<?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-8686906088027079329</id><updated>2011-12-14T13:23:44.491+02:00</updated><title type='text'>selves mirror maze</title><subtitle type='html'>one of the so many different worlds. mine... ?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>23</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-2831520764605292111</id><published>2011-11-17T11:24:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2011-11-17T11:24:54.083+02:00</updated><title type='text'>my love by sia....with lyrics.</title><content type='html'>And it's most about finding the right music at the right moment....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-2831520764605292111?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/2831520764605292111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-love-by-siawith-lyrics.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/2831520764605292111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/2831520764605292111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2011/11/my-love-by-siawith-lyrics.html' title='my love by sia....with lyrics.'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-7051617424751991947</id><published>2011-11-11T13:14:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2011-11-11T13:15:03.561+02:00</updated><title type='text'>note to self</title><content type='html'>http://www.deutschersegelfliegertag-ulm.de/aktuelles.asp&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-7051617424751991947?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/7051617424751991947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2011/11/note-to-self.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/7051617424751991947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/7051617424751991947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2011/11/note-to-self.html' title='note to self'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-8686391055858174376</id><published>2011-10-27T12:43:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2011-11-11T13:04:17.135+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Magikk</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: lucida grande;font-size:100%;" &gt;Am descoperit in safarsit cum sa nu imi mai para rau ca nu sunt mica mica si cred in magie. Sigur ca se datoreaza faptului ca citesc in general, cartile pe care le citesc (sf, fantasy...si carti mai serioase) + carti multe multe pentru scoala; dar local, pentru momentul acesta de inspiratie divina, in care mi-o venit ideea asta pur si simplu in minte, este din cauza ca al meu creieras a fuzionat cele doua carti care le citesc momentan, si cartea la care ma gandesc de cateva zile incoace, si poza de pe desktop. Este vorba de The Hogfather - Terry Pratchett si Molecularbiology of the Cell - Bruce Alberts &amp;amp; Co. , si The Last Unicorn - Peter Beagle, si...poza. :) in ordine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Si acuma ca sa va luminez:&lt;br /&gt;mai demult aveam, sa zicem magia, ca si forta slight inimaginabila care controleaza si misca tot, pe care putini o inteleg, si o practica...  totul avea aura lui magica, si potential magic. Dar cu cat am crescut mai mult am fost dresati sa nu mai credem asa. Nu vreau sa zic ca ni s-a spus "vezi ca esti prost nu exista magie", ci ne-am dovedit noi insine acest lucru... si in plus, am devenit preocupati cu treburi mai "pentru adulti", mai "serioase"... ni s-a schimbat macazul imaginatiei. Si destul de rapid am ajuns sa nici nu mai tinem minte ca ne-am gandit asa vreodata, iar timpurile acea sa fie de mult trecute...&lt;br /&gt;Dar uite ca nu este asa. Si daca sunteti in pozesia unei imaginatii umpic pe aceeasi unda ca si mine, veti putea sa re-credeti in magia lumii, in termeni "adulti".&lt;br /&gt;Poate ca v-ati si dat seama deja, dar poate ca nu a-ti abordat tema in felul aceasta.&lt;br /&gt;Science is the new magic...&lt;br /&gt;Fizica is what moves us around. Chimia, aplica fizica... si printre multe alte aspecte de peisagistica, formeaza biologia. Si daca intelegi principiile biologiei moleculare... iti dai seama din ce sunt formate toate chestiile organice, si nu numai. Daca intelegi si principiile Fizicii...there will be just a matter of time pana cand sa putem sa controlam, sa modificam si sa reinventam Lumea.&lt;br /&gt;Desigur, trebuie o intelegere incredibil de profunda. Pe care noi inca nu o avem nici pe departe. Pentru ca este o continua interactiune intre...TOT. pui umpic de molecula acolo, scazi umpic de presiune aici.... finetzuri.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In knew you already thought of science as being the thing behind all things, dar let's see it as a replacement to what was so great to believe in as children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hav hay!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="font-family: lucida grande;" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NDwHjXqA8LM/TqktmBq_leI/AAAAAAAADRs/WGM3Kwc6bK0/s1600/the%2Blast%2Bunicornnn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NDwHjXqA8LM/TqktmBq_leI/AAAAAAAADRs/WGM3Kwc6bK0/s320/the%2Blast%2Bunicornnn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668111737329522146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-8686391055858174376?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/8686391055858174376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2011/10/magikk.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/8686391055858174376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/8686391055858174376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2011/10/magikk.html' title='Magikk'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NDwHjXqA8LM/TqktmBq_leI/AAAAAAAADRs/WGM3Kwc6bK0/s72-c/the%2Blast%2Bunicornnn.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-7053655338514541260</id><published>2011-08-30T00:51:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T00:54:17.275+03:00</updated><title type='text'>asa, ganduri...</title><content type='html'>ba, sa stiti ca sincer asa de bine ma simt sa am 19 ani. adica.... sub 20... cu prefix 1....&lt;br /&gt;asa nu vreau sa :( trec pe cealalta treapta, de 20 de ani...&lt;br /&gt;i mean, think of this: tot ce ii mai important in copilaria ta, in viata de adolescent... toate sentimentele, schimbarile ... s-au petrecut in intervalul asta, cu prefix unu. acuma, normal ca si cand eram mai mici s-au intamplat chestii foarte importante, dar zic acuma... :( nu vreau sa turn 20.&lt;br /&gt;deja, un prieten si tovaras de viata :x... just turned 20.... si o alta soulmate il va urma in scurt timp... :( of &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-7053655338514541260?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/7053655338514541260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2011/08/asa-ganduri.