Friday, 17 February 2017

The Theory of Blame

This post is a continuation of "Are my parents perfect?"

When I was a child, people used to think that humans can't change. There was an absolute belief going around: "If you're born from two bad people, you are doomed to be bad too. No matter what. You had no power to modify or correct a poor behaviour. You only had to accept it and move on."
I always disagreed with that and when I grew up, I found out that I was right to refuse that conviction.

People can change, people can learn new skills, people can be great, people can be human, no matter where and from whom they are born.
People can be absolutely everything they want to be. 

There are humans who blame their parents for physical and/or psychological abuses. Such an abomination these parents who shouldn't have children.
But guess what? The children who were abused do exactly the same to their children.

Why is that? Whose fault is it now? Their parents? 
What if those parents blamed their parents?! 
And what if these parents, again, blamed their parents? Is this circle of blame ever going to break?

The equation of blame will never be solved if we don't stop, look inside us, and do our absolute best to solve it.

Here is how.
Can you read, hear, speak, see? Then what's stopping you from becoming the person you want to be? Watch documentaries, read books, educate yourself.
You want to be able to knit, ride a bicycle, play an instrument, cook a great meal, write a book?
All you need is willpower, knowledge, and goals. From there is one single thing to do: Practise. 

You are the master of your true essence. Your parents might have given you bad examples, but you don't have to follow them.

Stop being a victim, stop blaming your parents, your partner, the society, the president or the king, the global warming or the weather.

Blame + blame - action = blame. Action - blame = greatness. Simple as that.

If today you're a criminal, it is not because of what was done on to you, but because of what you didn't do to yourself.

If you can't cook, it is not your mother's fault.
If you're an alcoholic and beat your children, it is not your father to blame.
If you smoke, it is not because it's in your DNA.
If you can't resist temptations, it is not because your grand grandfather was an inveterate cards player.

YOU have the power and the huge potential to be a great person, despite your heredity. It is all within YOU!

I know that this post will attract a lot of polemics and divergent opinions, but you know as well as I do, it's the honest and cruel truth.

If you appreciate it, don't hesitate to like, share, comment, or join me on Facebook, on the other blogs I own: Carpe Diem De gustibus non est disputandumPovestea Isabellei, and on LinkedIn.

Thank you for your visit. See you soon, amazing human being.

Friday, 10 February 2017

Dear Literary Agent – I am a great investment!

I am a writer, Yes I am!
You haven't heard about me yet, but I fall asleep replying to your phone call.
You - “Hello. May I speak with Cristina G?”
Me - “Speaking.”
You – “I know you're a writer and I am interested in helping you get published.”
Me - “....”
You - “Cristina? Hello?! Are you still there?”
Me - “Yes, sorry,” wiping off my tears, “What took you so long?”

Everyone has a dream, mine is to become a world-class writer. You've heard this countless times before. So have I. I am sorry, I can't invent new words to attract your attention.
What about this? 
I wake up at 4:15 Am three or four days a week. I don't go out, I don't watch TV, I am not present on social media, and I keep my phone switched off for 23 hours a day.
When I don't go to work, I write.
When I don't write, I study. 
When I don't study, I sleep. 
When I don't sleep, I cook and eat. 
And when I don't eat, I fast. For at least three days in a row. Luckily, breathing comes naturally.

If your dream is to find a writer you can count on, don't look further: I am your best bet.

My life is on hold, I only live when I write. And I am so tired of being ripped off of ideas every time I publish a new post! Loads of people are making money on behalf of my work when my parents are struggling. It's dispiriting.

I have been looking for an agent/publisher since I've started writing. What a despondent and time-consuming task! It made me lose hope and courage to keep working on my dream. So I gave up on the unsuccessful search and dared to ask my friends if they could help. Of course, they couldn't. Everybody's got a life.
Then I decided I will be publishing myself. Self-publishing that is. I spent a few weeks looking for the right company to give life to my stories. And I am still very undecided. Mostly because I am a traditionalist, but also because of my low budget.

I have loads of intricate stories to tell, many are real, some are fiction, others are a mix between the two.
I am worried I won't have enough time to put them all down on paper if I keep investing my time searching for a needle in a haystack.

Please, would you take a chance on me? I promise you won't regret it.

