Vienna Feis

I've been wanting to write down so many things these past few days, but it has been a real chase round the light bulb, getting ready for Vienna and all it involves. In just a few hours we're off to the Austrian *snowy* capital, our competition will be on Sunday, I can't wait for it! This is going to be a great week-end and hopefully it's going to rain with medals from all of the eight of us who are going this time.
Will be back on Monday and I can't wait to tell the story of the week-end. I need to remember writing down some stuff about our motivational sports physchologue we're having in the beginners' class and the stuff she taught me to do in order to make the dance flow. Key word: Schultz. :)

Keep your fingers crossed for all of us! :)

About art

Sometimes I forget why I chose to study in this specific faculty and even wonder what was I all thrilled about in my first year. And then I get hit by words. University started this week, it's my last year of undergraduate, I've managed to survive my second year, which I got to call "my year of study crisis" and I can again enjoy lectures and seminars like I used to. As I said, lectures have barely started and I already had the chance to nourish my hunger for information and sayings I get to keep for a long time from now on. It's something one of my teachers said in his introductory lecture, about art. He said that the artist is a simple man, with the exception that he is filled with feelings and even feels some kind of a pressure that he needs to release into the world in the form of art. And so, art attached to the body is dance, art attached to the words is poetry, art attached to sounds is music, attached to images, art is painting and photography. I think it's a brand new way to see art, if I may say so. We usually take art for granted. Dance is dance, movement, rhythm, all together. In fact, dance is a feeling, an inner burst of the individual attached to his body. That's why we will never dance the same, let's say, Masha and I, for a clearer reference. And I'm not talking about technique and staying on time with music. No! It's about expressing that inner flame through the means it chooses by itself. We don't choose to dance or paint. The flame inside us decides what shape to take and it lifts us in such passion and dedication, above every understanding. Flames come in such great variations and colors, it's almost understandable why we will never dance exactly the same. My flame might be red-ish, Masha's might be purple. Mine could be long and thin, like a strong string, Masha's might be shorter, but so much wavier and playful! We will never dance the same, the two of us, but feeling those inner flames of art bursting through our feet is a great joy we like to share in dance class and on stage. This goes for whoever knows they're dancing by the will of their spirit, those who dance (or do other artistic activities) just for the sake of doing them will never know how it actually feels like. It's really easy to call yourself an artist, the lecturer said. But the state of being an artist is gained. In order to be an artist, you need to become "monstrueux" (from the verb "montrer", to be able to show yourself as a whole artistic being you are), to change yourself, to remodel yourself.

It's things like these that make me keep going to lectures. And it's such a great joy that from time to time I have the chance to actually connect dots from different files in my life with the same line!

One more thing another lecturer said today in class that I don't want to forget - when a baby comes into the world, he has the pre-given information that if he smiles, people around him will protect him. He knows he is feeble and that he needs to be protected, so he smiles to those adults whom he feels close, those who will care for him. Now I think this is an interesting theory and will be a delight to explain it to my friends the next time we "exchange wisdom".

I am really impressed on how distances tend to have nothing to do with people interacting and becoming friends/keeping friendships alive and even more impressed to read from a dear friend in England that she and her sister feel lucky to have met me and that I am in their lives. I feel so honored by these kind words, I can't even describe it. I hope you guys know, Fi and Cat, that I feel the same! Distance will never be as important as it wants to be in our lives. My sister is away and my mom has just two weeks left before she comes back home and I've never felt closer to them. My dad could confirm that a hundred times! Distance, phooey!

Going to bed in a Maria Mena mood, remembering the times I used to have Anca as a roommate, whose voice fist so nicely on these songs!

Doggy invasion

Considering that this is AGAIN a late-night post, I will be quick. After some good few hours spent in the kitchen, I finally had my doggy invasion ready on the plates, I'm really proud of how they turned out to be. Ever since we started planning Octavia's birthday and found this recipe  I thought it was the perfect birthday cookie set for a dog lover like Octavia and I got the exact results I was counting for: lots of smiles and yum-yum sounds. :)

The survivors. :)

Aaany way, since I now know that you'll be reading this, Alex, how about trying to debate on one of those superstitions? Any new ideas?

I will probably be back with some extra notes tomorrow or during the week-end, I know you're waiting for new posts every day, Oana, but I'm doing all I can. :) Hug you, sis'!!

Until next time, cookie away! :D

1 a.m. ramblings.

Oh, happy day! I got the job interview, thanks to Stefania's recommending my CV to the guys from the place where she works. I can't wait till Tuesday and see what happens. :) Fingers crossed.

