Embracing the winter

Disclaimer: I just hope you will find charming when I spill over the limits of my English as a second language.

March 24^th, 2020

As much as I like winter and miss its bright white coat on snowless Christmas eves, yesterday morning when we met I didn’t even care to say “HI!” I secretly hoped it will get the message, take its snowflakes and go to the North Pole.

But after staying for three-days-in-a-row at home, yesterday I had to undress my car of its white robe offered for free on a 24/7 frost shop. The mild physical exercises that used to be dirty work, now made me smile and an “I am normal again” thought flagged its presence. Probably the winter caught my ambivalence and today decided to send another flake legion of 2.654.392 soldiers to freeze the city under their white reflections. Next time we’ll have a face-to-face meeting - that is programed when I run out of bread - I’ll try a different strategy to see if I can persuade it out of here.  

March 31^st 2020

Seems that I know nothing about the art of persuasion, at least when it comes to convincing winter to relocate. Today it came back and got not only a morning face but a frowning morning face from me. However, after a handful of fresh water contributed to the revival of my face, I’ve started to view the quiet and gracious snowflakes ballet differently. Watching their free movements prompted the many occasions when the winter and I got along quite well, even to the point of forming an enviable partnership. Not only that I was born in January, but when I was about three – my dad told me – I experienced such an intense childish happiness when diving into deep snow that he forgot all about the “be careful with him” instructions my mum entrusted him with. And between 7 and 10 sledging was among my top fun activities. One afternoon, after a long and intense time in total connection with the snow, on my way back home I wondered who invented it. And elaborated about the smartness of such a freely offered invention that whitens the whole landscape and allows us to simultaneously slide, make snowballs and snowmen, and helps Santa deliver his presents. But after I discovered the thrills of speeding downhill on sky slopes nobody could convince me that winter is no fun. In time though, I discovered that occasionally it was late for Christmas and even for the whole winter vacation, and despite my insistence for it to behave, its capricious mood seem to autocratically decide when and under what condition to send its snowflake legions. And little by little I learned that embracing the winter - with its whimsy habits and unwanted cold, and ice, and slash - is actually the only attitude worth embracing. Since that realization - except my occasionally rude, no greeting behavior – we mostly entertain good relationships.   

 But wait a minute! Isn’t the siege drafted and perfidiously deployed by CORONA similar to a winter and colder that the coldest Siberian snowstorm? It froze our economy and social life, stopped most of our travels (and all the fun ones!) like a snowstorm, and forced us to retract in our dens for months despite our repeated protests and resentments. Those without medical training or current political responsibilities were left with just the imposed hibernation option. Staying home in isolation resembles in many ways a forced hibernation, don’t you think? We leave our dens for short intervals, mostly to bring in food. We rely on previously accumulated resources – be them related to our finances, abilities or grandpa’s dumbbells that suddenly increased their value ten times. We wait for the sun to get stronger, melt CORONA’s crown and cast her away in shame after holding us hostage for such a long time. And hope that by summer our lives will resume, and we could hug each other again, and have a pizza, and then work our ass to rebuild the ruins that have grown during our hibernation time.  

For now don’t get too excitedly carried out by such prospects, we are not there yet. We are just serving our time in the den, grudgingly! We did that from the very beginning, remember? When the emergency hibernation exit was first suggested and then severely imposed by authorities, most of us didn’t even care to say “HI!” We really hoped it will get our hate messages, take its stuff and go back to China. We just couldn’t consider such a possibility and fully resented it. We field a sound censorship motion, hoping that our shrewd financial arguments will hold any snowstorm, but to our dismay the arguments didn’t hold and the motion didn’t pass. Despite our insistence for CORONA to behave, its capricious mood seems to autocratically decide where and under what condition to send its legions of viruses. We are desperate to contain it, but the “no viable solutions” we have now only extend the prospect of our hibernation time.

But I wonder whether little by little I could also learn that embracing my stay home in hibernation - with its whimsy days and unwanted isolation, and worries, and pains – represents the only attitude worth embracing. As of now, such embrace seems colder and less comfortable than my previous hugs with the winter. To be honest, when I first learned to embrace the winter I also felt uncomfortable and cold, but we gradually got to know each other. For the moment this kind of imposed hibernation is also cold, and socially distant, and unnatural. But in the end I just hope that - except my occasionally rude, no greeting behavior – I will get to entertain a good relationship with my temporary den; and along the sobering photographs, I will also collect some happy ones for my life’s album.