Here are some things about me.

  • I am not a child anymore.
  • My English is work in progress.

  • Huge life experience and incredible background.
  • Boundless potential.
  • Overwhelming passion and grit.
  • Versatility.
  • An inexhaustible source of amazing ideas.
  • Outstanding determination.
  • I might be writing about common subjects, but my style is far from ordinary.

Pluses: very pleasant appearance, charisma, great cooking skills. I could cook for you anytime.

I have been working incredibly hard for so many years to get here, and the best is yet to come.
I believe I have the right qualities to impress the world with my compelling (and easy to read) stories and I am looking forward to hearing from you. Please, do not delay much, my parents are running out of time.

Image from Pixabay

Your next favourite writer,
Cristina G.

Friday, 3 February 2017

Romania's run out of hope

My heart is heavy and thousands of tears are rolling down my face seeing my country in complete chaos again.

So many years of an oppressive communist regime, then too many of corrupted governments. We have nothing left.
The country is empty.
The factories are gone. 
The forests were sold, stolen or simply given for free to anyone who showed interest.
The younger generations are spread around the world.
Siblings don't see one another for dozens of years.
Parents are left alone. 
Children don't recognise their parents anymore.
Families only gather together at a funeral.

I haven't seen my siblings jointly in almost 20 years.

Is there anything we could do to save our country? 
Is there anyone who could help us getting out of this madness situation? 

I am one of those people who doesn't regret the communist period because my parents were slaves on their own land and for countless other reasons. I would never want Ceausescu back, but these beings are destroying what remained intact of my country.

Every time it is a new election, we hope to put in charge people who really care for their nation and not exclusively for their pockets and bank accounts. But they are all the same. They are feeding us lies and empty promises and we believe them. And when they didn't deliver or even tried to what all said they most definitely will, we lowered our heads and moved on by inertly thinking it will be over soon. "The next one will be better." But the next one is exactly the same. A wolf in sheep's clothing,

We are alone at the mercy of a bunch of creatures who are no different from Ceausescu. They only have other names, but same means.

Every government we had/have after the Ceausescu's was/is worse than the previous.
Instead of fixing what he destroyed, they knocked and keep us down, stepping on our dignity and intelligence with every new rule, law, decree, press conference, etc.
They refuse to give answers to people in despair and it reminds me of Ceausescu's replies to the heavy accusations: "I will only answer in front of the Grand National Assembly."
Except today is the Grand National Assembly asking! You HAVE to answer!

I would like to go home, but I can't take care of myself or help my parents in there. I have tried a few times. It didn't work out.
I am grateful for the chance to travel and see the world, learn new languages and cultures, but I feel like I don't belong anywhere anymore. 
My passport says I am Romanian, but am I Romanian if I am forced to live in countries which are not mine? I almost forgot to speak my language which I adore.
If I'd take the Italian nationality, would I be Italian? I don't think so.
What if I'd ask for the British citizenship, would I have the right to call myself British?
I could never feel British, Italian or French because I was born and lived in Romania for 24 + 4 years! My favourite cuisine is Romanian, I feel so attached to my roots and traditions. I am for Romania in every competition, and it hurts when people discriminate any of my nationals.
I wish my country to be considered worthy of respect and consideration.

Romania is gorgeous and has a great long history. But we are known as thieves, beggars, and criminals. I am none of these and there are millions like me!

My heart is completely broken when I see the desperation of people who went out on the streets to shout and cry for their freedom and rights again.

May God have mercy of my fellow citizens. I hope and pray for a miracle. Too many eras of darkness. We can't go on like this. 
A whole country on its knees, overwhelmed by poverty and no opportunities. "We run out of everything. Enough!" Children and elderly cry out in unison.

Romanians to the Universe: Emergency. SOS. Mayday. Help. Please!

Source: Express

Please share if you have a Romanian heart beating in your chest. 

In case you love reading, please have a look at my eBook about Ceausescu's regime (the first fragment of my autobiography), and write a review if you have two minutes. You will be helping me to help my parents.

Thank you for your visit. See you soon, amazing human being.

Saturday, 28 January 2017

Are my parents perfect?

I have been asked after publishing the previous two posts about them.

