Intotdeauna mi-a plăcut numele ăsta. Şi am avut norocul să fie unul dintre prenumele mele, dar degeaba, căci se pare că toată lumea consideră mai plăcute derivatele de la Valentina… Vreau să mă strige “Ioana” şi altcineva decât vreo 2 profesoare… 
(Da, ştiu că aberez peste măsură - vremea de afară e de vină)
Rar mi se intamplă să mă uit la filme franţuzeşti, iar să îmi placă vreunul cu atât mai rar. Excepţie face “Les Choristes” (2004), film văzut acum două săptămâni la orele de franceză şi revăzut acasă. Ca să nu mai zic de soundtrack-ul care se găseşte zilnic în playlist-ul meu. Definitely a must see movie! After all, it won 2 Oscars! 
« Je m’appelle Clément Mathieu, musicien raté, pion au chômage ».
Din categoria: “Ce mai auzim pe la şcoală”:
“Întotdeauna ultimul loc unde cauţi ceva e locul unde îl găseşti.”
(Titlul nu are nici o legatura cu continutul. Pur si simplu este o urare! 
)
Cum se face ca exact atunci cand ai idei pentru posturi nu ai nici macar o foaie la indemana pe care sa le notezi, dar cand ajungi in fata calculatorului nu iti mai amintesti nimic? 
In fine, constat ca incep sa imi revin. Dupa o perioada foarte lunga in care abia imi aminteam ce am visat sau daca imi aminteam era vorba de niste vise mai mult decat banale, in ultima perioada imi amintesc aproape fiecare vis. Ceea ce e bine, caci am ocazia sa ma amuz de ce prostii imi trec mie prin cap atunci cand dorm .
Ohh, and I’m still not satisfied with my blog theme. So if you want to suggest me a nice wordpress one, leave a comment here .
[Avertisment: urmeaza un post destul de lung 
]
Imi place foarte mult povestioara asta asa ca am ales sa o impartasesc cu voi
A Haunted House by Virginia Woolf
Whatever hour you woke there was a door shutting. From room to room they went, hand in hand, lifting here, opening there, making sure–a ghostly couple.
“Here we left it,” she said. And he added, “Oh, but here tool” “It’s upstairs,” she murmured. “And in the garden,” he whispered. “Quietly,” they said, “or we shall wake them.”
But it wasn’t that you woke us. Oh, no. “They’re looking for it; they’re drawing the curtain,” one might say, and so read on a page or two. “Now they’ve found it,’ one would be certain, stopping the pencil on the margin. And then, tired of reading, one might rise and see for oneself, the house all empty, the doors standing open, only the wood pigeons bubbling with content and the hum of the threshing machine sounding from the farm. “What did I come in here for? What did I want to find?” My hands were empty. “Perhaps its upstairs then?” The apples were in the loft. And so down again, the garden still as ever, only the book had slipped into the grass.
But they had found it in the drawing room. Not that one could ever see them. The windowpanes reflected apples, reflected roses; all the leaves were green in the glass. If they moved in the drawing room, the apple only turned its yellow side. Yet, the moment after, if the door was opened, spread about the floor, hung upon the walls, pendant from the ceiling–what? My hands were empty. The shadow of a thrush crossed the carpet; from the deepest wells of silence the wood pigeon drew its bubble of sound. “Safe, safe, safe” the pulse of the house beat softly. “The treasure buried; the room . . .” the pulse stopped short. Oh, was that the buried treasure?
A moment later the light had faded. Out in the garden then? But the trees spun darkness for a wandering beam of sun. So fine, so rare, coolly sunk beneath the surface the beam I sought always burned behind the glass. Death was the glass; death was between us, coming to the woman first, hundreds of years ago, leaving the house, sealing all the windows; the rooms were darkened. He left it, left her, went North, went East, saw the stars turned in the Southern sky; sought the house, found it dropped beneath the Downs. “Safe, safe, safe,” the pulse of the house beat gladly. ‘The Treasure yours.”
The wind roars up the avenue. Trees stoop and bend this way and that. Moonbeams splash and spill wildly in the rain. But the beam of the lamp falls straight from the window. The candle burns stiff and still. Wandering through the house, opening the windows, whispering not to wake us, the ghostly couple seek their joy.
“Here we slept,” she says. And he adds, “Kisses without number.” “Waking in the morning–” “Silver between the trees–” “Upstairs–” ‘In the garden–” “When summer came–” ‘In winter snowtime–” “The doors go shutting far in the distance, gently knocking like the pulse of a heart.
Nearer they come, cease at the doorway. The wind falls, the rain slides silver down the glass. Our eyes darken, we hear no steps beside us; we see no lady spread her ghostly cloak. His hands shield the lantern. “Look,” he breathes. “Sound asleep. Love upon their lips.”
Stooping, holding their silver lamp above us, long they look and deeply. Long they pause. The wind drives straightly; the flame stoops slightly. Wild beams of moonlight cross both floor and wall, and, meeting, stain the faces bent; the faces pondering; the faces that search the sleepers and seek their hidden joy.
“Safe, safe, safe,” the heart of the house beats proudly. “Long years–” he sighs. “Again you found me.” “Here,” she murmurs, “sleeping; in the garden reading; laughing, rolling apples in the loft. Here we left our treasure–” Stooping, their light lifts the lids upon my eyes. “Safe! safe! safe!” the pulse of the house beats wildly. Waking, I cry “Oh, is this your buried treasure? The light in the heart.”
Si iata cum imi fortez eu norocul… - participand la un alt concurs De data asta este vorba despre un concurs organizat de Blogatu, care ne provoaca sa gasim un slogan din 3 cuvinte pentru blogurile noastre. Iar cuvintele alese de mine pentru acest slogan sunt… the bluebird song(ca tot am avut pe vremuri o tema cu pasarea albastra). Initial ma gandisem la un altul, dar am avut inspiratia sa verific daca nu cumva mai era ceva asemanator deja inscris in concurs… [si culmea, celalalt slogan era mai banal ca acesta]
Daca politia nu opreste la trecerea de pietoni atunci cand vad ca sunt persoane angajate in traversare (pfiuu ce limbaj specializat am) atunci ce pretentii sa mai avem de la restul soferilor?
By the way, de azi sunt cititoare cu diploma! 
Ce-mi veni mie sa scriu despre un gadget-urile mele in materie de telefoane mobile? Pai raspunsul este simplu - imi incerc si eu norocul la concursul go4it.ro, ce are ca premiu un Nokia E90 Communicator. Dar ca sa am macar sanse sa castig trebuie intai sa va povestesc ce telefoane mobile posed eu in prezent. Da, am zis corect “telefoane”, pentru ca am doua; nu din cauza ca as avea neaparata nevoie, ci pentru ca imi este foooarte greu sa ma despart de unul dintre ele Asta e, probabil la batranete o sa ajung sa nu mai am loc in casa de toate vechiturile pe care le voi pastra . Dar sa revenim la oile noastre. Cum ziceam, in prezent am doua telefoane: un Sony Ericsson k310i, care isi face treaba destul de bine(zic eu) si un Nokia 3220, care o sa fie intotdeauna telefonul meu preferat, cu toate ca inafara de luminitele alea pe margine nu prea are cu ce sa se laude.
Totusi, parca pe viitor m-ar tenta si pe mine un telefon mai performant. Cine stie, poate acum am si eu ocazia sa castig unul! 