Google became a verb for a reason

I look at my computer and I see a little dot connected to millions of other computers and servers around the world. A gateway to education, hobbies, shopping and even new relationships.

It dawned on me today that there are still around people who look at the same object and see a black or silver item that doesn’t quite match the photo frame they just purchased from IKEA.

The internet is obviously not a perfect creation. It is here though, and it will never go away. It is, in my opinion, more good than bad. The only thing to do with it is embrace it, befriend it, and use it.

With so much information readily available, ignorance is no longer easily pardonable. The barriers of costs and English knowledge have been knocked down. There are no more excuses.

So the next time you don’t know something, google it first, then ask a coworker. It will do wonders for both.

Train for life

It amazes me how the educational system continues to stuff pupils' heads with expired theories and names of rivers they will never even mention again, yet it fails to teach kids basic skills they will so desperately need in life.

How to manage rejection.

How to stay focused.

How to keep going after having failed a hundred times.

Not all help is helping

I pass by a little boutique close to Piata Romana. The window catches my eye, so I decide to enter. I start browsing through the surprisingly large collection of dresses – they all have something out of the ordinary, in color, fabric or cut. There are smooth textures, ribbons, daring prints, glass buttons and whatnot, definitely not the usual mass market retailer putting out the same boring model in three different ugly shades. I am really starting to browse, screw the vow I made not to buy anything I don’t need this month, do I not deserve a little treat for all the hard work I do??, plus a woman can never have too many dresses, etc.

‘I can’t or won’t do it, but I’ll teach you if you pay me’

Though it may seem like it, the personal development business is not for everyone.

I once met a coach who dreaded coaching. Very few things in this world bored him more than a client during a coaching session. Another coach I knew was attempting to sell his services to corporations, even though he had never worked for one in his life and had only a vague idea about how large international companies operate (obviously, he attributed his poor sales to corporate ill will, narrow-mindedness and envy). A third coach I remember spoke passionately about how employees should think, feel and act. As an employee himself, he was miserable and ineffective.

Public service announcement: being alone is OK!

Today I had a great day (I’ll admit it, a nap in the afternoon would have made it even better). I mean, a one of those really good days when you wake up energized, positive and relaxed, when you get to do the zillion little things you only have time for during the weekend and enjoy every minute of it. As I sat down in the food court of a mall waiting for my delicious smoothie to be made, I noticed that I was the only one sitting alone at the table. And it dawned on me that not only did I look alone, I was alone! And that, and this was the big blow, it didn’t feel bad at all!!!

Less flower, more power

On Friday I rushed to Vama Veche hungry for sunshine, good music and a horizon line uninterrupted by buildings. I had been fantasizing all week about chocolate pancakes (bye bye diet, so long calories count), swimming, drinking beer on the beach, laying on the sand at night and gazing for hours at the star-soaked sky. I was prepared for that, but nothing had announced the lessons of courage and tolerance I came back home with.

For all you non-Romanian readers, Vama Veche is an iconic summer destination on the Romanian seaside, supposedly the summer capital of all hippies, rockers, unfulfilled artists of all kinds and any other sensitive, creative souls that resiliently distance themselves - some more than others - from the modern society and all its obvious flaws. It should be noted that while this was true for a few years in the 90s, more recently the village has been taken over by the heartless, improvised business men who charge Bucharest prices in the their cotton colorful disguises. In any case, Vama Veche remains one of the few local seaside options for people young at heart, or body (if you know the other resorts available, you understand).

But I digress, this is not a touristic review.

Vama Veche hosted this weekend a folk festival creatively named…. hooold for it… Folk You! So a lot of folk (you’d figure) and rock bands were invited to participate. In an interesting experiment, artists from completely different genres were also asked to contribute, probably in an attempt to point out that values, authenticity and passion are way higher than any hair style or instrument. An experiment or demonstration, as you wish, that failed terribly on Saturday evening.