No, my parents weren't and aren't perfect.
Are yours? What about you, are You perfect? Is God perfect?
"We, human beings have designed flaws... ." I read it somewhere, sorry can't remember where.
However, what is Perfection?!

I have also been asked why do I refer to my parents in the past as they didn't exist anymore. Family members reproached me that. It is painful having to explain, but I understand the confusion. They are going to be 82 soon and stopped doing most of the things I write about so many, many years ago. They are fragile elderly people with poor health. I/we all (siblings) try hard not to think about the course of life. :(

My parents+my older brother during a day trip. Several years back.
My parents were born in an era without internet. They went to school for just a couple of years. There was no library in the village, no mass media, no documentaries about education or human behaviour. There were no nappies, no creams, no baby food, no fridges, no washing machines, no microwaves, no nothing! My mother breastfed each of us until she remained pregnant again. Then she fed us cow milk my father used to bring from his job every evening. She washed by hand for hours every day waking up at 3 Am or going to bed after midnight. For years, we were forced to light up candles instead of using the light bulbs we had in the house.

They didn't know how parents in America, Great Britain or Italy educated and raised their children. We were born during an oppressive communist regime, children were considered gold mines. However, we were farmers and expected to provide food for an entire country. Education was compulsory and Ceausescu was quite insistent about it. Back then, you didn't need to go to school to learn how to plant, seed and harvest though.

My parents did their absolute best with what they had and for that I am grateful. From them, often indirectly through acute observation or even unconsciously, I learned what's reliability and respect, how to cook and wave, how to always strive to be a good human, to stay away from bad influences and negative temptations, and so much more.

Many Romanians will tell you about starvation and indigence during the communist regime. I wrote and will write about it myself, but we never starved and never walked naked or bare feet, unless we wanted so. My parents worked night and day to provide food and clothes for us. If they couldn't buy food and things because the shops were empty, they made them. They grew plants/food, made the fabric and sew the clothes themselves. I used to look around and feel sorry for neighbours and friends as their parents were not so successful in that.

My parents always wanted the best for us. My father insisted on the power of education. My mother on the power of becoming a human capable of doing great things with nothing.

From my mother, I learned to cook incredibly delicious meals with extremely poor ingredients. I also learned to make beautiful things with my hands. She was an amazing and complete artist. I have got so many stories about her work.

From my father, I learned to transmit powerful emotions to people. To make them laugh or to make them cry through writing and storytelling. I learned what is integrity, respect, reliability and so on.
They didn't write and read much but were/are smarter than many people with three PhDs.

Do I have negative memories about my parents? Yes.

Have I fought with them, did they ever unfairly punish me? Yes.

Do I blame them for anything? I used to, but I learned I had no right. So, no, today I didn't only stop blaming them for various things, but I am grateful for every single bad thing I thought they made me feel or live. I have spent years of my life trying to understand human behaviour and I realised something incredibly simple.

Children (young, adult or old) often blame their parents for random countless things. For failures in personal and professional lives, for lack of emotional stability, wrong religion, not enough care, too much severity, poor education or lessons, and the list could go on indefinitely.
Let me ask you a few things: Do you have a brain? Can you read, hear, speak, see? Then what's stopping you from becoming the person you want to be? Watch documentaries, read books, educate yourself. You are the master of your true essence.
Your parents might have given you bad examples, but you don't have to follow them.

My parents, as I said, were illiterate people. They didn't have the privilege of reading books or watching documentaries about ANYTHING, how could I blame them for not giving me the power of knowledge (e.g.)? They gave me what they had or thought was right. I was a child, I couldn't make the difference but I am an adult now and I can and want to educate myself.

YOU have the power and the huge potential to be a great person, despite your heredity. It is all within YOU!

Are you blaming your parents for what you are today?
Look inside you, then look around you. Do you have more means your parents had to learn to be a better person? Is the internet available to all at a small cost? Can you spare five cans of beer to have it in your house? Are there documentaries about human behaviour on each channel? Are there movies about the capacities a human could have and develop if they wanted to? If your answer is NO, look and think twice, and if your answer is YES, then it is not them, it is you!

I could waste my entire life thinking that if my parents were A or B or C or even Y, my life would be so much better. But would that help me, them or others in any way?