Note: If you happen to be a journalist and think that every now and then I could contribute to the success of your publication, be bold and came up with a good offer. However, bear in mind that I only write about topics I deeply care, so let me drive the roller-coaster.

Email: Bogdan.Tulbure@e-uvt.ro

bogdan-tudor-tulbure.blogspot.com/

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On my CORONA-occasioned English writing fury

Disclaimer: I just hope you will find charming when I spill over the limits of my English as a second language.      

“Writing is like talking to your distant neighbor” used to say the philosopher Constantin Noica. And in our globally connected age “distant neighbor” could literally mean a frightened Vietnamese girl who just learned English and a middle-aged Peruvian who wants to alleviate the pains of his recent divorce and the uncertainties of his unemployment during his/their CORONA stay-home-in-isolation time. And due to the Internet both of them could read the same words at the same time, despite the fact that it’s 10.34 a.m. in Ho Chi Min (Vietnam) and 10.34 p.m. Lima (Peru). In other words, if CORONA defied national borders, laughed at our visa restrictions and confronted us at a global level, our response should also be borderless and quite bold, to match and eventually surpass the enemy. And humor could probably be considered among those highly powerful psychological weapons when it comes to fighting our internal demons and achieving resilience. But for me, and I am not ashamed to admit that, using humor and using English simultaneously is fun but also dangerous. It feels like walking and sometimes running so close to the edge of my English as a second language that the “When I will spill myself over?” and “How often I already did that unknowingly?” pop up continuously. Out of this fear the disclaimer I so conscientiously paste above all my posts was born. But English seemed my only borderless passport in this planetary battlefield, so I took the risk of being laughed at, knowing that in one way or another I might increase your serotonin level. Anyhow, this introductory note was just meant to give you a sense of why a poor Romanian guy, who still uses threasurus.com to find the best synonyms for what produces his Romanian mind, decided to try his luck with English.           

       But enough with this! Let me tell you in what context my writing fury was triggered at the beginning of the COVID-19 crises. After abruptly deciding to drive from my work city (Timișoara) to my home city (Brașov) upon the national closing of all school and universities in Romania (March 11, 2020), I received a call from a distant friend requesting a short article about COVID. As I wanted to help him and also to be nice I half-heartedly agreed to do it among the other urgencies of the moment, so I commanded my brain to start thinking about the task. Next day, during my morning reading routine, my mind suddenly started to imagine an introductory passage for this article. So I just gave it a chance, opened my computer and started writing. At the middle of the first paragraph I played on some words and found it fun and stimulating, so I continued. As the ideas convolutedly wrestled for supremacy, the text accumulated some intensity and sometimes made me smile. I kept that pace for a few hours just to realize the joviality of the essay made me dance with joy even after closing the laptop. Somehow surprised by the intensity emanated by that experience I emailed my friend the article and attended the other tasks at hand.                

Next day I received a strongly edited version of the text, with 86.79% of metaphors chopped away and replaced by an overall serious demeanor. In unbelief, I called my friend (who, by the way, published a poetry volume not long ago) and asked what made him butcher my essay. This time he half-heartedly agreed to keep the original structure except a few parts that seem problematic for him. However, when he sent me his second set of comments I realized that “a few” was the same 86.79% of the text. So I told him: “If you see no reason to enjoy this and have no attitude for a fun ride, go home and dance on church choir music.”          

As I reflected upon this whole situation I realized that, actually, I always enjoyed reading these baroquely-intricate texts for their intrinsic capacity to stimulate my intellect, to make me wonder about the complexities of the human mind, about the convoluted lows of the universe and the unsolved paradoxes of, say, quantum physics. I remembered how grateful and honored I felt when, mediated by written words, I could hear the most intimate thoughts produced by some of my more famous planetary neighbors. And I have plenty of memories from such distant indiscretions in the minds of say Steven Pinker, Maxwell Gladwell, Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, Clifford Goldstein, Philip Yancey or Robert Farrar Capon. I remembered that while I entered that state of deep connection with their delicate way of approaching words that eloquently defended their ideas I experienced multiple intellectual orgasms during the same afternoon. And these experiences contributed to the person I am right now, minus of course my stubborn weaknesses, and enriched me beyond the point of no return.

