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Incepusem sa discut in articolul precedent etica muncii. Dar mai am ceva de zis, si-anume amintirile muzicale din anii '90.

It's hard to determine when you are the source of events or when you are simply part of the current. If you're a blogger in a minor blogosphere, you might start accusing others of "stealing" from you. Me, I'm just glad that I'm being validated.

In editia de 27 Iulie a Daily Show with Jon Stewart, invitata a fost Rachel Weisz, eroina filmului The Whistleblower (2010) [trailer], unde le gasim si pe Monica Bellucci si Vanessa Redgrave. Intre multe alte nume cu consoane duble, si o gramada de romani si romance.

I struggle to write about my grandma’s passing away, between expressing all I have to say, and staying within the limits of what a reader might find interesting or useful, without falling into too much drama.

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Following Strelnikov’s suggestion and Max’ confirmation, I started listening to Balanescu Quartet. I liked it and thought that it’s worth an article. Which I started a few months ago and am completing today, especially since I have a few new/s (times).

I probably won’t be voting this year. I’m telling you about my failed attempt to register for “vote by correspondence” or “votul prin corespondenta” as well as my passport application.

#atatsaputut: As busy as one gets, occasionally there is the old "something wrong on the internets" feeling, and that was triggered by this Deutsche Welle free documentary about Romanian Roma kids begging on the streets of Paris as well as in the Parisian Metro (subway / tube) and how the French and Romanian authorities are dealing with it. Ca de obicei, versiunea in romana a acestui articol pe FataCarte.

It's not a lot, but “atat s-a putut”.

(I’d place the last word of the title in quotation marks, but they’d get escaped, causing the title to look silly.) Recently, Francois Hollande, the French president who looks like a Mickey Mouse (not Victor Ponta, the real, trademarked one), allowed the press to take photos of him and his lover. I suspect the show is put on so that the French people can convince themselves that they still have a heterosexual president. "Is his lover a woman? Are you sure? Well, then we can keep drinking wine, eating cheese and live long!" Meanwhile, I'm annoyed as hell that a friend of mine won't (or pretends she does not) get my jokes.

I am one of the remaining few who remembers life before the Internet. It was cloudy. And back in those times, good, watchable, fun commercials were few and far in-between.

Having recently come back from a trip to Calgary, a friend of mine was showing me beautiful photos of a snowy mountain, with real pine forests covered by snow, which all conjured up in my mind the image of the ski camp where I used to spend all of my winter holiday, and more, all throughout my school years in Romania.

Jinduiesc la concerte.. Inca nu m-am hotarat la nici unul. Ar trebui sa merg la EdgeFest by default, si-apoi macar unul dintre ATP si Lolla..

Questions of marriage preoccupy all of us, at one point of our lives or another. I for one was forced to face them head on back in my undergrad, when during a French course I had to write a quick essay on getting married or searching for pleasure. Recently, a monologue about marriage came to my attention and I hurry to share it with you, primarily for the pleasure of the female readers of this blog, recently tortured by a long list of articles on politics and MEP 2014 elections (results I, II, III, UKIP, Toronto, TestVote).

Contemplating the inevitable death of a relative is tough. It's been on my mind for the past few days and I can't shake it. Death is inevitable in itself, but when the sand in the hourglass has accelerated its fall due to a voracious cancer diagnosis, for many it becomes far scarier. I tried to take it in stride, but its unavoidability is still depressing. Even the Simpsons episode with Homer dying with a bucket list containing “make peace with dad” is not as distracting as it could be.

I have meant to write at length on this individual and, as expected, not only that reality caught up with me, but it left me far behind. I never expected for things to go this far, which is why I am revisiting it now.

Soros and at least one Koch started holding hands for a common purpose: they call it something else, but it’s really about ending America’s “world cop” legacy role. Far more important to Romanians, on the foremost blog in the SE Of europe (ran out of capitals), a guest author makes almost as many language mistakes as the owner but has more consistently enlightened viewpoints.

Recently, a friend asked me to provide Romanian lessons. I directed her to Duolingo (invite) and, as I occasionally listen to Romanian eTeatru (or “teatru radiofonic”), it occurred to me that this is something worth sharing with the rest of the world.

The Romanian expression would be “niste carnati expirati” though in English I could’ve called them hotdogs or patsies just the same. Now, I owe a new installment in an older series, due to a debt born in comments; I know that and I’ll get to it eventually. However, this one is simpler and takes less time to write, which is why I am writing it now, quickly.

@BAndreescu_ (#BiancaAndreescu, ofc) catapulted herself so fast to stardom that I am having difficulties forming a mental picture of her. And so are most of her new fans, attracted to her rising star like loving insects to the blinding light. I’ll be giving you 3 reasons, not counting the intro, but if you can only remember / have time for one, remember creative visualization.

Sriracha is a 'sauce piquante', SRI is the Romanian Secret Service, fall is autumn, and in Romanian "picant" could also be derived from 'to fall' which is 'a pica.' We look at the consecutive declarations of Romania’s president, an allied journalist and finally, the candidacies of other president-hopefuls, from the head of the Romanian Secret Service, Melescanu and to the former Justice Minister, Macovei. But most of all, the title is a tip of the hat to Vlad Petreanu and his excellent expose, with a title that translates roughly as “The [secret] Services Autumn.”