Oh, yesterday evening was amazing, with the first monthly performance for this season. It is so nice to see people gathering for our gig and lots of friends coming together for us, laughing, having fun, singing and clapping all the way. The stage felt terribly smaller than usual, we had to minimize all the dances - very interesting challenge, I might say and I was sure I would fall off it at any point during the dances, but I guess I got lucky this time too. Being used to dance on 200 sq meters at the studio can have it's disadvantages. Anyway....The funnies thing was when we had to squeeze 11 of us in a line, for the heavy jig, on a stage that could normally fit comfortably 4 or 5 people. Take that for an answer to the question "Why do Irish people dance like that?"  Hehe!! Oh, and to see the "Boss'" face of amazement and feeling so proud of us, his little children all grown up after our newest choreo is the best thing when getting off the stage!

And like always, I couldn't sleep for most of the night, after I recharged my batteries to the fullest in that amazing atmosphere, so I stayed up really late, watching Samantha Who and eating chips and muffins. I'm getting addicted to this show, but how could I not? I mean....see for yourself!

Ok, to be honest I wanted to end this post with some rambling a bit more interesting, but since it's already past 1 a.m., I am only going to post a picture of my "gulas", I made today, so I can at least hope to awaken your appetite, if not the spirit, as an interesting story would... so here you go, drool away. :)

Brings back nice memories

Tonight I am sending e-mails to my sweet sister, with music I know she will like while doing magazine cut-outs for the art project Ana and I are thinking of doing any time soon and all this while watching episode four of Samantha Who. Turns out it's really an addictive series, my sis' was right about it. :)




It's been a few good couple of weeks or more since my sister posted on her blog Emmanuel Moire's new video - my favorite French singer - but for some reason I never go to listen to it. So tonight I accessed her blog and the video instantly started playing and it sent me back to some really nice memories from my first year in Bucharest, when I was literally addicted to his first album, listening to it over and over again in my little sanctuary a.k.a. room in the old lady's house. It was a little piece of MY reality in that odd and seldom not very cozy feeling house, so whenever my Winamp plays Emmanuel/Manu I get back that feeling of security and warm "inner-dness" I had back then. Turns out that no matter how ugly things were while I lived in that house, I managed to create for myself and keep up till now really personal states of mind, peace-filling and mind and soul-soothing memories that awake whenever I listen to one of the songs I used to complete the serene silence in my room (contrasting to the noise in the rest of the house) with. It's one of those feelings I wouldn't exchange for anything in the world. And I keep noticing that all my Bucharest experience and memories are linked to this or that song. Been planning on writing them down someday.

And a quick note about getting artsy and creative, I found this cool idea about creative photo framing on Internet and put it to good use today. I now have my artsy jar with double use: photo frame/decorative object and a good stationary tools holder. :) The black and white picture is the product of one of my old photography projects about toys and the second picture is very dear to me, features me and my sister in one of our family trips to the mountains some years ago.

Luv ya, sis'!

Catching up for the lost days

Astăzi am avut iarăşi şansa de a preda Irish, de a introduce un nou suflet în lumea asta în care am plonjat cu atâta  foc. Acum ceva vreme spuneam că nu m-aş vedea predând ceva, mai ales unor copii. Ş totuşi de fiecare dată când mi se iveşte ocazia mă entuziasmez din cale-afară şi dau tot ce e mai bun pentru a crea o atmosferă de antrenament potrivită fiecărui învăţăcel în parte.

Ok, so this was supposed to be posted ages ago, but since my network connection felt the need to take a break for a few days and then my computer felt the same intriguing urge, I kinda missed the take-off of this message about me being extremely excited every time I have the chance of teaching Irish Dance to one or more people. I'll come back with this one after I get to do it again, with refreshed feelings about it, for that genuine touch of the text. In the meanwhile, I've decided to use English as a writing language, too. Bear in mind, this is not because I feel cooler doing this, or because I have an unexplained need to show off my language skills - he who dares to think this should feel ashamed for judging by the cover. In fact, since my sweet sister is off (this is where I loose grip to reality and write "foo" instead of "off") to England with her sweetheart and I promised to write from time to time to keep feeding them with my kind of word-use, this should be a win-win situation for them (you get to know more about me, babies, AND practice your English. Plus, it seems that some of my dear English-speaking friends would like to read this stuff too. So this is it! English posts for everyone. Get them while they're hot.