My father was an extreme rule follower. Because of the communism censures and oppression, he developed a deep sense of worry and anxiety about everything in this entire Universe. Terribly invalidating for him and for us.
I inherited that from him and other traits or behaviours I didn't like. Same with my mother. I've been upset for many years because of that. Not anymore. Now I am deeply grateful.
Because of these flaws I discovered psychology and learned to know myself in profundity. What I felt was because of me, not them. It wasn't the heredity or indirect/unconscious acquisitions of their weaknesses, it was my mentality that didn't allow me to see behind despondency.

If they were perfect, today I wouldn't be here. And you see, I want to be here, I love to be here!

A year old image. The shoe box contains my father's medicines and my mother was giving him the lunch prescription.
My father never wanted to be seen dressed like this in public as he was even more careful with his looks than my mother, but he doesn't go out very often these days (many years).

I know that this post will attract a lot of polemics and divergent opinions, but you know as well as I do, it's the honest and cruel truth.

There is another one to come, stay tuned as it's truly phenomenal.

If you appreciate it, don't hesitate to like, share, comment, or join me on Facebook, on the other blogs I own: Carpe Diem De gustibus non est disputandumPovestea Isabellei, and on LinkedIn.

In case you love reading, please have a look at my eBook (the first fragment of my autobiography), and write a review if you have two minutes. You will be helping me to help my parents.

Thank you for your visit. See you soon, amazing human being.

Sunday, 22 January 2017

Dearest Father, Thank You!

Last week I published a post in which I brought homage to my mother. Today I want to do the same for my father.

As I said, both my parents were born in the same village in 1935. They got married in 1953 at the age of 18. This year they are going to celebrate 64 years of marriage!

When my father met my mother, he was one of the most desirable young men in the village, not only because of his beautiful traits but also because of his family reputation and "weight."

My mother was beautiful too so my father had a huge competition. Which he clearly subdued.
Although they were similar and equal in physical aspects, their backgrounds couldn't have been more different.
My mother's family was wealthy, but they were all pure-blood farmers. On the other hand, my father's family members were literate people. Therefore, on the hierarchy of social classes, they were thousands of miles away and their union in marriage was a true scandal in the village.
My grandparents are not here to tell me their version, and my parents' minds are full of fresher memories. Many of the old ones are long buried, some are only reminiscences, that's why I write them on down in blog posts and books.

My older sibling had the luxury to hear these at a short distance from when they happened, but my youngest brother and I were not so lucky. Sometimes I think that they are speaking about completely different people.

The other day, my father, in a moment of clear and touching lucidity, he told me the exact tale of his conscription to military service.

In 1956 (three years after getting married) he received the letter and presented himself right away in front of the doctor for the medical examination. Apparently, they found out that he was suffering from a sort of infection easily curable. However, that made him inept for the military service right then.
The doctor gave him two choices: to go home and wait to be called again when the infection will be cured or to go and serve the country then but behind the lines. Meaning that he was not to have a gun but could have helped in different ways.
My father, who didn't have the means to cure his illness in the village (due to the lack of hospitals and doctors) chose to serve then. 

Until now I always believed that my father had the option to avoid the military service due to the fact that he was the father of two and the head of the family. I couldn't have been more wrong than that! 
Nobody ever gave him any alternatives, he was obliged to serve the country. It didn't matter he was the only one providing for his young wife and two babies. - Monsters! 

He was therefore delegated to aerial artillery in Giurgiu, an important city on the borders of Danubio, 400 km away from my village. 

Almost all his fellow soldiers were of Hungarian origin. But also caporals, lieutenants, serjeants, doctors, etc. 
Now, you don't know but between Hungarians and Romanians, there is a lot of bad blood going on. 
The Hungarians accuse the Romanians for have stolen Transylvania from them, for this reason, they don't like Romanians much... or at all, or even worse. 
However, my father is not a regular human being. I don't think there was ever anyone to not like him. 

