<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246</id><updated>2012-01-20T18:34:59.794+02:00</updated><category term='literature'/><category term='Parties'/><category term='Home'/><category term='the magical world of jyu'/><category term='моите приятели'/><category term='feminism'/><category term='Travel'/><category term='Emotional buzz'/><category term='Music'/><category term='lists'/><category term='random'/><title type='text'>subandhu</title><subtitle type='html'>Ексхибиционизъм и себелюбие</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>105</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1803464545718112881</id><published>2012-01-20T18:33:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2012-01-20T18:34:59.797+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Overheard by accident</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Today at lunch I sat unfortunately close to the people at the next table and could hear their conversation. Apparently they were a couple headed towards separation, from what the woman was saying. The man was silent most of the time, eating his food. She was going on about how she was just tormenting herself in this relationship, he'd been lying to her, and there was no point in going on. And he'd already set up his whole life, started a family. So. Married, seemingly uninterested in the fate of their relationship, significantly older, sloppy-looking, about three levels of attractiveness below her. So... why?! Couples like that one make me so sad. People, it's better to be alone than with someone who makes you miserable and can offer you nothing better in the future. Having a man at any cost should be a thing of the distant past, you know? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1803464545718112881?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1803464545718112881/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2012/01/overheard-by-accident.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1803464545718112881'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1803464545718112881'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2012/01/overheard-by-accident.html' title='Overheard by accident'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4881844375543995830</id><published>2011-12-31T13:00:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-12-31T13:00:32.695+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Really Random Ruminations</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I've been growing confused about the world and how stuff works, and mostly what it means. Does it really mean what it appears to mean? I feel like I'm standing on very shaky ground. Is it more healthy to transport all of the things you love and have shared into the new territory or to file them in the archive and enter new things in the new shared territory? Why the hell am I hung up on this anyway?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's snowing. As I grow older, people tend to gravitate towards their own thing and sharedness becomes a luxury. I wonder why, I wonder what value people find in forming their own little bubbles. I've been wondering about the value of the family for a long time. It seems to me it's often understood to have its value rooted in the specific nature of familial ties, but I don't think this is the case - it seems to me its value comes mostly from shared history, so it would work with other types of ties as well, such as friendship. However, suddenly everyone is more interested in some abstract development of themselves, of their own vessels of value contained in their bodies, than in preservation of ties. It's easy to reassure yourself that family is forever, but I feel ties need care to be preserved. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4881844375543995830?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4881844375543995830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/12/really-random-ruminations.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4881844375543995830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4881844375543995830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/12/really-random-ruminations.html' title='Really Random Ruminations'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1584982351822022857</id><published>2011-11-13T21:23:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-11-13T22:21:44.403+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Моето тяло</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Тялото ми не е значително по-различно от когато бях на 22-23-27; кожата на лицето ми е по-малко еластична и ръцете ми са малко загрубели, но иначе си е същото. Но вече не го мразя, не го ненавиждам, не искам да е по-слабо тук и по-стегнато там, по-красиво, по-загадъчно, по-впечатляващо, по-достойно за забелязване. Тялото ми не се промени, но аз, за своя гордост, се промених малко и сега мога свободно да го харесвам. Мога дори да пиша за това, че го харесвам.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Тялото ми издържа на много силна болка. Всеки месец преминава през кървене, болки, понижено кръвно, гадене и общ дискомфорт. С него си пренесох и сглобих, съвсем сама, новите мебели. Когато последователно го тренирам, издържа на продължително тичане. Не издържа дълго на физическо натоварване, но носи на доста жега и студ. Тялото ми има своя уникална миризма, която напомня на приятеля ми и кучето ми, че съм аз и че те ме обичат. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Тялото ми реагира на думи, жестове, докосвания, понякога по непредвидими начини. То може да се учи и развива; все още знам твърде малко за него. Мога безкрайно да го откривам, изменям и изпитвам. Може да общува, давайки и получавайки.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Когато постепенно спрях да гледам на тялото си като на украшение и започнах да го виждам като потенциално безгранично способен инструмент, спрях да го мразя. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1584982351822022857?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1584982351822022857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/11/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1584982351822022857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1584982351822022857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/11/blog-post.html' title='Моето тяло'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-6928274951589094324</id><published>2011-11-04T20:30:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2011-11-04T20:32:34.243+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Local thrills</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;I watch a lot of American TV. I have almost zero interest in Bulgarian TV shows. I don't know why; when Забранена любов first came on, cringe-worthy awful as it was, I couldn't look away. I devoured it whole online, when I was supposed to be writing my MA thesis. Some time later Стъклен дом materialized and I was very much into that, too. And then I just stopped watching for some reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How I Met Your Mother is not much better than those two, if you really come down to it. It has some clever entertainment, and Barney is a pitch-perfect parody, but in the heart of it, it still insults your intelligence and willingness to suspend disbelief. It's no FRIENDS, which had warmth and remarkable relatability to it. House MD fazed out in the 5th season or so (to me, it was over once I learned House/Stacy wasn't happening). Grey's Anatomy is nothing more than a soap opera with some misguided falsetto equalism, all soaked in supercheesy drama. Lie to Me is a terrible disappointment all around, with all the predictable cliches of personal stories, terrible acting and inter-character chemistry with the lushness of the Gobi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I can't really say why I'm so averse to Bulgarian shows... They're something creative, happening in Bulgaria, or what I always bemoan not getting enough of. I want to read Bulgarian novels, watch Bulgarian films, TV shows, and yet I can't bring myself to actually sit through any (minus the novels, which I actively seek out and read and am underwhelmed so far). I'm looking for something local, something very local and hitting straight home, to engage my imagination, to ignite my empathy and engross me the way Olga Krasteva, Pavel Vezhinov and Dimitar Dimov did when I was little, I long for it, in all honesty, but can't be bothered to give it the time of day. Why? I can't explain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there anything on TV or at the cinema I should check out? Thoughts? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-6928274951589094324?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/6928274951589094324/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/11/local-thrills.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/6928274951589094324'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/6928274951589094324'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/11/local-thrills.html' title='Local thrills'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-8942922421073600668</id><published>2011-10-30T13:25:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2011-10-30T13:25:01.114+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Mme Bovary and me</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;So I'm reading Madame Bovary, and let me tell you, I identify with Emma in every. fucking. way. I'm not sure if that's a testimony to the timelessness of Flaubert's novel, contrary to his contemporaries' critiques, and thus to the triumph of the contemporary novel as set in motion by his works, or an exposition of my own sad state of being. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-8942922421073600668?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/8942922421073600668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/10/mme-bovary-and-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8942922421073600668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8942922421073600668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/10/mme-bovary-and-me.html' title='Mme Bovary and me'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-5401941503871915593</id><published>2011-10-10T23:23:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-10-10T23:23:19.628+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lists'/><title type='text'>Neither here nor there</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;In many senses, even in all senses. Geographically, ideologically, age-wise, educationally. At least I'm emotionally grounded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good things about the cold season&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long hot showers &lt;br /&gt;Herbal tea tastes right again&lt;br /&gt;Oh look, I'd forgotten I owned this cute cardigan!&lt;br /&gt;Train travel is tolerable&lt;br /&gt;Christmas cards&lt;br /&gt;TV shows are picked up again&lt;br /&gt;More excuses for staying in&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so locked in this place, at this site of my biography, as if I'll never move forward. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-5401941503871915593?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/5401941503871915593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/10/neither-here-nor-there.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5401941503871915593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5401941503871915593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/10/neither-here-nor-there.html' title='Neither here nor there'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-5580565061610548149</id><published>2011-06-22T10:48:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-06-22T10:48:42.191+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Животинска драма</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Докато си работех, осъзнах, че от известно време до прозореца ми се чува продължителен стържещ звук като от гарга или някаква ремонтна дейност. Погледнах през прозореца - беше сврака. Кацнала на оградата, грачи високо и упорито с отворена човка и върти глава на всички страни. Обаче гледаше надолу - там едно коте пък гледаше нагоре към нея, а до котето - сврачи труп, може би убит от котето. Така се гледаха няколко минути, свраката без да спре да вика. Сигурно жалеше за другарчето си. Дали свраките правят брачни двойки за цял живот, като някои други птици? Във всеки случай тази сврака тъжеше.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Накрая котето изсъска, птицата излетя и то се зае да яде плячката си. Та така - природната първичност точно до прозореца на офиса ни. Странно ми е с какво удивление и любопитство гледахме тази сценка. По-естествено ми се вижда желанието ми да припиша човешки чувства и мотивации на животните, участващи в нея, кой знае защо. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-5580565061610548149?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/5580565061610548149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/06/blog-post_22.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5580565061610548149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5580565061610548149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/06/blog-post_22.html' title='Животинска драма'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-7917113837598497805</id><published>2011-06-13T12:26:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-06-13T12:26:50.494+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feminism'/><title type='text'>Мизандрията обикновено е криворазбрана, един пример</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Цитирам и превеждам един коментар от &lt;a href="http://jezebel.com/5811181/men-youre-about-to-feel-the-weiner-effect?comment=40012260#comments"&gt;страхотната дискусия&lt;/a&gt; под един от днешните постове в Jezebel, защото според мен кратко и ясно обяснява защо посочването на неравните позиции на мъжете и жените в света ан хетеросексуалните романтични/сексуални отношения и начините, по които те често влияят върху тези отношения в ущърб на жените, не е равно на мъжемразие или феминистко огорчение:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;От fishwithoutabike:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;"I love many of the men in my life. But I'm old  enough to recognize now that no matter how many times someone calls me a  "man-hater" or "sexist" (HAR!), it is more important for me to  recognize the damage men as a class inflict on women as a class and  protect myself accordingly than it is for me to be the conciliatory  peacemaker in the War of the Sexes and make sure I constantly append my  criticisms with "I know not all men are like this" or "most men are  great and wonderful, but..." It just isn't helpful and it continually  places the onus on women to be the ones to ignore patriarchy and keep on  truckin'. I'm exhausted and exasperated by this sort of shit and I  can't be bothered to pretend otherwise."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;В превод:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;"Обичам много от мъжете в живота си. Но съм достатъчно голяма да разбирам, че независимо колко пъти ме наричат "мъжемразка" или "сексистка", по-важно е да посочвам вредите, нанасяни на жените като група от мъжете като група, и да се пазя от тях, отколкото да бъда миротворката във Войната на половете и да гледам критиките ми винаги да са придружени с уговорката "знам, че не всички мъже са такива" или "повечето мъже са чудесни, обаче...". Просто от това няма полза и освен по този начин се прехвърля &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;върху жените &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;отговорността да игнорират патриархалната уредба на обществото и да карат напред. Омръзна ми от тези простотии, те ме дразнят и нямам намерение да се преструвам, че не е така." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-7917113837598497805?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/7917113837598497805/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/06/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7917113837598497805'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7917113837598497805'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/06/blog-post.html' title='Мизандрията обикновено е криворазбрана, един пример'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-5968796767401788746</id><published>2011-06-09T10:05:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-06-09T10:05:09.329+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lists'/><title type='text'>Things to hold on to</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Неща у дома, които не бихте намерили в много други домове &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Сандали от 70те (буквално от 70те, не просто в такъв стил), които си нося всяко лято&lt;br /&gt;Пластмасово сърце с течност за топлене на ръце през зимата&lt;br /&gt;Мини-рикша&lt;br /&gt;Две плюшени муминчета в различни размери&lt;br /&gt;Промоционалния диск от Бьорк с Brodsky Quartet, продаван с Irish Times през 1999&lt;br /&gt;"Хари Потър и философският камък" на хинди&lt;br /&gt;Мечето на мистър Бийн (със сертификат за автентичност)&lt;br /&gt;Feminism - The Early Writings&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;А цяла сутрин сушам &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ma91kie8G3A&amp;amp;NR=1"&gt;това&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-5968796767401788746?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/5968796767401788746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/06/things-to-hold-on-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5968796767401788746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5968796767401788746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/06/things-to-hold-on-to.html' title='Things to hold on to'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-9085891625994625923</id><published>2011-05-28T10:52:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-05-28T10:52:57.674+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Страшни сънища</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Снощи сънувах, че показвам на една колега къде е резервната тоалетна между офис сградите, докато над нас беше надвиснал ураган: беше тъмно като през нощта, небето беше черно и вихрено с изключение на една лилава ивица точно над хоризонта, в която се рееха самолети като светулки. И тогава внезапно ни заля огромно цунами, от три страни. После сънят се смени с друг, в който бях в къщата на баба ми, прясно ремонтирана, чиито стени бяха пропукани по ъглите; а на едно място мазилката беше паднала и се подаваше тъмносинята боя отдолу. Там също бяхме в предапокалиптично очакване преди някакво торнадо или земетресение или нещо такова. Чудя се защо сънувам природни бедствия. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-9085891625994625923?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/9085891625994625923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/05/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/9085891625994625923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/9085891625994625923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/05/blog-post.html' title='Страшни сънища'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-3596853795395761784</id><published>2011-04-20T11:41:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-04-20T11:41:12.838+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Porn star wisdom</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;"If you think pubic hair on a woman is unnatural or weird, you aren't mature enough to be touching vaginas"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://twitter.com/#%21/stoya/status/60371896063111168"&gt;Stoya&lt;/a&gt;, adult film actor.&amp;nbsp;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much truth in 140 characters or less.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-3596853795395761784?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/3596853795395761784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/04/porn-star-wisdom.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3596853795395761784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3596853795395761784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/04/porn-star-wisdom.html' title='Porn star wisdom'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-8332742034990570754</id><published>2011-04-14T10:18:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T10:18:31.706+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Affirmative Action</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Т. нар. позитивна дискриминация е всяващо ужас чучело за средностатистическия български форумец - освен ако не е в полза на мъжете. &lt;a href="http://www.segabg.com/online/new/articlenew.asp?issueid=8949&amp;amp;sectionid=2&amp;amp;id=0000301"&gt;Тогава е напълно ок&lt;/a&gt; и в нейна полза ще ви донесат от 9 кладенеца вода. (вж. коментарите)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Лицемерието и наглостта са поразителни. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-8332742034990570754?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/8332742034990570754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/04/affirmative-action.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8332742034990570754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8332742034990570754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/04/affirmative-action.html' title='Affirmative Action'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-6943840578611875104</id><published>2011-04-12T10:47:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2011-04-12T10:47:47.104+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;THE WORLD IS TEEMING WITH MORONS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, it's the information age, yes, there is Google, and there is wikipedia, and there is most things in the world at your fingertips. And yet, and yet, ignorance is rampant. So rampant, and so blatant, that people would come in specifically to correct you with something that is not only wrong, but that can be checked in a matter of half a second and verified to be wrong. Does. not. compute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Few things enrage me more than ignorance and rudeness, especially combined.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-6943840578611875104?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/6943840578611875104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/04/world-is-teeming-with-morons.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/6943840578611875104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/6943840578611875104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/04/world-is-teeming-with-morons.html' title=''/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4904197605730180275</id><published>2011-04-07T09:12:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2011-04-07T09:12:49.826+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Заглавия март</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:WordDocument&gt;   &lt;w:View&gt;Normal&lt;/w:View&gt;   &lt;w:Zoom&gt;0&lt;/w:Zoom&gt;   &lt;w:HyphenationZone&gt;21&lt;/w:HyphenationZone&gt;   &lt;w:PunctuationKerning/&gt;   &lt;w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/&gt;   &lt;w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;false&lt;/w:SaveIfXMLInvalid&gt;   &lt;w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;false&lt;/w:IgnoreMixedContent&gt;   &lt;w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;false&lt;/w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText&gt;   &lt;w:Compatibility&gt;    &lt;w:BreakWrappedTables/&gt;    &lt;w:SnapToGridInCell/&gt;    &lt;w:WrapTextWithPunct/&gt;    &lt;w:UseAsianBreakRules/&gt;    &lt;w:DontGrowAutofit/&gt;   &lt;/w:Compatibility&gt;   &lt;w:BrowserLevel&gt;MicrosoftInternetExplorer4&lt;/w:BrowserLevel&gt;  &lt;/w:WordDocument&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 9]&gt;&lt;xml&gt;  &lt;w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="156"&gt;  &lt;/w:LatentStyles&gt; &lt;/xml&gt;&lt;![endif]--&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt; /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;}&lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Специално за Бени. :-)&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-07&amp;amp;article=359910"&gt;Селски Отело мъсти със сабя&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 03/07)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-10&amp;amp;article=360281"&gt;Кръстиха дупка с шампанско&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 03/10)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-11&amp;amp;article=360430"&gt;Дядо млати майки пред забавачка&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 03/11)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-11&amp;amp;article=360337"&gt;Хламидията създава гении или аутисти&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 03/11)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.monitor.bg/article?id=283201"&gt;Карабинери спасиха наша топкрадла&lt;/a&gt; (Монитор, 03/11)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-14&amp;amp;article=360696"&gt;Пастир се обеси, ударил зет с брадва&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 03/14)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-16&amp;amp;article=360967"&gt;Проверяват за риба на тротоара&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt; (&lt;/span&gt;Стандарт, 03/16)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.24chasa.bg/Article.asp?ArticleId=823106"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Друсат коня на Бойко Борисов&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (24 часа, 03/19)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.monitor.bg/article?id=284649"&gt;Пациенти шамарят всеки десети медик&lt;/a&gt; (Монитор, 03/22)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-22&amp;amp;article=361585"&gt;Пращат на море бити медсестри&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 03/22)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-22&amp;amp;article=361602"&gt;Делва с вода вместо корона за миска&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 03/22)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-24&amp;amp;article=361780"&gt;Инфаркт в ухото&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 03/24)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-25&amp;amp;article=361940"&gt;Взеха хотела на Ванко 1 с Христос&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt; (&lt;/span&gt;Стандарт, 03/25)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-25&amp;amp;article=361933"&gt;Шотландски бойци изкупуват Трън&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 03/25)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.monitor.bg/article?id=285015"&gt;Британец отвори хотел за кокошки&lt;/a&gt; (Монитор, 03/25)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-28&amp;amp;article=362319"&gt;БСП иска кукувец за президент&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 03/28)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-28&amp;amp;article=362313"&gt;Човек на Яне ще гърми депутати&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 03/28)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.monitor.bg/article?id=285155"&gt;Кулинарка скандалджийка лъсна гола&lt;/a&gt; (Монитор, 03/26)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-30&amp;amp;article=362493"&gt;Багери налазват Веселото село&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt; (&lt;/span&gt;Стандарт 03/30)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-03-30&amp;amp;article=362501"&gt;Кравар праща кобила на ДНК експертиза&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;(&lt;/span&gt;Стандарт 03/30)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4904197605730180275?