 Apart from these contextual factors, probably the real steam for these writings was fueled by my intense emotional reactions to the CORONA-occasioned cacophonies and paradoxes (as I already alluded to in the Mission Statement). When such emotional dynamite went up and meet my rational thoughts, the resultant explosion spilled out with an uncontrollable force. And all I wanted to do was to help, to alleviate, to make people stronger, and to nurture their resilience. But I was confined for a long term in my apartment and couldn’t use my usual skills to reach that goal, so I had to be creative. And the result is what you just see – a bunch of essays reverberating my concerns and fears and hopes and sorrows.  

In the end I am grateful to my non-dancing friend because he handed me the drum sticks. As I started hitting the meter again I was pretty convinced the composition looks right and I let the music lead me to her own pleasure. And my fury has this unmistakable hum that makes my whole body and mind and soul vibrate in a consumingly wonderful dance every time I pour my thoughts on the keyboard.      

But sometimes this relentless fury is so intense and persistent that makes me wonder how long it will take to fully burn me and leave me with no vital signs. When my brain ceaselessly pours ideas into my consciousness with such a tempo that I barely managed to reap its fruits and had to stop whatever I am doing to write them down and off, and when at the end of the day I feel so exhaustedly happy and exhaustedly exhausted, I just wish them to stop, to go away. And even pray about it! But simultaneously I fear that my prayer will be answered someday, and the stream will run dry, and then I will regret having said that prayer. What I am actually trying to say is that I wish I’d have a good strategy to slow this process down, to spread it on a longer time frame, to enjoy it for another year. Unfortunately I don’t have it and I honestly don’t know how it is going to evolve and where it will take me. In all this hectic-incessantly-exhaustingly-joyful brainstorming that I simultaneously savor and fear, the only reassuring, really reassuring perspective is that one essential aspect of writing – as well as of life – is the attitude. This simple and deep truth was recently revealed to my one morning when my mind was searching something related to this subject. At the time I had to stop for a moment to let it sink deep into my psyche. I couldn’t believe how simple and universal this is, and how basically true. I just hope that the intensity of this experience will leave an unforgettable trace in my memory for the rest of my life. And as long as I was lucky enough to have been introduced to this attitude and know it from the inside, I wish I’ll be honored with future touristic visas that will allow me to explore other uncharted reach territories and tell you all about them.

Note: If you happen to be a journalist and think that every now and then I could contribute to the success of your publication, be bold and came up with a good offer. However, bear in mind that I only write about topics I deeply care, so let me drive the roller-coaster.

Email: Bogdan.Tulbure@e-uvt.ro
bogdan-tudor-tulbure.blogspot.com/ 

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Mission statement

What to expect from this blog

Disclaimer: I just hope you will find charming when I spill over the limits of my English as a second language.

The posts from this blog were occasioned by the COVID-19 crises that literally captured the entire world. Seeing how we scrambled and clumsily reacted to the aggressive invisible threat created by CORONA was for me a first time reality show that evoked intense emotions. I was simultaneously perplexed, scared, grieved, and mystified by what I saw on the news every day. The myriad of human reactions, unexpected consequences, and unimaginable challenges we have to face on our way out hopelessly captivated my attention. I started and soon couldn’t stop writing about the different reactions, unavoidable paradoxes, unexpected turns and heroic efforts that emerged from this clash. I just wanted to briefly sketch the cacophonies of our movements while the echo of our hot emotions is still present. I thought this is the least I can do during my stay-home-in-isolation confinement to alleviate the unavoidable frustrations, fears, losses and intense suffering we all taste these days.

Although I work as a faculty at the Department of Psychology, West University of Timisoara (Romania), my researcher persona is being intentionally disguised here. However, I like to think that my scientific background hasn’t deserted me completely and still plays its role in structuring the directions of my thoughts. To make my message more palatable and to effectively convey some potentially helpful attitudes hidden in the joys of reading, I dressed my ideas in Venetian costumes and made them ware eye masks. My hope is that, as the Venetian costumes hide behind their veil a real and recognizable person, my often-times nonsensical ramblings will make you wander about the hidden ideas that lay behind.