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/7053655338514541260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/7053655338514541260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2011/08/asa-ganduri.html' title='asa, ganduri...'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-7120342462836082099</id><published>2010-05-22T11:48:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2010-05-22T11:49:01.670+03:00</updated><title type='text'>post.</title><content type='html'>deci, in concluzie, pe lume, defapt, o doare in Cur de tine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ai grija sa-ti ajungi.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-7120342462836082099?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/7120342462836082099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2010/05/post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/7120342462836082099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/7120342462836082099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2010/05/post.html' title='post.'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-5464778726674802828</id><published>2010-01-06T21:45:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T21:57:26.216+02:00</updated><title type='text'>despre viata? :)) hai...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/S0Tqjcj_8qI/AAAAAAAABuM/sjMLNrIgID0/s1600-h/crashedship.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 461px; height: 241px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/S0Tqjcj_8qI/AAAAAAAABuM/sjMLNrIgID0/s320/crashedship.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423717745944425122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"calea samuraiului se afla in moarte. meditatia asupra inevitabilitatii mortii trebuie executata zilnic". in fiecare zi, cand corpul si mintea sunt linistite, trebuie sa medidezi asupra faptului ca ai putea fi strapuns de sageti, gloante, su&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lite sau sabii, zdrobit de valuri gigantice, aruncat intr-un foc mistuitor, lovit de fulger, scuturat de moarte, de un cutremur devastator, ca ai putea sa cazi de pe stanci inalte de mii de metri, sa mori de o boala incurabila sau sa fii nevoit sa executi seppuku la moartea stapanului tau. si in fiecare zi, fara exceptie, trebuie sa te consid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;eri mort. aceasta e adevarata esenta a caii samuraiului.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;am vazut de curand o reclama la un medicament antigripal. suna asa: "spune NU ierni". cred ca sloganul aabsolut reprezentativ pentru modul in care societatea moderna s-a obisnuit sa priveasca si sa infatiseze lucrurile. am ajuns sa spunem nu tuturor lucrurilor: iernii care te poate raci, verii care te insoleaza, sportului care te accidenteaza, dragostei care te raneste si, finalmente, vietii care te omoara. procedand astfet, pierdem insa esentialul, pierdem tot. frumusetea unei flori de cires capata valentze extraordinare in momentul constientizarii faptului ca nu traieste mai mult de trei zile. samuraii stiau asta, pentru ca locuiau zilnic in vecinatatea mortii. iar asta nu ii facea morbizi sau taciturni, ci dimpotrica, ii transforma interion, le dadea o intelegere comprehensiva asupra vietii. contemplarea mortii, a perisabilitatii vietii te transforma in profunzime. prezenta celor dragi langa tine devine o gratie zilnica, ntura capata valente noi, neobservate pana atunci, iar lucrurile nu mai pot fi amanate. contemplarea mortii ne aduce in prezent, iar aceasta e singura iluminare de care avem nevoie.&lt;br /&gt;incerc sa inchei intr-o nota mai putin serioasa, cu o povestire zen. pe drumul de intoarcere spre manastide, un tanar calugar a vazut la un moment dat un tigru care il urmarea. speriat, a luat-o la fuga, dar dupa cateva sute de metri a dat de o prapastie. nestiind ce sa faca, s-a agatzat de o radacina atarnand deasupra haului. radacina era si ea destul de fragila, asa ca a inceput sa cedeze. in clipa aceea, calugarul a vazut chiar sub nasul lui o tufa de fragi. a cules unul, l-a gustat si a exclamat: "ce gust incredibil!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/S0TqjsrEqYI/AAAAAAAABuU/HaCn8da_hYY/s1600-h/bug.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 482px; height: 252px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/S0TqjsrEqYI/AAAAAAAABuU/HaCn8da_hYY/s320/bug.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423717750269061506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-5464778726674802828?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/5464778726674802828/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2010/01/despre-viata-hai.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/5464778726674802828'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/5464778726674802828'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2010/01/despre-viata-hai.html' title='despre viata? :)) hai...'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/S0Tqjcj_8qI/AAAAAAAABuM/sjMLNrIgID0/s72-c/crashedship.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-2388131657651163697</id><published>2009-12-17T15:00:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T15:06:20.205+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Syor-W11v-I/AAAAAAAABYk/VjdoczwikVQ/s1600-h/P7301376.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Syor-W11v-I/AAAAAAAABYk/VjdoczwikVQ/s320/P7301376.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5416189852149727202" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;&lt;br /&gt;asa de fain o fost...&lt;br /&gt;EKE camp&lt;br /&gt;ramasesem in urma, si nu stiam daca merg pe drumul bun sau nu... tot ce puteam sa fac, was to believe in that road...&lt;br /&gt;amazing feeling: un fel de fear amestecat cu... wonder... [amazing nature]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-2388131657651163697?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/2388131657651163697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/12/asa-de-fain-o-fost.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/2388131657651163697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/2388131657651163697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/12/asa-de-fain-o-fost.html' title=''/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Syor-W11v-I/AAAAAAAABYk/VjdoczwikVQ/s72-c/P7301376.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-143667707614547904</id><published>2009-11-25T23:21:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-29T11:43:43.425+02:00</updated><title type='text'>just another view of it all   sau..... obladi, oblada....