<?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'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3572322340860951970</id><updated>2009-09-18T21:10:51.648-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oana</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oana-oanaoana.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3572322340860951970/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oana-oanaoana.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Oana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15711821128804292947</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3572322340860951970.post-1758426001833272239</id><published>2008-02-09T10:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-09T10:37:56.152-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Primul sarut</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;      &lt;/span&gt;Primul sarut…..cred ca eram clasa a doua. Eram foarte indragostita de colegul meu de banca, Manea Vasile. Fratele meu obisnuia sa-i spuna “Manea slutul si uratul…” ceea ce ma necajea ingrozitor. Un necaz pe mai multe niveluri: o data pentru ca imi ghicise slabiciunea, apoi pentru ca ma inroseam teribil si in final pentru ca, in momentul in care realizam ca ma inrosesc, ma inroseam si mai tare. Sincera sa fiu, habar n-am daca era urat sau frumos, cert e ca il iubeam la nebunie. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;        &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;         &lt;/span&gt;Nu mai tin minte cum se manifesta dragostea asta. Poate ca ii ofeream din sandwichul meu, sau poate il ajutam la mate’ sau poate (ca-n “aventurile lui Tom Sawyer) ii dadeam o bucatica din guma mea mestecata doar doua zile si lipita seara, cu grija, la capul patului. Tot ce stiu e ca mi-a zis mama mult mai tarziu ca-i marturisisem ca, de cate ori il vad, “imi bate inima foarte, foarte tare”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                &lt;/span&gt;Si vine tovarasa invatatoare intr-o zi si ne spune ca in ziua respectiva nu facem ore pentru ca mergem la teatrul de papusi. Toti copii au inceput sa urle, sa topaie …. bucurie mare. Eu mi-am zis: acum e momentul! Si, pretinzand ca sunt si eu in febra bucuriei generale, m-am apropiat de el si i-am tras un tzoc umed si zgomotos pe obraz. Ma bazam ca ceilalti copii sunt foarte ocupati cu propria manifestare a extazului. Din pacate, unul dintre copii m-a vazut si aproape ca se ineca incercand sa le atraga tuturor atentia. I se bulbucasera ochii, respira sacadat si nu prea mai era in stare decat sa intinda un deget acuzator spre noi si, cu cealalta mana, sa-l traga de haina pe colegul lui de banca. Unul cate unul toti copii au inteles ce incerca micul paracios sa le zica. Si au facut o hora in jurul nostru. Topaiau ca niste mici diavoli cantand: Oaaana l-a pupaaaaaaat pe Vasiiiiiiiile! Eu m-am facut rosie ca o &lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;paradaisa&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; si am inceput sa plang.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;               &lt;/span&gt;Acum incerc sa-mi aduc aminte unde se potriveste&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;to’asa invatatoare in peisajul asta…..Oare chiar i-a lasat sa ne umileasca in halul asta fara sa intervina deloc??? &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;              &lt;/span&gt;A doua zi, cand am ajuns la scoala, am remarcat ca aveam deja alt coleg de banca. Viata e plina de neimpliniri…..&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Mesaj pentru Manea Vasile: daca citesti acum, afla despre mine ca-s bine sanatoasa, ceea ce-ti doresc si tie. Cauta-ma, am inca inima ranita! (desen cu o inima sangeranda, strapunsa de o sageata + urma de buze rujate cu gloss portocaliu)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3572322340860951970-1758426001833272239?l=oana-oanaoana.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oana-oanaoana.blogspot.com/feeds/1758426001833272239/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3572322340860951970&amp;postID=1758426001833272239' title='2 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3572322340860951970/posts/default/1758426001833272239'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3572322340860951970/posts/default/1758426001833272239'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oana-oanaoana.blogspot.com/2008/02/primul-sarut.html' title='Primul sarut'/><author><name>Oana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15711821128804292947</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17562733536100215409'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3572322340860951970.post-8723392545967644712</id><published>2008-01-24T12:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T01:25:18.718-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Printul cersetor - Becali si capsunarii</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Ieri, vorbeam cu niste persoane foarte tinere despre ce inseamna sa ai succes in viata. Si, pentru ca majoritatea acestor persoane foarte tinere provin din familii sarace, raspunsul lor a fost, cu cateva exceptii, ca a avea succes in viata inseamna sa ai foarte multi bani. Eu, ca o intelectuala rafinata ce sunt…cu aspiratii inalte (he he he), m-am indignat toata, mai ales ca primul exemplu care le-a venit in cap si despre care vorbeau cu infiorata admiratie a fost Becali.