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4904197605730180275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/04/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4904197605730180275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4904197605730180275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/04/blog-post.html' title='Заглавия март'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4312289789394251503</id><published>2011-03-23T11:52:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2011-03-23T11:54:16.830+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feminism'/><title type='text'>Сексуална просвета</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Депресираща новина из всички медии днес – абортите се увеличават, възрастта на първия полов контакт пада, учениците правят безразборен секс в голямото междучасие. &lt;a href="http://www.dnevnik.bg/bulgaria/2011/03/22/1063768_za_dve_godini_abortite_sa_se_uvelichili_rajdaemostta_e/"&gt;Дневник&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;На свиващата се раждаемост няма да се спирам, защото има кой да й обръща внимание. Но тази работа с абортите (от една страна) и ранния безразборен секс (от друга) силно ме притеснява и за нея почти не се говори, а когато попадне в полезрението на обществеността веднъж годишно, се говори в черно-бели дихотомии: или се заклеймява „разпасаността” и „липсата на морал” сред подрастващите, или въпросът се изоставя с убеждението, че няма нищо лошо в това. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Обаче според мен има много лошо и то произтича от пълната липса на информация и незнание. До този извод стигам по две причини: първо, ако тийнейджърите правеха информиран избор в сексуалната си активност, нямаше да има толкова много нежелани бременности, тайни аборти и произтичащи от тях заболявания и инфекции; и второ, по собствени спомени и информацията по медиите в училище сексуалната просвета или е допотопна, или изобщо липсва. Ако и у дома преобладава мълчание по тези теми, единствените източници на информация пред подрастващите за толкова важни, зрели и сложни неща като физическите и емоционални импликации и последици от сексуалното общуване остават слуховете из интернет форумите и порносайтовете. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Това е страхотно обезпокоително. В порното сексът е еднообразен, стилизиран и лишен от почти всичките си нюанси и целия си спектър от възможности (както във физически, така и в емоционален план). И по-зле, в повечето мейнстрийм порно филми/клипчета сексът се представя недвусмислено като отношение на подчинение и унижение от страна на мъжа към жената. Проблемът за взаимното съгласие и желание отсъства напълно там. Тоест не е само до свеждането на сексуалното общуване до физически акт с ограничен брой вариации – порнокултурата последователно пресъздава ролите на половете в хетеросексуалния акт като даващ и взимащ, актант и предмет и те се пренасят автоматично и в извънсексуалното общуване между половете, защото няма кой да поговори за децата за това, че с другия пол може да се общува на повече от едно ниво. За мен това е страшно вредно и назадничаво. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;На тези информационни канали трябва да се противопоставят някакви по-образовани, по-надеждни, по-нюансирани сведения и да се даде широк достъп на децата до тях. Според мен говоренето за секс, сексуална култура, интимно общуване, отношения между сексуални партньори трябва да започва рано и вкъщи – още при появяване на първите признаци на това, че детето е забелязало сексуалността си и започва да я изследва, а това става на доста ранна възраст. Защото без трезва и балансирана информация и дискусия от фигурите на авторитет в живота не детето (преди да е станало на 13 и да е започнало да се образова само в училищната тоалетна, както услужливо ни уведомяват медиите, че се случва навсякъде) то е оставено само на едностранчивите и според мен много вредни послания за секса, излъчвани от цялата ни култура, защото порнографското отношение към половото общуване не идва само от същинската порнография. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;И така от нежелание, незаинтересованост, мързел, абсурдно старовремско неудобство, архаични табута и изобщо цялостно пренебрегване на растящия млад човек у дома или в училище произвеждаме млади хора, за които сексуалността е поредната разменна монета в живота, срещу която се получава социален статус, одобрение, приемане и често и просто вещи. Докато тези послания за секса и „употребата” на женското тяло са придружени от повсеместното приравняване на жените към сексуалния им „рейтинг” и поведение, момичетата и жените в България ще продължават да попадат в капана, в който са под натиск да бъдат секси и привлекателни, и сексуални (защото в това е основната им ценност), но при реализиране на тази сексуалност биват обявени за курви/ боклуци/ използвани вещи. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Щях да пиша и за аборта и ролята на динамиката на междуполовите отношения в него (защото е тясно свързан с порнофикацията на отношенията между половете и липсата на физическа и емоционална сексуална култура), но за това трябва повече време и организация и ще го оставя за друг път. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4312289789394251503?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4312289789394251503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/03/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4312289789394251503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4312289789394251503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/03/blog-post.html' title='Сексуална просвета'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-7756860825685680900</id><published>2011-03-14T09:10:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2011-03-14T14:01:12.298+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Trading with women</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;How the FUCK is that not illegal?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://sofiaecho.com/2011/03/13/1058378_high-prices-at-roma-bride-bazaar-in-bulgaria"&gt;High Prices at a Roma Bride Bazaar&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or when every other day there's a report that an 11-year-old or a 12-year-old has given birth? Isn't that, like, &lt;i&gt;definitive &lt;/i&gt;proof of child molestation?...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ETA: Aaaand &lt;i&gt;this &lt;/i&gt;is the article about Bulgaria that makes to &lt;a href="http://jezebel.com/#%215781513/and-the-bride-wore-a-price-tag"&gt;Jezebel&lt;/a&gt;. Shame on us. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-7756860825685680900?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/7756860825685680900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/03/trading-with-women.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7756860825685680900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7756860825685680900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/03/trading-with-women.html' title='Trading with women'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-2483265566068780832</id><published>2011-02-02T12:12:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2011-02-02T12:14:18.723+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lists'/><title type='text'>Вестникарски заглавия януари</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Като част от служебните си задължения всяка сутрин преравям електронните издания на редица български ежедневници в търсене на материали на определени теми. За месеците, в които го правя, ми се изясни къде по кривата на сериозната журналистика попадат повечето издания (почти изключително off the chart, но не това ми е мисълта). Някои ме вбесяват с патетични есета тип отговор на литературен въпрос в 4ти клас, пробутвани като "задълбочени анализи", други ме дразнят с липсата на дори основна редакция на текстовете си преди публикуване, трети ме смайват с нивото на английския в чуждоезичните си версии; обаче любимото ми са абсурдните заглавия, които всеки, ама всеки ден присъстват в някои от тях, и започнах да си ги събирам. Представям ви извадката си за януари.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-03&amp;amp;article=352570"&gt;Аспарух брани катъка&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;(&lt;/span&gt;Стандарт 01/03)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-04&amp;amp;article=352697"&gt;Кокошки ескимоси спят на акация&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt; (&lt;/span&gt;Стандарт, 01/04)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-06&amp;amp;article=352981"&gt;“Цицки вън” издаде крадец&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/06)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.monitor.bg/article?id=274998"&gt;МВР излиза на лов за пияни Ивановци&lt;/a&gt; (Монитор, 01/06)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-10&amp;amp;article=353451"&gt;Стягат казани за ракия Шенгенка&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/10)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-10&amp;amp;article=353452"&gt;Отмъкнаха спрей за мечки&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/10)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-11&amp;amp;article=353519"&gt;Осама от ДАНС спря мръсна бомба&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/11)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-11&amp;amp;article=353521"&gt;Мацка с джип гази пожарна&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/11)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-11&amp;amp;article=353523"&gt;Простреляният бакшиш минавал все на червено&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/11)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-11&amp;amp;article=353541"&gt;Кривоглед опосум сменя Кнут и Паул&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/11)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-17&amp;amp;article=354286"&gt;Цигани крадат по закона на Архимед&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/17)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-19&amp;amp;article=354462"&gt;Мезонет за Шмоко&lt;br /&gt;ВИП маймуната остава в Шумен, жени се за кучката Суза&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/19)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-20&amp;amp;article=354683"&gt;След вота - Ушите във фризера, Бойко на суши&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt; (&lt;/span&gt;Стандарт, 01/20)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-20&amp;amp;article=354583"&gt;Внезапната смърт идва след мързел и цигари&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/20)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.monitor.bg/article?id=276754"&gt;Риби гризат краката на Гала, &lt;/a&gt;(Монитор, 01/20)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-25&amp;amp;article=355168"&gt;ТИР със семки влезе в стая&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/25)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-27&amp;amp;article=355504"&gt;Съдии мръзнат, разводът скача&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/27)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-27&amp;amp;article=355458"&gt;Не кради и не внасяй луканка!&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/27)&lt;span lang="EN-US"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-27&amp;amp;article=355418"&gt;Торти за пушачите, гилотина за децата&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/27)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-28&amp;amp;article=355519"&gt;Любовта се чете по веждите, дланите издават чичо Скрудж&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/28)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-29&amp;amp;article=355726"&gt;Пита социалистите “Защо утрепахте дядо ми”&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/29)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-30&amp;amp;article=355789"&gt;Пиян плаши баба с ДАНС&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/30)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-30&amp;amp;article=355825"&gt;Старо куче с втора победа в спускане&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/30)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;Начинът на съобщаване на битови трагедии заслужава отделна категория: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-06&amp;amp;article=352983"&gt;Кравар уби колега с нож и сопа&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/06)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-25&amp;amp;article=355167"&gt;Майка и син се клаха за ракия&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/25)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-27&amp;amp;article=355480"&gt;Свекър закла снаха и си направи харакири&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/27)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-27&amp;amp;article=355482"&gt;Охранител си гръмна достойнството&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/27)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-31&amp;amp;article=355952"&gt;Скиор се преби под Тодорка&lt;/a&gt; (Стандарт, 01/31)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NB: Почти всички са от Стандарт, защото Труд и 24 часа отдавна се отказах да следя, а останалите пред Стандарт честно казано бледнеят. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-2483265566068780832?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/2483265566068780832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/02/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2483265566068780832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2483265566068780832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/02/blog-post.html' title='Вестникарски заглавия януари'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-3798997367235184660</id><published>2011-01-21T14:32:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2011-01-21T14:37:08.788+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='random'/><title type='text'>Учи ми се</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"&gt;Спонтанен гугъл експеримент:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.google.bg/webhp?hl=bg#hl=bg&amp;amp;biw=1440&amp;amp;bih=710&amp;amp;q=%22%D1%83%D1%87%D0%B8+%D0%BC%D0%B8+%D1%81%D0%B5%22&amp;amp;fp=4787a6c54bad271d"&gt;"Учи ми се"&lt;/a&gt; - 5 250 резултата.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.google.bg/webhp?hl=bg#hl=bg&amp;amp;biw=1440&amp;amp;bih=710&amp;amp;q=%22%D0%BD%D0%B5+%D0%BC%D0%B8+%D1%81%D0%B5+%D1%83%D1%87%D0%B8%22&amp;amp;fp=4787a6c54bad271d"&gt;"Не ми се учи"&lt;/a&gt; - 1 640 000 резултата. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Не разбирам. На мен страшно много ми се учи. Аз като всички хора съдя по себе си и се втрещявам, като видя как някой може да мисли другояче.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-3798997367235184660?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/3798997367235184660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/01/blog-post_21.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3798997367235184660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3798997367235184660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/01/blog-post_21.html' title='Учи ми се'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-2244498920098158431</id><published>2011-01-05T10:56:00.012+02:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T10:09:02.110+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feminism'/><title type='text'>Жените са виновни за всичко!</title><content type='html'>Disclaimer: Постът няма претенции за изчерпателност, обективност, балансираност или безпристрастност. Постът има претенции да събере и изложи в списък често срещани от мен (и преценени не като изолирани явления, а по-скоро тенденции, въз основа на честотата им) случаи, в които вината за дадена проблемна ситуация, в която обикновено е замесено общуване между половете, се стоварва предимно или изцяло върху жена/жените като цяло; и по този начин да обърне внимание на такава тенденциозна склонност автоматично да се винят жените, често без конкретни сведения за тяхната вина, а просто по инерция, наизуст.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Жените са виновни за всичко!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Жените са си виновни за собствените си проблеми:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Опипали са ви в автобуса? Вие сте си виновна – търкали сте се в мъжа. Носили сте твърде къса пола (как така ще се обличате както си искате, след като трябва да се съобразите с мъжете, които евентуално ще видите на улицата! Те не могат да бъдат държани отговорни за действията си, късата пола ги оправдава автоматично.) Возите се в 280 – ясно е, че там е пълно с опипвачи! Да бяхте си взели маршрутка.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(предупреждение: дълъг пост) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a name='more'&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Опитали са да ви изнасилят? Да не бяхте се обличали предизвикателно. Какво търсите навън посред нощ? Не ви ли хрумна да накарате някой да ви изпрати? Защо не сте си взели такси? Естествено, че вие трябва да съобразявате облеклото, бюджета и живота си с липсата на самоконтрол у напълно непознати мъже, а не те с неотменимото ви право на свобода на движение и себеизразяване.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Не искат да ви вземат на работа, защото сте в детеродна възраст – след като са ви попитали на интервюто за семейното ви положение? Глупости, това е параноя, сигурно просто не отговаряте на изискванията, няма начин да е дискриминация. Понеже хората, които никога няма да попаднат в тази ситуация, знаят по-добре от вас какво ви се е случило. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Детето ви е с проблемно поведение? „Каква майка има това дете?!” Естествено, че сте виновна вие, към бащата няма дори очакването да се е занимал с възпитанието му. Детска градина, училище, други деца, уличната среда – тези неща са преодолими от една ИСТИНСКА майка. Ако детето ви не е абсолютно съвършено, вие сте виновна на 100%.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Имате скучен сексуален живот? Проблемът е във вас! Защото сексуалната инициатива и цялата отговорност за сексуалното преживяване е женска – ако жената не знае как да съблазни, как да се облече, как да се държи, как сама да си достави удоволствие, откъде-накъде ще очаква от мъжа да направи нещо по-интересно или да се поинтересува какво й харесва? За справка вижте групата „Става ли българският мъж?” във фейсбук, към момента пълна със запенени мъже, които истерично защитават половата си репутация, прехвърляйки всяка отговорност за 75-те процента незадоволени от мъжете си жени върху... самите жени. Според тях „мъжът е такъв, какъвто си го направи жената” и ако просто направите салата и налеете ракийка (де да преувеличавах) и положите усилия да съблазните мъжа си, няма да имате оплаквания. Да не си помислихте, че нещо той не разбира или не полага усилия? Не ставайте смешни! Просто вие не сте си го направили полов жребец, това е!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ако на мъжа ви му е скучно обаче – пак сте виновна вие, защото освен за собственото си удоволствие, отговаряте и за неговото. Класическият съвет към жените: смени тактиката! Класическият съвет към мъжете: смени партньорката!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Имате проблеми с партньора си? Карате се често? Най-вероятно проблемът е един от следните: искате твърде много внимание (например да се чувате по телефона през деня или да ви слуша, докато говорите). Спорите с него (например защото не сте съгласна за нещо. Ако искате мир, не противоречете). Или пък очаквате да се съобразява с чувствата ви – ако се откажете от това очакване, няма да сте разочарована! Натяквате му – например че не е бил прав за нещо. Когато трябва деликатно да замълчите от уважение към мъжката му гордост! Отказвате му секс – разбира се, че няма значение дали на вас ви се прави, сексът е средство за запазване на добри отношения и поддържане на доволен мъж, не избирателна дейност!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;И любимото ми – чувствате се нещастни? Депресирани? Неудовлетворени? Самотни? Обидени от нечие отношение? Както ще ви каже всяка книга за самопомощ, чиято популярност и таргетиране изключително на жени е достатъчно красноречив факт сам по себе си, проблемът е у вас! Вие НЕ МИСЛИТЕ ПОЗИТИВНО! Освен това не се стараете достатъчно, не се доказвате всеки ден, не влагате всичко от себе си, имате нереалистични очаквания за личния си живот, не поемате инициатива (симптоматично за товаренето на жените с цялата отговорност за всичко в техния живот И живота на мъжете наоколо – това в края), не сте решителна, не сте смела, оставяте се препятствията да ви спъват, оставяте се зли коментари да ви разстройват, оставяте се мнението на 90% от хората около вас да ви влияе (когато разбира се трябва да живеете в социален вакуум и да не се влияете от средата НИКОГА и НИ НАЙ-МАЛКО). Никой друг не ви е виновен! Никой не може да ви спре, ако сте достатъчно устремена – ни дискриминация, ни злонамерени действия срещу вас, ни целенасочени атаки, ни обиди, нищо! Ако не можете да се справите с тях, вие сте си виновна за последствията им!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Жените са виновни за индивидуалните проблеми на мъжете:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Мъжът ви ви бие? „Никой нормален мъж няма да посегне без провокация.” „Всяка жена, която е бита, е помолила за това най-настоятелно.” (това са цитати от реални мнения.) Естествено, ТРЯБВА да сте направили нещо, за да го предизвикате – какво друго обяснение може да има?! Очевидно е, че сте си заслужили боя.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Мъжът ви е алкохолик? Или просто самосъжаляващ се мухльо? Вие сте виновна, че не сте му осигурили семеен и душевен комфорт. Всъщност най-вероятно сте го тласнали към алкохола с несъвършеното си поведение на недостатъчно предана съпруга. Ако една жена не се жертва, каква жена е?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Мъжът ви ви изневерява? Тук има цели две виновни жени! Най-вече другата жена, мръсната кучка, как го е излъгала невинния нищо неподозиращ мъж, нанизвайки се на нищо неподозиращия му пенис, но и вие, че не се гласите, не го задоволявате, не сте перфектна във всяко отношение. Забавен пример: статия, която в три параграфа е успяла да набута няколко вида женски вини - slut-shaming, gold-digging, man-trapping, с гарнитура от весело щрихиране на потенциално abusive отношения: &lt;a href="http://www.monitor.bg/article?id=274802"&gt;Елен Колева работи за бебе&lt;/a&gt;. Залужават някаква награда за натъпкването на това забележително количество класическо женомразие в толкова кратък текст. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[реален пример, коjто прочетох в един блог преди известно време и коjто остави трайно впечатление у мен] Дядо предлага да му правите свирки всеки ден вместо да плащате наем? Не, не е виновен дядото, че иска това от вас! Виновна е въображаемата му бивша наемателка, която е предложила този начин за разплащане. „Какво е виновен човекът, че предишната му квартирантка е била такава”? И не, не се шегувам и не си измислям – това е реален аргумент от реален човек в дискусията на тази реална ситуация. Щом се стига дотам да трябва да се ИЗМИСЛИ жена, която да е виновна за мъжките действия, това красноречиво говори колко силно е несъзнателното желание мъжът да се извини на всяка цена. Аз наивно си мислех, че мъжът е виновен само ако наистина няма жена, която да бъде обвинена (както жените музиканти са сочени за автори на собствената си музика, ако наистина няма мъж в близост до тях, на когото да се припишат заслугите - питайте Бьорк) – но не, жени се измислят дори в защита на мъжа. Изразът cherchez la fеmme придобива нови измерения!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Един мъж е нещастен? Неуспял? Самотен? Девствен? За разлика от една жена в такава ситуация, която си е виновна сама (вж. предния раздел), за тези проблеми на един мъж са виновни жените в живота му. Виновна е жена му, която го потиска. Виновни са жените, които го разсейват от работата му. Виновни са колежките му, които с цици и свирки си пробиват път нагоре. Виновна е жената-шеф, която има случай на завист към пениса или е недоклатена и следователно злобна и затова не иска да го повиши. Виновни са тъпите кифли, които не искат да му пуснат, защото се интересуват само от пари (разбира се жените са ДЛЪЖНИ да пускат на всеки беден, за да разбият стереотипа). Виновни са момичетата, които не искат да излизат с него, въпреки че е свестен! Понеже всички сме длъжни да награждаваме свестността със секс!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Жените са виновни за световните проблеми:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Да, за това също сме виновни. Според незнамсикой аятолах неприлично облечените жени предизвикват порочни мисли у мъжете, които после биват наказвани от бог с разрушителни земетресения и вулкани.