</title><content type='html'>cred ca ar trebui in unele perioade in care ne simtim mai emo de felu nostru.... sa ne gandim sa mergem pe un bloc si sa ne aruncam. i mean- really do it. sa ne gandim ce bine ar fi.... daca toate ni se crapa in cap, de ce sa nu terminam cu lumea asta in care nimica nu merge bine, si chiar nu mai simtim vreun motiv sa ne trezim dimineata. cel mai rau ii cand nu numai oamenii care te inconjoara iti creeaza neplaceri, sau cand iti dai seama ca nu poti sa devii ce ai vrea[nu neaparat ca ai STII ce vrei sa devii, dar asa, ca idee]... ci atunci cand iti dai seama ca TU esti cea mai imposibila si oribila si inflexibila s.a.m.d. persoana u know.&lt;br /&gt;deci te urci pe acoperis, de duci la margine si te asezi....&lt;br /&gt;i mean u REALLY do this shiat. nu numa iti imaginezi cum ar fi. live it.&lt;br /&gt;si stai acolo&lt;br /&gt;si te gandesti de ce nu sari.&lt;br /&gt;pentru ca indeed, NU o sa iti mai vina sa sari, once u get there.&lt;br /&gt;just think about, and remember all your thoughts that are going trough your mind in momentul acela.&lt;br /&gt;its a key to go on, when stuck, when sad, when depressed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sw2jowEDtVI/AAAAAAAABW4/EUrTTXGKvmE/s1600/atudors066.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sw2jowEDtVI/AAAAAAAABW4/EUrTTXGKvmE/s320/atudors066.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5408158648033850706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-143667707614547904?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/143667707614547904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/11/just-another-view-of-it-all.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/143667707614547904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/143667707614547904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/11/just-another-view-of-it-all.html' title='just another view of it all   sau..... obladi, oblada....'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sw2jowEDtVI/AAAAAAAABW4/EUrTTXGKvmE/s72-c/atudors066.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-2132067623368180773</id><published>2009-11-22T12:46:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T13:06:20.192+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>o chestie geniala&lt;br /&gt;that happened to me some days ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;zeit....&lt;br /&gt;was ist die zeit?&lt;br /&gt;das ist eine frage die die menschheit wohl nie beantworten wird. zeitintervalle kann man messen, definieren, und benutzen, aber zeit ist keine einheitliche sache. zeit verlaeuft verschieden, je nach dem wo wir uns befinden, mit welcher geschwindigkeit wir uns bewegen, und was wir gerade tun.&lt;br /&gt;die innere zeit ist das zeitgefuehl eines menschen, die art wie er zeitintervalle wahrnimmt. so koennen minuten wie stunden vergehen, aber auch umgekehrt.&lt;br /&gt;die aeussere zeit ist , auf der erde relativ einheitlich, aber in den weiten des alls verlaeuft zeit anders, je nach position zu verschiedenen kraeften.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;raum...&lt;br /&gt;was ist der raum?&lt;br /&gt;eine 3dimensionale version des angeblich 11dimensionalen Raum-Zeit-Kontinuums, der platz der unserer existenz, im gegensatz zum 2dimensionalen raum, etwas tiefe verleiht.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mensch...&lt;br /&gt;was ist der mensch?&lt;br /&gt;ein soziales tier, das die erde den bach runterschickt, dass, um sich in der gesellschaft einzubringen, die zeitnormen sein eigen nennen muss, dass den raum bis zum letzten ausnuetzt, wenn er den eindruck hat, er habe nicht genug, oder ihn verschwendet, weil es ja noch so viel gibt.&lt;br /&gt;der mensch hat kein organ um die zeit zu messen, wahrzunehmen oder irgendwie genau zu deuten. alles was er tun kann, ist kleine maschinen zu bauen, die es fuer ihn tun. aber was in der zwischenzeit passiert ist, ist, dass diese kleine unbedeutende maschine den menschen beherrscht und leitet, ob er es will oder nicht.&lt;br /&gt;es ist gegen die menschliche natur.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[because it's him &gt;:X&lt;]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-2132067623368180773?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/2132067623368180773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/11/o-chestie-geniala-that-happened-to-me.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/2132067623368180773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/2132067623368180773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/11/o-chestie-geniala-that-happened-to-me.html' title=''/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-1250362630623231899</id><published>2009-11-17T19:32:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T19:32:50.693+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>de ce mi-am dat seama lately...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"the personal view is mos noxious to one's happiness"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but flexibility of the mind, will help you out.&lt;br /&gt;just believe what they tell you. sometimes, not everything, but the belief must be there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-1250362630623231899?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/1250362630623231899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/11/de-ce-mi-am-dat-seama-lately.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/1250362630623231899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/1250362630623231899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/11/de-ce-mi-am-dat-seama-lately.html' title=''/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-3146247621885349578</id><published>2009-11-15T21:43:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-15T22:25:04.733+02:00</updated><title type='text'>what i didn't want to say</title><content type='html'>let's say some good friend/beloved person tells you loud and clear,proud of himself, that he can ruin your day if he wants to.&lt;br /&gt;true. because you really like that person and you care about the relationship and so on. but you will have to be a bit careless if you want to keep your happiness and be well intended for the rest of the day [s]. but that is very hard to achieve because you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;can't&lt;/span&gt; be careless with your best friend. So, this plan of salvation goes down - crash boom bang.&lt;br /&gt;but what could help you stay unwounded?