Zenodo (CERN European Organization for Nuclear Research), 2023

The assumption from which we started this investigative approach is the fact that domestic violence implies a direct causality on juvenile delinquency. Something that at first is a barely perceptible deviant behavior, can turn into criminal behavior if certain measures are not taken in time. This fact happens because as a result of domestic abuse, the role of the family as an educational agent is diminished and in serious cases even abolished, the family becoming a harmful factor and essential cause of the distortion of the minor's personality. We propose in this approach to reveal the most important aspects of this causality and also to identify some ameliorative measures, possibly to be applied in the case of the Republic of Moldova.

Materialele conferintei "Lecturi in memoriam acad. Silviu Berejan", 2021

Fără a se focaliza în mod necesar pe abordarea problematicii origenii religiei, acest articol propune de fapt șapte corelații între violența interpersonală și progresul religiei organizate, sugerând că violența interpersonală a jucat un rol semnificativ în procesul de instituționalizare a credințelor religioase. Deși violența interpersonală nu provoacă neapărat structurarea credinței religioase, aceasta de fapt întărește și oferă soluții modelelor existente de amenințare cu care se confruntă o comunitate, iar împreună conduc la organizarea religiei. Prima parte a acestui articol (etapele 1–4) analizează psihologia violenței, concentrându-se pe teoriile frustrare – agresiune, rivalitate mimetică, triangulare, geneza țapului ispășitor și vinovăție. A doua parte (etapele 5–6) marchează trecerea de la psihologia personală la psihologia socială și studiază violența în religia primitivă, așa cum se manifestă în procesul ritualizării țapului ispășitor și în geneza sacrificiului. A treia pa...

2020

In the history of Romanian literature in Bessarabia Creangă's modelling role is exem¬pli¬fied especially during the turning periods, when the concept of literature is radicalized (years 20-30, 60, 80). Across different searches and wanderings of prose writers, namely, the organicist perspective of the structure of the Bessarabian literary phenomenon elucidates the importance of the Creangă model in overcoming the different complexes, among which, especially, of the narrow-minded Romanian.

Studia Doctoralia, 2018

The purpose of this research is to highlight and analyze the psychological and judicial characteristics of inmates with substance abuse. The prisoners were divided into three groups: inmates with alcohol abuse (n= 30), inmates with drug abuse (n= 30) and inmates without substance abuse (n= 30). They were also divided into two categories: inmates convicted for offenses with violence against persons (n= 48) and inmates convicted for non-violent offenses (n= 42). They completed a structured interview for diagnosing the major depressive episode and a series of psychometric tests for assessing aggression, personality traits, and locus of control. No significant differences between inmates with substance abuse and those without abuse in terms of aggression, nor between those convicted for crimes with violence against the person and those without violence against the person. It was found that there is a positive significant relationship between aggression and feature "Unrestrained" and between Locus of Control and the feature "Unrestrained". Finally, it has been found that there are differences between prisoners without depression regarding the type of offense, namely: prisoners with alcohol and without depression are prone to commit crimes with violence against persons and those with drug abuse, crimes without violence against persons.

2021

Culegerea de articole reprezintă materialele celei de-a 2-a ediții a Conferinței Internaționale "Lectura ca bază pentru cultură, cunoaștere și dezvoltare", organizată de Biblioteca Națională a Republicii Moldova în septembrie 2020. Temele abordate de către autori sunt de ordin teoretic cât și practic. Volumul al II lea reprezintă diferite abordări ale fenomenului lecturii.