Speaking of...I had this brilliant idea while I was cooking and dancing around the stove today. Actually, the idea started off from my sister's Sorin, so I won't assume credit for the whole concept, but anyway...Being jobless and in serious need of both a flexible schedule and money, I figured: why *shouldn't* I use my skills and put my passions to good use? There are soooo many people that I know and who know other people too who don't have the time, the skills, guts or the recipes to cook for themselves, that I could do it for them. It would be like a catering thing. One day I could make my special delicious brownies for a friend who wants to have a whole batch for him/herself and the other day I would be spending long hours preparing several dishes for some party someone asked me to cater for. Yeah, right! This would be an awesome thing to do, in the best case scenario. Funny thing is that my add would sound something like "I'd cook anything except water creatures". Since it's so hard to get through school and a job in a restaurant, let's say (not bearing in mind all the ground work you have to do before actually getting the chance to show off your cooking skills), why wouldn't I be my own boss? I mean, I already own a very nice white apron and that's a good start! No one should cook without a nice white apron, right? (You can laugh now!) So I guess tomorrow I'm going to start spreading the news that I am now officially willing to cook for others. They already know that I'm good. Shouldn't be too modest about it, it's past my modesty hour, anyway.

A bit more to the left on tonight's exhibition, there is my eagerness to get a new pair of hard shoes, since my beloved size four Halmors are so stretched right now that they would easily fit a size five foot and it really bugs me that I will eventually have to change them. I mean, Andra who wears five offered me her barely used shoes, since she found mine became extremely ugly and stretched. I immediately covered the ears of my babies when she said that. Shoes like these angels shouldn't have to hear that kind of stuff.

Oh, and it was so much fun working on the Intermediate heavy jig with Sorin at the studio. We have grown so much since last year's March, when we barely had any personality in our dances....and I say this in order to avoid words like "turn-in" "non existent turn out", "no points", "lack of height" etc etc etc. I never thought we would get so far in such a short time! And it keeps going. And I keep getting more and more enthusiast about it!

Oh, and I finally figured out what to cover my empty wall with: some pins and Salzburg bunch of medals and voilà - a touch of personality to the wall. :) There's more room next to those - I should keep this in mind when dancing in Vienna next month! :)

Moving on from my wall, I owe a big explanation about another one of those interesting superstitions, this time discussed with Masha on our looong way to the subway station (it takes forever when one of us is using crutches). Anyway, back to the superstition. Why do they say it's bad luck when walking through one of those V-shaped street posts or under a stair? I would say it's similar to the thing about broken glass and plates: at some point, some guy passed under someone's stair and maybe he tripped over by accident *totally not related to the stair* right after that and people got the idea that the stair stole the man's luck and protection against bad things. But how can you avoid this? When I was small we always used a trick when we necessarily had to go through one of those posts or stairs: we would cross our fingers - that was supposed to keep any bad luck away. But where does this thing come from? One thing I learned in the psychology classes I took in university is that whenever you're talking to someone you kind of want to keep away you unconsciously cross your hands before you or your legs. So this would explain why crossing. But why the fingers? I think that's quite simple if we were to think what are the smallest body parts we can cross if not the fingers? I kind of find it rational to choose the smallest body part, since we are dealing with bad luck - which is an abstract notion, an untouchable notion. And what is the easiest way to fight against an ant if not another ant? So there you go: my very own theory about crossing fingers. As for the crossing of the legs in Irish dance....well, that's a totally different story. :)

Till the next time, cross your fingers for my little cooking-catering project. :)

P.S. You just gotta love polenta when it looks like this! :)

Freakin' long day

Şi în mod normal aş spune doar că nu vreau să vorbesc despre asta, dar acum mă pregăteam să spun că de data asta chiar am chef să scot ziua asta lungă de pe umerii mei. Numai că mi-a trecut, keep it all in (Beautiful South). În momentul de faţă nu mai sunt capabilă decât să mă îmbăt cu mirosul mâncării de la cuptor (de s-ar face odată!). Na, şi mai ziceaţi că nu mă îmbăt niciodată. Nu cu alcool, poate! ;) Şi ţinând cont că nu am apucat să mănânc decât la şapte la micul dejun şi pe fugă rău la prânz acum n ore, mă mir că nu stau cu ochii lipiţi de geamul de la cuptor, cu babeţica de rigoare. Cartoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooofi! *drool*, pulpiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiţe (de pui) *drool even more*.