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Кой е предизвикал Троянската война? Елена, защото има наглостта да се е родила жена и красива. Защо Рама трябва да остави царството си и да тръгне на опасен поход, разтърсвайки цялото средновековно индийско общество? Защото жена му е твърде красива и Равана я отвлича. А накрая, когато я измъква, Рама я кара да мине през огъня, за да докаже, че е останала „чиста”. Ако бях по-добре запозната с историята и световните митологии, може би щях да дам и други примери.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Мъжете в днешно време са по-слабо образовани и по-големи мекотели от всякога? Жените са виновни и за това! С наглите си претенции към изконните мъжки позиции в обществото, които вместо да оставим на мъжете от деликатно съобразяване с крехката мъжка гордост, която естествено е приоритет в живота ни, ние завладяваме с кариеристка настървеност, така грозно неотиваща на нежните ни женски натури, комплексираме ги и ги караме да се чувстват ненужни. Така че не се оплаквайте, че не можете да намерите мъж на своето ниво, който да ви уважава и приема – как ще ви уважават и приемат, като смеете да заявявате претенции към ЕСТЕСТВЕНОТО мъжко превъзходство в света! Това е неженствено! Сама сте си виновна, да не се бяхте еманципирали, като искате истински мъже.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Мъжете имат по-слаби резултати в образователната система и тя не произвежда достатъчно качествени мъжки кадри? Виновни са жените, защото зубрят (трябва да не учим много, за да се съобразяваме с мъжките особености и достойнство). Виновна е образователната система, защото е създадена така, че да е в полза на жените. (и това се твърди в страни с коренно различни образователни системи. Обаче ако системата е в полза на мъжете, всичко ще е наред, нали?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Раждат се по-малко деца от всякога, и от все по-възрастни майки? Вероятно ще заподозрете икономическото състояние в нашата страна, финансовата стабилност и житейски перспективи на младите хора? Може би системата за социално осигуряване? Прословутия мъжки страх от обвързване (в който аз лично не вярвам, между другото)? Не познахте. Виновни са жените, които имат наглостта да не живеят заради биологичната си функция, както им е предписано от патриархалната традиция. Ако не искаш дете преди 30 си егоистка, ако искаш дете над 30 - също. Изобщо ако посмееш да мислиш за себе си преди да си се погрижила за всички останали и най-вече за общото благо, си егоистка. Неегоистки са само жените, които си намират митичния "свестен български мъж", пренаселил де що има форуми и блогове и опищял света със своята пренебрегнатост и подтиснатост (нагледно: &lt;a href="http://www.monitor.bg/article?id=274776"&gt;Българките раждат все по-късно - над 35 години&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;подбрани&lt;/span&gt; от редакцията мнения) и му раждат поне три деца преди да са станали на 30 - и готово. Всяка маймуна може да го свърши, но по някаква причина е възхвалявано като нечувано геройство. (Обаче се отклонявам.) Както и да е, изводът е, че за ниската раждаемост са виновни най-вече жените, понеже са егоистки и меркантилни и понеже дете можеш да си направиш и сама, не е като да трябва да има и мъж в цялата картинка, който да иска да има деца и да е готов да ги гледа. Пък и така да беше, с тези отзивчиви мъже, които поемат половината грижи за децата, какво друго извинения щяхме да имаме, освен осве егоистичните си желания за учене и работа? Никакви.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Освен това:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;На жените освен вина, се прехвърля и необикновено голямо количество отговорност – както за собствения им живот, така и за този на мъжете около тях.&lt;br /&gt;Вие сте отговорна да опровергаете стереотипите за жените (а не събеседникът ви да ви опознае с отворено съзнание).&lt;br /&gt;Вие сте отговорна за семейното щастие, нищо, че участниците в него са поне двама.&lt;br /&gt;Вие сте отговорна за личното щастие на мъжа си.&lt;br /&gt;Вие сте отговорна за успехите му в живота (ако такива обаче има, заслугите са негови).&lt;br /&gt;Вие сте изцяло отговорна за личното си щастие – няма външни фактори, които да ви повлияят, ако овладеете женското мистично изкуство на Позитивното мислене!&lt;br /&gt;Вие единствена сте отговорна за възпитанието на децата. Да не го забравяте се грижат всичките ви роднини, съседи и анонимници из интернет, давайки ви акъл как да го правите. В англоговорящите страни дори се използват различни глаголи за гледане на детето в зависимост от това дали майката или бащата го гледа: a mother is taking care of the children, a father is babysitting – това последното означава почасово странично занимание.&lt;br /&gt;Вие сте отговорна за грижите за възрастни родители – без значение дали са ваши или на мъжа ви.&lt;br /&gt;Както споменах по-горе, вие сте отговорна както за собственото си удоволствие в секса, така и за това на партньора си.&lt;br /&gt;И не на последно място, вие сте отговорна за всяка издънка, извършена някога от жена! Защото както знаем, жените са взаимозаменяеми!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ако съм пропуснала нещо, добавете! Все пак жените могат да бъдат виновни за толкова много неща!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edit: Първоначално бях натъпкала този пост с линкове към постове, статии и коментари, които служат за илюстрация на наблюденията ми. Но после реших, че няма смисъл, защото това не е обвинителен акт, а просто обобщение на събирани дълго време наблюдения. Оставих само две, защото ми направиха особено силно впечатление.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;За десерт: &lt;a href="http://paper.standartnews.com/bg/article.php?d=2011-01-10&amp;amp;article=353377%20"&gt;Магия погубва мъжете на Нафизе&lt;/a&gt; - български ежедневник. Двама мъже се самоубиват. И двамата са имали връзки (по различно време) с една жена. Познайте от три опита кой е виновен.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-2244498920098158431?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/2244498920098158431/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/01/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2244498920098158431'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2244498920098158431'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2011/01/blog-post.html' title='Жените са виновни за всичко!'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4660294521062492331</id><published>2010-11-17T20:24:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2010-11-17T20:27:32.333+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Abandoned</title><content type='html'>Започнах този блог във Финландия като спорадична хроника. Сега май не ми трябва много. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Иска ми се да публикувам един текст за всеобхватната вина на жените. Ама съм страхлива и мразя да ме нападат дистанционно (такива нападения са много по-свирепи от тези на живо по правило). Трябва да се освободя от глупавото си малодушие. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Напоследък слушам Лили Алън и чета редовно (но много много бавно). Това е моят ъпдейт засега. И че смятам да гледам поне 4-5 филма от Киномания тия дни.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4660294521062492331?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4660294521062492331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/11/abandoned.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4660294521062492331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4660294521062492331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/11/abandoned.html' title='Abandoned'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-9221048424193885841</id><published>2010-07-01T13:27:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2010-07-01T13:35:53.779+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/TCxvgnA_4PI/AAAAAAAAAW8/eQN88edWEqA/s1600/concise.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 157px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/TCxvgnA_4PI/AAAAAAAAAW8/eQN88edWEqA/s200/concise.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488884651877458162" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;От leftycartoons.com. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ако сменим "Америка" със "света", "бели" с "мъже" и "черни" с "жени", остава все така 100% вярно. Ами да, защо жените да не могат да постигат същите резултати, които мъжете са постигали през цялата човешка история &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;съвсем сами&lt;/span&gt;? Не е като някой да им е помагал, гледйаки им поколението и грижейки се за целия им домашен и социален живот и поддържайки цялото им домакинство. Защо и жените да не могат да имат същите постижения, като същевременно останат добри майки, домакини и съпруги? Очевидно сме на съвсем равнопоставени позиции! Така че ако жените успяват по-малко, няма друго основание за това, освен че просто не ги бива толкова.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-9221048424193885841?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/9221048424193885841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/07/leftycartoons.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/9221048424193885841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/9221048424193885841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/07/leftycartoons.html' title=''/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/TCxvgnA_4PI/AAAAAAAAAW8/eQN88edWEqA/s72-c/concise.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4690828690161768205</id><published>2010-04-30T14:46:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2010-04-30T14:48:46.594+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekly Digest</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;This week’s peeves&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Graphic songs about sex. It’s not the 1950s anymore. You’re not shocking anyone. I really don’t want to know where you like to be touched or stuffed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Radio schedules. For Katy Perry and Timbaland, once a day is too much, 5 times is suicidal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People talking at cross purposes on blogs – I feel like I’ve stuffed my skull with fluff after reading through a few posts with 100+ comments in which people never seem to even listen to each other, let alone understand what they’re saying. Plus I get really desperate trying to follow the links for a wider picture or just some basic background for the relevant discussion. It all feels depressingly sterile. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG taxes!!! Could they have made it any more complicated. Taking your money with a pinch of torture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work… That one is permanent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;This week’s likes &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The weather! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bird chirping in the silent mornings – now there’s a sound that can never grow tiresome or annoying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally updating my iPod selection. I missed Back To Black so much! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodreads.com. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Six Feet Under’s third season which is packed with emotional action like a teenage-targeted novel. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rana Dasgupta’s book tour launch – he came across as a very sweet, modest, and respectful person, but also remarkably sharp and articulate. I’ll have to buy his book now I guess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My personal life &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4690828690161768205?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4690828690161768205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/04/weekly-digest.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4690828690161768205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4690828690161768205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/04/weekly-digest.html' title='Weekly Digest'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-3452987643421571271</id><published>2010-03-09T16:29:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-09T16:34:50.056+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Gendercide</title><content type='html'>Още една честитка за 8ми март: &lt;a href="ttp://www.economist.com/opinion/displaystory.cfm?story_id=15606229"&gt;Gendercide&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(чрез линк в openlyfeminist.com)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Crime rates, bride trafficking, sexual violence, even female suicide  rates are all rising and will rise further as the lopsided generations  reach their maturity."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;В тези случаи обичам да напомням често цитираното ми "Феминизмът не е необходим в днешния свят".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-3452987643421571271?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/3452987643421571271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/03/gendercide.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3452987643421571271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3452987643421571271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/03/gendercide.html' title='Gendercide'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1130932387036182736</id><published>2010-03-08T20:49:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-08T20:53:56.426+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Best Director: Kathryn Bigelow</title><content type='html'>A historical Oscar night yesterday - first ever female Best Director and Best Picture directed by a woman! Although something can be said about having to be more macho than male directors in order to be "deserve" the adjective 'serious' in front of your title -&lt;a href="http://www.salon.com/ent/movies/film_salon/2010/02/24/bigelow/index.html"&gt; a very interesting and thought-provoking article in Salon.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder... does the same thinking scheme have anything to do with Jane Austen being dismissed as "chicklit" (!!) - and further to that, is there anything inherently wrong and inferior about chicklit? Chick flicks? (which never get nominations) "Feminine" things?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1130932387036182736?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1130932387036182736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/03/best-director-kathryn-bigelow.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1130932387036182736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1130932387036182736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/03/best-director-kathryn-bigelow.html' title='Best Director: Kathryn Bigelow'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1764267907432697991</id><published>2010-03-04T21:43:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T21:46:53.161+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Хм.</title><content type='html'>Интересно. Докато съм на работа ми хрумват всякакви идеи, а когто се прибера, главата ми е празна. Трябва да започна да ги записвам може би.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Започва СФФ! Нямам търпение да видя The Milk Of Sorrow и бях разочарована, че The Hurt Locker не е включен. Чудя се на какво се дължи това внезапно (дали е внезапно - на мен така ми се струва отстрани, разбира се киноиндустрията и киноизкуството си имат невидим за мен вътрешен ход) нахлуване на добре обговаряни филми от режисьори жени.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Дано ми остане време за поне едно-две ревюта. Много обичам да ги пиша.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1764267907432697991?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1764267907432697991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1764267907432697991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1764267907432697991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post.html' title='Хм.'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-6678314423710781547</id><published>2010-01-10T14:00:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T14:23:22.416+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I Get Along Without You Very Well/ There Will Never Be Another You</title><content type='html'>Чудесно справям се без теб&lt;br /&gt;ама разбира се&lt;br /&gt;освен когато падат тихи дъждове&lt;br /&gt;и капят от дърветата, тогава&lt;br /&gt;си спомням как треперех, заслонен във твоите ръце&lt;br /&gt;Да, спомням си&lt;br /&gt;но все пак справям се добре без теб&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;И много други нощи като таз ще има,&lt;br /&gt;ще бъда тук със друга може би&lt;br /&gt;Ще дойде друга пролет, друга зима,&lt;br /&gt;но няма никога да се повториш ти&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-6678314423710781547?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/6678314423710781547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-get-along-without-you-very-well-there.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/6678314423710781547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/6678314423710781547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-get-along-without-you-very-well-there.html' title='I Get Along Without You Very Well/ There Will Never Be Another You'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-3631753849882249030</id><published>2009-11-30T22:41:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-30T22:58:43.063+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Feminism is not an ideology</title><content type='html'>Feminism is not just about challenging door-opening etiquette or getting more women into male-dominated professions. Not only is it not a narrowly specialized and/or outdated ideology, but it is a part of the larger movement for the promotion of human rights. Why is feminism not just important, but also VITAL to any society wishing to right its wrongs? Here's what feminism tries to address and fight, among other things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;honour murders&lt;br /&gt;rape - as means of control, as a war tool, as means of subjugation, as a cure for AIDS, as a homophobic tool&lt;br /&gt;domestic violence&lt;br /&gt;bride burning&lt;br /&gt;forced marriage, including child marriages&lt;br /&gt;sexual slavery&lt;br /&gt;female infanticide&lt;br /&gt;abortion of female fetuses&lt;br /&gt;genital mutilation&lt;br /&gt;sexual harassment&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Women are half of humanity. Feminism is not a minority issue.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-3631753849882249030?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/3631753849882249030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/11/feminism-is-not-ideology.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3631753849882249030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3631753849882249030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/11/feminism-is-not-ideology.html' title='Feminism is not an ideology'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-7801471437939061282</id><published>2009-11-05T22:57:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T23:03:56.346+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuck you very much</title><content type='html'>The power of the visual, especially harnessed in art, stuns me. I've thought long and diligently about having children and have come to the fairly stable conclusion that I don't want them. And then if a single image can change that with one crisp stroke... art has some freakishly powerful tools at its disposal. Many thanks to Beni for linking to this amazing blog: &lt;a href="http://fuckyouverymuch.dk/"&gt;Fuck you very much&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-7801471437939061282?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://fuckyouverymuch.dk/' title='Fuck you very much'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/7801471437939061282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/11/fuck-you-very-much.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7801471437939061282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7801471437939061282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/11/fuck-you-very-much.html' title='Fuck you very much'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4984584970075482552</id><published>2009-09-01T16:28:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-09-01T16:36:20.798+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Pet Peeves</title><content type='html'>Pretentiousness ("Screw popularity, that annoys me..." Yeah, if you think you picked an uber underground band in becoming an obsessed fan of Depeche Mode, you're an ill-read idiot in addition to being embarrassingly pretentious)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rudeness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moronic sense of humour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moronic sense of humour coupled with homophobia/sexism/racism and idiotism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cliches. God, do I hate those. Having an original thought seems like a rare gem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stereotypes - see above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who have an unwavering faith in stereotypes but question every study or actual evidence you provide.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Explaining everything with "that's just the way things are". Ditto the original thought thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The inability to respect a well-mannered, peacefully presented opposing opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christians who support the death penalty. How does that work?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who fiercely oppose abortion and extramarital sex and believe they're sins, but support the death penalty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People who support the death penalty. Nothing justifies that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4984584970075482552?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4984584970075482552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/09/pet-peeves.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4984584970075482552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4984584970075482552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/09/pet-peeves.html' title='Pet Peeves'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-2982604451891007408</id><published>2009-08-21T16:27:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T16:34:04.962+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Randomness</title><content type='html'>Всички изречения започват с यह तो। Така ми се струва понякога и това ми показва колко малко знам, а и то се свива постоянно. Нямам време да поддържам всичко, което съм научила,колкото и нищожно да е, а и се подтискам, когато се опитам, защото вече е извън контекст, а контекстът ми липсва.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;След хората, най-хубавото нещо на света е свободата. Сладка, свежа, прохладна, просторна, гладка, обширна свобода, като гледката на морето през лятото без строежите. Като строежите много неща отнемат пространството и те притискат назад, отделят те от възможностите на свободата. Факт е, житейски факт, е предписаната мантра, може би помага понякога, но според мен всеки знае, дори да не осъзнава, че това не стига.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-2982604451891007408?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/2982604451891007408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/08/randomness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2982604451891007408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2982604451891007408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/08/randomness.html' title='Randomness'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-5266855331825472868</id><published>2009-08-15T10:55:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-08-15T11:05:31.314+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Awesome Cities</title><content type='html'>Suddenly felt like another list today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've found it repeatedly impossible to decide which is awesomer than the other. So the list is not bound by any particular hierarchy. They've all had me either gaping or hyped or instantly welcome, or reluctant to leave, or a thousand other states of mind and understanding which don't allow me to transform them into pure memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mumbai&lt;br /&gt;Berlin&lt;br /&gt;Budapest&lt;br /&gt;St. Petersburg&lt;br /&gt;Tallinn&lt;br /&gt;Boston&lt;br /&gt;Panaji&lt;br /&gt;Prague&lt;br /&gt;Riga&lt;br /&gt;Kolkata&lt;br /&gt;Delhi&lt;br /&gt;Jyvaskyla&lt;br /&gt;Istanbul&lt;br /&gt;Orchha&lt;br /&gt;New York&lt;br /&gt;Provincetown&lt;br /&gt;Vienna&lt;br /&gt;Basel&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-5266855331825472868?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/5266855331825472868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/08/awesome-cities.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5266855331825472868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5266855331825472868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/08/awesome-cities.html' title='Awesome Cities'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1196399436165661210</id><published>2009-08-07T19:56:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T20:04:07.989+03:00</updated><title type='text'>My Joy?</title><content type='html'>Why do people want to have children so badly?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From what I see in parks and relative's homes, and for the past week, in my own home too, children aren't as revered by their parents after they're born as they are before that, while they still dwell in the realm of dreams and imaginings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These past days a family of twp grandparents, a set of parents and two-year-old boy have been living with us. What I noticed was that, though the parents obviously enjoy the company of their son, they leave his care to the grandparents - he even sleeps with them. Then the grandparents left town for a day trip. The child was left to the parents. Then the mother went out to the beach for a couple of hours. The child was left to the father. The father put him to sleep (at 10 a.m.) and watched a football game on TV.  