&lt;br /&gt;again... the pride. if your beloved friend there has that much pride incat se da mare si tare ca iti poate strica oricand ziua, then he doesn't have the right to be able to do so [the right to be that deep in yourr "heart"] - and YOU should have the pride, the strenght to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;admit&lt;/span&gt; it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"wir sind nie der meinung gewesen, dass wir eine gegenseitige verpflictung haben. aber ich will nie wieder an einen mann* gebunden sein. ich will nie wieder das gefuehl haben ich liefere mein leben einem anderen aus. ich habe zu mir selbst gefunden." how i wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*not only, but still...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-3146247621885349578?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/3146247621885349578/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-i-didnt-want-to-say.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/3146247621885349578'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/3146247621885349578'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/11/what-i-didnt-want-to-say.html' title='what i didn&apos;t want to say'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-6403051834405636187</id><published>2009-10-29T15:43:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-10-29T15:51:33.178+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>ce tare ar fi ca viata sa fie ca si un joc pe comp...&lt;br /&gt;and when you're sick of it, u can just say ah what the heck! quit and - NEW GAME!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-6403051834405636187?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/6403051834405636187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/10/ce-tare-ar-fi-ca-viata-sa-fie-ca-si-un.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/6403051834405636187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/6403051834405636187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/10/ce-tare-ar-fi-ca-viata-sa-fie-ca-si-un.html' title=''/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-10788291557517716</id><published>2009-09-15T17:03:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-15T17:09:03.263+03:00</updated><title type='text'>de ce iubim femeile?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sq-e0G7SwcI/AAAAAAAABV0/3o_W_ZqLLD4/s1600-h/ghost_of_a_women_by_lucifers_angel_6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sq-e0G7SwcI/AAAAAAAABV0/3o_W_ZqLLD4/s320/ghost_of_a_women_by_lucifers_angel_6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381694697780724162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;just a short question din partea mea... care ar fi fost frumos sa o fi pus la sfarsitul articolului, ca sa nu va 'perturb prisma' prin care il veti citi :)) [auzi draga ce texte am...]&lt;br /&gt;deci:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“CARE femei, mah?:))”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...So here we go:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pentru ca au sâni rotunzi, pentru ca au fundul mare si grasut, pentru ca au fetze cu tra­saturi dulci ca ale copiilor, pentru ca au buze pline, dinti decenti si limbi de care nu ti-e sila. Pentru ca nu miros a transpiratie sau a tutun prost si nu asuda pe buza superioara. Pentru ca le zâmbesc tuturor copiilor mici care trec pe lânga ele. Pentru ca merg pe strada drepte, cu capul sus, cu umerii trasi înapoi si nu raspund privirii tale când le fixezi ca un maniac. Pen­tru ca trec cu un curaj neasteptat peste toate ser­vitutile anatomiei lor delicate. Pentru ca în pat sunt îndraznetze si inventive nu din perversi­tate, ci ca sa-ti arate ca te iubesc. Pentru ca fac toate treburile sâcâitoare si marunte din casa fara sa se laude cu asta si fara sa ceara recunos­tinta. Pentru ca nu citesc reviste porno si nu navigheaza pe site-uri porno. Pentru ca poar­ta tot soiul de zdranganele pe care si le asor­teaza la îmbracaminte dupa reguli complicate si de neînteles. Pentru ca îsi deseneaza si-si pic­teaza fetele cu atentia concentrata a unui artist inspirat. Pentru ca au obsesia pentru sub-tirime-a lui Giacometti. Pentru ca se trag din fetitze. Pentru ca-si ojeaza unghiile de la picioa­re. Pentru ca joaca sah, whist sau ping-pong fara sa le intereseze cine câstiga. Pentru ca sofeaza prudent în masini lustruite ca niste bomboane, asteptând sa le admiri când sunt oprite la stop si treci pe zebra prin fata lor. Pentru ca au un fel de-a rezolva probleme care te scoate din minti. Pentru ca au un fel de-a gândi care te scoate din minti. Pentru ca-ti spun „te iubesc” exact atunci când te iubesc mai putin, ca un fel de compensatie. Pentru ca nu se masturbeaza. Pentru ca au din când în când mici suferinte: o durere reumatica, o constipatie, o batatura, si-atunci îti dai seama deodata ca femeile sunt oameni, oameni ca si tine. Pentru ca scriu fie extrem de delicat, colectionând mici observa­tii si schitând subtile nuante psihologice, fie brutal si scatologic ca nu cumva sa fie suspec­tate de literatura feminina. Pentru ca sunt extra­ordinare cititoare, pentru care se scriu trei sfer­turi din poezia si proza lumii. Pentru ca le înnebuneste „Angie” al Rolling-ilor. Pentru ca le termina Cohen. Pentru ca poarta un razboi total si inexplicabil contra gândacilor de buca­tarie. Pentru ca pâna si cea mai dura bussiness woman poarta chiloti cu înduiosatoare flori­cele si dantelute. Pentru ca e asa de ciudat sa-ntinzi la uscat, pe balcon, chilotzii femeii tale, niste lucrusoare umede, negre, rosii si albe, par­te satinate, parte aspre, mirându-te ce mici suprafete au de acoperit. Pentru ca în filme nu fac dus niciodata înainte de-a face dragoste, dar numai în filme. Pentru ca niciodata n-ajungi cu ele la un acord în privinta frumusetii altei fe­mei sau a altui barbat. Pentru ca iau viata în serios, pentru ca par sa creada cu adevarat în realitate. Pentru ca le intereseaza cu adevarat cine cu cine s-a mai cuplat dintre vedetele de televiziune. Pentru ca tin minte numele actri­telor si actorilor din filme, chiar ale celor mai obscuri. Pentru ca daca nu e supus nici unei hormonizari embrionul se dezvolta întotdeau­na într-o femeie. Pentru ca nu se gândesc cum sa i-o traga tipului dragut pe care-1 vad în tro­leibuz. Pentru ca beau porcarii ca Martini Oran­ge, Gin Tonic sau Vanilia Coke. Pentru ca nu-ti pun mâna pe fund decât în reclame. Pentru ca nu le excita ideea de viol decât în mintea bar­batilor. Pentru ca sunt blonde, brune, roscate, dulci, futese, calde, dragalase, pentru ca au de fiecare data orgasm. Pentru ca daca n-au or­gasm nu îl mimeaza. Pentru ca momentul cel mai frumos al zilei e cafeaua de dimineata, când timp de o ora rontaiti biscuiti si puneti ziua la cale. Pentru ca sunt femei, pentru ca nu sunt barbati, nici altceva. Pentru ca din ele-am ie­sit si-n ele ne-ntoarcem, si mintea noastra se roteste ca o planeta greoaie, mereu si mereu, numai în jurul lor."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok. tot nu o sa pot sa ma abtin sa comentez inca ceva:&lt;br /&gt;this sux :))&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thaanks 4 yo' patience....