Trecînd peste momentul uşor prea sincer, mă bucur să spun că Masha a devenit fascinată de şmecheria cu superstiţiile. Aşa că, here you go, Mashule: Pisicile negre sunt vrăjitoare. Păi de ce tocmai alea negre? Dar s-o luăm de la o coadă (nu de pisică neagră!): în Evul Mediu să fii femeie liberă, de genul văduvă care se recăsătoreşte, femeie care nu intră în tiparul universal al femeii-unealtă casnică - absolut orice semn infim distinct  pe care aceasta l-ar fi arătat ar fi pus-o în clasa vrăjitoarelor. Orice nu ar fi fost pe placul masculilor feroce din epoca aia chez ces dames le-ar fi dat tot dreptul din lume să le stigmatizeze pe bietele suflete. Şi de aici spre pisici: specimene foarte utile care se aciuau (şi continuă să o facă)  pe lângă casele oamenilor pentru orice rest de mâncare, o mână blândă care să le răsfeţe puţin, orice. Şi se ştie că femeile sunt mai drăgăstoase decât bărbaţii vis-a-vis de pisici. De unde şi asocierea legendară femeie-pisică. Şi adăugat chestiei ăsteia mai e şi perfidia de care sunt acuzate pisicile în mod necinstit. (O pisică nu este perfidă doar pentru că are un spirit de auto conservare mai dezvoltat!) Şi dacă e să trag linia ar veni aşa: femeie ieşită din tipar egal vrăjitoare plus pisica egal perfidă, plus "alianţa" femeie-pisică ar însuma la credinţa cum că pisicile sunt vrăjitoare. Stai, lipseşte un cuvânt: "negre". Asta e simplu. Nu se spune despre pisici că în întuneric toate sunt negre? de parcă alte fiinţe nu ar părea tot aşa în lipsa luminii... Deci, cu riscul de a nu fi atins întocmai ideile pe care le aveam în cap, cam asta ar fi explicatia mea pentru credinţa asta populară.

Ar fi trebuit să postez mesajul ăsta chiar sâmbătă, mi-au scăpat ideile de atunci. În orice caz, mai e timp şi pentru alte idei sau rectificări. :) Până atunci mă înfrupt din cantuccini cu migdale de la mama. Yum!

Cică "ceva magic"...

Acum câteva săptămâni (două, cred), am avut deliciul de a lucra la sală pe postul de instructor privat pentru o scumpete de fetiţă, Nini. Mi-a spus mama ei că a venit la sală cu un rucsac plin de emoţii, dar foarte entuziasmată să-şi încerce primii pantofiori de dans irlandez pentru care mama ei a complotat cu mine niţel. Îmi imaginez emoţia cu care a primit Nini pantofiorii, dar văzând-o debordând de fericire cu pantofiorii în picioare m-am umplut de bucurie din cap până-n vârful degetelor. Mi s-a părut o şansă extraordinară pe care Nini şi mama ei mi-au dat-o, de a ghida copiluţul preţ de două ore în tehnica şi în câteva dintre dansurile pe care le-a învăţat cu Octavia şi Sorin la cursurile de dans. Da, tind să cred că eu am fost cea norocoasă să lucrez cu Nini mai mult decât invers. Mai ales pentru că e ceva ce-mi place foarte mult să fac şi am avut şi deliciul să ajut un copil atât de entuziasmat şi pasionat (care a repetat singurică pe vară, în vacanţă). Iar aseară am avut frumoasa surpriză să primesc de la mama ei o serie de videoclipuri cu colaje foto din ziua respectivă care au reuşit să-mi lumineze noaptea, în care apare Nini şi eu alături de ea, în timpul antrenamentului, alături de nişte cuvinte extraordinar de emoţionante. Mi-am dat seama (din nou) cât de împlinită mă face să mă simt aprecierea sinceră din partea copiilor cu care lucrez. Nini va ajunge departe, o văd deja!

Nu şiu dacă linkurile funcţionează şi pentru membrii neautenficaţi, dar încerc:
http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=147618708912
http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=147644673912
http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=147647858912

Mi s-a pus pata

Azi m-a prins febra Chairlift. Nu am toată muzica lor, doar vreo patru cântece uitate de Anca în laptopul meu de când stăteam împreună. Şi azi mi-au intrat în vizor, nu apucasem să le gust bine până acum. Şi cum ziceam, mi s-a pus pata - una care cere să dau volumul mai sus- pe două din cele patru melodii uitate pe aici. Una e Bruises şi am înţeles că ar fi folosită de Apple la o reclamă la un Ipod:



Cealaltă e Evident Utensil şi pot să jur c-am mai auzit-o undeva înainte, dar nu pot să-mi dau seama unde.



De Bruises îmi aduc aminte cum venisem acasă la un moment dat şi am găsit-o pe Ancuţa cântând-o de zor, fără ca măcar să-şi dea seama că am intrat în cameră înainte de ultimul vers.
Mă bate gândul să fac o listă cu melodii şi evenimentele de care-mi aduce aminte fiecare din ele. Hmm...

Mr. Kat is a lefty!

No wonder I like him!

And there's a game with him, too!! :) http://www.gamesquat.com/en/games/free-online-games/kid-vs-kat/

This is becoming a true Mr. Kat frenzy. ;))