Monthly Archives: septembrie 2009

Anne Frank’s diary excerpts

I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been able to confide in anyone, and I hope you will be a great source of comfort and support.


Who else but me is ever going to read these letters? Who else but me can I turn to for comfort? I’m frequently in need of consolation, I often feel weak, and more often than not, I fail to meet expectations. I know this, and every day I resolve to do better.


In the evenings when it’s dark, I often see long lines of good, innocent people, accompanied by crying children, walking on and on, ordered about by a handful of men who bully and beat them until they nearly drop. No one is spared. The sick, the elderly, children, babies and pregnant women – all are marched to their death.


The children in this neighborhood run around in thin shirts and wooden shoes. They have no coats, no caps, no stockings and no one to help them. Gnawing on a carrot to still their hunger pangs, they walk from their cold houses through cold streets to an even colder classroom. Things have gotten so bad in Holland that hordes of children stop passersby in the streets to beg for a piece of bread. I could spend hours telling you about the suffering the war has brought, but I’d only make myself more miserable. All we can do is wait, as calmly as possible, for it to end. Jews and Christians alike are waiting, the whole world is waiting, and many are waiting for death.


Rauter, some German bigwig, recently gave a speech. „All Jews must be out of the German-occupied territories before July 1. The province of Utrecht will be cleansed of Jews [as if they were cockroaches] between April 1 and May 1, and the provinces of North and South Holland between May 1 and June 1.” These poor people are being shipped off to filthy slaughterhouses like a herd of sick and neglected cattle. But I’ll say no more on the subject. My own thoughts give me nightmares!


Morale among the Dutch can’t be good. Everyone’s hungry; except for the ersatz coffee, a week’s food ration doesn’t last two days. The invasion’s long in coming, the men are being shipped off to Germany, the children are sick or undernourished, everyone’s wearing worn-out clothes and run-down shoes. A new sole costs 7.50 guilders on the black market. Besides, few shoemakers will do repairs, or if they do, you have to wait four months for your shoes, which might very well have disappeared in the meantime.

One good thing has come out of this: as the food gets worse and the decrees more severe, the acts of sabotage against the authorities are increasing. The ration board, the police, the officials-they’re all either helping their fellow citizens or denouncing them and sending them off to prison.

Fortunately, only a small percentage of Dutch people are on the wrong side.


We’ve been strongly reminded of the fact that we’re Jews in chains, chained to one spot, without any rights, but with a thousand obligations. We must put our feelings aside; we must be brave and strong, bear discomfort without complaint, do whatever is in our power and trust in God. One day this terrible war will be over. The time will come when we’ll be people again and not just Jews!

Who has inflicted this on us? Who has set us apart from all the rest? Who has put us through such suffering? It’s God who has made us the way we are, but it’s also God who will lift us up again. In the eyes of the world, we’re doomed, but if, after all this suffering, there are still Jews left, the Jewish people will be held up as an example. Who knows, maybe our religion will teach the world and all the people in it about goodness, and that’s the reason, the only reason, we have to suffer. We can never be just Dutch, or just English, or whatever, we will always be Jews as well. And we’ll have to keep on being Jews, but then, we’ll want to be.


The world’s been turned upside down. The most decent people are being sent to concentration camps, prisons and lonely cells, while the lowest of the low rule over young and old, rich and poor. One gets caught for black marketeering, another for hiding Jews or other unfortunate souls. Unless you’re a Nazi, you don’t know what’s going to happen to you from one day to the next.


It’s difficult in times like these: ideals, dreams and cherished hopes rise within us, only to be crushed by grim reality. It’s a wonder I haven’t abandoned all my ideals, they seem so absurd and impractical. Yet I cling to them because I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart.

It’s utterly impossible for me to build my life on a foundation of chaos, suffering and death. I see the world being slowly transformed into a wilderness, I hear the approaching thunder that, one day, will destroy us too, I feel the suffering of millions. And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that everything will change for the better, that this cruelty too shall end, that peace and tranquility will return once more. In the meantime, I must hold on to my ideals. Perhaps the day will come when I’ll be able to realize them!