The door to the Prince of Hearts' church has disappeared. Painted the deep bloodred of broken hearts, the iconic entry simply vanished from one of the Temple District's most visited churches sometime during the night, leaving behind an impenetrable marble wall. It's now impossible for anyone to enter the church-Evangeline shoved the two-week-old newsprint into the pocket of her flowered skirt. The door at the end of this decrepit alley was barely taller than she was, and hidden behind a rusted metal grate instead of covered in beautiful bloodred paint, but she would have bet her father's curiosity shop that this was the missing door. Nothing in the Temple District was this unattractive. Every entry here was carved panels, decorative architraves, glass awnings, and gilded keyholes. Her father had been a man of faith, but he used to say that the churches here were like vampires-they weren't meant for worship, they were designed to entice and entrap. But this door was different. This door was just a rough block of wood with a missing handle and chipped white paint. This door did not want to be found. Yet it couldn't hide what it truly was from Evangeline. The jagged shape of it was unmistakable. One side was a sloping curve, the other a serrated slash, forming one half of a broken heart-a symbol of the Fated Prince of Hearts. Finally. If hope were a pair of wings, Evangeline's were stretching out behind her, eager to take flight again. After two weeks of searching the city of Valenda, she'd found it. When the gossip sheet in her pocket had first announced that the door from the Prince of Hearts' church had gone missing, few imagined it was magic. It was the scandal sheet's first article, and people said it was part of a hoax to sell subscriptions. Doors didn't simply disappear. But Evangeline believed that they could. The story hadn't felt like a gimmick to her; it had felt like a sign, telling her where to search if she was going to save her heart and the boy that it belonged to. She might not have seen much evidence of magic outside of the oddities in her father's curiosity shop, but she had faith it existed. Her father, Maximilian, had always spoken of magic as if it were real. And her mother had been from the Magnificent North, where there was no difference between fairytales and history. All stories are made of both truths and lies, she used to say. What matters is the way that we believe in them. And Evangeline had a gift when it came to believing in things that others considered myths-like the immortal Fates. She opened the metal grate. The door itself didn't have a handle, forcing her to wedge her fingers into the tiny space between its jagged edge and the dirty stone wall. The door pinched her fingers, drawing a drop of blood, and she swore she heard its splintered voice say, Do you know what you're about to step into? Nothing but heartbreak will come from this. But Evangeline's heart was already broken. And she understood the risks she was taking. She knew the rules for visiting Fated churches: Always promise less than you can give, for Fates always take more. Do not make bargains with more than one Fate. And, above all, never fall in love with a Fate. There were sixteen immortal Fates, and they were jealous and possessive beings. Before they'd vanished centuries ago, it was said they ruled over part of the world with magic that was as malevolent as it was marvelous. They never broke a bargain, although they often hurt the people they helped. Yet most people-even if they believed the Fates were merely myths-became desperate enough to pray to them at some point. Evangeline had always been curious about their churches, but she'd known enough about the mercurial nature of Fates and Fated bargains to avoid seeking their places of worship. Until two weeks ago, when she'd become one of those desperate people the stories always cautioned about. "Please," she whispered to the heart-shaped door, filling her voice with the wild and battered hope that had led her here. "I know you're a clever little thing. But you allowed me to find you. Let me in." She gave the wood a final tug. This time, the door opened. Evangeline's heart raced as she took her first step. During her search for the missing door, she'd read that the Prince of Hearts' church held a different aroma for everyone who visited. It was supposed to smell like a person's greatest heartbreak. But as Evangeline entered the cool cathedral, the air did not remind her of Luc-there were no hints of suede or vetiver. The dim mouth of the church was slightly sweet and metallic: apples and blood. Gooseflesh covered her arms. This was not reminiscent of the boy she loved. The account she'd read must have been wrong. But she didn't turn around. She knew Fates weren't saints or saviors, although she hoped that the Prince of Hearts was more feeling than the others. Her steps took her deeper inside the cathedral. Everything was shockingly white. White carpets, white candles, white prayer pews of white oak, white aspen, and flaky white birch. Evangeline passed row after row of mismatched white benches. They might have been handsome once, but now many had missing legs, while others had mutilated cushions or benches that had been broken in half. Broken. Broken. it work again: his one true love. They said his kiss was fatal to all but herhis only weakness-and as he'd sought her, he'd left a trail of corpses. Evangeline couldn't imagine a more tragic existence. If one Fate were to have sympathy for her situation, it would be the Prince of Hearts. Her gaze found his elegant marble fingers clasping a dagger the size of her forearm. The blade pointed down toward a stone offering basin balanced on a burner, just above a low circle of dancing white flames. The words Blood for a Prayer were carved into its side. Evangeline took a deep breath. This was what she'd come here for. She pressed her finger to the tip of the blade. Sharp marble pierced her skin, and drop after drop of blood fell, sizzling and hissing, filling the air with more metal and sweet. A part of her hoped this tithe might conjure up some sort of magical display. That the statue would come to life, or the Prince of Hearts' voice would fill the church. But nothing moved save for the flames on the wall of candles. She couldn't even hear the anguished young man in the back of the church. It was just her and the statue. "Dear-Prince," she started haltingly. She'd never prayed to a Fate, and she didn't want to get it wrong. "I'm here because my parents are dead." Evangeline cringed. That was not how she was supposed to start. "What I meant to say was, my parents have both passed away. I lost my mother a couple of years ago. Then I lost my father last season. Now I'm about to lose the boy that I love. "Luc Navarro-" Her throat closed as she said the name and pictured his crooked smile. Maybe if he'd been plainer, or poorer, or crueler, none of this would have happened. "We've been seeing each other in secret. I was supposed to be in mourning for my father. Then, a little over two weeks ago, on the day that Luc and I were going to tell our families we were in love, my stepsister, Marisol, announced that she and Luc were getting married." Evangeline paused to close her eyes. This part still made her head spin. Quick engagements weren't uncommon. Marisol was pretty, and although she was reserved, she was also kind-so much kinder than Evangeline's stepmother, Agnes. But Evangeline had never even seen Luc in the same She'd known she loved him for a while, but that was when she knew Luc loved her. His words might have been borrowed from a popular story, but he backed them up with heartfelt actions. He'd helped her hold her heart together that night, and so many of the nights that followed. And now she was determined to help him. Proposals and engagements didn't always mean love, but she knew that moments like the ones she'd shared with Luc did. He had to be cursed. As extreme or as silly as it might have made her sound to others, this was the only explanation she could believe. It didn't make sense that he wouldn't at least speak to her, or that every time Evangeline tried telling Marisol the truth, she would open her mouth and the words wouldn't come out. "Please." Begging wasn't beneath her. "Help me." "I don't think what you want will help you. But I do appreciate a good lost cause. I'll stop the wedding in exchange for three kisses." Jacks's eyes took on an entertained gleam as they returned to her mouth. A fresh surge of heat rose to Evangeline's cheeks. She'd been wrong about him not wanting to kiss her. But if the stories were true, one kiss from him and she'd be dead. Jacks laughed, harsh and short. "Relax, pet, I don't wish to kiss you. It would kill you, and then you'd be no use to me. I want you to kiss three others. Who I choose. When I choose." "What sort of kisses? Little pecks … or more?" "If you think that counts, maybe you haven't been kissed." Jacks shoved off the statue and stalked closer, towering over her once again. "It's not a real kiss if there isn't any tongue." The blush she'd been fighting burned hotter until her neck and her cheeks and her lips all caught fire. "Why the hesitation, pet? They're only kisses." Jacks sounded as if he were holding back another laugh. "Either this Luc is horrible at using his mouth, or you're afraid to say yes too quickly because you secretly like the idea." "I do not like the idea-" "So, your Luc is a hideous kisser?" "Luc is an excellent kisser!" "How do you know if you have nothing to compare it with? If you end up with Luc, you might even wish that I'd asked you to kiss more than three people." "I don't want to kiss any strangers-the only person I want is Luc." "Then this should be a small price to pay," Jacks said flatly. He was right, but Evangeline couldn't simply agree. Her father had taught her that Fates didn't determine one's future as their name...