Puya is a hip-hop artist that gradually made a name for himself in a place and at a time where speaking in rhymes about political and social issues was (is?) completely unsexy. His background in a well-known but controversial rap group apparently made him very unpopular with crowds like the one in Vama Veche. The hostility this particular audience felt became quickly apparent when Puya took the stage this weekend. Boos and swear words were pouring. A compact group of long-haired, pierced, tattooed, shirtless men were standing frozen in front of the stage, with their hands raised. As I approached them, I realized they were all giving Puya the middle finger. The rapper continued his show; the public got angrier, the shouting got louder. Puya and his crew became open targets for plastic bottles thrown forcefully at them. Puya continued unfazed, and kept dropping verses while making feints to avoid projectiles. He noticed, at a certain point, that the public in Vama Veche is more about the power than the flower, and I could not help but laugh despite the tragic circumstances.

For the first time in my life, I was scared to applaud an artist, but this weekend in Vama Veche I cheered for Puya looking over my shoulder. I cried looking at the screaming men and women who did not take five minutes to listen before attacking. Puya eventually interrupted the show and left the stage, the only wise thing to do in that situation. I tried to go backstage and tell him he did the most inspirational show I had seen in a long time, but no one was allowed there. So I’m telling him here, now.

I was impressed with the courage to stand in front of thousands of furious, irrational, drunk people and risk your safety to make a point. Not any point, but a valuable one.

I admired the inner strength and deep confidence in his work one must have to take so much rejection, yet continue to perform.

I applauded the professionalism of not missing a single beat, not one word in those awful circumstances.

As of Saturday night, I am a fan.

So Puya left and several hours later Vama Veche returned to being the iconic summer residence of flower-power devotees, you know, those peaceful, tolerant people who would rather make love instead of war. Still, somehow, I could not wait to get back home.

The less fun side of fun

I have recently discovered Breaking Bad, and I would like to share some thoughts and concerns with you.

Breaking Bad is a popular TV series that puts on screen the life of a chemistry teacher turned criminal. It is not the first of its kind; Weeds and Dexter for example go by a similar storyline. All three shows are very well written and played; they are imaginative, captivating and therefore quite successful. Nevertheless, I can’t help but wonder, is this type of shows healthy for the public?

Here are just three things that upset me about these shows.

Firstly, in all these shows the starting point on the road to all wrongdoing appears to be out of the main character’s control. Nancy Botwin’s husband drops dead one morning, making her a widow struggling to make ends meet; Dexter is severely traumatized as a young child, and Walter White learns he has inoperable, 3rd stage cancer. Now, the fact is, we all go through all sorts of difficulties in life, some hitting us out of the blue. What we do in those situations, don’t you get confused about that, is entirely under our control. Most of us choose (and I cannot emphasize the word ‘choose’ hard enough) to overcome life’s challenges in legitimate ways. I would much rather watch the real story of a regular housewife turned entrepreneur because she became all of the sudden the sole provider for her family, but I just don’t know of any show about that. Why didn’t Nancy work a regular job for several years before deciding to deal weed instead? (and I expect an answer other than ‘Because it’s too damn hard to wake up early everyday and work your butt off for at least 8 hours per day in exchange for just enough money to get by’). Why didn’t Mr. White get a second opinion and treatment before his little career change? Before crying for Dexter remember that Oprah was abused as a child, and she managed to break through that horrible experience and went on to became one of the most successful people on the planet.

Secondly, the motivation for wrongdoing seems positive, making it harder for the audience to keep a zero-tolerance attitude in front of the antisocial behaviors of the main characters. Even Dexter, plainly a very sick gentleman who kills and cuts his victims into pieces manages to get a sympathy vote, since, you know, he only butchers proven offenders (!!). I chew on my popcorn thinking it might be wise for the producers to remind the public more often that sick childhood aside and all, Dexter remains a very bad guy, period.

Thirdly, moral principles are not a big issue with Nancy, Dexter and Walter. While Dexter is a psychopath and is expected to function by a different set of psychological rules, one would expect Nancy Botwin and Walter White to have a harder time adjusting to their new social role. But, infuriatingly enough, they don’t. They are a bit sick at first, but nothing that a beer and a good night sleep can’t fix. They don’t get recurrent nightmares. They don’t obsess about the consequences of their actions. They don’t overeat. None of them fears God. You know what they do instead? They move on, and most disturbingly of all, they start enjoying aspects of their new life.