&lt;br /&gt;"your lord and master,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;   Fffoamy" :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sq-e7iUCkSI/AAAAAAAABV8/Q7twGet01bk/s1600-h/Well_Behaved_Women_by_ZiltzWiltz.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sq-e7iUCkSI/AAAAAAAABV8/Q7twGet01bk/s320/Well_Behaved_Women_by_ZiltzWiltz.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381694825391362338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-10788291557517716?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/10788291557517716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/09/de-ce-iubim-femeile_15.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/10788291557517716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/10788291557517716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/09/de-ce-iubim-femeile_15.html' title='de ce iubim femeile?'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sq-e0G7SwcI/AAAAAAAABV0/3o_W_ZqLLD4/s72-c/ghost_of_a_women_by_lucifers_angel_6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-9216773889340823216</id><published>2009-09-04T12:47:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-08T15:02:48.109+03:00</updated><title type='text'>laid back</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/SqDtbl8qugI/AAAAAAAABVU/ZIM_Z1gV7Wk/s1600-h/P6170091.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 305px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/SqDtbl8qugI/AAAAAAAABVU/ZIM_Z1gV7Wk/s320/P6170091.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377559013379193346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;its funny&lt;br /&gt;lyrics can tell you how great you are, and you can admit that so easily.&lt;br /&gt;and next thing, they can tell you how weak, helpless and broke you are, if you come to think of it. you can admit on that too, of course. music can draw the lines and curves of an universe....&lt;br /&gt;earth can seem so big and great, so rich, or it can seem so small and poor- and both ways can mean reality.&lt;br /&gt;and then, you just listen to something that tells you: hey! there are no lines of the fucken universe. there are no flames in your heart, there are no eternal tears of philosophy in the corner of that endless mirror lakes that are supposed to be our eyes, and dude- wake up from this illusions glow.&lt;br /&gt;we could need something that tells us how we really are, and it would be great fo us to say: hey- listen to that track, and you'll understand me. but thats impossible. not even WE know how we are, and after all- you can't just put a feeling in words. and [if we break the limits of impossibility] finding a song that expresses exactly what we feel would be... well... unoriginal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;some time ago, i was saying that if you search hard enough, you find a song to comfort any sad feeling, or a tune to nurture the strong optimistic ones.&lt;br /&gt;it is still valid, but we should know where to stop in believing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i like those neutral lyrics that just... tell you "you've got to cool down, relax... take it eaaasyyy.... it's to late to worry...", and the rest of the song is about NOthing. ex: "baker man - is baking bread/ the night train is comming... gotta keep on running....".&lt;br /&gt;of course you could find a meaning even in those lyrics, but that is not the point. that is not their point ;)&lt;br /&gt;it's great to have a break from "oracle, what do you say?--- aahh, my son: you are a desperate every-day mortal, you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Sagabona... kunjani wena ?&lt;br /&gt;-fine fine!, like always.&lt;br /&gt;but does it matter to ya? ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-[nor for me]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-9216773889340823216?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/9216773889340823216/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/09/lay-back.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/9216773889340823216'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/9216773889340823216'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/09/lay-back.html' title='laid back'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/SqDtbl8qugI/AAAAAAAABVU/ZIM_Z1gV7Wk/s72-c/P6170091.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-7990945892282624808</id><published>2009-06-22T20:20:00.008+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T20:48:31.425+03:00</updated><title type='text'>'cause it doesn't remind me of anything.... -sau: "teoria scaunelor"</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sj_BD64R61I/AAAAAAAAAC4/4g9tlRjdvKY/s1600-h/P7311391.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sj_BD64R61I/AAAAAAAAAC4/4g9tlRjdvKY/s320/P7311391.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350207155428518738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;am eu un fix pe something: "common things"&lt;br /&gt;chestii pe care 'toata lumea' le face...&lt;br /&gt;chestii publice&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;exemple:&lt;br /&gt;1. sa mergi la o cafenea... bar... si sa stai si sa bei ceaiu/berea/cocktailu/whatever pe un... SCAUN.&lt;br /&gt;as in.. scaun normal, spatar, 4 picioare, lemn/plastic. nimic special.&lt;br /&gt;in localurile in care merg eu is  asa: fotolii, canapele, shezlonguri... scaunashe mici [stil japonez] sau scaune inalte inalte de bar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. mergi prin parc.&lt;br /&gt;CUM NAIBA!!! sa te PUI PE UN CACAT DE BANCA denaia de la marginea drumuluin si sa te mozolesti/vorbesti/citesti/whatever. i mean... ii ASA de stupid...&lt;br /&gt;de ce sa nu mergi pe iarba... sa te destrabalezi in toate directiile, sa te sprijini de un copac [dupa ce lai cautat destul de mult.. sa nu se fi pishat prea multi caini pe el]?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so... la mine, constient, the beg for diversity is sometimes bigger than the beg for comfort.&lt;br /&gt;eu mam plictisit si sa dorm in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pat, &lt;/span&gt;sincer...&lt;br /&gt;si ma culc in tot felu de alte locuri...&lt;br /&gt;dar in the end, unconsciously, the beg for comfort wins-- dimineata tot in pat ma trezesc [si nu, nu ma muta parintii]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok. i know all this sounds wierd, but still... it's me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-7990945892282624808?