Microorganisms in Sustainable Agriculture and Biotechnology, 2011

Eliminar la dependencia emocional es posible, para ello es uno mismo el que debe tomar la decisión de cambiar para tener una mejor calidad de vida. Las personas que sufren de apego excesivo, no disfrutan de las relaciones, se enganchan en exceso y pierden su individualidad satisfactoria. Hay más porcentaje de mujeres con este problema, aunque también hay hombres que lo sufren exactamente igual que cualquier mujer, con la desventaja de que les suele dar más vergüenza acudir a una consulta psicológica. Sienten que su hombría está en duda, cuando en realidad nada de eso tiene que ver, una autoestima baja puede acarrear este problema, independientemente del sexo de la persona.

Children and Youth Services Review, 2017

Rising college costs and student loan burdens have triggered national debates about whether a college degree is "worth it." Parents raising children in the midst of these debates may be evaluating the value of a college degree relative to its costs and adjusting their educational expectations for their children, shaping future generations' socialization toward college. In this context, it is unclear how theoretical models on college attendance decisionmaking perform in explaining parents' thoughts about college for their children. This qualitative study elicited early perspectives on college through in-depth interviews with 37 parents of kindergarten children from one school district in a mid-sized, Midwestern city. Almost unanimously, lower-income parents with some college education saw a college degree as a catalyst of their children's upward mobility, though very few thought they could help their children afford college. Higher-income parents more often expressed doubts about pursuing a college degree or the value of that degree acquired with debt.