One warning note though! You might already have had the intuition by now that these posts are not recommended for metaphor intolerant folks. Actually, if you care to read just one, you’ll encounter an inflation of figurative speech with metaphors, personifications, comparison and impossibly-inverted images dancing hectically as if on drugs. And yes, I do apologize for such an above-normal crowd of figurative language, but I just couldn’t help it: they uncontrollably erupted from the atrocities of my emotions. However, I must confess to your relief that even I was surprised to discover what lies under the hood. And that’s because, whether you believe it or not, in a normal non-crises situation, I can contain myself rather professionally and there are many things, and I mean many things, that let me be barely indifferent. All my friends and colleagues could easily testify for that! But when I care about something, then I do care about it! And in this crisis, for some enigmatical reason, I just couldn’t use my indifferent mode while watching how quickly the entire planet stumbles in a comatose state.

And finally, I am fully aware that while some of my neurons get busy composing these mazurkas, I just have to forget all about the increasing of my academic citations or Hirsch index. But honestly, if while trying to decipher the meaning of my dark letters on this white blog I made you smile for just a tenth of a second, I am definitely happier. You probably noticed we all tend to use humor when in distress and that’s why jokes stock market exploded these days. Actually I am counting on that, and that’s why I tried to disguise some of my ideas using these improvised Venetian costumes. I just thought it might be alleviating to have a carnival of ideas when we can’t attend a real one or even can’t attend the funeral of our loved ones. But I’ll probably talk about such disturbingly difficult topics later as a frail attempt to say something and not to let silence be so overwhelming. Anyhow, on this blog you can find short essays exploring the multiple facets of the CORONA crises significantly biased by my psychology background and other cultural distortions. If my brain doesn’t get tired by these relentless gymnastics I might also provide other essays related to our fears, worries, sorrows and joys using the same detached perspective.

One more note before I go: I am generally open to comments and especially critics as they help me recalibrate my many distortions and see the tackled problem from previously hidden perspectives. So do let me know what I missed or what I got wrong! However, in the unlikely event that my blog gets more viral than CORONA, and I will be overwhelmed by the constant influx of messages, please don’t get mad at me for not providing a satisfying answer, I am probably desperately coping with my daily tasks to avoid being fired by my University.

Note: If you happen to be a journalist and think that every now and then I could contribute to the success of your publication, be bold and came up with a good offer. However, bear in mind that I only write about topics I deeply care, so let me drive the roller-coaster.

Email: Bogdan.Tulbure@e-uvt.ro

bogdan-tudor-tulbure.blogspot.com/

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Am I overreacting to COVID-19?

Disclaimer: I just hope you will find charming when I spill over the limits of my English as a second language.

In these times when CORONA has shown us how interconnected we are, how vulnerable and fragile life is, one coffee-cup of anxiety with a teaspoon of worry cream is recommended. A few days ago I stumbled upon a piece of news that announced, somewhat condescending, that "Fear spreads faster than the virus." This mockery tune made some of us dance on it until recently and we, at least in Romania, had a good laugh making jokes about the super-protective power of our homemade brandy against any viruses. However such ephemeral smiles just bended up the corners of our lips, leaving us vulnerable for an invisible invasion. And everyone remembers that not long ago Italians were also relaxed and didn't count this coffee-cup among their favorites, because no one drinks something like this when they could select among an espresso, cappuccino or a macchiato served outside on a nice terrace full of friends. What I mean is that, yes, it is much better for the fear to spread faster than the virus than to let CORONA have the final, big laugh. In fact, God has provided us with emotions such as anxiety and worry just to protect us, to motivate our preventive actions. But this paradox - that absolutely all emotions, including those that seem negative, are actually useful – it’s a known fact in psychology. You don't have to believe me, read some positive psychology studies like The Upside of Your Dark Side[1]