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/7990945892282624808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/cause-it-doesnt-remind-me-of-anything.html#comment-form' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/7990945892282624808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/7990945892282624808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/cause-it-doesnt-remind-me-of-anything.html' title='&apos;cause it doesn&apos;t remind me of anything.... -sau: &quot;teoria scaunelor&quot;'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sj_BD64R61I/AAAAAAAAAC4/4g9tlRjdvKY/s72-c/P7311391.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-5615363127809921394</id><published>2009-06-22T19:10:00.008+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T20:42:41.454+03:00</updated><title type='text'>the grass roots</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sj_CiaM0yTI/AAAAAAAAADA/PMwa9yNzZbs/s1600-h/P200609_20.56.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sj_CiaM0yTI/AAAAAAAAADA/PMwa9yNzZbs/s320/P200609_20.56.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350208778743892274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;de ceva vreme, i was really asking myself if we don't get bored after a while of the holding hands, kissing, embracing thingie...&lt;br /&gt;i mean- it is the same... after a while you get used to fingers, to hands... bodies.&lt;br /&gt;everyone has it's way of doing the moves, a way it wants to make the moves [consciously and unconsciously], and it would take a very flexible partner ca sa nu te plicti de aceleasi chestii on and on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and even if you change the boyfriend/girlfriend kinda' frequently-- in the end... you may get bored.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but lately, i have found out that -- neah &gt;:)&lt;br /&gt;i can still find and enjoy diversity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and of course...&lt;br /&gt;hell yea!-- pride never ends :&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-5615363127809921394?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/5615363127809921394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/5615363127809921394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/5615363127809921394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/blog-post.html' title='the grass roots'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sj_CiaM0yTI/AAAAAAAAADA/PMwa9yNzZbs/s72-c/P200609_20.56.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-1550904819462443245</id><published>2009-06-08T01:14:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T01:17:21.620+03:00</updated><title type='text'>understand what u want</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;r: G'night, Fire Wings...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;p: good night, my wind...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-1550904819462443245?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/1550904819462443245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/understand-what-u-want.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/1550904819462443245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/1550904819462443245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/understand-what-u-want.html' title='understand what u want'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-647023759421998041</id><published>2009-06-07T14:47:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-07T16:00:35.555+03:00</updated><title type='text'>about the ego. photo#19</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Siu5z1-hBdI/AAAAAAAAACg/BFVw4zf9Ays/s1600-h/P3060201.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 375px; height: 262px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Siu5z1-hBdI/AAAAAAAAACg/BFVw4zf9Ays/s320/P3060201.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5344569683118982610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;m-am intrebat multa vreme ce ii impinge pe alpinisti catre cele mai inalte varfuri ale muntilor, ce simte un schior ce coboara cu 100km la ora pe partie sau ce ii indeamna pe oameni sa creeze. Pentru mine e aceeasi intrebare. de ce? pentru ca acuma am certitudinea ca in astfel de momente omul uita de ego, uita de paienjenisul falsei personalitati construite ani de-a randul deparinti, de scoala, de societate, si devine liber. iar acest fapt il conecteaza la divinitate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;momentul in care omul uita complet de ceea ce este, sau de ceea ce crede el ca este, de propria personalitate, este in timpul somnului. nu al somnului cu vise, ci in timpul somnului profund. in aceasta perioada isi sterge cu burete- educatia, zambetele contrafacute, frazele artificiale, seriozitatea studiata, falsa moralitate. suntem dincolo de toate acestea. iar omul se reface energetic ca niciodata. subiectii care au experimentat privarea de somn au suferit ulterior afectiuni psihice ireversibile. multi adirma ca aceasta stare nu poate fi reprodusa atata timp cat omul e constient. eu spun ca se poate, si mai mult, ca multi dintre noi o facem fara sa ne dam seama. alpinistii cauta inaltimea nu pentru aerul rarefiat, ci pentru uitarea de sine ce inseamna de fapt aducere aminte a starii originare. fotografii, pictorii, sculptorii, artistii in general, vorbesc dspre aceasta stare ca despre nirvana. unii nu o pot atinge decat cu ajutorul drogurilor. odata trecut pragul sabloanelor, creatia poate sa invadeze, sa inlocuiasca artistul, transformat intr-o antena sensibila la muzica divinitatii. de aceea unii nu pot recunoaste frumusetea lumii nici macar atunci cand e sub nasul lor, pentru ca sunt orbiti de dorinte, de spaime, de frici, de invidii si ura. cum reusim sa ne punem constient in aceasta stare? nu cred ca exista o reteta fixa. cine merge la snowboarding si porneste la vale pe partie se goleste instantaneu de toate gandurile si devine una cu alunecarea ce ii acapareaza intreaga concentrare si energie. cine admira o frunza toamna pe o poteca devine pentru cateva clipe acea frunza. cine priveste o fotografie sau o pictura reusita este absorbit in universul acesteia. 'paharul' trebuie sa fie insa gol. trebuie sa fii capabil sa auzi sunetul facut de o singura palma care aplauda. altfel, ceea ce se afla in fata ta nu va insemna nimic.&lt;br /&gt;Poonja, un mare intelept indian, a fost intrebat odata cum poti recunoaste un maestru. Poonja  a raspuns ca un maestru e precum un tigru: indiferent de cate probleme si ganduri ai avea in acel moment, cand te intalnesti din intamplare cu el, uitit tot si te concentrezi asupra lui.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in beginning, middle and end... ayreon: newborn race&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;it will make you love life&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-647023759421998041?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/647023759421998041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/about-ego-photo19.