When the mother returned and the child woke up, they spent some time with him and then the father went to their bedroom and the mother went to have a shower. The child was left to a friend who may or may not have had other things to do, like a social life or errands to run. The parents were absent for over an hour, maybe two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I wonder, what's with the rabid desire to become parents if the job bores you... If you leave your child to be raised by grandparents and the TV set. And then, I'm the irresponsible one for not wanting to have children at all!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1196399436165661210?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1196399436165661210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-joy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1196399436165661210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1196399436165661210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-joy.html' title='My Joy?'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4974279267256815503</id><published>2009-08-04T11:25:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T11:44:32.870+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Sex, literally</title><content type='html'>Удивително е как човешката сексуалност е конструирана в историята като мъжка сексуланост. Тя се изследва, тя се разглежда, за нея се проектират помощни средства. Женската сексуалност все още е на митологично ниво, обвита от мистерии - кореспондираща с общоприетия "факт", че жените са сложни създания и никой не знае какво искат. "Никой" предполагам е в мъжки род в тоя случай. Защото ако тези, в чиито ръце са големите научни играчки, бяха посикали да разберат какво искат жените или как са устроени те (най-общо казано), можеше и да открият това-онова.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/25/magazine/25desire-t.html?_r=3&amp;amp;pagewanted=1&amp;amp;em"&gt;Това&lt;/a&gt; е една чудесна статия относно докъде е стигнало изследването на женската сексуалност. Според нея женската сексуалност е подчертано по-слабо проучвана от мъжката, а една от причините, които са изтъкнати, е че специалистите от мъжки пол не желаят или не смятат, че могат, да се занимават с това: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She told me that when she asked Kurt Freund, a scientist on that floor who had developed a type of penile plethysmograph and who had been studying male homosexuality and pedophilia since the 1950s, why he never turned his attention to women, he replied: “How am I to know what it is to be a woman? Who am I to study women, when I am a man?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Като знаем колко дълъг е пътят от науката към широката публичност и приемането на някаква представа, е трудно човек да бъде оптимистичен по този въпрос. Как стоят нещата към момента за обикновеия, неизкушен от научните посоки човек? Вземете химена, например. За какво мислите, че служи? Маркер за девственост? Хименът е там предимно за да предпазва ненапълно развитото влагалище и репродуктивните органина подрастващото момиче. Колко известен е този факт? И от друга страна, колко аксиомно е схващането, че хименът е там единствено като някакъв указващ етикет за мъжа, който позлва съответното тяло? Всичко се върти около мъжа.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Само да погледнем кога е открита G точката, кога е открита функцията на клитора и колко много хора по света все още, в наше време, го отстраняват оперативно? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Напредък от Средновековието, когато е бил смятан за дяволски инструмент? Ей с такава скорост вървим към равнопоставеност, дори в сексуално отношение. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4974279267256815503?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4974279267256815503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/08/sex-literally.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4974279267256815503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4974279267256815503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/08/sex-literally.html' title='Sex, literally'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-5977769222076222842</id><published>2009-06-26T20:18:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-26T20:22:46.445+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainbow Friendship, Sofia</title><content type='html'>Утре в 16 часа на моста зад НДК. Ако не можете или по някакви причини не искате да бъдете част от шествието, посетете Червената къща между 18 и 22 часа същия ден - там завършва &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/group.php?gid=103760355882"&gt;Rainbow Friendship&lt;/a&gt; и предполагам ще бъде интересно да се участва в дебата.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Основната дума в утрешния замисъл е "friendship", така че, моля, направете усилие за дружелюбност или поне безпристрастие. :-)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-5977769222076222842?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/5977769222076222842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/06/rainbow-friendship-sofia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5977769222076222842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5977769222076222842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/06/rainbow-friendship-sofia.html' title='Rainbow Friendship, Sofia'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-659177371408228083</id><published>2009-06-17T23:49:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-17T23:53:05.306+03:00</updated><title type='text'>little kindness</title><content type='html'>How difficult is it to not be rude, really? Or am I more annoying and unbearable than I realise?...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It astonishes me each time that people actually don't know, or don't care to know, that what and how they do and say matters and can hurt, can hurt another person, can make them cry and doubt themselves, and lose their cheer, and end their day in gloom. Please, before you turn to someone to say sometyhing to them or just look at them expressively, think about that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-659177371408228083?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/659177371408228083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/06/little-kindness.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/659177371408228083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/659177371408228083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/06/little-kindness.html' title='little kindness'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-448824829380215317</id><published>2009-06-01T02:01:00.004+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T02:09:08.051+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><title type='text'>You're The One, Kate Bush</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It's alright, I'll come back when you're not in&lt;br /&gt;And I'll pick up all of my things&lt;br /&gt;Everything I have I bought with you&lt;br /&gt;But that's alright too&lt;br /&gt;It's just, everything I do&lt;br /&gt;We did together&lt;br /&gt;And there's a little piece of you&lt;br /&gt;In whatever&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got everything I need,&lt;br /&gt;I've got petrol in the car,&lt;br /&gt;I've got some money with me&lt;br /&gt;There's just one problem&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the only one I want&lt;br /&gt;You're the only one I want&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's alright, I know where I'm going&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to stay with my friend&lt;br /&gt;Ooh yes, he's very good looking&lt;br /&gt;The only trouble is,&lt;br /&gt;He's not you&lt;br /&gt;He can't do what you do&lt;br /&gt;He can't make me laugh&lt;br /&gt;And cry&lt;br /&gt;At the same time&lt;br /&gt;"Let's change things,&lt;br /&gt;Let's danger it up,&lt;br /&gt;We're crazy enough"&lt;br /&gt;...I just can't take it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're the only one I want&lt;br /&gt;You're the only one I want&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-448824829380215317?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/448824829380215317/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/06/youre-one.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/448824829380215317'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/448824829380215317'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/06/youre-one.html' title='You&apos;re The One, Kate Bush'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4649844876679133666</id><published>2009-04-28T15:46:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T15:48:27.959+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>A little kindness can go a long way.&lt;br /&gt;I'd pick mercy over justice anyday. It feels fiercely right to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4649844876679133666?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4649844876679133666/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/04/little-kindness-can-go-long-way.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4649844876679133666'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4649844876679133666'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/04/little-kindness-can-go-long-way.html' title=''/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1438977580696439665</id><published>2009-02-06T10:46:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T12:37:05.194+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Исландия отново първа</title><content type='html'>След като Исландия даде първата жена-президент на Европа през 1980 година, 29 години по-късно пак оттам получаваме и първия открито хомосексуален премиер в Европа (и отново жена!) Освен това новият кабинет, за пръв път в историята на Исландия (бас държа, че и на Европа а може би и в света), е съставен от еднакъв брой мъже и жени. &lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/7862804.stm"&gt;Подробности тук&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1438977580696439665?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1438977580696439665/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1438977580696439665'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1438977580696439665'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/02/blog-post.html' title='Исландия отново първа'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4008504005988594169</id><published>2009-02-01T22:03:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T22:08:05.304+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><title type='text'>Lyrics of the [unspecified time unit]</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I get along without you very well&lt;br /&gt;Of course I do&lt;br /&gt;Except when soft rains fall&lt;br /&gt;And drip from leaves, then I recall&lt;br /&gt;The thrill of being sheltered in your arms...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will be many other nights like this&lt;br /&gt;And I'll be standing here with someone new&lt;br /&gt;There will be other songs to sing&lt;br /&gt;Another fall, another spring&lt;br /&gt;But there will never be another you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I may dream a million dreams&lt;br /&gt;But how can they come true,&lt;br /&gt;If there will never ever be&lt;br /&gt;Another you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4008504005988594169?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4008504005988594169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/02/lyrics-of-unspecified-period-of-time.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4008504005988594169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4008504005988594169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/02/lyrics-of-unspecified-period-of-time.html' title='Lyrics of the [unspecified time unit]'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4512796495683287040</id><published>2009-01-17T09:47:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-17T09:53:08.796+02:00</updated><title type='text'>state of</title><content type='html'>It used to be enough to enjoy "the little things" in life 10 years ago. Now a constant sense of urgency has nestled into my head or heart or some other metaphorical cavity in me and won't let me feel much more than constantly buzzing worry that something is running out before my eyes and I'm missing it. (And it weighs me down like a thick, unbeatable swamp.) What am I supposed to have accomplished by now anyway?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4512796495683287040?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4512796495683287040/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/01/state-of.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4512796495683287040'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4512796495683287040'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/01/state-of.html' title='state of'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-5303841458212943686</id><published>2009-01-05T20:38:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-01-05T20:51:22.205+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Multiple Intelligences Test</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://subandhu.mypersonality.info" target="_top"&gt;&lt;img src="http://badges.mypersonality.info/badge/0/12/123334.png" alt="Click to view my Personality Profile page" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Странно. И въобще не съм съгласна с The Dreamer!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-5303841458212943686?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/5303841458212943686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/01/multiple-intelligences-test.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5303841458212943686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5303841458212943686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2009/01/multiple-intelligences-test.html' title='Multiple Intelligences Test'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-5494617171229575477</id><published>2008-12-20T20:33:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T20:42:26.579+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><title type='text'>Mood Indigo</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You ain't been blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No, no, no&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You ain't been blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'Till you've had that mood indigo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That feelin' goes stealin' down to my shoes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;While I sit and sigh, "Go 'long blues'"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I always get that mood indigo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Since my baby goodbye&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In the evening when lights are low&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm so lonesome I could cry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'Cause there's nobody who cares about me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm just a soul who's bluer than blue can be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;When I get that mood indigo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I could lay me down and die&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You ain't been blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No, no, no&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You ain't been blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;'Till you've had that mood indigo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That feelin' goes stealin' down to my shoes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;While I sit and sigh, "Go 'long blues'"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;as sung by Ella Fitzgerald.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-5494617171229575477?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/5494617171229575477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/12/mood-indigo.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5494617171229575477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5494617171229575477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/12/mood-indigo.html' title='Mood Indigo'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-8972587547436357933</id><published>2008-12-17T13:37:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-17T13:48:49.944+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Бавно, надявам се сигурно</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://ravni.bghelsinki.org//index.php?option=com_content&amp;amp;task=view&amp;amp;id=61&amp;amp;Itemid=1"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;Стереотипните образи в рекламата са дискриминация&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p  style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="border-collapse: separate; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;font-size:100%;" class="Apple-style-span" &gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Формирането на съзнание, изборът на професия и на социална роля се определя от редица фактори – семейство, училище, среда, медии. Всеки ден, без да осъзнаваме дори, сме подложени на информационен обстрел – получаваме рекламни спамове не само по e-mail-а, но и в пощата под формата на брошури за супермаркетите, в ръката, под формата на флаери за заведения, на билбордове, по улиците и навсякъде, където се обърнем. Въобще цялото урбанистично пространство се е превърнало в един огромен спам, който нашето съзнание получава всеки ден и който съзнателно или подсъзнателно влияе не само на избора ни на прах за пране, но и на възприятията ни за света изобщо.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-converted-space"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p  style="font-style: italic; font-family: arial;font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="border-collapse: separate; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;font-size:100%;" class="Apple-style-span" &gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Така, заедно с невинното  желание да се преборим с всички петна, ни се насажда и представата, кои точно от нас се борят с петната - „Мама го направи!!!“ Тоест изграждането и използването на стереотипите на „жената до печката“ и мъжа плейбой, интересуващ се от „най-гладкото бръснене“ и „една добра бира“ превръща борбата за равенство между половете в нискобюджетна PR кампания с доста слабо влияние върху „пазара“&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Вече и в европейското законодателство. Ако бях оптимист по върпоса, щях да си пожелая скорошен ефект и по нашите земи! Засега и мъжделивата радост от повдигането на въпроса въобще е достатъчна да ме обнадежди обаче.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-8972587547436357933?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://ravni.bghelsinki.org//index.php?option=com_content&amp;task=view&amp;id=61&amp;Itemid=1' title='Бавно, надявам се сигурно'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/8972587547436357933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/12/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8972587547436357933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8972587547436357933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/12/blog-post.html' title='Бавно, надявам се сигурно'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1306143455507261073</id><published>2008-12-12T11:28:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T11:29:31.836+02:00</updated><title type='text'>They vs. Us</title><content type='html'>"Perhaps they see us not as people, but as playthings, Elinor"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Sense and Sensibility&lt;/span&gt;, 2008 miniseries&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1306143455507261073?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1306143455507261073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/12/they-vs-us.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1306143455507261073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1306143455507261073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/12/they-vs-us.html' title='They vs. Us'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1339091176213467912</id><published>2008-11-25T13:11:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-25T13:17:19.902+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Contrary to popular belief...</title><content type='html'>I need to restate my incessant profound consuming love for the awesomeness of Bjork. She can make things and name them "Mother Heroic" and "Nature Is Ancient" and sing about the ubiquitous Mother Nature archetype and I will love it instead of despise it. I'm a sucker for anything she does. It's sooo totally personal by now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;rescue me from level-headness and the unnecessary luxury of being calm!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1339091176213467912?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1339091176213467912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/11/contrary-to-popular-belief.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1339091176213467912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1339091176213467912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/11/contrary-to-popular-belief.html' title='Contrary to popular belief...'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-3133830147243261890</id><published>2008-11-10T14:46:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T15:05:05.845+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy birthday</title><content type='html'>Ноември почти безспорно е месецът с най-много рождени дни в календара ми (или щеше да бъде, ако си отбелязвах рождените дни в календара). Честит рожден ден, Кате, Юли, Ники, Матвей, Иване, Явора, Гинтас, Уилям и ако съм забравила някого, честито и на вас. Бъдете щастливи.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.creationsbyskip.com/A5560E/cbs.nsf/Images/JDAN-799UJY/$File/SmallCakeBirthdayRavens.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 480px; height: 360px;" src="http://www.creationsbyskip.com/A5560E/cbs.nsf/Images/JDAN-799UJY/$File/SmallCakeBirthdayRavens.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-3133830147243261890?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/3133830147243261890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/11/happy-birthday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3133830147243261890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3133830147243261890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/11/happy-birthday.html' title='Happy birthday'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-7526030284470346162</id><published>2008-11-02T23:11:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-11-02T23:33:03.154+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Save me</title><content type='html'>Things change and I fail to notice when. Days and weeks rush past me, blurred, blended in a homogenous concoction with no clear peaks or lows, with no highlights, no distinguishable timeline with coloured dots to signify new stages of construction of something meaningful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's too bad youth passes and innocence gets melted down to a laughable smugde on one's history. Innocence, the fertile soil of grand designs, of plans and promises made with purest sincerity, of ties of love which seem unseverable, eternal, absolute. Absoluteness is the most precious thing I lost. The excitement, the hopeful optimism it spawned, the broad horizons of possibilities it opened, all shrunk down to a tiny window of residual faith, appearing to grow ever smaller...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please,&lt;br /&gt;save me&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-7526030284470346162?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/7526030284470346162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/11/save-me.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7526030284470346162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7526030284470346162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/11/save-me.html' title='Save me'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-5132489004939264065</id><published>2008-10-27T10:53:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T17:03:12.008+02:00</updated><title type='text'>दीपावली की शुभकामनाएं सब को!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/41/82592357_95328795e5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 500px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 465px" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/41/82592357_95328795e5.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Честит Дивали!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Спомен: покрива на семейния хотел с малкото пиленце и "Ордена на феникса" в Джодхпур&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-5132489004939264065?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/5132489004939264065/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/10/subandhu.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5132489004939264065'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5132489004939264065'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/10/subandhu.html' title='दीपावली की शुभकामनाएं सब को!'