         But let me be clear, only one coffee-cup of anxiety per day is digestible, as much as we need to keep us safe and avoid danger. OK, OK, if Panic insists, I also agreed that we might let everyone decide how strongly to make it and whether or not to add the worry cream. But beyond that point I am not going to accept any compromise. And that's for your own good! So along with your other morning routine you can take a few sips from this coffee-cup to have enough energy to sidestep, bypass and go around CORONA each day. But be careful not to overdose, it’s only going to make you dizzy! What I mean is that in order to be helpful, to get us out of trouble, our emotions should adapt to the nature and intensity of the external threats. And for the most part that is exactly what they do. But if our internal engine reaches 4800 rotations per second when we just imagine ourselves venturing out to buy bread from the nearby store, we only increase the planet’s pollution level. And yes, when the external pressure increases and objective flags signal a greater danger, when CORONA was already granted temporary residence in our city despite the hate messages received, then we should definitely adapt our behavior to avoid crossing her path. As you could guess my only vote goes for the Adaptive Response Party, which has long advocated for the ecological version of the adjustment reactions. The Party also accommodates some strong personalities, but generally the working majority supports law packages appropriate to each situation. However, this global CORONA crisis is unprecedented. To cope with it the Party frantically searches for the best strategies, but in all honesty neither the President nor the other notorious members have any clue about how to do it. During this crisis the general advise for all of us (including the President) is to incorporate in our system a new normal (COVID-19 V2.0), a different normal from the one we were used to, a new normal that has its temporary reasons. And if the situation continues to change (which is probably the case) we will need to adjust again, so we are already advised to be updated and use the latest version of the new normal (COVID-19 V3.0) which can be downloaded from Google Play for all Android and iPhone devices. And this can go up to the highest new normal level Made in China (COVID-19 V13.13) that was hectically translated in Italian and currently has the largest number of downloaded versions. Anyway, those of interested to find out more about the adjustment reaction could access Peter’s Sadsman post from 2005.

The alarm signals

Don’t tell me because I already know: the anxiety and worry are automatic reactions. They came uninvited and decided to through a party in our yard without asking whether we are happy with their loud music or not. They simply entered and threw themselves on the couch in front of the TV without even washing their hands. But the worst thing is that, despite our repeated protests, they decided to stay. They eat at our table, decide which TV channels are on, talk ceaselessly and came up with requests: to check, to wash, to monitor our body for any (and they mean any!) new symptoms, to search for assurances that we are OK and then search again, to watch that all family members are fully observant of sanitary norms and to overreact for even minor violations. At night - when we reach the point of exhaustion – they insidiously get in our beds and by their constant movements steal our blanket covers and leave us in the cold all night. Although we hate how they parasite our existence we still listen to their whispers for we fear they might be right and we are really missing something. But we can’t, we really can’t bear their loud music any longer!

If the above scenario sounds familiar, you may be susceptible to clinical anxiety. But to find that out I am about to offer you a test that goes like this: I will walk around the golf course and occasionally raise a red flag. You say YES and take it (if it sounds like you), or you say NO and leave it there (if you never did that). Then you count the flags to see what the catch was. Fair enough?[2]

Flag 1) You think (always thought) that such a clear hygiene set of rules as the one suggested by authorities to prevent the spreading of COVID-19 should be the social norm for everyone even after this crisis ends;

Flag 2) The fear that you or someone in your family could be infected never leaves you;

Flag 3) You constantly check the news feed and closely watch the evolution of the virus in your country as a reassurance that you are going to be fine;

Flag 4) You carefully monitor your body and are always alert to any abnormal signs so that you could act immediately;

Flag 5) If someone from your family is not compliant with the behavioral recommendations suggested during this crisis you strongly feel this carelessness is dangerous and try hard to persuade the person to comply (what was he thinking???);

Flag 6) You disinfect your house with detergents (or even chlorine) every day to prevent things to get infected;

Flag 7) You creat(ed) in your mind the darkest scenarios with the negative consequences that CORONA could bring for you and your family;

Flag 8) You always feel tense and cannot sleep at night because of internal agitation;

Flag 9) You bought five (or more!) times as many provisions as usual and you made additional adjustments for depositing them in your home. 

Flag 10) You repeatedly consider calling 911 (or have already done so) when you feel unwell or find a worrying symptom (although doctors assured you that everything is OK)

Now that you walked through the golf course how many flags are in your hand? Don't have to say out loud, but if you know there are more than three, you should contact a mental-health practitioner. It’s highly probable that even before the CORONA crises you had some uninvited guests who hummed different worries along the secret corridors of your soul. As you also enjoyed some quiet times, you thought they were gone, forever! Although the house was clean, your address remained in their database and they came back with some friends from China. But you know what, the nasty uninvited guests can be fired, and if they continue to carelessly watch the movie and eat popcorn on your sofa you can cut their Internet connection and cable TV, stop feeding them, stop listening to their commands, and finally leave them in the dark. After a while, as they will hopelessly notice that you stubbornly decided not to answer their cries, they will look for another host, excusing themselves away from this awful quarantine!

