the uncomfortable silence got interrupted by a high pitch yell, then there was my monkey friend hanging down the ceiling, agitated. I would usually talk to it for hours, but now I was nervous enough, too nervous. I told my dragons to eat it and they did...</b><br />
<b>B. was oblivious. She layed down on the stone cold ground. After a minute, she crawled to the innermost corner of that room and after a long, painful reflection, she started telling me her story...</b><br />
<br />Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8854201103166283697.post-32634179442091419522012-02-29T16:23:00.000-08:002019-05-03T14:53:11.808-07:00Inhale, exhale, think<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <b> Houston, we have a problem...recently, whenever I actually start writing, I feel blank. All my thoughts and links between them come to the surface right before falling asleep, in the dark, when my mind starts to settle. There are so many of these, so many different topics I see from so many different angles...childhood, corruption and hypocrisy in our society and leadership, sexuality, art, deeper things of all sorts...preoccupations. One thing that bothers me, as I've probably mentioned before, is that my thoughts move much faster than my pen/fingers/words ever will...I feel like a lot of things of which I'd wish to express are going to waste. And I think the worst thing for an art-oriented person (regardless if painter, writer, musician, actor etc.) is being trapped and oppressed. I guess that is mainly because it feels like creation and thus, evolution is our duty, our thing. Some of us want to make a change in the world, grow new branches of logic and perspective, make others question things and feed their imagination, extend limits. And not being able to express all you have inside, in the best possible way and in the most satisfying way for yourself, is the ultimate frustration.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b> There was this thought for example...about artists. When being what society calls 'normal' and conforming to the simple-minded dull majority, everything is peachy and you might actually be treated like a person. Whereas, in the moment you display your art to people, you will scare most of them, pretty often close ones, relatives. If you have a mind that works for itself, questioning things and having multiple perspective will have you make a lot of connections between a lot of things and ideas, the more you think about them, the further you'll get with your 'web of thoughts', well, your philosophy. And the further you extend your mental capacities and comprehension, the more likely you'll inevitably reach darker areas of the human as a creature. It's like being in a computer game (not that I know much about them) and having a map in front of you; the more you explore, the more you will know (experience -mentally), from mountain tops to bottomless pits so to say. And I myself am fascinated by this darker part...mostly because they are realms not everyone will reach. Or I am sure the majority won't, because instead of showing interest to the unknown and hidden, they take the easy way out, which is fear and ignorance. But as that was never an option for me, I prefer to know and understand, even help. The more kinds of people you actually listen to regardless of how fucked up their problems are and you don't automatically push them away due to these problems like most people will, the more you'll find out about the depth of your own being and it will enrich that web of thoughts.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b> So! Once you've got to grasp this darker side which is more obscure and christians would say - sinful, it is actually the most pure and honest side. This is that side that exists in all of us, the freak within, which most people don't let to the surface because of herd conformity, and we who do let it also hold back some of it for ourselves. It is that place where all your evil dwells in a amniotic flui called lack of hypocrisy. I wish more people would let this fluid flood them, bringing along waves of their hidden freakishness, bringing it to the surface of their being. But I'm afraid that is too rare. Once this side takes you over, it will bring out the best in you, in some way. Artists have their art as an outlet for this side of theirs in different ways. Some prefer this to be 'dark and twisted' as some would call it...I do prefer it. And all this is made even darker and more agressive, sad, resigned yet rebel by the stupidity around that is one major frustration, something I will never accept, much less adapt to! So if I write or paint something 'outrageous, gross or scary' (no, they don't bother interpreting or looking for a deeper meaning), the same people who see me being all nice and sweet at family reunions for example, smiling at me and approving of me, will look at me with fear and repulsion once they see what I am capable of. I think in that moment they feel like they've just realized they didn't really, really know me. They have seen an unknown side...and as said above - unkown = fear and repulsion. And so, they will end up questioning themselves about me, instead of questioning me directly and listening to me=> they will only see exactly what they want to see. </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b> People should really learn to listen to another voice except their own, the voice of whom they are about to judge. Otherwise, they will rot in their little coccoon, tossing and turning in their ignorance forever and ever...</b></span>Laura Quinnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06969630703078110669noreply@blogger.com2