De ce ti’e frica nu scapi

Peste 6 ore trebuie sa ma trezesc. Suna ciudat, din moment ce inca nu m’am pus sa dorm, dar asa mi’a zis mama pe ton apocaliptic „La sase jumate trezirea!”

Si se vor cutremura ingerasii si se vor infricosa zanele si se vor inspaimanta dracusorii..dupa care ma voi trezi si voi merge, brava, darza si cu batatura in talpa dreapta la cules la vie. Iar.

Dar ce conteaza. Ma imbarbatez (de ce nu putem spune ‘infemeiez’?) ca asta o sa ma ajute sa scap de alea 5 kile nenorocite pe care le’am bagat in ghiozdan cat am fost la Timisoara si ca apoi pot spune ca am facut’o si p’asta. Ca si Gheorghidiu (again) vreau sa pot spune ca nicio experienta fundamentala nu’mi lipseste din CV. Si cum se putea sa’mi lipseasca taman culesul de Merlot? Caci Merlot culegem maine. Si randurile’s mari si rele. Si butucii is desi, nu ca la Otonel unde puteai gasi si un interval intreg gol’golut.

Merlot n’am mai cules pana acu. Is struguri negri, oricum. Asa ca luni, cand pornesc spre Bucuresti, o sa am unghiile date cu oja neagra ca sa camuflez efectul coloristic deosebit conferit de must, pamant si..poama in general. Asta fireste, daca o sa mai am unghii..

Dorele, ne cazam si noi mai cu talent?

NU. Ce’ti trebuie tie cazare cand ai un site si un intreg sistem de secretare de injurat?

Culmea, alte facultati din cadrul Politehnicii (gen Inginerie Mecanica, Automatica, Inginerie Electrica) au afisat pe site’uri, pe forumuri, mai stiu eu pe unde. La Electronica..

„Ce’ti trebuie tie sa stii atatea lucruri? Vezi’ti ma de viata ta stupida in continuare. Zici ca vrei facultate? Vrei sa ai o educatie, sa te formezi ca si persoana? Fugi ba de’aicea. Nu va stiu eu pe voi, studentii, vreti loc la camin ca sa frecati aiurea banii primiti de la mamica si taticu, sa va imbatati si sa faceti orgii prin caminele facultatii. Nu’i asa? Ba s’o crezi tu..”

Dar eu totusi sper sa se afiseze si la noi pe site ceva. Orice altceva in afara de faptul ca tre sa ne prezentam luni. Sa ne zica barem „Ba, dobitocule, tie nu’ti dam loc. Ca nu ne place caligrafia ta de pe cererea de cazare, ce motiv mai bun vrei?” sau „Na ba si tu un loc. Cica nu ne dau astia voie sa’ti dam numa o saltea si un loc rezervat dupa ghereta de Fornetti din Gara de Nord asa ca suntem nevoiti sa’ti dam un pat intr’o camera. Sper sa aiba plosnite, na!”.

Mai dau un refresh, mai deschid site’ul din nou.. Ca tot romanul, sper si eu ca poate, poate. Abia acu 5 minute am realizat ca de’acu se face maine si nici super’secretara nu mai sta la ora asta sa uploadeze informatii noi pe site. Desi ma intreb ce’o fi facut toata ziua de n’a apucat..

P.S.: Faza cu ghereta de Fornetti e trade mark a la cipalau. Happy now? 😛

Inside of you

where’s House?

E prima data cand dc’ul ma dezamageste. Aseara a inceput sezonul 6 din House MD si nu’i de gasit pe nicaieri.

cheesy mood

Recunosc. I’ve watched girlie stuff again. Si’ acu stau cu motanul in brate si ma cheese’uiesc si mai mult. Na de’aci si pentru voi. 🙂

Comunicat apocrif

Sau proces verbal de mers pana la magazin.

Fireste, nu mai stiu care era semnificatia acestui ‘comunicat apocrif’ pe care se straduia profa de romana sa ne’o bage in cap si pe care jur ca am stiut’o la vremea ei. Am acum un lapsus enorm si o problema cu caietele de romana lasate la Tulcea, atlfel nu m’as plange. Oricum, orientandu’ma dupa ce contine capitolul lui Petrescu, zic eu ca se potriveste. Care nu’i de acord cu mine si se crede mai breaz, sa arunce primul cu piatra.