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/41/82592357_95328795e5_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-3636980990843190962</id><published>2008-10-03T22:30:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-10-03T22:39:48.122+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Things Gone</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Extended family safety net&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stoycho&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Love&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Antonia&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Indology magical glue&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Innocence&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Zori&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bright dreams&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The horizon&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sense or the illusion of it, whichever was present in the first place&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Irretrievably&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-3636980990843190962?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/3636980990843190962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/10/things-gone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3636980990843190962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3636980990843190962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/10/things-gone.html' title='Things Gone'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-6381998007595726200</id><published>2008-09-24T09:17:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T09:53:07.045+03:00</updated><title type='text'>All About Him</title><content type='html'>Гьоте институт има интересен проект, целящ "да се осмисли преформатирането на идеята за мъж в контекста на настъпилите промени в междуполовите отношения в обществото", който в момента се помества на българска почва. Не смея да коментирам, защото силно се съмнявам в способността си да бъда неутрална и обективна, но поне това трябва да се каже - &lt;a href="http://a-a-h.info/"&gt;това&lt;/a&gt; е един неграмотно написан кураторски текст. Би могло да се спори, че съм много склонна да търся слабостите в това конкретно начинание под лупа, но аз не мога да взимам насериозно и да уважавам неща, насочени към обществеността (било то реклами, арт проекти, периодични издания, предавания, продукти на визуалните изкуства и т.н.), ако езиковата им среда - средството, което следва да ги представи, позиционира в контекст и "продаде" - е непрофесионална, безмощна, посредствена или направо жалка, както е в много случаи.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Информацията за проекта е &lt;a href="http://a-a-h.info/index.html"&gt;тук&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;ЕТА: Е добре, как да приемеш насеризно арт проект, сред чиито заявени цели е: "ще покаже истината такава, каквато е"?!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-6381998007595726200?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/6381998007595726200/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/09/all-about-him.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/6381998007595726200'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/6381998007595726200'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/09/all-about-him.html' title='All About Him'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1400099062450192407</id><published>2008-09-22T22:50:00.005+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T22:57:09.143+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Тънки разлики</title><content type='html'>Днес ми хрумна вероятен отговор на отдавна стояща в главата ми питанка। Разликата при З, С, И и А (и може би А) е че те не само ме приемат, но и ме виждат всеки път без заготовка, останала от предишния. И изобщо без никаква заготовка. Такова гледане изобщо не е лесно, то изисква както любов и талант, така и усилие. Може би това е отговорът. Засега е съвсем задоволителен.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;प्यार तुम से, जोरी&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1400099062450192407?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1400099062450192407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/09/blog-post_22.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1400099062450192407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1400099062450192407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/09/blog-post_22.html' title='Тънки разлики'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-8057625586166687151</id><published>2008-09-22T19:49:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-22T20:05:26.486+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Parting</title><content type='html'>So lie to me&lt;br /&gt;Like they do it in the factory&lt;br /&gt;Make me think that at the end of the day&lt;br /&gt;Some great reward will be coming my way&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-8057625586166687151?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/8057625586166687151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/09/so-lie-to-me-like-they-do-it-in-factory.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8057625586166687151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8057625586166687151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/09/so-lie-to-me-like-they-do-it-in-factory.html' title='Parting'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1146098142571590103</id><published>2008-09-13T00:26:00.014+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T00:48:27.698+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the magical world of jyu'/><title type='text'>Евелина</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SMrjXAzCy3I/AAAAAAAAAMA/l7yer0IJDJg/s1600-h/3.+Ewelina+se+grimira,+08.11.07.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245254700516952946" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 131px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px" height="303" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SMrjXAzCy3I/AAAAAAAAAMA/l7yer0IJDJg/s320/3.+Ewelina+se+grimira,+08.11.07.JPG" width="126" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SMrhGQ7GWiI/AAAAAAAAALg/XPZ6oYgKUHw/s1600-h/3.+Ewelina+se+grimira,+08.11.07.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Евелина, най-сетне - момичето в съседната стая, което каза, че ужасно го дразня, докато плачеше, когато се разделяхме - so it must be that I love you, заключи накрая.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Тя прекара най-много време в Юваскюла и се привърза най-много към нея, струва ми се. Евелка, дължа ти хиляди благодарности за собствения си незабравим престой. Не знаеш колко рядък дар е да успееш да ме накарaш да погледна напълно непознати хора и да общувам с тях. &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SMriHlA1dnI/AAAAAAAAAL4/Hs2k5ynHj0E/s1600-h/mouth.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245253335848941170" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 228px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 111px" height="107" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SMriHlA1dnI/AAAAAAAAAL4/Hs2k5ynHj0E/s320/mouth.JPG" width="248" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I love you too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SMrgf47BGFI/AAAAAAAAALY/51QOez_oxsE/s1600-h/mouth.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1146098142571590103?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1146098142571590103/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/09/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1146098142571590103'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1146098142571590103'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/09/blog-post.html' title='Евелина'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SMrjXAzCy3I/AAAAAAAAAMA/l7yer0IJDJg/s72-c/3.+Ewelina+se+grimira,+08.11.07.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-2326970057421085319</id><published>2008-09-12T21:05:00.007+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-12T21:29:08.519+03:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Emotional buzz'/><title type='text'>A year since</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SMqvyJ7rbdI/AAAAAAAAALI/iY8dXoh7PKY/s1600-h/n533132939_764043_7313.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245197992220913106" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SMqvyJ7rbdI/AAAAAAAAALI/iY8dXoh7PKY/s320/n533132939_764043_7313.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is the view from Giovanni and Chao's unforgettable balcony in Jyvaskyla. Giovanni posted a few gems from that time on his personal page; this is one of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inexplicably, this one made me saddest. I remembered when a year ago I met Chao in Ilokivi and we made the bike deal; and the next day (it was a Wednesday) I came to Giovanni and Chao's place and took it precisely from this spot. Seeing it again so suddenly broke the wall of after-haps and flooded me with the crisp sensation of the inexplored and infinite newness that was Finland then. It was a winter-scented clear space ahead and around, vibrating with worlds and excitements waiting for me to wander their way. Now it is passed, it is behind me, and it pains me a little to unexpectedly get an ephemeral tinge of that rich, youthful, unabridged feel of the breaking dawn of Finland, knowing it is nothing more than an interestingly glowing light behind me growing dimmer and smaller now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-2326970057421085319?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/2326970057421085319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/09/year-since.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2326970057421085319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2326970057421085319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/09/year-since.html' title='A year since'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SMqvyJ7rbdI/AAAAAAAAALI/iY8dXoh7PKY/s72-c/n533132939_764043_7313.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4911582518088227992</id><published>2008-08-29T21:01:00.019+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T22:53:57.420+03:00</updated><title type='text'>My four-week window into a real life</title><content type='html'>Work defies real life in my definition.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, an odd "What I did in my summer vacation" post seems to be in order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had full 4 weeks, which I think I sapped as well as I could without turning enjoyment into a goal to be achieved. Some engagements did occur, and time seemed abridged, because I was able to see its end. When I can see the limits of a time period, my mindset becomes limited too... I seem unable to start any projects with indefinite duration or unidentifiable aim, like writing, or even mundane time-consuming stuff like classifying my picture prints or my books, or my old diaries - things I enjoy doing immensely, but somehow seem to find my limited time here too precious to devote it to activitie which deserve a free state of mind to be done justice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Week 1:&lt;/strong&gt; Istanbul! Bjork!!!!! A wonderful, spirited experience in a youthful and motley city with exquisite details, though just 5 days in duration. Highlights include the concert, of course, and Starbucks cinnamon chewing gum (post-coffee), an independent shop for bold accessories and clothes, the numerous cats and kitties, Istanbul Modern! My God!, a delicious lamb meatballs wrap, spiced mussels with rice on the bridge straight from the shell, cafes with finesse, free tea after every meal, the lovely Indian family we met at the hostel, the air-conditioned tram to the touristy area - and more, certainly, and here are some pictures:&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhB_zeonNI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/I7i7MS2DhKg/s1600-h/DSCF1553.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240010730851835090" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhB_zeonNI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/I7i7MS2DhKg/s320/DSCF1553.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhCoMHpg8I/AAAAAAAAAKY/yqlExCnSwk8/s1600-h/DSCF1333.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240011424661078978" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhCoMHpg8I/AAAAAAAAAKY/yqlExCnSwk8/s320/DSCF1333.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhDc8sUU4I/AAAAAAAAAKg/GC62bM4bmCQ/s1600-h/DSCF1345.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240012331052979074" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhDc8sUU4I/AAAAAAAAAKg/GC62bM4bmCQ/s320/DSCF1345.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I spent the last 3 days of that week at home, tying to get as a much sleep as possible. Visited my grandfather, who loaded us with cornels, honey with the wax, apples and sheep cheese, and our Medovo houses. And highlight of week! Stoycho!!! &lt;3 It was only one morning, but the happiness of even seeing him at all,when it was such a close shave... Precious, as he ever remains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Week 2:&lt;/strong&gt; Work. That one isn't that exciting, but my father bought me a bun and made coffee for me every morning; and on Wednesday I started running in the evenings. Went to the open-air cinema with my mother on Friday. I watched House MD before bed too, and I had missed the guy intensely! Oh, there was the Olympics, too, which I followed on a daily basis and commented fervently with my father in-between work. I was finally reunited with Tony!!! Actually, not a bad week after all ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Weeks 3: &lt;/strong&gt;Beach week! No work, the sea, calamari, and quite a succesful attempt at making a mini-remake of the bissful 2006 summer Tony and I had. Zori visisted, I had my birthday on the beach (and I had TEHMOST DELICIOUS cake evah!!!), I got postcards from Poland, and the cult Pomorie band Artery sang a song especially for me :D Zori loved the Great Salt Lake, took like 1000 pictures, made fun of my new night activity, called Pomorie romantic and was lovely as usual all around (except for a well stewed (2 years) accusation she served me). Zori and I went ot Burgas and met Zhivko as well. Olympics were still on, and we watched the rhythmic gymnastics together. Beach with Tony every day! That one week was a gem in my calendar. Well, I hurt both my knees while running, but that's a small price to pay for the other week home it earned me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhIgY9Y18I/AAAAAAAAAKo/JLja2IZr_nE/s1600-h/meandTony.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240017887738517442" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhIgY9Y18I/AAAAAAAAAKo/JLja2IZr_nE/s320/meandTony.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhI-xhl8-I/AAAAAAAAAKw/NNeyHcy60x0/s1600-h/Zbeautiful.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240018409728898018" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhI-xhl8-I/AAAAAAAAAKw/NNeyHcy60x0/s320/Zbeautiful.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhJdI2hupI/AAAAAAAAAK4/f1Ok2pyCwpY/s1600-h/closeupofus.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240018931386792594" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhJdI2hupI/AAAAAAAAAK4/f1Ok2pyCwpY/s320/closeupofus.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhLTMmkjhI/AAAAAAAAALA/rih9qSreSXU/s1600-h/Picture+035.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240020959618174482" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhLTMmkjhI/AAAAAAAAALA/rih9qSreSXU/s320/Picture+035.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Week 4: &lt;/strong&gt;Supposed to be work week, but I got no work for Monday, whch I wasted riveted in the armchair waiting for it - but met Hrisi and Judith in the evening, which was quite a treat, never having really believed I'd see her again. She looked beautiful and well. Worked a bit on Tue, and met Grisha in the evening. No work on Wed either, but this time I took my towel and went to the beach (where I engaged in an explosive sexism discussion with a bunch of guys). Thu, work, Fri - beach! and work too, though. Tony and I went back to the golden beach and soaps regime, messasing each other 10 times a day and discussing everything from soap coma characters' make-up to cinema and the USA elections, and laughing like madwomen, of course. God, am I going to miss this. I'm clutching it like a safebelt now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Activites spanning all four weeks: water-melon eating, CoS surfing, small-hours chatting, House MD before bed in the attic, night ice-scream snacks, calamari eating, indiscriminate devouring of all kinds of TV programmes and way too little sleep :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is my last day of beach, and then I have to pack my bags and leave for that horrendous city. D; Pomorie summers with friends, family and soaps are turning from a given to a dream getaway.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4911582518088227992?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4911582518088227992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-four-week-window-into-real-life.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4911582518088227992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4911582518088227992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-four-week-window-into-real-life.html' title='My four-week window into a real life'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SLhB_zeonNI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/I7i7MS2DhKg/s72-c/DSCF1553.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-3247881120148015074</id><published>2008-08-23T19:13:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T19:53:55.346+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Inspired by LZ, mainly</title><content type='html'>Иска ми се да слушам повече музика. Но за музиката, както за четенето, ако искам да е отговорно и сериозно, ми трябва време и спокойствие, без напиращи мисли и задачи, които да нахлуват и настояват да утвърдят присъствието си, докато газя из плитчините на музиката/литературата.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Иска ми се да знам повече и да разбирам по-добре изкуствата, всяко поотделно и най-вече в целостта им - като продукт и като индикатив.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-3247881120148015074?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/3247881120148015074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/08/inspired-by-lz-mainly.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3247881120148015074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3247881120148015074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/08/inspired-by-lz-mainly.html' title='Inspired by LZ, mainly'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1902998600888514384</id><published>2008-08-22T16:27:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T16:34:34.622+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Август</title><content type='html'>Август е винаги чакан и аз съм много пристрастна към него. Рожден ден, долетели от разнообразни разстояния приятели, морето, вкъщи. В август има повече носталгия и същевременно повече обнадежденост, отколкото във всеки друг месец.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Тази година пакетът включи и ново приятелство, вълнуващо световно събитие, едно събиране, една раздяла.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Август избистря мътещите водата вихрушки пясък и хората и дейностите, които наистина желая, се появяват под прозрачната повърхност.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1902998600888514384?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1902998600888514384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/08/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1902998600888514384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1902998600888514384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/08/blog-post.html' title='Август'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-560991686998943133</id><published>2008-07-24T13:02:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T14:13:43.162+03:00</updated><title type='text'>The infinite variety of the human touch</title><content type='html'>A friend is sad and I cannot seem to reach her, I haven't been able to for a while. I fret and toss around in agony over the prospective break in the thread connecting our two personnas, and yet I can palpate, beneath the layers of fear and anxiety, and the occasional surges of desperation, a solid core of a peculiar comfort - a headstrong confidence, even knowledge, of sorts, that what has been will always be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another friend is frothing with insecurities, all of them larger than life for her, and I don't know how to bring them up or point them out. As long as I've known her they have been there - they change expression, manners, ways of fighing or ignoring them change, the level of awareness alters over time, even the results they generate as motivators have changed, but they are not gone, not reduced, not even better acknowledged, despite all the circusmtances which would normally render them so. Quite apart from being at a complete loss as to how to help, her behaviour vexes me... I cannot quite accept these insecurity-driven acts and professed opinions. Does this make me a bad friend? Or not a friend at all?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another friend is very recent... Yet he feels so close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my most beloved friends and I were severed cruelly 7 years ago by a vast distance. The four times I've met him for these 7 years, it was like we never parted - but still, I cannot help but fear that time and distance will finally do their thing and rob me of this precious, inexplicable, unmeasurable treasure that is our relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Severed ties sadden me enormously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't quite remember where it was, but in once I read in a book that love is anxiety, and I agree, and I am grateful for it, in a way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-560991686998943133?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/560991686998943133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/07/infinite-variety-of-human-touch.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/560991686998943133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/560991686998943133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/07/infinite-variety-of-human-touch.html' title='The infinite variety of the human touch'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4214258389989746382</id><published>2008-07-16T15:47:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T16:28:40.684+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Hardcore</title><content type='html'>Today I was enlightened with the discovery that I am, indeed, a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radical_feminism"&gt;radical feminist&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A general rant about feminism seems to be in order. I do not see anything wrong with radical feminism. I do not understand how feminism can ever be "moderate". There is a very clear goal there, and it can't be achieved partially. This is not a negotiation where we get a bunch of rights and in turn make a few concessions on our part. What women ask for is something that should be their right, once we accept women are human beings in all senses and on all levels as men are. For me, expressions like "You can vote and run for official posts now, what else do you want?" are revealing an extremely narrow-minded and ignorant attitude. What else? We want human dignity and our own identity. I want to be able to identify myself without using terms and cliches created and pinned by men. I want to be able to define myself with a complete irrelevance of the male point of view. Towards this goal no concessions should be available, and I am willing to make none. To expect them is insulting in itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I am sick of people ignorantly and stubbornly equating feminism with misandry, lesbianism or insanity, and of people villifying and shunning it like some sort of a crazy sect. If you are unable to spot the gaping hole between the sexes and the rampaging sexism around, fine, but please let those who do have their say. Someone disagreeing with you doesn't meain they are wrong, shockingly enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rant over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had more time for this blog. Kinda like I used to when I was still in Finland.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4214258389989746382?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4214258389989746382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/07/hardcore.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4214258389989746382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4214258389989746382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/07/hardcore.html' title='Hardcore'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-5236067196013211029</id><published>2008-07-11T19:47:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T19:49:30.684+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting sucked in</title><content type='html'>My life is slowly drifting from the physical world into the webspace, despite my kicking and hysterical protests. Nostalgia gains even more power.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to kick off and swim to the surface. I am in need of that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-5236067196013211029?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/5236067196013211029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/07/getting-sucked-in.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5236067196013211029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5236067196013211029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/07/getting-sucked-in.html' title='Getting sucked in'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-3516701249899268165</id><published>2008-06-24T14:45:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T14:47:00.432+03:00</updated><title type='text'>A very brief note</title><content type='html'>Seems I haven't posted in a while.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not gone, and the blog is not abandoned, I'm just busy.&lt;br /&gt;I'm preparing the final installment of the &lt;em&gt;Magical World of JYU.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-3516701249899268165?