Mbi Omertan në dashuri

(Copëza të një rrëfimi… dhe një letre)

Është e sigurtë, që në dashuri, ekziston, një kod i pashkruar, por i vënë në jetë me kujdes nga dikush, para se ne të lindnim. Nuk e di pse më lindën këto mendime, por dua të them që kodi duhet të jetë i ngjashëm me Omertan siciliane. Omerta. Heshtja para shenjave, kuptimi me sy, i asaj që do dhe duhet e anasjelltas.
E pra tani e di, me duhet të vuaj, sepse shkela omertan, fola apo ndoshta prita gjatë para se të flisja. E që atëherë kur s’munda të hesht, e di jam i dënuar të vuaj, e të ndjehem keq. Nuk më ke faj…
Gjithçka e bëra duke e ditur mirë, që mes nesh ishte kodi, por u tregova i çmendur. Dhe tani mua më takon të ndreq, atë që shkoi për dreq, ndërsa vetë sërish i përhumbur, ndjehem bosh, pasi kurrë nuk i kuptova shenjat e tua. Omertan tënde prej shikimesh plot dritë, ani më keq ndoshta i keqkuptova shtrëngimet e gjata të duarve…
Sidoqoftë ndërsa pres dënimin, dua të ndjehem i lirë… të të dua, të të përqafoj. Por sigurisht nuk mundem të bëj asnjërën nga këto. Atëherë dëgjoj muzikë melankolike, pi T’i sigurisht nuk mund ta vësh re, as t’i ndoshta se ke kuptuar omertan time….
Si ke kuptuar shenjat e përgjërimit, momentet e zjarrit, humbamendjen, mërzinë. Madje nuk di as nëse, do të vinte keq për mua, e megjithatë dije nuk lyp mëshirë. Jam i lypës, por ndërsa jam përgjunjur në kryqëzimin tënd të lyp dashuri. Ndoshta po kërkoj shumë. Ndoshta…
E di prej kohësh kisha menduar t’u kthehesha vargjeve dhe s’mundja. E tani sërish përpiqem të shkruaj ndryshe, e gjithçka vërtitet rreth teje, ndërsa t’i hesht e unë të vështirë e kam të përkthej kodin tënd të heshtjes. Të vështirë e kam të jetoj, pa e ditur, pa e përkthyer shikimin dhe shenjat e tua.
Të dua. Ti hesht.
Askush s’përgjigjet. Përtej meje heshtje. Ftohtësi.

Unë vetëm dua të kuptoj se me ç’zjarr ma ke ndezur shpirtin që unë vdes vetëm të të dëgjoj te flasësh, vetëm të të shikoj të qeshësh. Ç’kriptografi ke zgjedhur për shenjat e tua, e më ke bërë të çmendem pas teje. Më ke bërë të të ndjek nga pas, të humbas në interpretim simbolesh, e gjithmonë të dyshoj se transkripti im është shumë i dobët.
Përtej, shikim i ftohtë e unë dridhem jo nga i ftohti nga heshtja tash kam frikë.
Mos më ler në ankth, thyema zemrën. Shpirtin prej kohësh jam kam falur djallit, andaj mos prit që të pendohem. E di dhe nëse shkoj në ferr dhe vuaj, sërish do jetë më mirë, se sa mbi tokë. Këtu ku jam me ty dhe pa ty. I pashpresë jam, jo për fajin tënd, as për timin, ndoshta ngaqë mbiqenia më dha frymë që të çmendesha pas teje. E pra të dua…

Krasta Krau

Mendime….

Sot gjithe diten kam ne mendje nje serenate korcare qe thote “Se vitet ikin tutje, ikin moj nje nga nje, se vajzat behen plaka, rinia moj nuk vjen me” . Cudi them me veten time, sot mbush plot 30 vjet dhe une kendoj kete kenge, ndoshta duhet te kerkoj ne repertorin e muzikes dicka me “lively” sepse ne fund te fundit nuk eshte se jam plakur prej verteti. Nuk dua te besoj qe jam plakur por dalengadale po kuptoj qe viten po ikin nje nga nje dhe une s’jam me ajo vajza e vogel qe deshironte te rritej aq shpejt dhe ti tregonte botes qe eshte e madhe me qellim qe te me merrnin seriozisht dhe te konsideronin si dike qe s’di te luaje vetem me kuklla. Ja tani, s’jam me ajo, jam nje person i rritur qe ka ikur nga familja prej nje kohe te gjate, ka udhetuar, ka studjuar, ka mesuar gjera te reja dhe interesante ne kete jete, di te perballoje jeten larg miqve dhe te dashurve te saj te zemres, e shume gjera te tjera qe nuk vlejne per tu permendur. Por, sesi me duket tani qe po hedh keto mendime ketu, sikur nuk dua te jem me e rritur, dua te jem dhe nje here femije. Jam e sigurte qe cdonjeri prej jush kur arrin nje moshe te caktuar fillon te mendoje pak a shume sic po mendoj dhe une tani, “bo u plaka dhe une, iku mosha, kaq e pata, etj me radhe si keto.

Ndoshta me dashje apo pa dashje po hyj dhe une ne radhen e njervze qe kane frike te plaken, edhe pse jam shume koshiente qe nuk eshte keshtu sepse jam shume e re, shume “vibrant” shume aktive ne shoqerine ku une jetoj, dhe mbi te gjitha mundohem ta jetoj jeten sido qe ajo te me vije.

Do filloj te ndryshoj qe tani duke i thene vetes qe “dukesh si gonxhe, je ne moshen me te bukur te rinise, ke shume vite te tjera per te jetuar dhe te mbushura me gezime dhe hidherime, dhe gjithe keto ekseperienca do te bejne me te forte ne shume drejtime.