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/647023759421998041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/647023759421998041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/about-ego-photo19.html' title='about the ego. photo#19'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Siu5z1-hBdI/AAAAAAAAACg/BFVw4zf9Ays/s72-c/P3060201.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-5681605723745269550</id><published>2009-06-04T19:33:00.009+03:00</published><updated>2010-02-14T19:19:01.182+02:00</updated><title type='text'>round the tail...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sif7hLpl68I/AAAAAAAAACQ/CKRqAqF8F7w/s1600-h/sighisoara+152.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 365px; height: 220px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sif7hLpl68I/AAAAAAAAACQ/CKRqAqF8F7w/s320/sighisoara+152.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343516030379879362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&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;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you may say that the amount of happiness is indirect proportional to the amount of mind [consciousness] one has.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the stupid-- don't see the bad things in life, the wars, the conflict [the zeitgeist]. they are happy [almost] all the time&lt;br /&gt;the bright ones-- see it. they are aware of the pain. the world is full of bad things...&lt;br /&gt;even if they can have fun, take a joke, bla bla- they usually return to a sad, meditating mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now... i've come to the conclusion that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bright &lt;/span&gt;people-- see the nasty, shitty things of this stupid world, but.. they've experienced it, they suffered because of it, and they just got over it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;they made up with the idea that there is a constant term in the equation of life, and they stop adding it every time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so.. they come back to being happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but they are aware.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;this- is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pure&lt;/span&gt; happyness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/SigAGwoNozI/AAAAAAAAACY/0fC9T93Lvbc/s1600-h/18-05-09_1811.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/SigAGwoNozI/AAAAAAAAACY/0fC9T93Lvbc/s320/18-05-09_1811.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343521074007876402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: "any fool can make thing more complicated, it takes a genius to go the opposite way"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thanx hojda &gt;:D&lt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-5681605723745269550?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/5681605723745269550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/round-tail.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/5681605723745269550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/5681605723745269550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/round-tail.html' title='round the tail...'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Sif7hLpl68I/AAAAAAAAACQ/CKRqAqF8F7w/s72-c/sighisoara+152.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-1309946486787380305</id><published>2009-06-04T18:23:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T20:06:45.435+03:00</updated><title type='text'>liefde</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;"why do we feel attracted to the opposite sex... why do we like to hold hands?... bla bla."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;one answer: [deep down] instinct de reproducere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;what was first? instinct due attraction, or attraction[love] developed from instinct?&lt;br /&gt;in chase of the second one, this should be one of the first signs of a mentally developed living being. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;why i say that?&lt;br /&gt;define love.&lt;br /&gt;hormones? only hormones? no.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;animals feel attracted to each other only because of this chemical reactions in de brain. and that's why most of them fuck with "everyone"// they dont have a stable partner// they even kill each other to "earn supremacy" over the female// bla bla bla....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but what makes the difference between human and animals, is that we replace the term "attraction" with a more sophisticated one: "love".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why sophisticated?&lt;br /&gt;well... love = hormonal attraction [good old instinct] &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;+ &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:100%;"  &gt;"mind"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mind...&lt;br /&gt;well i hope you are a pretty conscious person to know what a mind is, what it does, bla bla.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aaand... to make you understand my equation for love:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we have...guy A, guy B and eventually guy C.&lt;br /&gt;guy A = led only by hormonez&lt;br /&gt;guy B = led only by mind&lt;br /&gt;guy C = the normal lover... "the real shit":))...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;guy A's day: walks down the street, feels attracted to every beautiful woman he sees, spreads "happyness" all over, he doesn't really know what he's doing and why. he just feels an imense pleasure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;note at the end of the day: " i feel confused. to many colours, to many women, too much joy. drug?....there's too much... too much, too much....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;guy B's day: he thinks about his girlfriend. he doesn't even know how they got together[maybe she tried/wanted more...]. he just goes on meditating about them, something is wrong. he knows there is a problem, but he just cant resolve it...&lt;br /&gt;his world is grey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;note at the end of the day: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;i don't know what i feel. don't know &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;if &lt;/span&gt;i feel. i just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;know &lt;/span&gt;there oughta be something there.. between us. i like her. but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;....................................................................................................................................