Va comunic asadar, intr’un mod absolut sec si lipsit de..verva? ca n’am facut mare lucru in ultima perioada. Bine, ignorand culesul viei, zdrobitul strugurilor, o zi intreaga de tescuit, participarea la deschiderea anului scolar la Moisil, socializarea cu un tip misto si cu unul cu fata de maimutoi epilat (traiasca citatul din cugetarile tipului misto), descoperirea faptului ca „Ba, eu chiar stiu sa conduc..zomg, etc.etc.”.

In rest, cred ca si’a dat toata lumea seama ca „I’m back!” de la Timisoara. Iar unii au descoperit si ca nu e deloc indicat sa fiu calcata pe coada, pentru ca mai devreme sau mai tarziu o sa mi se zburleasca blana urat de tot. Altii descopera again and again ca „Paula asta e fata desteapta.”. Asta fiind, bineinteles, Gabi. Sper sa nu fie genul de persoana care deoache, pentru ca acus’acus incepe faculta si n’as vrea sa apar pe’acolo proasta ca noaptea. Pentru orice eventualitate, nu ies „la terasa” fara sa pun ceva rosu pe mine atunci cand stiu ca risca sa apara si el.

Si poate cel mai important eveniment ar fi faptul ca azi l’am cunoscut pe al meu nepotel, intitulat Denis (si da, e nepotel, am intrebat mai multa lume). Dubiile vin din faptul ca e pruncul varului meu. Dar tot nepot e, nu? Chiar daca e unul mai special. Are 6 luni, mozoleste vaci de plus (va rog nu ganditi pervers, i’am mentionat deja varsta), ii place sa danseze pe Michael Jackson – Beat It si sa mearga cu masina, iar duminica pleaca inapoi in Spania. Cand s’o intoarce la anul, probabil n’o sa mai stie pe nimeni si’o sa trebuiasca sa scriu iara despre el si despre cum a dansat de data asta pe..ce s’o nimeri sa pun pe cd’ul pentru masina.

Recitesc si vad ca seamana mult cu un post scris la misto. Pai..e.

P.S.: „- Ascultă, fată dragă, ce-ai zice tu dacă ne-am despărţi?” Pentru fraza asta, merita sa citesti toata cartea. 🙂

Oops..I did it again..

Am comis’o iara, si prietenii stiu de ce, unde si cum. Pe restul nu intereseaza, dar m’am gandit sa va fac in ciuda. 😛


E 11 noaptea. Am o musca in camera. Singura lumina e monitorul. Fiind musca, Maricica vine la lumina, deci la monitor. O prind in pumn. O agit bine, Tom with Jerry in the can style. Ii dau drumul. Trec 5 minute maxim. Maricica se intoarce.

Concluzia? Maricica e o musca emo cu tendinte sinucigase. Sau e proasta.

Intrebari si raspunsuri.

Esti prost? – Da!

Esti frustrat ca la 30 de ani ai chelie si burta si nu te vrea nicio femeie? – Da!

Ce faci cand n’ai ce face? – Ies la o bere si’i stresez pe altii.

Bei berea? – Nici n’o cumpar.

Ceilalti se lasa stresati? – Pai, se mai enerveaza cate unul, devine recalcitrant.

Asa e vocabularul tau de dezvoltat? – Nu, doar ma dau mare.

Si daca se enerveaza cineva, ce faci? – Pai, ce sa fac? Il insult, imi demonstrez incapacitatea intelectuala..

Si merge? – Garantat. Nu’mi raspunde nimeni inapoi.

Te’ai gandit vreodata ca fac asta doar ca sa nu se coboare la nivelul tau? – Niciodata..

Poate ca ar fi cazul.

P.S.: Pe respectivul il cheama Tasel si e un dobitoc. Interviul este, fireste, unul fictiv, dar va asigur ca il descrie fidel.