Got in Giurgiu's barracks, they first took care of his illness and during his permanence in the infirmary, everybody ended up with loving his playful nature. He made every single person laugh despite the pain or the struggles. Everybody liked him, but the doctor in charge was utterly “in love” with his quick mind and practicality. One day the doctor asked my father if he would like to become a medical assistant/male nurse and assist him. My father accepted. During that time, he saved the life of a soldier who shot himself by mistake and that gained him huge respect and admiration from every single human in those barracks. His name became well known and respected. He has never received mistreatment or abuse, at least he never mentioned anything like that. 

This is a long story, and I cannot write it all in here. If you're interested, wait for my books. 

The soldiers were not allowed to leave the barracks without written approval, of course.
My father was a true Catholic believer, but during the communist regime, religion was prohibited. However, my father went to church in secret almost every day risking his freedom and life. In there he stayed hidden from everyone and when I asked him why he said that all his direct superiors were in there too. 

For one year my father had no permission to go home and he missed his family tremendously. My mother didn't have the money to go visit him so they didn't see or heard each other for an entire year. 
The doctor had free days every month and went home every time. One day, narrates my father, the doctor came back from home and called his wife right away telling her he was already missing her. In a moment of weakness, my father started to cry and confessed: "You just got back and... I haven't seen my wife in a year! You have no idea of how I feel inside."
A couple of days later, he was authorised to go home for two weeks.

During his military service, my father was paid 7 lei a month. "For cigarettes and soap." He never smoked and used the soap from the infirmary. He saved all that money and bought tights, sandals, and sweets to his little girls (sending it all home by a woman from a village close to ours). 

I just can't imagine my father buying clothes for his children. But my mother confirmed. 

I didn't know many things about my father's youth and I am so grateful for have heard this story from his mouth just a month ago. Especially now when he doesn't remember much from the day or an hour before.

My father is going to be 82 soon. He's incredibly tired, ill, and fragile. His memories are irremediably fading away. It hurts so badly witnessing at his rapid decline. 

When I left for Italy he was full of life and vitality that he couldn't sit still for five minutes. 
A couple of years after that, he had severe health issues and lost all his energy. It was like life suddenly decided to abandon his body and mind. I had such a shock when I saw him again. It broke my heart. 

I never saw my father crying and I used to believe he was the strongest person ever. After those dreadful incidents, his eyes never dried up. 
Which means he has always been a terribly sensitive person, he just never showed it. He had to maintain the appearances. A man cannot cry like a woman. Seeing his eyes inundated by tears it's utterly excruciating and I wonder why people have to go through so many unbearable situations.  

He went to work by bicycle so he could bring home milk and flour from the city. 
Out of bed at 4 Am every single day for so many long years. 
During the winter he was used to waking up at 2 Am to get to work on time. 
How distant was the city? Just 15 kilometres, but walking on 2-4 metres of snow was demanding even for God himself. 

During the harsh weather, with temperatures of - 35 Celsius degrees, he was the only one to be in work. Not even those who lived just one kilometre away got out of the house. But he was never late and never missed a single day of work. His reliability was truly outstanding. He never said: "I didn't feel well, I didn't hear the alarm, or I couldn't find the way amidst the 3 metres of snow or the heavy rain." 
He was and is deeply respected for that and many other reasons that you will find in my future books.

My father was a very strict and severe person. If you'd see him now, you'd never believe it though. His intransigence shaped my character and personality. I owe him a great deal of debt so Thank you, Beloved Father. 
Thank you for passing onto me some of your beautiful physical and moral traits. 
Thank you for inculcating in me formidable values and principles. "Never miss a day of school or work, always keep your word, under no circumstances betray someone's trust, be productive, don't pretend help from others, always follow the rules... ." 

If today people know that they could trust me with their lives, is because of you. For all these and so much more, I bow my head in respect for you. Words can never be enough.

May the Universe be merciful and send upon you some reasons to smile as you made so many people rolling on the floor from so much laughter. It would only be fair. 

My parents' life is a colourful intricate movie and I will do my best to make it happen. It doesn't matter what and how long it will take. They deserve it.

If you appreciate it, don't hesitate to like, share, comment, or join me on Facebook, on the other blogs I own: Carpe Diem De gustibus non est disputandumPovestea Isabellei, and on LinkedIn.

In case you love reading, please have a look at my eBook (the first fragment of my autobiography), and write a review if you have two minutes. You will be helping me to help my parents.

Thank you for your visit. See you soon, amazing human being.