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/3516701249899268165/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/06/very-brief-note.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3516701249899268165'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3516701249899268165'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/06/very-brief-note.html' title='A very brief note'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-7021379985077059383</id><published>2008-05-10T19:25:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T19:41:01.692+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Мечти</title><content type='html'>Това изглежда е някаква верижна блог игра, на която ме предизвика &lt;a href="http://nolimit.cult.bg/windy/"&gt;windy&lt;/a&gt;. Надявам се да не я прекъсна поради изключително малкото читатели на този блог - който прочете това, моля, направете го и вие.&lt;br /&gt;За мен най-интимното нещо на света са мечтите. Аз говоря ужасно много, особено за себе си, не крия нито емоциите си, нито какво мисля, нито какво съм правила вчера или миналата година, или в гимназията. Но за мечтите си не мога да говоря и не искам. Не знам защо, имам чувството, че откривам нещо крайно интимно, нещо, на което никой няма право освен мен (и понякога някой, когото много обичам). Затова следват някои по-"дребни" мечти &gt;.&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Мечтая да живея на място, което не ме подтиска.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Мечтая да се върна в Индия.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Понякога мечтая нищо в родния ми град да не се беше променяло.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Мечтая да запазя всичките си приятелства непокътнати.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Мечтая да не забравя нито един език, който съм учила, и да довърша тези, които започнах.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Искам никога повече да не ме съдят според пола ми.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Мечтая за имунизация срещу носталгията!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;И много други в този дух. Разрешено ли е да се допълва списъкът в следващи постове?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-7021379985077059383?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/7021379985077059383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/05/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7021379985077059383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7021379985077059383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/05/blog-post.html' title='Мечти'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-2452086086809749969</id><published>2008-05-10T19:14:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T19:20:27.286+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Gloomy Saturday</title><content type='html'>Зловещи неща:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;женски списания&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;бележки от лекари за други лекари&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;българските медии&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;холивудската естетика и етика&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;времето&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;и така нататък.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-2452086086809749969?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/2452086086809749969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/05/gloomy-saturday.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2452086086809749969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2452086086809749969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/05/gloomy-saturday.html' title='Gloomy Saturday'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-2023853667653976189</id><published>2008-05-06T21:33:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T21:36:44.723+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Old glory</title><content type='html'>Днес почетох малко от дневника си от 2003, когато бях в САЩ. Извадих си няколко поуки: 1. да не водя дневници. 2. ако водя дневници, да пиша ясно, точно и ДОКРАЙ какво се е случило, защото седях и се дивих половин час върху една страница безумни емоционални излияния, следствие на нещо, което не е споменато и което изобщо не помня. 3. да не чета старите си дневници, защото за носталгията ваксина няма и аз съм обречена на нея доживот.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-2023853667653976189?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/2023853667653976189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/05/old-glory.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2023853667653976189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2023853667653976189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/05/old-glory.html' title='Old glory'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1313316734999563352</id><published>2008-04-30T18:46:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T19:00:09.651+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Home</title><content type='html'>Стойка за вестници и списания - списания за нуждите на мъжете и списания, съветващи жените как по-добре да задоволят тези нужди.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Приятна бургаска вечер, сред чиито акценти са алени чорапи; стар познат, видян с нови очи; джаз; пролетен цъфтеж по старо и безценно приятелство и позната нежност with a twist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Поморие се е превърнало от мило занемарено градче в строителна площадка. Поне светлината си е същата и морето, макар че вече трябва да си непосредствено до него, за да го видиш.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1313316734999563352?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1313316734999563352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/04/home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1313316734999563352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1313316734999563352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/04/home.html' title='Home'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-8810290762092226097</id><published>2008-04-11T14:50:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2008-04-11T14:50:30.291+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Non-Stammtisch Thursday fun</title><content type='html'>Well yes, it exists, reluctant as I was to admit it. I had a very enjoyable time at the 3 Ushi (literally: 3 Ears) club last night, an Old/New Jazz night with a touch of Bjork and some friends I have less and less opportunity to see. It was a good feeling. I think I've learnt how to have a pleasant time out at long last. Thanks for one more thing, Erasmus, Finland, and all of you, Lemons! *love radiation *&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-8810290762092226097?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/8810290762092226097/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/04/non-stammtisch-thursday-fun.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8810290762092226097'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8810290762092226097'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/04/non-stammtisch-thursday-fun.html' title='Non-Stammtisch Thursday fun'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-166381843751956422</id><published>2008-03-30T16:24:00.003+03:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T17:23:55.970+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Смисли</title><content type='html'>Смислите пречат със своето настояване да присъстват. Не мога да се съсредоточа в много неща поради непрестанно тормозене дали има(м) смисъл. И честно си мисля, че нямам.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Снощи четох нещо, което съм писала за Индия малко след връщането си от там. Напълно вярно, но го бях забравила. Струва ми се, че след връщането си от Индия, и после пак след връщането си от Финландия, потъвам в някакво блато, от което за малко съм успяла да изляза и подишам. Всичките ми метафори за чужбина и тук са свързани със свобода и липсата й. Чудя се защо е такава ситуацията.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Не мога да пиша, а ужасно много искам. Едно от трите неща, които имат абсолютен неоспорим смисъл за мен.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-166381843751956422?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/166381843751956422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post_30.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/166381843751956422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/166381843751956422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post_30.html' title='Смисли'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-922705938233560922</id><published>2008-03-27T22:31:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T22:35:46.374+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><title type='text'>Luscious sounds</title><content type='html'>My latest musical discovery - Wolfsheim. Especially &lt;em&gt;Closer Still. &lt;/em&gt;I can listen to it over and over again. There is something very peculiar about the lead's voice and his pronunciation of the long words - it's palpably seductive...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-922705938233560922?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/922705938233560922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/03/luscious-sounds.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/922705938233560922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/922705938233560922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/03/luscious-sounds.html' title='Luscious sounds'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-7174697535124318640</id><published>2008-03-23T21:21:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T21:29:38.441+02:00</updated><title type='text'>On SFF, very briefly</title><content type='html'>So the Sofia Film Fest is over, and I wish I could write a piece about it, as well as a piece for each film I watched, plus an overview of the films and chosen themes from a feministic point of view, but I seem to have no time, or not enough comfort and ease, to do so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all, the festical lacked variety, in my opinion - 90% of the films were European, the themes were somewhat similar, and there wasn't a distinct major event, a really big film to lead the programme.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good things - several female directors, one downright feministic film, a documentary programme with some gems in it. Hm, that's all I can this about right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And something else. I'm finding I simply can't stand to watch films done in the classical male-centric matrix of the plot. I can't concentrate in anything else of the film, like the male-centredness is a huge smudge obscuring the rest of the movie and I can't see past it. I have a suspicion this might be a sign I'm leaning over the top. But I can't seem to help it - it appears to me that every day, all the things I see an experience just reinforce this intolerance thriving in me...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-7174697535124318640?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/7174697535124318640/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/03/sff.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7174697535124318640'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7174697535124318640'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/03/sff.html' title='On SFF, very briefly'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4384019089736351989</id><published>2008-03-14T22:18:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-14T23:03:53.101+02:00</updated><title type='text'>There's more to life</title><content type='html'>Тази вечер, която беше завидно лоша и без това, гледах поредният сексистки филм, маскиран като трогателна любовна история, в който като в каталог бяха почетени всички солидни основи на мъжкоцентричната кал, в която всички се плацикаме и си живеем животите. Присъстваха проституктка, която се влюбва в главния герой; 3-4 допълнителни проститутки, с който той си прави оргия на покрива на свръхлуксозното си жилище; няколко много лъскави и бързи коли; една дебела жена, която е нещастна и никой не я обича, харесва или желае, което естествени силно я депресира; и самият главен герой, за който мога само да предположа, че е създаден с идеята да може всеки средностатистически тайванец да се идентифицира (нещо като мъжете в родните чалга клипове) - нисък, грозен и удивително жалък. Но естествено фактът, че е мъж, сам по себе си е сертификат за качество, даващ му право на всяка жена, която му мине под носа (стига да е кльощава и да навява незабавни асоциации със сърна или някакво друго животно, което почти всичко живо преследва, за да изяде). Когатао след 100 минути мъчение въпросният инвариант на мъж най-сетне сложи край на забележително жалкия си живот, от небето заваляха памфлети и над нощен Тайпей се разнесе трогателна любовна песен, докато вклюбената проститутка, подходящо облечена в оскъдно англеско костюмче с чифт крилца, почете паметта му и разбитото си сърце, намирайки тяхна снимка сред памфлетите - от времената, когато се предполага, че се влюбваха, т.е. петте минути от познанството им, в които още не бяха правили секс. Сескът във филма естествено беше строго еднопосочен, в който жените бяха единствено дестинации; функцията му на dominance tool, както подобава на класическите неща, седеше на дълбоко вкопания си трон с внушителен авторитет и самочувствие на хилядолетен господар. И около всичко това имаше доволно количество умишлено гнусна храна и автоеротика, чието сексистко значение обаче ми убягва, така че спирам дотук.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Оказва се много трудно да живееш в уредба, в която всичко ти е неприятно и неодубно. Не знам какво да правя с живота си и със себе си. Когато си мисля какво всъщност искам, ми идват наум първо нещата, които са ми приятни, но това не е едно и също; и когато тръгна по тази добре позната поточна линия, си мисля как бих си стояла в Поморие през цялото време, из HP форума, да ходя на село веднъж месечно, да се виждам с братовчедка си когато си е у дома и да общувам с приятелите си от София предимно по телефона; и после започва да ми се струва, че това ще ме завлече в някакво подтискащо чувство на безсмислие и си мисля, че бих могла да пиша рецензии, да се занимавам с критика или дори да се опитам да пиша, но не мога да разбера дали наистина го искам и ми идва омразната мисъл, че не знам какво искам - но това не е вярно, аз много добре какво точно искам, но то е едно от общо 2-3 неща, които човек с голяма доза сигурност може да нарече "невъзможни"; и понеже аз просто не искам нищо друго, не знам какво да правя със себе си, с това тяло и тази личност, защото те ми се виждат напълно безсмислени и ненужни като електрическа крушка в гората или нещо подобно.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;На всичкото отгоре, освен че не ставам по-зряла и по-уравновесена с времето, изобщо не помнявам - напротив, имам усещането, че ставам все по-глупава&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4384019089736351989?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4384019089736351989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/03/theres-more-to-life.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4384019089736351989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4384019089736351989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/03/theres-more-to-life.html' title='There&apos;s more to life'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-7729477641898176754</id><published>2008-03-07T17:45:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T17:45:45.587+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Нора, липсваш ми.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-7729477641898176754?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/7729477641898176754/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post_07.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7729477641898176754'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7729477641898176754'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post_07.html' title=''/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-2026182471825471766</id><published>2008-03-01T14:53:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-03-01T16:05:47.904+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Пролетен вятър</title><content type='html'>Прелетях като пролетния вятър над детството си днес в машина на времето под формата на доста мръсна черна Мазда. На село бях у дядо, на гробищата, после у Сарафово при братовчедките си и на всяка крачка, на всяко обръщане на глава предмети и картини от едно време пробиваха като яркооранжеви минзухари пластовете живот, които грижливо съм приглаждала един върху друг над детството си. Смесица като зле разбъркан сладолед със сироп от стари и нови неща; сменени и новаторски: табелата "Бата 9" е още там, до двете тополи зад чешмата, старата къща на баба и дядо си е там; на прозореца й - купчина ръждясали пирони, разпадаща се комсомолска книжка, червена като дренка, ключ неизвестно от къде. Из целия двор сред ежедневни късове и листи лежат и все още живеят изрезки от моето детство, ярки и напоени като хапчета за щастие - зелената чиния, в която баба ни правеше яйца (всяка баба, вкл. прабаба ни, имаше свои уникални пържени яйца), синя найлонова лента, останала от мрежата, която едно време беше опъната над асмата, синчецът, който татко посадил, когато бил на 7 - и досега цъфти всяка пролет, 42 години по-късно, скован от дядо дървен стол на поне 20 години, бабините цветя, градината - сега засята само с ягоди. А кучето е ново, със същото име - Куче, и е наследник и на диетата на предшественика си (трици с вода); читалището е същото, но с нови прозорци; розовият храст до каменната ни чешма много отдавна го няма, но аз винаги си го представям там когато погледна чешмата.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Дядо подкастри няколко дървета докато бях там, аз събрах клонките на купчинки; после се появи чичо, извади от багажника си още един чифт градинарски ножици и агрономското си образование и се включи в подкастрянето. Аз ги гледах от балкона на новата къща, където имаше и слънце, и вятър, и двете точно такива, каквито бяха в годините, когато всичко беше една безкрайна константа и нямаше ново, омешано със старо. Пролетният вятър почти ме отнесе, той беше най-напоен, тежък, ухаеше на пръст, на селото, на цветята, които чакаха да им дойде времето. Пробиваше ми палтото и дрехите и полазваше по кожата ми. Този вятър е като музика, която впечатва аромата, настроението, мислите, усещането, &lt;em&gt;времето &lt;/em&gt;в момента на свиренето - страховит консерватор, съживител, шаман.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Посадихме цветя на гроба на баба. Татко каза, че понеже тя ги е сяла в двора си, със сигурност ще се хванат на гроба й. На гробищата видях чичо Бончо, не бях го вижадала от поне 10 години, а кака Деси, която беше гуруто на моя малък петгодишен свят някога много отдавна и негова дъщеря, не съм виждала дори от по-отдавна. Странно, мисля за нея като за една от основните фигури в детството си, а не помня как изглежда. Баща й беше засадил зюмбюли на гроба на жена си и днес ги поливаше. После, докато говореше с татко за хлътналия гроб,който не може да оправи сам, се разплака... Малко неща са по-тъжни от възрастен човек, който плаче. А гробищната обстановка не помага особено. Но там стават и приятни неща. Баба срещна почти всичките си приятелки, които иначе няма как да посети, и докарахме една от тях в селото, за да не върви пеш.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;След село отидохме на гости на вуйчови, разменихме мартеници, порадвахме се на Диана, ядохме баница (yum) и т.н. Чудесно е да съм у дома. Пространството между Бургас и Медово е винаги красиво и обично за мен, дори със строежите. Тук има нещо, което липсва навсякъде другаде по света, и то е здраво свързано с мен, толкова здраво, че може да ме издърпа и изправи без значение къде се намирам, да ми връща неща, които съм мислела за загубени.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a blessing to be home! This time around, every bit of it is. Like a travel into a paralel reality which is always there, preserved for me, safe and absolute and eternal. In a way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-2026182471825471766?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/2026182471825471766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2026182471825471766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2026182471825471766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/03/blog-post.html' title='Пролетен вятър'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-8192545556537925495</id><published>2008-02-21T20:23:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T20:34:22.944+02:00</updated><title type='text'>हार्दिक शुभकामनाएं</title><content type='html'>Happy birthday, my dear &lt;a href="http://s198.photobucket.com/albums/aa54/subandhu/some%20party%20pics/?action=view&amp;amp;current=P1260710.jpg"&gt;Martin&lt;/a&gt;! &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;Честит рожден ден с много любов&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-8192545556537925495?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/8192545556537925495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/02/blog-post_21.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8192545556537925495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8192545556537925495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/02/blog-post_21.html' title='हार्दिक शुभकामनाएं'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1443636214386477654</id><published>2008-02-19T20:13:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-19T20:18:37.260+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Долната земя</title><content type='html'>I can't help it. I loathe Sofia. It's just so against everything I hold dear and common sense, to top it all. There are friends. But not like before. I'm aware nothing can stay the same forever, but that doesn't stop me from wishing some things did.&lt;br /&gt;The good things which happen are like differently coloured beacons on my calender; and I had a softly green one last Friday at Petko and Beni's. It keeps me warm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1443636214386477654?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1443636214386477654/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/02/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1443636214386477654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1443636214386477654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/02/blog-post.html' title='Долната земя'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1508964150533391971</id><published>2008-02-07T12:14:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T12:55:04.647+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='literature'/><title type='text'>Poetry</title><content type='html'>I've never been particularly fond of poetry, and I've never quite understood the appeal of it. I recognize it can evoke emotions and, as a language-schooled person, I can appreciate its unique use and moulding of language, but I'm just not a fan. However, since there is a certain holiday coming in the middle of the month, and I signed up for a related event on the CoS boards, I found myself re-reading the few poetry books I have, and thinking that there &lt;em&gt;is &lt;/em&gt;something about poems after all. I also found out that my tastes and the way I form a liking to a particular piece have changed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My current favourite is &lt;em&gt;Love &lt;/em&gt;by Atanas Dalchev, which seems to exert a powerful pull on the pleasure centre of my brain; plus it makes me chase the sources of its exremely strong, dense aroma, gets me weighing and analysing its words and images, rummaging through the net of meanings it creates - and all that also gives me immense pleasure. It's like magic, really. There are three pointsin it which create the poem's plane - the scarlet tomato, the green eyes and the nail, shining like a star - they are like beacons, casting a soft light over the rest of the poem and revealing its delicate structure and a certain very distinct exquisite quality. It's a gem, a delight. I tried to translate it into English, but failed completeley... Here it is in its original Bulgarian:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Над старото тържище ален&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;бе залезът като домат&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;и все тъй строен, все тъй млад&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;стоеше бедният хамалин.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Засипваше дрезгавина &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;очите, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;веждите му вече, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;но не дойде и тази вечер &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;зеленооката жена, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;която го веднъж повика &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;с очи, със поглед, без слова &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;и зарад тежкия товар &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;му заплати една усмивка. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Да би дошла и тази нощ. . . &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;да би му станала невеста. . . &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;до гроба би я носил весел &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;на гръб в широкия си кош. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;И всеки гвоздей от обущата му &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;би грял в нощта като звезда, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;когато долу през града &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;към къщи с нея ще се спуща. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Сънуваше ли? Сам в света, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;хамалинът стоеше влюбен. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;И мракът от лика му груб бе &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;изтрил и сетната черта.