{"id":1564,"date":"2011-01-11T00:17:23","date_gmt":"2011-01-10T22:17:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/daimon.me\/blog\/?p=1564"},"modified":"2011-01-11T15:49:52","modified_gmt":"2011-01-11T13:49:52","slug":"provocare-somewhere-faraway","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/daimon.me\/blog\/2011\/01\/provocare-somewhere-faraway\/","title":{"rendered":"Provocare: Somewhere, Faraway"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

Dac\u0103 tot a fost weekend, s\u0103 ne relax\u0103m pu\u0163in, poate-l prelungim. \u00cen loc s\u0103 scriem despre subiecte noi, interesante \u015fi complexe, lucru care ne-ar m\u00e2nca timp \u015fi ne-ar cere concentrare – haide\u0163i s\u0103 privim asupra unor subiecte vechi. Proprii. Doar c\u0103 .. \u00een alt\u0103 limb\u0103.<\/p>\n

Umbl\u0103 zvonul prin t\u00e2rg cum c\u0103 rom\u00e2nii \u015ftiu bine englez\u0103, mult mai bine dec\u00e2t bulgarii sau ungurii, de s\u00e2rbi s\u0103 nici nu amintim. Facem englez\u0103 din \u015fcoal\u0103, privim la filme \u00een englez\u0103 (f\u0103r\u0103 subtitrare, uneori), vorbim direct \u00een englez\u0103 sometimes<\/em>. \u00cen special cei care scriu bloguri se pot considera c\u00e2t de c\u00e2t educa\u0163i, nu-i ca \u015fi cum l-am pune pe Nae de la cazane s\u0103 scrie \u00een limba lui Shakespeare.<\/p>\n

Regulile sunt simple: fie scrie\u0163i o \u00eensemnare nou\u0103, fie traduce\u0163i una proprie mai veche. Condi\u0163ia este ca produsul s\u0103 aib\u0103 peste 450 de cuvinte, \u015fi dac\u0103 cineva v\u0103 critic\u0103 produsul final \u00eencerca\u0163i s\u0103 accepta\u0163i critica. Contribu\u0163ia mea este mai jos:<\/p>\n

Somewhere, faraway<\/a><\/h2>\n

7:55.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Had slept 3 hours minus a quarter, and still felt like I could use a little more. I managed to leave the bed unheartedly, wash face, glance one more time to the calculus formulae, group leaves for the exam. The road was sorta slicky, with light snowing, wind breezing through our coats.<\/p>\n

At 7:55, before the amphitheater. Hordes of freshmen, distinctive by their patience, waiting for their bell to toll. God, I feel old now…<\/p>\n

Teacher arrives on time, we receive our exam subjects. I stare blankly at the paper, and the formulae almost stare back at me. Oh snap, it wasn’t enough .. damn those Fouriers and Taylors and whoever else ever invented a theorem. I still give it a long shot, fight those integrals, fuming while last night’s theory seems to slip between my fingers – that’s it, see you again in the spring, promise I’ll learn more, I’ll be better, I’ll know everything … come on<\/em>, who am I kidding? I never learn every<\/em>thing.<\/p>\n

Still, it wouldn’t be good sport to give up so quickly; I simply push my papers away a bit and I stare out the window.<\/p>\n

It’s past 8 o’clock by no-idea-what-minutes. It keeps on snowing, big puffy gentle flakes, it snows in a straigh line as if drawn by Euclidius’ hand itself, a calm and hypnotic snowstorm – I hear the muffled laughter from those freshmen, and here I am again, feeling like a fresh guy myself fearing those long, quiet university corridors. Vague memories of my own beginnings come back, I am again at the Programming lecture, sitting quietly in the dark while the teacher projects some pointer drawings; comes back the hard, sloppy smell of 90 people attending a Logic lecture during the winter; that smell of coffee, nectar for sleepy students, images of notebooks filled with theory and formulae which we all kept writing down diligently; come back the alluring secondary year’s labs, the seldom meetings of the MSP group, my crossing with the Java teacher, faintly I remember coupling network cables, the laid-back torpor of those summer afternoons spent in the library, reading magazines and computer history, the tension of those Software Engineering classes .. fast forward this semester, a few more weeks until endgame, kaput, game over, finish line, mark the ending of a stage.<\/p>\n

So soon!<\/strong><\/p>\n

The background droning fades off, those bright neon lights of the A02 amphitheater, pencil in my hand .. I abruptly realize my whereabouts, just gloriously scored yet another failed exam, spring session’s gonna be interesting, followed by a mere 4 months for the Bachelor’s Degree preparation, after which I won’t have someone to tell me my direction anymore. Like it matters ..the glorious paradox of being free to get a job, get a wife, get a hobby and get in line. You\u2019re free to get in line. Pick your position, it\u2019s free for all, pick your queue, your Facebook friends define you, don’t forget to take pictures if you travel (you need proof you were there), are you having kids yet, what are your New Year’s Eve plans?<\/p>\n

It’s funny how life seems a broken road, childhood spent innocently playing, adolescence frittered away bracing for adulthood, life spent getting into a position and wearing yourself away while holding up, old man’s sole purpose to draw the line, conclude to the nothingness and slowly regress back to the sunny shores of unknowing childlikeness …<\/p>\n

10 o’clock.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Getting out of the exam room. Ball-freezing cold outside faculty. Be dreammy some other time, dude. Let’s go find warmth, shall we? After all,<\/p>\n

I’m still a-young, milady :)<\/em><\/p>\n

~~~~~~<\/p>\n

(nota personal\u0103: a ie\u015fit oribil; habar n-am cum s\u0103 traduc referin\u0163ele c\u0103tre Pitti\u015f, sincer, plus c\u0103 a expirat \u015fi linku’ p\u0103cii c\u0103tre YouTube)<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Dac\u0103 tot a fost weekend, s\u0103 ne relax\u0103m pu\u0163in, poate-l prelungim. \u00cen loc s\u0103 scriem despre subiecte noi, interesante \u015fi complexe, lucru care ne-ar m\u00e2nca timp \u015fi ne-ar cere concentrare – haide\u0163i s\u0103 privim asupra unor subiecte vechi. Proprii. Doar c\u0103 .. \u00een alt\u0103 limb\u0103. Umbl\u0103 zvonul prin t\u00e2rg cum c\u0103 rom\u00e2nii \u015ftiu bine englez\u0103, …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-1564","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-fara","7":"anons"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/daimon.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1564","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/daimon.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/daimon.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/daimon.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/daimon.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1564"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/daimon.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1564\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1728,"href":"http:\/\/daimon.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1564\/revisions\/1728"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/daimon.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1564"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/daimon.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1564"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/daimon.me\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1564"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}