I love how the city sounds early in the morning. Empty streets like no human lives around, the occasional dog barking in the distance, birds up in the sky reaching out to an invisible (yet) sun. And all of a sudden…bam!… the majestic sunrise, the long and winding expressway shaking up its car ridden back, the neighbourhood deli opening its doors with a familiar squeak. A girl passes me by, rushing to catch the early morning train. Her heels on the sidewalk have a heart beat like rhythm. Yep, the city is up. Good morning, world!

I am going to create my next job. I am going to create my DREAM job. Or, as Lara Galinsky from Echoing Green said  the perfect job “the one you would do without pay.”

At the beginning of this year, I attended a conference in New York city on Social Media for Non-Profits. I met amazing people, I was inspired by their vision but most of all I was grateful for the most important lesson of all via Beth Kanter: ‘Fail fast and learn‘.  That stayed with me. That made me stop being afraid of trying to put my ideas into practice.

For the past few months I’ve been working on a project which – I hope – eventually will turn out to be my dream job. It might be small for now but I have big plans. I believe in it, I believe that, even if it was not started as a ‘change the world, make a difference’ type of project ( there were very practical reasons for it), it is gonna turn out HUGE.  I have already bounced ideas off of some people, I have a ‘secret’ (for now) partner and I hope that once launched, it will only grow into my DREAM job.

And since my birthday is coming up, I am going to offer myself the best present ever: my future. I am gonna go live on April 30.

Seriously, what’s the worse that can happen?

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size

But when I start to tell them,

They think I’m telling lies.

I say,

It’s in the reach of my arms,

The span of my hips,

The stride of my step,

The curl of my lips.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

I walk into a room

Just as cool as you please,

And to a man,

The fellows stand or

Fall down on their knees.

Then they swarm around me,

A hive of honey bees.

I say,

It’s the fire in my eyes,

And the flash of my teeth,

The swing in my waist,

And the joy in my feet.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered

What they see in me.

They try so much

But they can’t touch

My inner mystery.

When I try to show them,

They say they still can’t see.

I say,

It’s in the arch of my back,

The sun of my smile,

The ride of my breasts,

The grace of my style.

I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Now you understand

Just why my head’s not bowed.

I don’t shout or jump about

Or have to talk real loud.

When you see me passing,

It ought to make you proud.

I say,

It’s in the click of my heels,

The bend of my hair,

The palm of my hand,

The need for my care.

‘Cause I’m a woman

Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,

That’s me.

Maya Angelou

“To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else’s heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell.”  Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

Happy Birthady, GGM!

I was 8 or 9, definitely in grade school ,when i heard my first piece of classical music. Growing up in a communist country, radio and (or) TV was quite a luxury for regular folks like my parents. I think we got our first FM radio a month before the Romanian revolution but that’s another story.

So, I never felt that not having a TV will be huge issue, I loved reading, I did not mind not watching the endless political shows – well not endless, because, the national television at that time was airing only 2 hours a day, anyways.

But – yes- after that particular summer spent at my grandparents, in a god forsaken corner of the world, I felt that I could not live another day if we don’t get a radio.

To get back to my story, the first time I heard a piece of classical music, I was laying in the sun, on my grandparents porch, no books to read – all done after the first two days and there was no library in the village – bored to (almost) death and hoping the week will end sooner than later and my parents will come and pick me up.

My grandparents were out and about, probably working in the backyard; you could only hear the chickens running around, even the good old dog was too bored to move or bark or show any signs of life for that matter.

All of a sudden, right from across the street, from a house I completely ignored before, these sounds come invading the air – once you’ll hear the piece you’ll know exactly what I mean – so I open my eyes, not sure if I’m dreaming or not and trying to figure it out.

What the heck is happening? My heart stopped. For a brief second I thought this is it: the sun or the boredom killed me. And…BAM! this huge explosion of …of…nothing I heard before invaded me.  Nothing around me moved. Even the chickens were quiet. That kind of complete silence right before the storm hits.

It lasted a whole day or a few seconds – I don’t know – the only thing I remember is my grandma standing in front of me saying: ‘What’s wrong with you? Are you sad? Don’t cry, your cousins are coming tonight so you won’t be feeling alone’.