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am also particularly fond of Emily Dickinson and her acutely characteristic verses.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1508964150533391971?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1508964150533391971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/02/poetry.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1508964150533391971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1508964150533391971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/02/poetry.html' title='Poetry'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-5273931740765320631</id><published>2008-02-03T14:55:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T23:31:14.633+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Home'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parties'/><title type='text'>If travel is searching...</title><content type='html'>... and home what's been found, I'm in a hell of a journey right now, and I don't mean this in a good sense. All the flats and rooms for rent in Sofia seem to be either filthy, or in dodgy neighbourhoods, or both. It's a nightmare. And when I do find where to live, I'll have to work, to figure out the topic of my thesis, to live with my sister - in short, to struggle a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I watched a series of shorts, called &lt;em&gt;10 Minutes Older&lt;/em&gt; - among the directors were Aki Kaurismäki, Wim Wenders, Werner Herzog, Spike Lee, Victor Erice, Jim Jarmush. I liked Erice's best, although admittedly I was a teensy bit too tipsy to properly appreciate the second half of the films :p I's comforting to know that some things haven't changed despite time and space alterations - like Alexander's always having some cinematic gems to share.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-5273931740765320631?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/5273931740765320631/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/02/if-travel-is-searching.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5273931740765320631'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5273931740765320631'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/02/if-travel-is-searching.html' title='If travel is searching...'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-5310357284869251702</id><published>2008-01-30T12:31:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T17:41:22.282+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the magical world of jyu'/><title type='text'>Зефи</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R6BTJK1QPQI/AAAAAAAAAHI/fBfNZ3rM9GI/s1600-h/sama.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5161216589958233346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R6BTJK1QPQI/AAAAAAAAAHI/fBfNZ3rM9GI/s320/sama.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Зефирина Зегналек (или Жегналек? трябва да питам) от Полша - единственото същество, което не смяташе обсесията ми относно определа социална несправедливост за индикация, че имам разхлабени болтове и гайки в черепната си кутия. Естествено тя е права, а всички други грешат, както често се случва.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;С това искам да кажа, че ти си специална, Зефи, и ми липсваш ужасно.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://s198.photobucket.com/albums/aa54/subandhu/?action=view&amp;amp;current=Slide1.jpg"&gt;Everybody loves Zefi &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-5310357284869251702?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/5310357284869251702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/01/blog-post_30.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5310357284869251702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5310357284869251702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/01/blog-post_30.html' title='Зефи'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R6BTJK1QPQI/AAAAAAAAAHI/fBfNZ3rM9GI/s72-c/sama.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-3419229001095250364</id><published>2008-01-19T18:19:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T18:31:42.676+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><title type='text'>Mad about lists</title><content type='html'>Yes, I am. Plus I'm bored, so I thought I'd post one of those on here. A list of my current addictions (because I'm soooo easily hooked and right now they're all there is in my life).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Level of addiction measured on a 1 to 5 scale, where 1 is a persistent interest, and 5 is embedded-in-my-life-probably-forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Harry Potter. Started 2001, been growing ever since. &lt;strong&gt;5&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;House MD. A brand new one. Side effects include annoyance if I go 12 hours without seeing an episode and a mild form of hypochondria. &lt;strong&gt;2&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Coffee. &lt;strong&gt;1&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tea. (yes, addicted to both!) &lt;strong&gt;4 &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chocolate. Now this one I believe is actually biological. &lt;strong&gt;5&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Drama!!! Oh, my favourite one. I &lt;em&gt;love &lt;/em&gt;drama, I create if where it's scarce and I relish a full-blown dramatic scene with zest bordering on exhilaration. &lt;strong&gt;5&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;By the way, I lived an old dream of mine last night - rode in a car with Depeche Mode with enhanced bass on and me singing along :D &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-3419229001095250364?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/3419229001095250364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/01/mad-about-lists.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3419229001095250364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3419229001095250364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/01/mad-about-lists.html' title='Mad about lists'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-7026757067110580763</id><published>2008-01-16T17:59:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T18:11:37.487+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Some more whining</title><content type='html'>It's not even a week since I left Finland and it already seems to me that my mind - its format - has started transforming. Things look distant to me now although I walked my usual Kortepohja - campus path last week. It's fast, like a virus. Or perhaps I should just stop watching House MD in bulk. Piling bucketfuls of new impressions onto my brain will facilitate the forgetting of old ones... But wait, wasn't that precisely what I should be getting used to and trying to let go of? My problem is, I don't &lt;em&gt;want &lt;/em&gt;to let go. I never do.  I'm almost certain I am incapable of it. And thank God I don't believe in psychology!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; sad, it's so very sad!... And so fast indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People, even though you'll be submerged into the jolly Erasmus life for another five months while I'm in anxious anticipation of being bossed around and squashed into nasty deadlines, I &lt;strong&gt;will &lt;/strong&gt;be thinking of you and retain the warmest of feelings for you. I do hope the ones among you who considered me a friend won't let distance and time and all that stuff make strangers out of us. I like to think it's all up to me, but I know there should be some willingness from the other side too... so here's hoping there will be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-7026757067110580763?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/7026757067110580763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/01/some-more-whining.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7026757067110580763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7026757067110580763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/01/some-more-whining.html' title='Some more whining'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-5059644924342811981</id><published>2008-01-13T16:34:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T17:41:22.865+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the magical world of jyu'/><title type='text'>Гинтас</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R4oxlLRd6XI/AAAAAAAAAGg/2DeCmCPQet8/s1600-h/noname+162.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154987238229928306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R4oxlLRd6XI/AAAAAAAAAGg/2DeCmCPQet8/s200/noname+162.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154987006301694306" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R4oxXrRd6WI/AAAAAAAAAGY/h7a-jMszwGQ/s200/noname+147.jpg" border="0" /&gt; Гинтас - определено незабравима част от финландския ми живот. Той не обича да говори за себе си и въобще почти никога не говори сериозно; въпреки това се сближих с него с безтегловна лекота. Това, предполагам, е един от талантите му. Друг такъв е способността му да вижда под кожите на хората, но ревниво да пази каквото има под неговата в тайна.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Естествено и на него дължа благодарсности, включително задето ме приюти два дни преди да си замина. :Р&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R4oyKrRd6YI/AAAAAAAAAGo/pysfgVomD3I/s1600-h/noname+880.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154987882475022722" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R4oyKrRd6YI/AAAAAAAAAGo/pysfgVomD3I/s320/noname+880.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-5059644924342811981?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/5059644924342811981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/01/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5059644924342811981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/5059644924342811981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/01/blog-post.html' title='Гинтас'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R4oxlLRd6XI/AAAAAAAAAGg/2DeCmCPQet8/s72-c/noname+162.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-962145587206217218</id><published>2008-01-11T16:55:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-01-11T17:16:09.840+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Random musings ed. 2008</title><content type='html'>This blog is a true blessing for my emotional exhibitionism... Anyway, I'm back home. As expected, I'm tossed around between fits of fierce nostalgia and powerful surges of longing to fly back from where I arrived. And yet I can't help but feel lucky, because my last days in Finland/Estonia were fantastic. An unexpected Depeche Mode Bar around a snowy corner in Tallinn; a ferry acquaintance; a gentle last day in Helsinki; Wong Kar-Wai in the afternoon. Couldn't have wished for anything more. A compensation, perhpas? Not meaning to be ungrateful, but I want no compensation if it makes the thing definitely final... I can't believe I am practically UNABLE to let go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know it's normal to feel some kind of warmth to be back in your homeland, or at least some sort of positive feeling after having reached home, but I felt none. I know it's wrong, and I know it's my own fault for holding on to things I should leave behind. But I simply cannot help it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I learnt nothing after all those farewells I've had since high school? It seems to me I'm just as incapable of coping with loss as I have ever been. Ugh, this post is getting way too depressing. I think I need a HP fix right now ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-962145587206217218?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/962145587206217218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/01/random-musings-ed-2008.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/962145587206217218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/962145587206217218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/01/random-musings-ed-2008.html' title='Random musings ed. 2008'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4444204183382030648</id><published>2008-01-02T17:13:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-01-02T17:20:34.493+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Afresh?</title><content type='html'>New year, start from scratch, eh? I don't think so. It's sad, but I have been dragging a lot of stuff with me from one year to the next, and it piles up and settles down, marshy and sticky, like ickly food leftovers. Then there's the stuff I &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; to do, and the stuff I just wouldn't let go. Like Jyväskylä and everything I absorbed in me here. I wish I were far less sentimental and a lot more hard-working. Hey, that could be my New year wish/resolution! They are usually empty words anyway :p&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4444204183382030648?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4444204183382030648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/01/afresh.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4444204183382030648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4444204183382030648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2008/01/afresh.html' title='Afresh?'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-6676673933499694366</id><published>2007-12-30T12:06:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-12-30T14:42:31.665+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><title type='text'>Old stuff, new stuff</title><content type='html'>The last few days were filled with pleasant surprises and warmth (literally, too, this has got to be the warmest Christmas season Finland's ever known). I have one post to make in the Chamber of Secrets forum to become a Hogwarts graduate, to start with :p&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, to cut long story short (as it's way too long) - went for a country trip with a Finnish family, crossed the thresholds of two lovely houses come straight from my dreams; one of them a fairy-tale house of utter perfection to the last little detail ("a doll house for adults", as Kari put it); visited a village school for 60 pupils containing more care and modernity than any in Sofia; had a pancake dinner and a sleepover at Zefi's; had an unexpected visit from Leila (who is SO sweet and lovely it's unbelievable) and generally was forced to feet quite acutely the loss I'm in for in little more than a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anyone is interested in reading the longer version (complete with detailed descriptions of mentioned houses and much lauding of this marvellous country), it's in the comments section.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is New year's eve and then I begin to pack and get ready to leave. And thus ends my December, my stay and my year. Have a spectacular New year's and see you on the other side! *kisses*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-6676673933499694366?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/6676673933499694366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/everything-comes-to-end.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/6676673933499694366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/6676673933499694366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/everything-comes-to-end.html' title='Old stuff, new stuff'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-7388164467327352552</id><published>2007-12-23T17:39:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T17:41:23.112+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the magical world of jyu'/><title type='text'>Джовани и Нора</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R26CfrRd6NI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/51hbxC8iUYQ/s1600-h/Slide1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147194904834599122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R26CfrRd6NI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/51hbxC8iUYQ/s400/Slide1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;За тях заедно, защото са приятели, съквартиранти и си заминаха заедно. Освен това често мисля за тях в двойка. Колаж, защото им отива и защото имам прекалено много снимки с тях. И не знам какво повече да кажа, не защото няма какво, а защото има твърде много.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Весела Коледа! Ще ми липсвате много.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-7388164467327352552?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/7388164467327352552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_23.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7388164467327352552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7388164467327352552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_23.html' title='Джовани и Нора'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R26CfrRd6NI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/51hbxC8iUYQ/s72-c/Slide1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1402609293919404983</id><published>2007-12-23T00:28:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-12-23T01:04:57.079+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Show some humility</title><content type='html'>Isn't it funny how everyone seems to think they're the centre of the universe, and you can actually trace this belief throughout their behaviour. I can see it in mine. I can spot it in my thought patterns, even when it's artfully concealed. It seems humility is not easy, and does not come naturally to most of us. I try hard for it when I detect the complacency in my thought-chain or my words, and sometimes I have the feeling I actually achieve it. But it may just be an illusion of humility, a token, whereas the real thing remains out of grasp. I nurture a hope that it can be built gradually, and sometimes I even venture a thought that I have started. Well, trying alone rises my levels of hope and spirit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This evening especially humility seemed to evade me decisively. I don't know what had gotten into me, because everything started so well, but the more we talked (I was downtown with Gintas), the more I exhibited self-satisfaction, egocentrism and desperate pleas for attention. I don't know how he does it, but Gintas is able to wrench the worst out of me with lazy ease. Perhpas it's for the better though. Perhaps being told unpleasant views about your person helps you look at it from an outsider's point of view and prune it here and there. As I said, I'm hopeful.&lt;br /&gt;And the evening was nice, the uncontainable gushing of dubious emotions notwithstanding. We walked for an hour at least, ending up in a graveyard, which we strolled through, walking among the soft balls of light encircling the candles. Then we spent another two hours in Coffee House, where most of the aforementioned gushing took place. Gintas can't have a very favourable opinion of me, and I can't say I blame him. But he did give my contact info book considerable attention and time. A nice guy, he is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I suppose it's time for some news after a month of posting only sudden bursts of emotion. Well, this week was good-bye week. Heartbreaking. You can see the order of leaving people by the posts tagged "the magical world of jyu", starting from Chao. This morning I saw Nora and Giovanni off. (post about them upcoming tomorrow or Monday, depending on cleaning progress.) It's kind of cruel, isn't it, that I have to just cut off, with one brutal strike, the barely-unfolded friendships which were struck here. Cruel, and yet no-one to blame (almost). *sigh* Giovanni and Nora, thank you. Both of you have done more for me than you imagine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas eve will be spent here, in our little flat. I have no more information, Ewelina is in charge as usual. Christmas day - well, I'll think about that later. I'm gald I'm in a minimalistic country with as little amount of Christmas cheer in the form of kitschy decoration and shopwindow configurations as possible. I like this chubby, up-spirit and, well, merry Western Christmas, but I dislike the exaggeration it sometimes slides into. Plus a little snow would have helped immensely with the Christmas spirit distribution, but - no. snow. in. Finland. I'd write something cheerful for ending, but I can't seem to find anything of that nature in my head right now. Well, I'll just go to bed, I guess. See you tomorrow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1402609293919404983?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1402609293919404983/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/show-some-humility.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1402609293919404983'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1402609293919404983'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/show-some-humility.html' title='Show some humility'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-6676490603834461019</id><published>2007-12-22T14:37:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2007-12-22T14:59:15.963+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Пауза да си поема дъх</title><content type='html'>За всички тези хора тук. Досега мислех за тях само в бъдеще време - Stammtisch партито следващия четвъртък, "Кхарма" тази вечер, обяд утре в Агора/Илокиви, рождения ден на еди-кой си следващата седмица, пътуването до Русия следващия месец, вечеря в пицария "Мария" след Cafe Lingua в понеделник, pre-party-то у Джовани довечера и т.н. Сега внезапно трябва да мисля за тях само в минало време. Това така ме обърква.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Мразя да губя неща, да се разделям с тях. Вкопчвам се в това, което съм заобичала. Знам, че не бива и не е здравословно. Ако някой има съвет как да се разделям достойно с неща и хора, моля да сподели.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Денят започва да расте от днес.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Summary for jyu people: Basically I'm saying how much I miss you all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-6676490603834461019?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/6676490603834461019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_3034.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/6676490603834461019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/6676490603834461019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_3034.html' title='Пауза да си поема дъх'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-2560349699144842007</id><published>2007-12-22T09:21:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T17:41:23.335+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the magical world of jyu'/><title type='text'>Валерио и Марина</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2y-JbRd6LI/AAAAAAAAAEY/K1bqrQWT5qA/s1600-h/Valerio.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146697543326754994" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2y-JbRd6LI/AAAAAAAAAEY/K1bqrQWT5qA/s320/Valerio.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2y987Rd6KI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/amCvFmbVijU/s1600-h/marina.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146697328578390178" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 174px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px" height="322" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2y987Rd6KI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/amCvFmbVijU/s320/marina.JPG" width="177" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Валерио и Марина заминаха вчера. Марина ще се върне за следващия семестър, Валерио не. С тях ходих на Film Narrative, единственият ми интересен курс тук. С всеки от тях беше удоволствие да си говориш.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Весела Коледа на двама ви, и музикална и фотографска (съответно) слава да ви застигне през новата година &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-2560349699144842007?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/2560349699144842007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_22.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2560349699144842007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2560349699144842007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_22.html' title='Валерио и Марина'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2y-JbRd6LI/AAAAAAAAAEY/K1bqrQWT5qA/s72-c/Valerio.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1565119890495642501</id><published>2007-12-20T16:40:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T17:41:23.705+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the magical world of jyu'/><title type='text'>Мартин</title><content type='html'>Мартин замина в 7.30 сутринта с влака за Хелзинки. Мартин е третият човек, с когото се запознах в Юваскюла, на път за университета на втория ден. Оказа се един от най-милите и забавни хора, които познавам въобще.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Долу Мартин в естествената си среда :D&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2qBHbRd6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/OdLfZ2WZwRk/s1600-h/elizamartinjana.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146067488804300946" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2qBHbRd6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/OdLfZ2WZwRk/s320/elizamartinjana.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1565119890495642501?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1565119890495642501/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_20.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1565119890495642501'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1565119890495642501'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_20.html' title='Мартин'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2qBHbRd6JI/AAAAAAAAAEI/OdLfZ2WZwRk/s72-c/elizamartinjana.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-8133594061458904421</id><published>2007-12-18T13:21:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T17:41:23.888+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the magical world of jyu'/><title type='text'>Чао</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2evQ7Rd6EI/AAAAAAAAADk/tW6Y6UzMgIg/s1600-h/chaoiaz.