elisse Weblog

Psychology of a show. Autobiography.

elisseiatesen — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 11:36:44 +0000

“I was swinging you in my arms when – at the municipal council – people were shouting Down with Ceausescu!!!”. The tale of my parents is the only memory created to stand for the early years of what I call “psychology of a generation”. A psychology of victory and defeat, of fight and resignation of giving up.
Each anniversary was accompanied by a historical celebration: the birth of democracy.

At 10, there were 10 years after the revolution…

I fell in love with a national news program and I started to question some of the things I heard around me…” who we vote for, what was wrong in communism, what might or not be better from now on..” Little did I understand, little did I worry about the years to come. I was happy to receive water melons as birthday presents and couldn’t wait for Christmas, the only time of the year we had oranges. I was excited for our Pentium 1 with its first internet connection.

At 13, there were 13 years after the revolution…

I got my first bike, the first cell phone and the first trip abroad. In my family, democracy felt better and better. At 14, I moved on my own. Gradually, the questions and answers got more elaborated and I stacked to the idea that we are better than the system, and if we can’t change the legacy of “x years before the revolution” we can invest in people who can erase it in time, piece by piece.

At 18, there were 18 years after the revolution.

The same TV channel I fell in love with at 10 asked me to speak in a feature report about “how does it feel like?” It was then when I decided not to do it again.

Year by year, we, the 89’ generation, grow older together with the story of a country which was reborn once we were born. It’s the psychology of a haunting game; neither good, nor bad…it’s just the way it is…

…a few days ago, the story got at a cornerstone. How does it feel like?

As if I am the bystander of a show that I believe in…the show in which the intrinsic motivation of the actors is more than I can understand. The scene is bigger than I thought and the actors perform better than I anticipated. It is the show of a generation. As a bystander, I only hope to applaud before the act is finished, before the curtain falls down, and the voices of the actors will be drowned by the fake performers who pull down the curtain and don’t act because of the fright of the many or the concern of stealing from the many.

As such, this year, there will be one year more after the revolution. The 89’ one.

The precipice on the stairway of pleasures

elisseiatesen — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 21:28:12 +0000

A good sleep makes you forget that some small pleasures can have a side effect. Stepping instinctively again and again, algorithmically high and happy, on the stairway of small pleasures, brings up – inescapably – the faded storms of reason. And a precipice.

There are things you do while you live, which tickle you up and down the spine… to the tip of your toes: the Sunday morning snooze, slow sips of coffee, a dive in the book you love, the day you meet your deadlines, a morning hug, a touch, your favourite person’s smile…and a few forbidden others…

It’s the stairway on which you’re not convinced if the steps are bewilderingly biting from yourself or rather it’s the other way around. It shifts your mood from vexed to happy, from happy to enthusiast…From enthusiasm to excitement. ..they charge you up and move your blood around each and every cell of the corps you live in.

In the reasoned moments, the precipice feels deeper and the first impulse is to take control and enjoy only some from your long list of small pleasures. It’s a mysterious altitude in which the temptation and pleasure to jump overlap the threat of crushing yourself in the precipice. If you don’t decide, before you know it, it’s Friday again… and before you know it once more, the jumps and steps you’ve already made on this stairway will have been faded away, but still pricking you harder than you thought ten stairs ago….

Secret garden

elisseiatesen — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 12:09:54 +0000

Refurbishing the future.2012.

elisseiatesen — Mon, 26 Dec 2011 16:39:51 +0000

New houses become your home when you put some effort in creating the environment you want to find when you come back from your job. When you choose the room, the bed, or the chairs you like and fill the empty walls with memories from your previous homes.

Weather you enjoy them or not, the choices of colour, space or interior arrangements… are yours. From time to time, you realize you need some changes; then, the most difficult part comes: thinking about what you have, what you need to get, repaint or throw away. Apart from difficult, refurbishing your home might be fun, exciting, motivating, sad or resigning.

So is organizing and reorganizing your future.

There are several times during a year when you need to do it and postponing it until the end of the year makes it even harder, more responsible, or step stone like.

Compared to redecorating a new house, the choices of colour, space or furniture for the future you want to create for yourself become frightening, because you’re a human being. After a few months, you might ask yourself how it would feel like to sleep on some other mattress; but to adapt what one Anonymous said, there are no elevators to easier decisions. You have to take the stairs.

At the end of 2011, my home is a genuine virtual place that I chose to furbish and refurbish for myself a while ago. Now, the challenge is to choose what to throw away and the bigger challenge is to decide what I need in order to make my home nicer, cosier, more accomplishing through its inside arrangements.