&lt;span id="fullpost"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Si, deodata, m-a izbit propria ipocrizie drept in fata. Cu cateva momente in urma incercasem sa le explic ca, indiferent ce vor de la propria viata, sa nu permita nimanui sa le spulbere visele. Sa faca bine sa se cunoasca pe ei insisi cat mai bine si apoi sa ia hotarari importante doar luand in considerare propriile dorinte si talente. Sa nu se ia dupa trenduri nationale, ce zic mama si tata, prietenii sau diriginta. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Cine sunt eu sa le zic ca a fi bogat nu inseamna neaparat a fi si fericit? Ce stiu eu? La urma urmei n-am fost niciodata bogata, nu?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;Si apoi mi-am amintit de Jerome K. Jerome. Se pare ca problema cu lipsa de idealuri in randul tinerilor e mult mai veche decat ne inchipuim noi. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 32.1pt 0.0001pt 37.4pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -37.4pt;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;“Mi se spune ca profesorii americani se plang de “lipsa de idealuri” a studentilor de &lt;st1:personname productid="la Universitatea Columbia" st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:personname productid="la Universitatea" st="on"&gt;la Universitatea&lt;/st1:personname&gt;  Columbia&lt;/st1:personname&gt; si s-ar putea ca acest lucru sa fie valabil si pentru alte universitati raspandite in Statele Unite. […] Deplangeti situatia cat vreti, dragul meu profesor, dar acesta e idealul tineretii si atata timp cat natura va ramane asa cum este, acest lucru va continua sa fie astfel. Poate ca este necesar. Poate ca lumea nu s-ar schimba prea mult daca tinerii ar incepe sa gandeasca prea devreme. Ei vor sa fie bogati si se arunca cu pasiune in lupta. Ei construiesc orase si intind sinele de cale ferata, doboara paduri&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt; &lt;/i&gt;(nu era la moda ecologia pe-atunci) &lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;scot minereuri din pamant. Vine apoi o zi cand inteleg ca incerca sa te imbogatesti e un joc plicticos si ca exista un singur lucru mai obositor decat acela de a fi milionar: incercarea de a deveni milionar. Dar, intre timp, lumea merge inainte.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 32.1pt 0.0001pt 37.4pt; text-align: right; text-indent: -37.4pt;" align="right"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                                                    &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                             &lt;/span&gt;Jerome K. Jerome&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 32.1pt 0.0001pt 37.4pt; text-align: right; text-indent: -37.4pt;" align="right"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                                                          &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                            &lt;/span&gt;“Idei trandave”1905&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;              &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;Nu se intampla si acum asa? Ia sa ne gandim la asa de mult blamatii “capsunari”. Ce fac ei pe langa faptul ca “ne fac de ras peste hotare”? Aduc o gramada de bani in &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;tara&lt;/st1:place&gt;. Poate ca &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Romania&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; n-are nevoie de intelectuali la momentul asta. Poate ca nu are nevoie decat de oameni dornici sa se imbogateasca. Si, o data cu ei, si &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;tara&lt;/st1:place&gt;. Cultura pe stomacul gol nu prea merge, nu? &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;P.S. faza cu “….o intelectuala rafinata ce sunt…cu aspiratii inalte…” era o gluma!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;                &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3572322340860951970-8723392545967644712?l=oana-oanaoana.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://oana-oanaoana.blogspot.com/feeds/8723392545967644712/comments/default' title='Postare comentarii'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3572322340860951970&amp;postID=8723392545967644712' title='0 comentarii'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3572322340860951970/posts/default/8723392545967644712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3572322340860951970/posts/default/8723392545967644712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://oana-oanaoana.blogspot.com/2008/01/printul-cersetor-becali-si-capsunarii.html' title='Printul cersetor - Becali si capsunarii'/><author><name>Oana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15711821128804292947</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='17562733536100215409'/></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></entry></feed>