I want to draw your attention to a happening here in Timișoara over the following two weeks. You know how the bloggers from my city bought supplies for a foster home last Christmas. Well, some of those people are at it again. This time, though, we've got the support of our favorite local university. And we need that since this project is a bit more ambitious. We're planning to gather clothes, books and toys and donate them to a few foster homes around Timișoara (Arad, Oradea, Reșița, Caransebeș, Lugoj and Timișoara -- to be exact) and you're welcome to lend a hand. One gathering point will open tomorrow and will be in the West University halls, first floor by the stairs. We'll be taking anything you care to donate, but no money. This effort is fueled by Porsche Timișoara and is supported by Cristina Putan, Richie Ilie, Dan Șefancu, a Secret Santa and Oana Barbu (who made the alliance with West University possible). If you're anything like me, this is a perfect opportunity to clean up that closet of toys you might have, or to share the joy of reading a good book with a kid that might not be as lucky as you were. And everybody needs a warm sweater in times like these. Plus, free hugs and warm fuzzy feelings, eh?

How many times have you liked a page on facebook and then never posted on their wall? When was the last time you wrote something? I mean something of value. Can you say that you post a photo for 2 that you see or like. Or every 3? 10?! This may be the age of hyperconsumerism, but please don't be just a leacher or a peon or a simple follower. Go. Create!

• Rather than telling others what you think of them, you now resort to twitter and blogs to channel negative feelings.
• Rather than thinking about how to help salvage your sittuation, you're thinking "I am sooo blogging this!"
• Rather than drinking her away, you run off to change your facebook status to single and hope some people notice.
• Rather than a strong slap across the face, you shout out "I'm forever taking you off my blogroll!"
• Rather than taking pride in standing straight, you feel comfort in your comfy chair.
• Rather than trying to make a difference, you just decide to turn away, because there's a lot to choose from.

Well, not you, but maybe you have a friend... The Internet killed being frank! All we're left with is a mass of cosy, harmless sheep, some goats and a handful of people that will tell you what they really think. And, of course, you have a new term for that: "offensive." Well, not you, but maybe you have a friend...

He sometimes has to visit the hospital. It's summer so the waiting room is hell's kitchen. A host of elderly piggy-backers sit on the grossly uncomfortable benches. They, the elders, know best, so the doors stay shut, the AC stays off. These are hasbeens from all walks of life. Some wear perfume, some aftershave, others were never too keen on washing. It reeks of ass, piss and 405. No air gets in, no stench gets out, but I digress. He plays music on his iPhone, the youngest thing in the whole hospital wing. The smooth sounds of his carefully hand-picked music library drown down all the mumbling, the chit-chat, the gossip, the political stands, the motherly advice. They are all reduced to mild inane babble, barely distinguishable through Wilson's loud melody. He's asked to put his better eyes to use, to fill out a prescription for an old lady. She is nice to him, overly polite as he puts on his gallant hat. With a perfectly honest smile and a chill in his eye, he draws the pretty letters in their boxes, and is asked to forge the signature. He indulges. I digress again. All you will see here is exactly what will put you off on a hot summer afternoon. The soothing embrace of a cold shower is the faith that keeps you going really. But for them, the unrespected, unappreciated, unloved, unremembered hasbeens, there is no such faith. They rely not on the cold shower, but on the very hell he has to stand in right now. This is what becomes of them, a sorry lot of people so lonely, who feel so useless they see going to the hospital as a social event. We are truly wretched creatures!

... because it's the only one I get!

Why would anyone live their life any less than to the fullest? A Romanian friend, Ovi Sîrb, started this craze in the local blogosphere and it's been real nice to watch the upbeat reactions.

Zoe Keating's music any better than her, so just give her a listen.

Say you're yearning for something you shouldn't be after. I mean, people frown upon it and facts lead you to believe it is no the right thing for you. Whats more, you even said you don't want anything to do with it. And you make a big point of that, too. In this case, seeking it would make you spineless and a hypocrite and a coward. Just like a person that's quit smoking and takes a drag, or buys a new pack. You fell off the wagon. At least, that's how people will see it. It actually takes great courage to give in to temptation. Few people realize that, and fewer still applaud it. It's a nice way of taking responsibility. It's a great way to make mistakes to learn from. Or maybe you get lucky and prove everyone wrong. Kudos to you if you do it!

It's morning and your alarm startles you. You awake to find yourself across the bed from her. You're a guy, so usually, your first thought of the morning is "I need to pee" or "Fuck! What time is it?" if you're me. But not today. Gentle sunlight makes its way through the blinds and caresses her naked shoulder, thus making it glimmer in your hazy eyes. She slowly turns, and with the moves of a gentle cat, she draws near to smile you a "Good morning!" It's not sex, and it's not love. It's better than vitamin C on a harsh winter day. It's better than sleep after a Mexican Drinking Night and better than water the morning after. You're both still a bit dazed so everything's moving slowly. It's like the dread on a Monday morning combined with the hope of a Friday afternoon. Every sigh, arch and 'oh' is so mellow, yet every grip and thrust is stronger than Irish coffee. The climax is like a slow dance at a highschool party, the shower after is an exclamation mark. You wear nothing but a t-shirt, to underline how naked your better-bottom half is. She is still naked, because she can... Oh, right. Then, you eat your cereal, or whatever.

It's funny how the human mind works, really. But the female mind is simply fascinating! Some people are results driven. They don't like mistaking motion for action. They like finality, and are willing to go to extreme lengths just to see that happen. They make for great executives. It's funny that woman executives are more efficient than men in the same position. It's funny because women really like mistaking motion for action. For them, it's not about the end result. There might never even be a finality to their game. Apparently, women really appreciate being wanted. And just that. When they catch on to a guy that fancies them, they will live in that bubble for as long as they can. It's amazing to witness. The best part is their genetic coding, which makes them yearn for stability -- a nice, constantly safe environment to bring up the kids. It's usually the good guys that project this sort of image. So, it's quite understandable why they like feeling wanted by a nice, good guy. Or two, or three. Nothing needs to happen, though. It's all motion, not action. Women like getting bonuses. So they really dig it when one o' them bad guys acts like he's interested. Bad guys are just sexy, and dangerous, and wrong. But women love it. The perspective passion adds so much value that they overlook the instability that would come with such a relationship. Not to say that there will be a relationship. Whether that happens or not is irrelevant, so long as the woman feels desired. But here's the fun part: women love it when a bad guy, seems like he does not want them. Moreover, he seems to be making a point about how they do not want them. The girl's reaction is sometimes the same one as when the bad dude does want them. This time, there's no prospect of a stable relationship that would be good for their offspring. There's no real promise of passion, either. There are no compliments to fuel the girl's ego. But said girl is excited nonetheless. What happens is: the woman's brain tricks her into believing the bad guy does, in fact, want her. Just that he might be playing bastard, which is the male version of playing hard to get. She will go ahead and do things that all women do: distorting reality to match her own ideas, see things that are not there as well as ignore whatever bit of information does not bode well with her fantasy. Some women like to feel wanted, even if in their own imagination.