The Silent Scream. Great lyrics, no music. Every Tuesday.

There's a kid who had a big hallucination 
Making love to girls in magazines. 
He wonders if you're sleeping with your new found faith. 
Could anybody love him 
Or is it just a crazy dream? 

And if I show you my dark side 
Will you still hold me tonight? 
And if I open my heart to you 
And show you my weak side 
What would you do? 
Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone? 
Would you take the children away 
And leave me alone? 
And smile in reassurance 
As you whisper down the phone? 
Would you send me packing? 
Or would you take me home?


Thought I oughta bare my naked feelings, 
Thought I oughta tear the curtain down.
I held the blade in trembling hands
Prepared to make it but just then the phone rang
I never had the nerve to make the final cut.

Puparo

Cluj 2002

I had many nicknames during the years. From high-school, university, and almost every company I worked for. Not bad for the-not-so-popular-kid I use to be once. They sounds better in Romanian but a rough translation would be The Master (Jupanu'), The Godfather (Nasu' Mare) - thx Rucs - or The Colonel. But the one which I remember most and played a major role in my life was "Puparo".

It seems that Puparo was a character from the italian TV series about mafia "La Piovra". A very discrete, quite, calm killer. Which never stands out but very efficiently "resolve" his victims. Honestly, I never understood why they named me like that, did not associated me with this and never really liked that nickname. I finished the university and nobody was there anymore to remember it, so I forgot about it.

More than 10 years after, after a series of psychology books reading, it suddenly came to my lips when I decided to name my alter ego, my dark side, the interior force pushing me into directions I wouldn't want to go. It came naturally, just like that. Puparo. 

Puparo is everything I am not. He is twisted, dark, having its own agenda, constantly dripping in my life doubts, insecurity and fears. Recognize the feeling? The outcome of naming it Puparo was that suddenly I had a name for my enemy. It had a name, a shape, a behavior and I was ready and knowledgeable how to fight with him. 

Sometimes it helps. Look into you, try to isolate your inner sabotage agent and name it. We ALL have a Puparo inside of us. Just identify it, find a name for it and half of the battle is won. Of course, the schizophrenia awaits around the corner. But that's a story for some other time.

Les Egouts de Paris

Florence 2003

When I was 23 in my last year of University (btw, I am an engineer working in media, but that's common around here) I got a scholarship in Grenoble, France for 6 months to made my final diploma work there. From technical and content point of view was a disaster. Complete failure. Defaillance. But that's another story. Maybe some other time I'll tell you that story too.

This story is about Dixi's and mine attempt to save some lost souls around us. Dixi (Diana) was a Romanian student working there to pay for her studies, a nice, welcoming friend for many generations of students. (Dixi if you ever read this, it will be great to get back in touch). For reasons which proved later to be false (at least in my case) most of our18 colleagues contingent had chosen us to be their confident. The persons and the place they can talk, cry, spill all the frustrations, problems and sadness they gathered in the unusual situation of being far from home and loving ones for so long. Now is more common but then and there, some very young persons not use to travel living suddenly in a western country (compared to our18 years under communist regime), this generated LOTS of issues.

Love, affairs, romance, money, study, relationships everything was troubled. Somehow they considered me more emotionally stable and wiser so they started the pilgrimage at my student dorm room. For hours, days months. Up to the moment I was accumulating so much negative energy I started to have nightmares. Not mine but others. I was happy. Alone, but happy, writing long love letters to my girlfriend, listening music to my new stereo (btw, I completely trashed my debit card in 6 months up to the moment I had to bet my return train ticket on a bank check on  a completely void bank account; Bank sued me and my parents had to borrow money to pay my debit for 2 years) and trying to listen and comfort everybody. At some point it was too much.

Then I found Dixi and we realized we are having the same issues. We made it officially and organized and started this lost soul foundation we named it after the sours of Paris. So, for 3 to 4 months we were the psychologists of the group. Only many many years later I came to realized the effect left on me and that sometimes all of us, including myself, need someone's help.

I realized then that I am good at and love to understand and help people. I'll keep telling you my stories and maybe you will find some comfort and help in them.