Note: If you happen to be a journalist and think that every now and then I could contribute to the success of your publication, be bold and came up with a good offer. However, bear in mind that I only write about topics I deeply care, so let me drive the roller-coaster.

Email: bogdan.tulbure@e-uvt.ro

bogdan-tudor-tulbure.blogspot.com/

[1] Kashdan & Biswas-Diener (2015).The Upside of Your Dark Side: Why Being Your Whole Self - Not Just Your "Good" Self - Drives Success and Fulfillment

[2] Disclaimer: This make-believe assessment doesn’t even get close to the authentic value of a rigorous clinical assessment conducted by a trained mental-health professional. Although it contains some clues regarding anxiety symptoms, the equivocal language used and the arbitrary criteria precludes any clinically relevant conclusions. 

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A snapshot on former sanitary crises and fake news

Disclaimer: I hope you will find charming when I occasionally spill over the limits of my English as a second language.

Although this generation faces an unprecedented sanitary crisis (COVID-19), unfortunately pandemics are part and parcel of human history. We all remember the devastating sanitary crises causes by the bubonic plague or cholera that decimated Europe during Middle Ages. And now, that we face a somehow similar situation, we can imagined how different were both the context and the available instruments for solving such problems. Then as now pandemics also spread from the planet’s busiest places: then the naval harbors. Sick people and contaminated animals casually descended from various ships and smilingly entered deep into the city life, unaware of their behaviors terrible results. But speed remains an important difference. On the one hand, pandemics were traveling then with the speed of horses or were driven by the wind on sailboats; they couldn’t just „fly” from China and be hosted by the Airbnb all over the globe in a matter of weeks. On the other hand, a really modern mass communication then was the messenger sent by city officials in the main square to shout out a call, using a cone to make himself heard. As no serious study on Fake news were left from the Middle Ages, we can only imagine how fast and romanticized news were spreading at the time, or how the thirteenth person conveyed the message to the fourteenths listener, not to mention the 27th interpretation. In this context, it is not surprising that explanations were dispersed without passport from one city to the next, and abounded in apocalyptic fears organized by an ahead of its time Baroque design. In the absence of medical models able to provide sound explanations rooted in the cold reality of biology and medicine, the emotional derails, motivated by people's hunger to understand and colored by their religious demons, took the most unexpected turns. And yet ... and yet ... as a result of these capricious hectically-chaotic efforts and despite the massive registered losses, humanity somehow managed to overcome each crisis and to find a viable solution. I am equally bewildered and fascinated by this adventurous journey which, with different actors and scenarios, seems an inexorable part of our Planet’s cycles. For passionate readers interested in apocalyptic scenarios and modern vertical histories of old concepts, for those who anyway want to read a few books in their CORONA isolation time, my reading suggestion would be one of Jean Delumeau’s books called The Fear in the West: A besieged fortress (complete French title La peur en Occident, XIVe-XVIIIe siècles: Une cité assiégée) of which I have read the Romanian edition. You can find there the history of our fears masterfully described, and by taking a detached look at people’s reactions when confronted with various crises throughout history you might just became half a breath more detached.

     This intro was just a brief and humble attempt to put pandemics in a historical perspective and to raise a flag - red as the blood of wild animals served as high end food at Asian wet markets - regarding the partial failure of our generation to wisely use the mass media; regarding the failure of many to check, using credible sources, the flow of panic that constantly assaults us in the last few weeks. What would have been the reaction of individuals form the Middle Ages facing the bubonic plague if they could have accessed the World Health Organization (WHO) website? How blessed would they have felt if they saw on CNN or Fox News that people from around the world are asking the same questions and come together to look for feasible solutions? What price would they have paid for accessing scientific data, for exploring the evidence, for speeding up the process that could potentially lead to a medical understanding of the pandemic? However, some of us act as if the only credible information streams from the Facebook horseman who shouts in a cone his messages cogitated with his drunken conspiracy friends. But the wise men and women from the Middle Ages managed to solve the problems of their generation because they were willing to make the extra searches on their stone tablets in order to find the true medical model and eventually to implement it successfully.

Note: If you happen to be a journalist and think that every now and then I could contribute to the success of your publication, be bold and came up with a good offer. However, bear in mind that I only write about topics I deeply care, so let me drive the roller-coaster.

Email: bogdan.tulbure@e-uvt.ro

bogdan-tudor-tulbure.blogspot.com

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