So? Is life all white and black? No. Are sometimes good people caught in really bad situations? Yes. Would I want my children to watch these series? No. After all, playing ball outside remains much healthier.

Foreign investment opportunities in Romania continue to abound

Using public transportation comes with benefits and disadvantages, just like anything else in life. I would like to start positively and encourage you all to use buses and trams more often. They do provide a way you can save some of the money you would normally spend on gas and parking, reduce your carbon footprint, enjoy a nice book on your way and watch all the very funny faces people make when they are unaware they are being observed (yes, they do, do try it one day). The downsides are somewhat obvious: it takes you longer to get from point A to point B, you have no control over the route or the stop points, pick-pocketers, and if you wear a skirt, you’ll be doing a very bizarre dance avoiding all the bags, backpacks and umbrellas that threaten your stockings! Still, the most unpleasant shortcoming of them all must be THE SMEEEEEEELS.

Oh yes, it takes a really well stuffed up nose to bear a trip by bus these days in Bucharest, now that the summer is here and we are all enjoying the warm temperatures. Now, we are all humans and perspiration is healthy. We need it. We cannot deny it. We can however wash it regularly off ourselves, and use deodorants to reduce its impact. Anyone can do it, and please don’t give me the ‘I cannot afford fancy toiletries’ speech, ‘cause my grandma is really poor but she never smelled in the life!

So, for all you guys out there who use public transportation, stop smelling, please! As for you soap and deodorant manufacturers, know there are still tremendous business development opportunities for you in our country.

Such hope, such pain, such sadness, yet such hope

I don’t think Hanoch Levin was this positive, outgoing and easy-to-talk-to guy who made small talk and enjoyed social events. I think he was a consumed artist with a big heart, two wide open eyes and one loud mouth that still gets him in trouble, even now that he’s dead. His art points the finger at a world stripped naked of social pleasantries and addresses big issues of life and death in a manner that won’t win him a popularity prize anytime soon.

Last evening I went to see one of Levin’s plays called Such Hope, a relatively new show put on stage at the Odeon Theatre. The director is Radu Afrim, and this should already be enough warning to spectators. Radu is well-known for his modern approach, so if you’re a big fan of Moliere, you might want to skip this one.

The play is a series of 20 sketches that pull out the drawers of different cabinets of human experiences, just to turn them upside down in the middle of the stage. They touch the sordidness love falls into, delusions we build to make convenient sense for ourselves, the lengths we will go to in a desperate quest for love; the threats of ignorance, false intelligence and deceiving information; the tainting and tarnishing of religion; and many more. It’s not just what they say it, but how they do it as well. Sex, death motifs, nudity and strong language take spectators out of their comfort zone and rub their faces in the topic at hand.

Out of his comfort zone was indeed one of the spectators last night, who shouted at the actors right before the end applauses began: “Talented actors, schizophrenic play!”. While some of the artists were obviously offended, I got to thinking maybe that is the best proof that they did a good job. No doubt the asshole who insulted them should be banned from the theatre; however, he is part of the re-education process these people are engaged in. To keep an open mind, to accept that others may have different opinions or tastes in art than you and to express that appropriately are skills that one learns in the advanced stages of personal and social development. The Odeon theatre does its part to teaching these lessons to the extent and pace they can, in groups of several hundreds of people at a time.

Did I mention all the actors were very good? I was particularly impressed with Antoaneta Zaharia and the gorgeous Istvan Teglas, both of whom I hope will have fantastic careers.

I did not leave the theatre sad or uncomfortable, despite the gloomy topics or the incident at the end. Instead, I felt inspired by all these actors who dedicate their lives to diffusing such messages out in the world. I left touched by the grace and beauty of the actors. And I left hopeful, that as long as others share my pain, I am not alone at all.