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145273804617803842" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2evQ7Rd6EI/AAAAAAAAADk/tW6Y6UzMgIg/s320/chaoiaz.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Чао си тръгна днес сутринта. Аз и Зефи го изпратихме до гарата. Неизвестно е дали ще го видя някога пак, но се надявам силно!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Все пак винаги ще си имаме нашето колело, Чао! :D &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2etYrRd6DI/AAAAAAAAADc/OLXBrMYo0Xo/s1600-h/chaoiaz.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-8133594061458904421?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/8133594061458904421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_5456.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8133594061458904421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/8133594061458904421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_5456.html' title='Чао'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2evQ7Rd6EI/AAAAAAAAADk/tW6Y6UzMgIg/s72-c/chaoiaz.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-475310676664516432</id><published>2007-12-18T12:55:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T17:41:24.059+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the magical world of jyu'/><title type='text'>Нора</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2ev17Rd6GI/AAAAAAAAAD0/pKrnytcCvZo/s1600-h/nora.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145274440272963682" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2ev17Rd6GI/AAAAAAAAAD0/pKrnytcCvZo/s320/nora.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Тя мисли, че съм самонадеяна и леко надута. Аз нямам време, за да поправя това впечатление.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Тя е прекрасна.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-475310676664516432?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/475310676664516432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_18.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/475310676664516432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/475310676664516432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_18.html' title='Нора'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R2ev17Rd6GI/AAAAAAAAAD0/pKrnytcCvZo/s72-c/nora.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1071132747093761121</id><published>2007-12-17T02:36:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-12-17T02:44:52.549+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Emotional buzz'/><title type='text'>Време да си взема сбогом</title><content type='html'>It's time to leave. People are leaving next week. Every day goodbyes have to be said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It turned out so easy to take someone to your heart, and hold them dear. So fast. And now i's time to part, yet agan, to tear them, to sever the ties, to bury this huddle of life in the graveyard of your past, sometimes well-kempt, sometimes forlorn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If there is anything which can pick at my heart and bleed it, it's saying goodbye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1071132747093761121?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1071132747093761121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_17.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1071132747093761121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1071132747093761121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post_17.html' title='Време да си взема сбогом'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1829397374828133979</id><published>2007-12-13T13:21:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T13:43:08.473+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parties'/><title type='text'>Pikkujoulu</title><content type='html'>The ESN pre-Christmas party (or Pikkujoulu) took place last night in Lozzi (on campus) and then Kharma. Santa Claus was there (I sat on his knee :D My first time ever, at 25), I got a present, and gave one. There was punch with starfruit, porridge with cinnamon and berry sauce (Christmas porridge??), some games, some dancing, some heartache which I was the onfidante for, and a lot of alcohol brought in by the students. Some of us were properly dressed up, including suits and night gowns. I contributed to the celebretaion spirit with a pair of extremely cute angel earrings and a hairband with tiny jinging bells :o) And just before that Martin and I were in the church listeting to Christmas carols in Finnish sung by the congregation. It was all a festive affair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we went to Kharma, most of us properly drunk already (but not me). It was alright there, save for the music, which was dull, there was some more games, as there was another Pikkujoulu going on there, and more and more alcohol, of course. I stayed sober the whole night. Since so many people are going home, there was ample hugging, kissing and crying. In the end I had to walk home of course, because Ewelina's bike's lock was frozen. A good evening overall, which would've been better if I had drunk more and if it wasn't the last one for all of us together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1829397374828133979?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1829397374828133979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/pikkujoulu.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1829397374828133979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1829397374828133979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/pikkujoulu.html' title='Pikkujoulu'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4824445467453793773</id><published>2007-12-02T00:07:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T17:41:24.280+02:00</updated><title type='text'>December</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R1Hd4usrqzI/AAAAAAAAACM/0gc6UA9giIo/s1600-R/2bcf_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139132616484301618" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R1Hd4usrqzI/AAAAAAAAACM/_1XxiXgNJEE/s320/2bcf_1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So many meanings in one month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My last weeks in Finland. My last days with the people I met here. The last parties, last walks in the town, last lectures, last common lunches in the university cafeterias, last dinners in pizzeria "Maria", last surges of longing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My second Christmas away from my family - and first one away from friends, too. But closest to Santa Claus I've ever been!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My fisrt consiously-bought Christmas advent calender - Muumi-themed, of course (and yes, it is exactly the one in the picture. Cute, ain't it!). My first church Christmas carols evening (looking forward to it).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The shortest days and longest nights I've seen. Probably the coldst weather I've experienced, but still waiting for this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully a wonderful closure to a wonderful semester here. I love Finland by now. I liked it in the beginning, but I love it now. I wonder who wouldn't.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4824445467453793773?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4824445467453793773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/december.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4824445467453793773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4824445467453793773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/12/december.html' title='December'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R1Hd4usrqzI/AAAAAAAAACM/_1XxiXgNJEE/s72-c/2bcf_1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-2657422620265130070</id><published>2007-11-24T21:20:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-24T23:40:47.026+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Windy</title><content type='html'>Вчера по една чиста случайност (търсейки "Приказки на прибалтийските народи") попаднах на &lt;a href="http://windy.bloghub.org/"&gt;този блог&lt;/a&gt;. Страшно ми хареса, съдържанието, настроението, но особено стила на писане. Рядко се случва да намеря нещо, което така да ми допадне, в мрежата, особено стил на писане. Препоръчвам го горещо.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edit: Тя не харесва "Градът на Бога". Намира го за скучен. Знам за разнообразието от вкусове, но да намираш "Градът на Бога" скучен, значи да си го гледал със затворени очи и запушени уши. Той е гениален филм.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-2657422620265130070?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/2657422620265130070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/windy.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2657422620265130070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2657422620265130070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/windy.html' title='Windy'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-1235734305994205391</id><published>2007-11-24T19:09:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T17:41:24.438+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='моите приятели'/><title type='text'>Зори</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R0hdvlVMcUI/AAAAAAAAACE/cd_PcQJ0GAE/s1600-h/Zori+s+telephone+v+Panaji.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136458447072293186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R0hdvlVMcUI/AAAAAAAAACE/cd_PcQJ0GAE/s320/Zori+s+telephone+v+Panaji.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Това е Зори. А това е статия първа от моя проект за създаване на каталог на моите приятели. Правила съм го и преди, но на хартия. Сега тук.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Зори е моя приятелка от 6 години и една от малкото, с които станах приятелка скорострелно, за седмици след запознанството ни. Естествено имаше благоприятни обстоятелства това да се случи, но имаше и доста крайно неблагоприятни обстоятелства, които биха представлявали сериозни пречки пред създаването на едно приятелство - затова аз обичам да си мисля, че неслучйно се срещнахме и събрахме с нея. Знам, че понякога и тя си го мисли, но не знам дали й харсва. (Зори, ако четеш, заповядай в коментарите и хвърли светлина върху тоя въпрос.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ще цитирам един наш общ приятел (Живко) - Зори просто кара хората да я обичат. Излъчва мощни хипнотизиращи вълни, вероятно, но е факт. Не можеш да я познаваш повече от 10 минути и да не я обичаш. И изобщо не си говорим за благ характер или мило поведение тука, повярвайте ми. Тя просто дращи по подсъзнанието ви и напоява създадените браздички със себе си.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Със Зори ме свързва много, но преди всичко самият факт на приятелството ни. Много пъти съм откривала, че само тя знае какво да ми каже и какво да направи, когато нещо ми се случи или когато попадна в някаква ситуация, или дори когато просто драматизирам, защото ми е скучно. Зори никога не ме съди. Тя някакси винаги разбира как и защо, що се отнася до мен. Познава ме толкова добре. Мисля, че само със Зори мога да общувам без да се правя, преструвам и играя поне мъничко. Тоест само с нея мога да бъда напълно естествена и открита, защото не желая да се крия или преправям пред нея.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Естествено двете се забавляваме ужасно много заедно.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ако искате да разберете повече за нея, посетете профила й в shelfari.com - zornitsa d. Книгите, които чете, говорят доста за нея.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Разни факти: тя е зодия везни; обича да върши всичко под формата на ритуал; нещата бързо й омръзват, след като успее да се пребори с тях; пътуването с нея е доста трудно; през свободното си време почти изключително чете; носи предимно зелено, кафяво, черно и сиво; тя е много, много умна, както и да разбирате тази дума; мрази градския транспорт; обича мълчанието; обожава шоколад и чай.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-1235734305994205391?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/1235734305994205391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/blog-post_24.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1235734305994205391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/1235734305994205391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/blog-post_24.html' title='Зори'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R0hdvlVMcUI/AAAAAAAAACE/cd_PcQJ0GAE/s72-c/Zori+s+telephone+v+Panaji.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-2438416930970672572</id><published>2007-11-21T14:41:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-12-11T17:41:25.238+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parties'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><title type='text'>Baltic tales</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R0Wqo1VMcSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/dDP8yN5ji9s/s1600-h/IMG_3606.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135698568573382946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R0Wqo1VMcSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/dDP8yN5ji9s/s320/IMG_3606.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I was little, I had books with fairy tales form all sorts of countries in the world. My favourite one was &lt;em&gt;Fairy Tales of the Baltic People. &lt;/em&gt;It was navy in &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R0Wm7FVMcPI/AAAAAAAAABc/bPa2nvQsCHc/s1600-h/IMG_2708.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;colour, with glossy hardback and smooth thick pages, and beautiful illustrations, which I remember used to scare me a little bit - which I now realise means that they were good illustrations - and by a different Baltic artist for each country. I read these tales repeatedly and enjoyed them immensely each time. So they comprised my knowledge of the Baltic region, and it never occurred to me that I would some day make direct contact with the world that produced my beloved glossy book with my real, physical senses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R0Wm31VMcNI/AAAAAAAAABM/w5cCmcG32hs/s1600-h/IMG_2596.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135694428224909522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R0Wm31VMcNI/AAAAAAAAABM/w5cCmcG32hs/s320/IMG_2596.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I am ever so glad I eventually did. I spent four days in Riga and felt elated almost the whole time. Beautiful town. Art nouveau centre under the open sky, pink and ochre walls, a mylliard of little towers and spikes on red-bricked buildings, paved streets, devout lovers' names engraved on padlocks on the bridges. We had traditional Latvian food, found a delightful bakery where we had cake and real coffe for breakfast each morning, walked and walked the streets, ventured the local clubs (not so nice) and visited the Occupation museum, advertised as a must-see in the Riga journals we got at the hostel. It was indeed moving, and horrifying too, and I found it touching that they had set up this museum, which is supported through vistors' donations, in order to comemmorate those who lost their lives and dignity during the violation of Latvia's freedom by Soviet and Nazi oppressors, and to show the world what Latvian people have been through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was also great for me personally that we were a big group of people doing stuff together in that totally unknown city, like just walking the streets and reading their funny names, taking pictures on canon guns and weird bright red papier-mache rabbits, having meals, waiting in a queue for 40 minutes at 2 o'clock in the morning in order to have a McChicken combo, sleeping in the same dorm room and sharing a single bathroom for 15 people (fun), looking at the town sinking below us while travelling to the 25th floor of a hotel at sunset - stunning, simply stunning! - and so the list goes on. It was bonding, for me. So it was precious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R0WoZ1VMcQI/AAAAAAAAABk/Sly_Za6UE5g/s1600-h/IMG_2708.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135696111852089602" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R0WoZ1VMcQI/AAAAAAAAABk/Sly_Za6UE5g/s320/IMG_2708.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the best part was that we happened to be there on Independence day, so we got to experience the national holiday pride and see prety much every inhabitant at the city, as wll as the country's military might in the parade. Standing among the crown of nation-proud people while their national anthem was playing, in a chilly wind by the river, was just exhilarating. And in the evening, &lt;em&gt;breathtaking&lt;/em&gt; fireworks over the river!!! Oh, it was a beautiful experience!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the downside, it was very expensive. But that's all on this side :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now back in Jyvaskyla, where I have to bury myself in studying. Oh well. You have fun, you pay the price for it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Pictures made by Valerio, Martin and me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-2438416930970672572?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/2438416930970672572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/baltic-tales.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2438416930970672572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/2438416930970672572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/baltic-tales.html' title='Baltic tales'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/R0Wqo1VMcSI/AAAAAAAAAB0/dDP8yN5ji9s/s72-c/IMG_3606.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-7827979799385162455</id><published>2007-11-12T11:47:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-23T23:46:23.632+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Emotional buzz'/><title type='text'>Ella</title><content type='html'>Was it in Tahiti?&lt;br /&gt;Were we on the Nile?&lt;br /&gt;Long, long ago, say an hour ago&lt;br /&gt;I recall that I saw your smile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember you&lt;br /&gt;You're the one who made my dreams come true&lt;br /&gt;A few kisses ago&lt;br /&gt;I remember you&lt;br /&gt;You're th one who said,&lt;br /&gt;"I love you too,&lt;br /&gt;Didn't you know?"&lt;br /&gt;I remember too&lt;br /&gt;A distant bell&lt;br /&gt;And stars that fell&lt;br /&gt;Like rain, out of the blue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my life is through&lt;br /&gt;And the angels ask me to recall&lt;br /&gt;The thrill of them all&lt;br /&gt;Then I shall tell them&lt;br /&gt;I remember you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Снощи сънувах Иван, беше в бяла риза и огромен, не както в действителност. Смееше се и се радваше да се видим пак. Ужасно ми липсва.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-7827979799385162455?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/7827979799385162455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/blog-post_12.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7827979799385162455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/7827979799385162455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/blog-post_12.html' title='Ella'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-4079481770913135222</id><published>2007-11-07T13:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-23T23:46:07.122+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Home'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parties'/><title type='text'>Сняг, снежец - бял, беленичък!</title><content type='html'>It's snowing today! Excitement wells up inside me and I feel restless and exhilarated. I browsed the web for winter poetry and songs and came across a wonderful Bulgarian-French site for Bulgarian folk songs. Pure beauty they are, especially the Rhodopean ones - here goes one of my favourites:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Да не си се юплашило,&lt;br /&gt;невесто хубава, невесто гиздава,&lt;br /&gt;кога дойдат сватовете,&lt;br /&gt;при тебе, за тебе, невесто хубава,&lt;br /&gt;кога дойде лудо-младо,&lt;br /&gt;при тебе, за тебе, невесто хубава,&lt;br /&gt;да открие бело вало,&lt;br /&gt;от лице, от лице, невесто хубава,&lt;br /&gt;и йоткачи тельовете,&lt;br /&gt;од глава, од глава, невесто хубава!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a very rough translation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fear not,&lt;br /&gt;o pretty bride, bonny bride,&lt;br /&gt;when matchmakers come,&lt;br /&gt;when they come to you, when they come for you, o pretty bride,&lt;br /&gt;when your beloved comes,&lt;br /&gt;when he comes to you, when he comes for you, o pretty bride,&lt;br /&gt;to lift your white veil,&lt;br /&gt;to uncover your face, to uncover your face, o pretty bride,&lt;br /&gt;and take off the hair pins,&lt;br /&gt;from your head, from your head, o pretty bride!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And another one (I can't help it!):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Фатмиш, майчина дощеро,&lt;br /&gt;оти се, Фатмиш, забави?&lt;br /&gt;-Забавихме се, мале ле,&lt;br /&gt;сиво ми стадо премина,&lt;br /&gt;та ми водица размотьи,&lt;br /&gt;та чеках да се отмотьи.&lt;br /&gt;-Фатмиш, майчина дощеро,&lt;br /&gt;стара са майка не ложе,&lt;br /&gt;стари са татко не мамьи,&lt;br /&gt;чьорни са очи плакали.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fatmish, my daugther,&lt;br /&gt;why are you, Fatmish, so late?"&lt;br /&gt;"I am late, dear mother,&lt;br /&gt;for a grey herd passed through,&lt;br /&gt;and muddled the water,&lt;br /&gt;so I waited for it to become clear."&lt;br /&gt;"Fatmish, my daughter,&lt;br /&gt;you cannot lie to your old mother,&lt;br /&gt;you cannot fool your old father,&lt;br /&gt;your black eyes have shed tears."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a different, but equally pleasant note, we had a genuine Italian dinner last night, which was a lot of fun, and quite cosy, not to mention delicious. The pasta was home made in the most literal sense of the word - the gradmother of one of the Italians (who was our cook) had made it herself and sent it to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it when it snows!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-4079481770913135222?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/4079481770913135222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/blog-post_07.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4079481770913135222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/4079481770913135222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/blog-post_07.html' title='Сняг, снежец - бял, беленичък!'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-3433901645239069471</id><published>2007-11-06T09:33:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-23T23:45:29.252+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Emotional buzz'/><title type='text'>.</title><content type='html'>How do you know if something is real or an illusion if you passionately want it to be real? And doesn't this desire signify something more than desperation?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-3433901645239069471?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/3433901645239069471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3433901645239069471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3433901645239069471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/blog-post.html' title='.'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-382937266661606246.post-3221374632496650825</id><published>2007-11-05T11:03:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-11-23T23:45:29.257+02:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Emotional buzz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Parties'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Travel'/><title type='text'>A magical journey</title><content type='html'>Surprises come in so many different shapes! In a second everything you thought you knew about yourself can be upturned and gaily mocked by the Grand Designer, who/whatever s/he/it is, while you're struggling, trembling, to copmprehend what it all means. I don't care what it means. I can't remember feeling this way for too long a time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;St Petersburg is magical. The thought of these four days fill me with hot air, lift me off the ground and leave me hovering about, feeling joyful, feeling festive, feeling actually happy!...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish with all my heart I would remember every bit of it as vividly as I have it in me now. The Hermitage and the sunset-tinged Neva outside its windows, surrounded by Rennaisance splendour; Nevsky prospect at night and day; the sushi bar, tense with revelations; the frosty wind on the river and my hair flying over the plastic shampagne cup; the baroque grandeur of Catherine's reign; the handsome Russian faces and their piety before the gates of the churches; my snow-sprinkled scarlet muffler in the whismical graveyard; the bridges, the souvenir vendours, the cyrillic letters everywhere, this whole breathing city full of stories and superstitions, of history, hugeness and vibrating life - it's got to be unforgettable. It all opened me up, let me out, enabled my feelings and, put very simply, made me happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/382937266661606246-3221374632496650825?l=subandhu.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/feeds/3221374632496650825/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/magical-journey.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3221374632496650825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/382937266661606246/posts/default/3221374632496650825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://subandhu.blogspot.com/2007/11/magical-journey.html' title='A magical journey'/><author><name>Yoana</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04242105752699707965</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AHsYzxFVTnk/SZNE11UGgSI/AAAAAAAAATg/BkJ2vSKd3ho/S220/pop3.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
