If you’re not going to do anything,
Don’t look at me like that.
If I have to interpret your words
And live on false hopes
Until the grand finale and final chord,
Don’t look at me like that.
If you’re not going to love me,
Don’t look at me like that.
If I have to let you go
And forget your name,
Delete our song and take the blame,
Don’t look at me like that.
If you’re not going to stay,
Don’t look at me like that.
If I have to say goodbye,
And we’ll always be friends,
And please don’t cry…
Just don’t look at me like that.
Filed under: therefore IB | Tags: penibil, romania, antonescu, crin, alegeri 2009, vadim
Antonescu este un om penibil. Un pseudo-intelectual. Un ratat care s-a vrut un fel de Barack Obama, si nu i-a iesit.
Mi-e scarba de toti tinerii care au crezut in asa zisa “revolutie a bunului simt”. Habar nu aveti ce inseamna politica si ati pus stampila in favoarea primului terminat care a sustinut in direct ca Tudor Chirila e un “mare om”.
Dupa anuntarea rezultatelor de la exit poll, Antonescu s-a comportat ca un leu in cusca, si nicidecum ca un candidat la conducerea Romaniei. Nu stiu de unde a tras el concluzia ca mai existau un milion de oameni care, saracii, n-au apucat sa-l voteze. Si ca sondajele sunt false. Niste afirmatii absolut aberante. Mai penibil a fost numai Vadim.
Asking the question “Do you believe in love?” is the same as asking “Do you believe in Santa Claus?”.
Deluded youngsters will say “YES, he’s real, he lives in the Noth Pole and circles the world every Christmas in his magic sledge powered by flying reindeer to give good children lots and lots of presents!!!!” and cynics will laugh a little too quickly and a little too loudly and inform you how ridiculous this belief is, secretly remembering the disappointment they felt when they found out that this fantastic man in a red suit was a myth.
Yet some very special few know that nobody will descend through their chimney on Christmas Eve. They know that the man with the white beard they saw at the mall isn’t the same as the one at Walmart. They know there are no reindeer named Rudolph, Dasher, Dancer, etc. And still, they smile as they leave milk and cookies on the table for ‘Santa’ to eat.
Love is not abouth myth; it’s about spirit.
Comes a time when letting go only seems natural.
On a day like any other day.
An ordinary day.
Looking at things from a more optimistic view point (pessimists die young!), the important thing here isn’t the ridiculous ammount of whiny, pity-seeking “articles” with no proper punctuation and noticeably lacking grammar skills written for the sole purpose of getting attention that cannot be obtained otherwise that Blog Surfer provides you with.
It’s the unsubscribe button.
The sky. Trees. Grass. Random dogs on their periods camping out on your front lawn. Dirt. Sandwiches. The First World War. Sin, cos, tan. Blue. My reflection. Friends. Music. Dance. Fan clubs. Cigarettes. People. Fences. Stoners. You. Yes, especially you.
For a while, this blog was private and I honestly thought its candle had blown out at 11,500 views. Too much of, well, everything was going on here, and I had never intended it to be some sort of MTIS online tabloid. Mostly, though, things deserve second chances. I’m giving Cloud34 a second chance.
I hope you’re still up for it. 