For some days, I need to have a mirror with self confidence, a box with new ideas to make my family and friends happier and more optimistic, as well as a new curtain to make me worry less about worthless worries.

For other days, I need a mattress that could teach me how to sleep in order to continuously learn and become the best in what I do for the next year. And…a firmer chair….to keep me straight in being myself.

As simple as it is, at the end of 2011 my home is part of my past and the future I refurbish for the upcoming year. The old and the new small pieces of furniture do make me feel enthusiast about 2012. I’m excited, hopeful and optimistic about the choices I made and I do for my virtual home. And this makes me happy.

the stranger next seat

elisseiatesen — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 00:01:58 +0000

Seat no.10. you’re on the train to Kansas, prepared to play the game you enjoy the most and makes your travel shorter.

Seat no.11. [...]he reads his book. his eyes are moving from left to right in a motion which synchronizes with the one of the train. his moves are confident and powerful with the antagonist gestures of turning page after page and drink his water. it’s a strangely delicious moment in which you feel as if you’re talking, but you’re not talking at all.

as the train goes further, you expect him to get off. somehow, you know that you’re both going in the same direction.
your discrete look becomes persistent. the mute conversation between you and the stranger next seat is a dialogue of answers and no answers about each others’ lives. whether it’s a different type of socialization or just a personal anthropological experiment you do once in a while, the pleasant noise and silence make you feel you actually met someone.

enjoy the dialogue and play by guessing who he is. if he asks you why, tell him he’s your favourite stranger. after all, you’d love to be one’s favourite, although you’re just a stranger too, moving around to find a more comfortable seat. and a new person to engage in your mute conversation.

The game is simple: pick a seat and a stranger. then, enjoy the ride; it makes your travel shorter.

On journeys

elisseiatesen — Sun, 11 Dec 2011 00:39:14 +0000

all journeys start with preparing a suitcase. some are half-empty, because you know it’s enough to take on. others are too full, because you spend too much time preparing them. There are just a few suitcases and journeys which merge. the ones you don’t plan and of course, the ones you do, intentionally saving some space for anything you might put in.

all journeys end up with packing and unpacking, and all suitcases seem to be bigger when returning. the automatic act of preparing your luggage is practically an automatic response to what you’re looking forward to: the journey itself, the new city, the unfortunate coming back to the daily life.

at the end of the day, the important thing is neither the ticket, nor the comfortable shoes you need to wear, but rather what you put in that empty space you saved before you had left.

I am who I am because I am from Romania

elisseiatesen — Thu, 01 Dec 2011 01:20:40 +0000

Here, the first of December feels different. it’s that day you think about your country, with its good and its bad ones.there, the intensity was diverse.
[...] Somehow, here you get over variable stages of frustration, such as having less rights than others just because Romania is still – after five years – a new EU member. you get over the repeated remark of “oh, I thought Romanians look different”, or the annoyance caused by the lyrics you listen at the radio (Pitbull “In Romania she pulled me to the side and told me: Pit, you can have me and my sister”).

At least today, I remind myself that in Romania I learnt to fight to live better. I learnt to grow and re-grow myself when the system and the conditions restricted our perspectives. I am frightful and courageous because I am from Romania. I have worries and optimist aspirations because I lived and I still believe in the Romanian dream of change. I have flaws and qualities because of Romania. and I’m grateful for all these.

At least today, I’d like to remember the enthusiasm, strength and the endless motivation of my country. thanks to it, I’m educated to keep my feet on the ground and be appreciative for the parents, teachers and friends I had…they’re my favourite winners of the long fight for change.

At least today, I am who I am because I am from Romania.

I’m sorry. I don’t want to be an emperor. that’s not my business.

elisseiatesen — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 19:01:52 +0000

Letter to the Sea

elisseiatesen — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 23:45:02 +0000

Dear Sea,

you don’t know who I am. and you’ll never know it.
…but I do know you. I breathe through your waves and live for your vibrant thunders.

I scream for your cold draughts and adore to swim in the rhythm of your lungs. it makes me stronger. confident. brave. superior and inferior in the same time.
when i was young, I didn’t know how to call you… shifting flame. treasured soil. warm storm…now I’m within you. within your stillness and noisy shivers. the sea of thunders and the sea of calm. and i’m grateful.

dear Sea, if you go away, throw me on your favourite thunder…and if you stay, delight me with your calmest waves.
I wish you all the best. and happy thunders.

yours,
Who knows…

Splendor in the grass

elisseiatesen — Sun, 06 Nov 2011 16:03:46 +0000