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;none of the two guys will ever get to an answer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the only answer is guy C&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;guy C's day: he meets his girlfriend. they "have joy, they have fun, they have seasons in the sun", they fight, they make up [probably they will break up but that's unimportant now]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;note at the end of the day: i love&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...................................................................................................................................................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so this is it, i guess.&lt;br /&gt;when u decide for someone to love, of course you feel attracted by the body-part, but most of all, your mind helps you sort the immense variety of great bodies in the world. you choose the one with wich u feel good.&lt;br /&gt;now, of course you could say that this "feeling good" is also due to hormones.&lt;br /&gt;but they should be not the same ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ya ken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-1309946486787380305?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/1309946486787380305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/liefde.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/1309946486787380305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/1309946486787380305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/liefde.html' title='liefde'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-1506205090309981278</id><published>2009-06-04T17:30:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T17:39:18.349+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/SifcEp7XtKI/AAAAAAAAABo/9cDwS6IaZ3k/s1600-h/P6020072.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 219px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/SifcEp7XtKI/AAAAAAAAABo/9cDwS6IaZ3k/s320/P6020072.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343481455430841506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ain't got no cash, ain't got no stile... ain't got no gal **  to make you smile....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but don't worre.... be  happy ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**[well... the gal just stole your bike and hm.. well... &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;genlty&lt;/span&gt; "makes" it fit to her]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-1506205090309981278?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/1506205090309981278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/aint-got-no-cash-aint-got-no-stile.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/1506205090309981278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/1506205090309981278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/aint-got-no-cash-aint-got-no-stile.html' title=''/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/SifcEp7XtKI/AAAAAAAAABo/9cDwS6IaZ3k/s72-c/P6020072.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-1262346105614591363</id><published>2009-06-03T08:25:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-04T21:14:26.430+03:00</updated><title type='text'>haaaay...;;)</title><content type='html'>gay [as in homo. not happy] means that a human being is attracted to another one of the same sex.&lt;br /&gt;so, a gay man should be attracted to the phisical and intelectual of another... well... man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but what attracts him for real? [in most of the cases]&lt;br /&gt;you know how [gay:))] exagerately girlish a gay man acts. this should mean, that he is unconsciosly appealing to the man'ish instinct of the partner, the attraction for women.&lt;br /&gt;so... gays are attracted to the woman inside their partner's manly body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'tiz great....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;but what about a lesbian?&lt;br /&gt;they don't seem to be more agressive... :-"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-1262346105614591363?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/1262346105614591363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/haaaay.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/1262346105614591363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/1262346105614591363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/haaaay.html' title='haaaay...;;)'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8686906088027079329.post-3462739949232190484</id><published>2009-06-02T17:59:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T21:24:50.177+03:00</updated><title type='text'>jyello</title><content type='html'>noh... here we are in front of the first postare a frumosului bloooog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;why blog? me, like many other of you, have pretty many ideas in me heid, and so little vein to write all down, although i &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;want &lt;/span&gt;to see it written down, and probably read by some ppl... or at least- saved.  so i've chosen this way to fish my thoughts out and expose them [hope i prepare the fish fry comestible enough :-" ]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;bla bla...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;feel über-free to comment.&lt;br /&gt;about the things i say--i can change my mind, if you have a good argument against me ;)&lt;br /&gt;feel free to discuss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;more bla bla?&lt;br /&gt;-see next post&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;have hay !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps: scuzati eventualele gresheli de ortografie....&lt;br /&gt;la cambridge poate as scrie corect, but here... :-"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8686906088027079329-3462739949232190484?l=selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/feeds/3462739949232190484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/jyello.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/3462739949232190484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8686906088027079329/posts/default/3462739949232190484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://selvesmirrormaze.blogspot.com/2009/06/jyello.html' title='jyello'/><author><name>patri</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09057792270479836716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_hX2gHt4mkIM/Szja01ScqAI/AAAAAAAABYw/DtM_ufOk1go/S220/PB250351.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