E di njerez po filloj te kendoj kengen “Sot jam 30 vjec edhe jeta me therret”. Nuk mendoni qe eshte me e pershtatshme dhe me entuziaste se kenga qe me kishte zaptuar gjithe paraditen. Ne fund te fundit kjo eshte nje dite e re dhe une duhet ta jetoj ne maksimum.

Belle 

unplugging

“There are things in that paper which nobody knows but me, or ever will. Behind that outside pattern the dim shapes get clearer every day. It is always the same shape, only very numerous. And it is like a woman stooping down and creeping about behind that pattern. I don’t like it a bit. I wonder—I begin to think—I wish [he] would take me away from here!”

(from Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s “The Yellow Wallpaper”)

the pattern of my life seems to have come into focus recently and as i grow bitter… er, older, and recognize the place once vacated by naiveté as enthralled by the art of disenchantment, i realize a certain disturbing truth about reality … more specifically, mine.

life is unassuming. reality isn’t.

i have an unbounded and deep respect for life and have been known to often proclaim that Life is my religion, for it is self-sufficient, self-loving and self-evolving. only life has the most unrestrained respect and utter adoration for all living things. now, if you knew the glorious mess in which i find myself you’d probably gasp at such audacity, for the general consensus leads to the implication that life in the pits must be a life well despised. i say, such asinine assumptions belong in the heads of the defeated. death, pain, destruction, sorrow, abandonment and loss are all life’s useful tools and while the power they carry brings me to my knees, i find myself full of awe at the magnitude, the timing, the irony and the questions answered. it is during these heart staggering moments i casually look up, as an attempt to address my goddess Life, and proclaim: “you smart bitch!”

life is modest. unassuming. blind to judgment. life just is and it is magnificent!

reality – the one created by us – is a bloated, self-centered, money-hungry, power-starved, label-producing, drama-craving, drug-inducing, status-longing, judgmental whore-pig! it drives me apeshit! someone called me an idealist for owning such thoughts. the contempt with which he accompanied the word idealist was meant as a clear sign of insult. i took the “insult” and *ahem* my drink to the other room because at that point it had become clear that my idealism would shed no light in the dark and narrow path he had chosen to take. perhaps i am just that: an idealist. but we have met the enemy and it really is us.

i don’t believe in this reality. it has taken many of the things i once deemed good into compartmentalized rows of severed minds. it’s a reality that insists upon the cutting off from the whole and my itty bitty idealistic mind quite strongly, albeit politely, disagrees. no, fuck that. not politely. the person who shuddered at the sight of an idealist also felt it necessary to make the following comment: “with a dress like that you would be blown to pieces in the middle east!”

i swear, i heard an explosion. it was my brain.

when are we going to pull our collective massive head out of our collective amateur ass? will this charade ever end? patterns of the self (read: mine) are only appearing slightly visible now! how does lucy, benny, james and fucking penny pretend to know about me? forgive the passion darlings – don’t know about you but i get quite spicy when i read the verdict fitted for a crime i haven’t even committed.”he that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone,” said the master. jesus, the man, the divinity and the myth, wouldn’t have survived 21st century for a second! i imagine entire forests would have to be annihilated, too. come on! one cross would not even begin the bear the sins of our fathers and those before them.

i’ve gone off on a tangent again, and now i can’t even remember the point of it all. i was simply re-visiting “The Yellow Wallpaper!” and now here i am, pissing-off one idealist-hater at a time. oh technology, how i love thee.

Klodi

ethnocentrism in the western world

Although the rapid, fast paced changes in the technological field of modern society would indicate a movement steering away from ethnocentrism, the reality suggests otherwise. At this highly “sophisticated” age, where all information lies between our fingertips and a keyboard, one would assume that as a society we are becoming more exposed, educated and aware of the world as it exists outside this “protective” bubble we call America. This type of ethnocentrism appears to be more of an arrogant-ignorance approach, rather than that of on overly confident accomplisher. However, the ethnocentrism of an ignorant nature is displayed, mainly, by the masses. Those in positions of power and authority use other techniques to further promote ethnocentrism.

In a class discussion (a few years ago) where the professor asked the students to identify one of the ongoing conflicts in Asia, not one student was able or well informed to provide an answer. It’s not like the information isn’t provided! It’s there at uncle Google’s living room! The youth of today is a product of this society; a society whose level of authority has taken the approach of sedating our minds with unnecessary and seemingly entertaining information. In the news, stories related to Britney Spears flip-flops, and cats being trapped between walls seem to be given much more importance than wars, poor living conditions, and political turmoil else where in the world. This type of attitude suggests a high level of self-absorbance. It is instilled into us, forcefully though indirectly, on a collective level by those in power and is hardly questioned by the masses.

Many New York City subway riders read a paper distributed for free, which can be read from cover to cover in about 5-7 minutes. Many of those who aren’t reading occupy their time with their blackberries, or video games, or portable DVDs and iPods. Have our lives become so uneventful and one-sided that we need to constantly be entertained? I think not. Steering away from ethnocentrism requires a much broader, indepth awareness. This awareness, however, does not seem to be promoted or encouraged. Instead, the advancement of technology is used to further sedate and occupy our thoughts.

Furthermore, on an individual level, we make this approach our own.
Ethnocentrism of today’s society, particularly as it affects our youth, might begin at first innocently or unintentionally. Cellulars, text messaging, instant messaging, network websites are used at all times, seemingly, for delivering information that seems to hold little or no substance. And yet, we seem to be almost addicted to our toys and gadgets, repeatedly checking for new messages, comments, news, gossip, etc. This is how we become wrapped and submerged in a reality so small and one dimensional that we forget about our surroundings.

My two cents. What does the web world think?

Klodi