Yes, my cousins came and went home. I was there for 2 more weeks. No books or magazines, I spent ever day hoping my neighbours across the street will play the radio again. They did, but I guess that the kind of music I heard was an one time only slip; on the other hand, I could definitely tell you by heart the Danube river levels ( my Romanian friends know what I am talking about) in three different languages.

And yes, I bugged and bugged my parents for a radio with music that makes you cry for years – to which I only heard: ‘I’ll give you something that makes you cry alright, stop whining!’

To this day, certain pieces of music make me cry instantly. And that’s a good thing. Because I feel alive.  And, as Nietzsche said ‘without music, life would be a mistake’. And who wants to makes mistakes?

Saturday night comfort food: potato latkes or toci/tocini in my native Romanian language. Shredded red skin potatoes, eggs, salt, pepper, oil, sour cream (for serving). One of my mom’s favorite and a childhood treat. And yes, there is no fan or open windows in this world to make all the cooking smell/smoke disappear but I loved every minute of it.

Canzoniere – Petrarca

Era il giorno ch’al sol si scoloraro
per la pietà del suo factore i rai,
quando i’ fui preso, et non me ne guardai,
ché i be’ vostr’occhi, donna, mi legaro.

Tempo non mi parea da far riparo
contra colpi d’Amor: però m’andai
secur, senza sospetto; onde i miei guai
nel commune dolor s’incominciaro.

Trovommi Amor del tutto disarmato
et aperta la via per gli occhi al core,
che di lagrime son fatti uscio et varco:

però al mio parer non li fu honore
ferir me de saetta in quello stato,
a voi armata non mostrar pur l’arco.

Je pense a toi – Guillaume Apollinaire

Je pense à toi mon Lou ton cœur est ma caserne
Mes sens sont tes chevaux ton souvenir est ma luzerne

Le ciel est plein ce soir de sabres d’éperons
Les canonniers s’en vont dans l’ombre lourds et prompts

Mais près de toi je vois sans cesse ton image
Ta bouche est la blessure ardente du courage

Nos fanfares éclatent dans la nuit comme ta voix
Quand je suis à cheval tu trottes près de moi

Nos 75 sont gracieux comme ton corps
Et tes cheveux sont fauves comme le feu d’un obus
qui éclate au nord

Je t’aime tes mains et mes souvenirs
Font sonner à toute heure une heureuse fanfare
Des soleils tour à tour se prennent à hennir
Nous sommes les bat-flanc sur qui ruent les étoiles

A Magic Moment I Remember – Alexander Pushkin

A magic moment I remember:

I raised my eyes and you were there,

A fleeting vision, the quintessence

Of all that’s beautiful and rare.

I pray to mute despair and anguish,

To vain the pursuits world esteems,

Long did I hear your soothing accents,

Long did your features haunt my dreams.

Time passed. A rebel storm-blast scattered

The reveries that once were mine

And I forgot your soothing accents,

Your features gracefully divine.

In dark days of enforced retirement

I gazed upon gray sky above

With no ideals to inspire me,

No one to cry for, live for, love.

Then came a moment of renaissance,

I looked up – you again were there -

A fleeting vision, the quintessence

Of all that’s beautiful and rare.

My heart is feeling celebration,

I did remember it again -

The aim to strive, the inspiration,

And love, and life, and sweet heart pain.

Un amor – Pablo Neruda

Por tí junto a los jardines recién florecidos me duelen los perfumes de primavera. He olvidado tu rostro, no recuerdo tus manos, cómo besaban tus labios?

Por ti amo las blancas estatuas dormidas en los parques, las blancas estatuas que no tienen voz ni mirada.

He olvidado tu voz, tu voz alegre, he olvidado tus ojos.

Como una flor a su perfume, estoy atado a tu recuerdo impreciso. Estoy cerca del dolor como una herida, si me tocas me dañarás irremediablemente. Tus caricias me envuelven como las enredaderas a los muros sombríos.

He olvidado tu amor y sin embargo te adivino detrás de todas las ventanas.

Por ti me duelen los pesados perfumes del estío: por ti vuelvo a acechar los ginos que precipitan los deseos, las estrellas en fuga, los objetos que caen.